CHAPTER VIII.
THE HOME.
'Within those walls each fluttering guest Is gently lured to one safe nest; Without, 'tis moaning and unrest.' _Keble._
A great delight came to Wilmet and Geraldine the day of the Bishop'svisit, no other than Alda's being able to spend a week with them. MissPearson spared Wilmet that whole afternoon, that she might go up tomeet her at the station, whither she was escorted by a maid going downto Centry.
There she was, in her pretty black silk, with violet trimmings, lookingthoroughly the grown young lady, but clinging tight to her twin in anoverflow of confused happiness, even while they stood together to gettheir first glance of the Bishop, who came down by the same train, andwas met by Mr. Bevan with the carriage.
'I'm glad it is so nice and warm; it is better for Fernan, and Cherrycan go!' said Wilmet, ready for joy about everything.
'Nice and warm! 'Tis much colder than in London,' said Alda, with ashiver. 'Has Cherry kept well this winter?'
'Quite well. She walks much better. And Marilda?'
'Oh, Marilda is always well. Rude health, her mother calls it. What doyou think she has sent you, Wilmet? A darling little watch! just likethis of mine!'
'O Alda, you should not have let her. It is too much. Fernan wanted togive Lance a watch, but Felix would not let him.'
'Yes, but he is not like Uncle Thomas, and it makes you like me.'
'That we shall never be quite again,' sighed Wilmet.
'Oh! a little setting off, and trimming up! I've brought down lots ofthings. Aunt Mary said I might. What is this youth like, Wilmet--is hea boy or a young man?'
'I don't know,' said Wilmet; 'he is younger than Felix, if that helpsyou.'
'Well, Americans are old of their age. I have met some at Mr. Roper's.Oh, and do you know, Mrs. Roper told Aunt Mary that these Travisesare quite millionaires, and that this youth's mother was a prodigiousMexican heiress. Aunt Mary wants to ask him to Kensington PalaceGardens, when he comes up to town! I'm glad I am in time for thechristening. Doesn't he have godfathers and godmothers?'
'Yes; he would have nobody but Felix and Mr. Audley, and Lady Pricechose to be his godmother; indeed, there was nobody else.'
'You could not well be, certainly,' laughed Alda. 'Oh! and I've broughta dress down. I thought some of us might be asked to the Rectory in theevening.'
'My dear Alda, as if such a thing ever happened!'
'Ah! you see I have been so long away as to forget my Lady's manners.'
'Mr. Audley is going, and Fernan was asked, but he is not anything likewell enough. So when Mamma and the little ones go to bed, we are tocome down and spend the evening with him.'
'Fancy, Wilmet, I have quite been preparing Marilda for herConfirmation. She had hardly been taught anything, and never could haveanswered the questions if she had not come to me. She is always askingme what Papa said about this and that; and it is quite awkward, shewill carry out everything so literally, poor dear girl.'
'She must be very good.'
'Oh! to be sure she is! But just fancy, she keeps a tithe of herpocket-money to give to the Offertory so scrupulously; she would reallynot buy something she wanted because it would have been just a shillinginto her tenth. I'm so glad she is confirmed. I never knew what todo at church before. I couldn't go home by myself, and now a servantalways waits for us. Oh! how fast the poor hotel is building again! Itwill brighten our street a little! Dear me, I did not know how dingy itwas!'
Nothing could look dingy where two such fair bright faces were; butAlda's became awe-struck and anxious as she went up to her mother'sroom. Indeed Mrs. Underwood looked up at her rather confused, andscarcely knowing the fashionable young lady, and it was only when theplumed hat was laid aside, and the two heads laid together, theirfair locks mingling, that she knew she had her elder twins again, andstroked their faces with quiet delight.
There was scarcely more than time to kiss the little ones, and contendwith Stella's shyness, before first Lance hurried in and then Felix,excused from his work two hours earlier. He could only just run up anddress before he convoyed Geraldine to church, she having the first turnof the chair, helped her to her seat near the Font, and then came backfor Fernando, who was under his special charge.
Fernando sat looking very pale, and with the set expression of themouth that always made Cherry think of Indians at the stake. His littlenew prayer-book was in his hand, and he was grasping it nervously,but he said nothing, as Felix helped him up and Lance held his crutchfor him. It was his first entrance into a place of worship. They hadintended to have accustomed him a little to the sights and sounds, butthe weather and his ailment had prevented them. He was drawn to theporch, and there Felix partly lifted him out and up the step, whileLance took his hat for him, and as they were both wanted for the choirprocession that was to usher the Bishop into church, they had to leavehim in his place under Geraldine's protection.
He had not in the least realised the effect of the interior of achurch. St. Oswald's was a very grand old building, with a deepchancel a good deal raised, seen along a vista of heavy columns andarched vaults, lighted from the clerestory, and with a magnificentchancel-arch. The season was Lent, and the colouring of the decorationswas therefore grave, but all the richer, and the light coming stronglyin from the west window immediately over the children's heads, madethe contrast of the bright sunlight and of the soft depths of mysterymore striking, and, to an eye to which everything ecclesiastical wasabsolutely new, the effect was almost overwhelming. That solemnity andsanctity of long centuries, the peaceful hush, the grave beauty andgrandeur, almost made him afraid to breathe, and Cherry sat by his sidewith her expressive face composed into the serious but happy look thataccorded with the whole scene.
He durst not move or speak. His was a silent passive nature, exceptwhen under strong stimulus, and Cherry respected his silence a greatdeal too much to break upon it by any information. She was half sorrywhen the noise of steps showed that the congregation were beginningto drop in, chiefly of the other young Confirmation candidates. Thenpresently Alda came, and whispered to her that Wilmet could not leaveMamma; and presently after, Lady Price bustled in with her daughter,looked severely at Alda under the impression that she was Wilmetvery improperly tricked out, and pressed Fernando's hand beforegoing on to her own place. Then came the low swell of the organ,another new sensation to one who had only heard opera music; then theapproaching sound of the voices. Geraldine gave him the book open atthe processional psalm, and the white-clad choir passed by, one of thefirst pair of choristers being Lance, singing with all his might, andthat merry monkey-face full of a child's beautiful happy reverence. Andagain could be recognised Felix, Mr. Audley, Mr. Bevan, all whom thepoor sick stranger had come to love best, all to his present perceptionglorified and beautiful. They had told him it would be all faith and nosight, but he seemed to find himself absolutely within that brighterbetter sphere to which they belonged, to see them walking in it intheir white robes, to hear their songs of praise, and to know whencecame that atmosphere that they carried about with them, and that he hadfelt when it was a riddle to him.
And so the early parts of the service passed by him, not so muchattended to or understood as filling him with a kind of dreamyrapturous trance, as the echoes of the new home, to which he, with allhis heavy sense of past stain and present evil propensity, was gainingadmission and adoption. For the first time he was really sensible ofthe _happiness_ of his choice, and felt the compensation for what hegave up.
When the Second Lesson was ended, and the clergy and the choir, intheir surplices, moved down to encircle the Font, it was as if theycame to gather him in among them. Felix came and helped him up. Hecould stand now with one support, and this was his young godfather'sright arm, to which he held tightly, but without any nervousconvulsiveness--he was too happy for that now--during the prayers thatentreated for his being safely gathered into the Ark, and the Gospel ofadmission into t
he Kingdom. He had an impulse to loose his clasp andstand alone at the beginning of the vows, but he could not; he had notwithdrawn his hand before he was forced again to lean his weight uponthe steady arm beside him.
Nothing had been able to persuade Lady Price that she was not to makeall the vows as for an infant, but luckily nobody heard her except herhusband and the other sponsors, for it was a full, clear, steadfastvoice that made reply, 'I renounce them all!' and as the dark deepeyes gazed far away into the west window, and Felix felt the shudderthrough the whole frame, he knew the force of that renunciation; andhow it gave up that one excitement that the lad really cared for. Andwhen that final and carefully-guarded vow of obedience was uttered,the pressure on his arm seemed to show that the moral was felt of thatmoment's endeavour to stand alone.
The sound of prayer, save in his own chamber, was so entirely new,that no doubt the force of the petitions was infinitely enhanced, andthe entreaty for the death of the old Adam had a definite applicationto those old habits and tastes that at times exerted their force. Theright hand was ready and untrembling when the Rector took it; thestream of water glittered as it fell on the awe-struck brow and jettyhair, and the eyes shone out with a deep resolute lustre as 'FerdinandAudley' was baptized into the Holy Name, and sworn a faithful soldierand servant.
He had begged to be baptized by the English version of his name; theSpanish one had grown up by a sort of accident, and had always beenregretted by his father. He had wished much to take the name of Felix,but they were so certain that this would not be approved, that theyhad persuaded him out of it. He was soon set down again by Geraldine'sside; and she put out her hand and squeezed his hard, looking up intohis face with tearful eyes of welcome.
When the last sounds of the voluntary had died away, and thecongregation had gone, she ventured again to look up at him and say, 'Iam so glad!'
'Why did you never tell me it was like this?' he said. 'I should neverhave hung back one moment. Now nothing can touch me, since I belong to_this_.'
'Nothing can _really_,' said Geraldine softly. 'Above all, when it issealed to us to-morrow.'
Then there came a movement from the vestry, and the Rector and Mr.Audley were seen following the Bishop, who came down to where the twolame children still sat together, and putting his hand upon Ferdinand'shead with the hair still wet, gave him his blessing before he spokefurther. It was only a word or two of congratulation, but such as to govery deep; and then, seeing that the boy looked not excited, but wornand wearied, he added, 'You are going home to rest. I shall see youto-morrow after the confirmation;' and then he shook hands with him andwith Geraldine, asking if she were the little girl of whom he had beentold.
'She is very young,' said Mr. Bevan, strongly impressed with thelittleness of the figure; 'but she has been a Communicant for more thana year, and she is--a very good child.'
'I can believe so,' said the Bishop, smiling to her. 'I have heard ofyour father, my dear, and of your brother.'
Cherry coloured rosy red, but was much too shy to speak; and the Rectorand Bishop went away, leaving only Mr. Audley.
'Are you very much tired, Fernan?'
'I don't know,' he half smiled.
'I think he is; he is too happy to know it,' said Geraldine. 'Pleaselet him go home first.'
So Mr. Audley helped him out to the chair, where Felix, Alda, and Lancewere waiting; and he said, 'Thank you,' and held out his hand, whileLance eagerly shook it, saying, 'Now it is right at last; and here'sAlda--isn't she a stunner?'
'I thought it was Wilmet,' said Fernan; and Alda went into church tokeep Cherry company, thinking how curiously blind the male sex were notto distinguish between her dress and poor dear Wilmet's.
Mr. Audley was more than satisfied, he was surprised and comforted. Hehad prepared to meet either disappointment or excitement in his charge;he found neither--only a perfect placid content, as of one who hadfound his home and was at rest. The boy was too much tired, after hismany bad nights and the day's exertion, to say or think much; all hedid say was, 'I shall mind nothing now that I know what it is to be oneof you.'
Mr. Audley tried to remember that there must be a reaction, but hecould not bring himself to fear or to warn, or do anything but enjoythe happiest day of his three years' ministry.
He had to go to the Rectory dinner-party, and leave his neophyte tothe tendance of the Underwoods. Felix sat with his friend in a greatcalm silence, while the rest were taken up by the counter-attractionupstairs, where Alda was unpacking an unrivalled store of presents fromherself and Marilda, useful and ornamental, such as seemed a perfect_embarras de richesses_ to the homely, scantily-endowed children. Thatlittle gold watch was the prize and wonder of all. It was the firstin the family, except that Felix wore his father's, and Alda knewhow an elder girl was scorned at school if she had none; but Wilmet,though very happy with hers, smiled, and would not agree to havingmet with disrespect for want of it. Then there were drawing-booksfor Cherry, and a knife of endless blades for Lance, and toys forthe little ones; and dresses--a suit for Wilmet like Alda's plainestSunday one, and Alda's last year's silk for Geraldine, and somecharming little cashmere pelisses--Aunt Mary's special present to thetwo babies--things that would lengthen Wilmet's purse for many a dayto come; and a writing-case for Felix; and all the absent remembered,too. Uncle Thomas had given Alda a five-pound note to buy presents,and Marilda had sent every one something besides, mostly of such amatter-of-fact useful type that Alda stood and laughed at them. AndMrs. Underwood was pleased with the exhibition, and smiled and admired,only her attention was tired out at last, and she was taken early toher own room.
The elder ones went down to sit round the fire in Mr. Audley's room,where Ferdinand insisted on leaving his sofa to Geraldine, and betakinghimself to the easy-chair, where he leant back, content and happy towatch the others through his eye-lashes. Alda was a little on hercompany manners at the first, but all the others were at perfectease, as they sat in the dim light. Felix on the floor by Cherry, whodelighted in a chance of playing fondling tricks with his hair andfingers; the twins in Mr. Audley's big chair, where they could leanagainst each other; and Lance cross-legged on the hearth-rug roastingchestnuts, of which a fellow chorister had given him a pocketful, andfeeding every one in turn.
Geraldine gave a sigh to the wish that poor dear Edgar were there.
'He is very happy!' said Alda.
'Oh yes, but I wish he had not missed being here to-morrow. I wonderwhen he will come home.'
'I cannot guess; Aunt Mary wants to go down the Rhine next summer (onlyshe is not quite sure it is not the Rhone), and if so, I suppose hewould join us there.'
'It is a whole year since we have set eyes on him,' said Felix.
'But I believe he writes more to Cherry than anybody, does not he?'
'Oh yes, and sends me lovely photographs to copy. Such a beauty ofhimself! Have you seen it?'
'I should think I had! They have set it up in a little gold frame onthe drawing-room table, and everybody stands and says how handsome itis; and Aunt Mary explains all about him till I am tired of hearing it.'
'And Clem?'
'Oh, Clem came to luncheon yesterday. He is very much grown, and looksuncommonly demure, and as much disposed to set everybody to rights asever.'
But Alda did not enter much more into particulars; she led away theconversation to the sights she had seen in their summer tour; and asshe had a good deal of descriptive power, she made her narratives sointeresting that time slipped quickly past, and the young company wasas much surprised as Mr. Audley was when he came home and found themall there, not yet gone to bed. They were greatly ashamed, and afraidthey had done Ferdinand harm, and all were secretly very anxious aboutthe night; but, though the wakeful habit and night feverishness werenot at once to be broken through, yet the last impression was thestrongest, and the long-drawn aisle, the 'dim religious light,' andthe white procession, were now the recurring images, all joyful, allrestful, truly as if the bird had escaped out
of the snare of thefowler. Real sleep came sooner than usual, and Fernan rose quite equalto the fatigue of the coming day, the Confirmation day, when againGeraldine had to sit beside him--this newly admitted to the universalbrotherhood, instead of being beside that dear Edgar of her own, forwhom her whole heart craved, as she thought how their preparation hadbegun together beside her father's chair.
Their place was now as near the choir as possible, and they werebrought in as before, very early, so that Fernan gazed with the sameeager, unsated eyes into the chancel and at the altar, admitted as hewas farther into his true home.
The church was filled with candidates from the villages round aswell as from the town, and the Litany preceded the rite which was toseal the young champions ere the strife. The Bishop came down to thetwo lame children, and laid his hands on the two bent heads, ere hegave his final brief address, exhorting the young people to guardpreciously, and preserve by many a faithful Eucharist, that mark whichhad sealed them to the Day of Redemption, through all this world's longhot trial and conflict.
There was holiday at both schools, and Felix had been spared to takehis place in the choir, but Mr. Froggatt could not do without himafterwards, as the presence of so many of the country clergy in thetown was sure to fill the reading-room and shop; and he was obligedto hurry off as soon as he came out of church. Now, the Bishop hadthe evening before asked Lady Price 'whether that son of poor Mr.Underwood's' were present among the numerous smart folk who throngedher drawing-room, to which my lady had replied, 'No; he was a nice,gentlemanly youth certainly, but, considering all things, and how sadlyhe had lowered himself, she thought it better not. In fact, some mightnot be so well pleased to meet him.'
The Bishop took the opportunity of trying to learn from the next personhe fell in with, namely, Mr. Ryder, how Felix had lowered himself;and received an answer that showed a good deal of the schoolmaster'sdisappointment, but certainly did not show any sense of Felix'sdegradation. And what he said was afterwards amplified by Mr. Audley,whom the Bishop took apart, and questioned with much interest uponboth Ferdinand Travis and the Underwood family, of whom he had onlyheard, when, immediately after his appointment, his vote for the orphanschool had been solicited for the two boys, and he had been asked tosubscribe to the Comment on the Philippians. Mr. Audley felt that hehad a sympathizing listener, and was not slow to tell the whole storyof the family--what the father had been, what Felix now was, and howhis influence and that of little Lancelot had told upon their younginmate. The Bishop listened with emotion, and said, 'I must see thatboy! Is the mother in a state in which she would like a call from me?'but there an interruption had come; and when the country clergy came inthe morning, Mr. Audley had thought it fittest not to swell the numbersunnecessarily, and had kept himself out of the way, and tried to keephis fellow-curate.
So he had seen no more of the Bishop, until, some little time after heand Fernan had lunched, and were, it must be confessed, making up fortheir unrestful nights by having both dropped asleep, one on his chair,the other on the sofa, there came a ring to the door, and Lance, whohad a strong turn for opening it, found himself face to face with thesame tall grey-haired gentleman at whom he had gazed in the rochet andlawn-sleeves. He stood gazing up open-mouthed.
'I think I have seen you in the choir, and heard you too,' said theBishop, kindly taking Lance's paw, which might have been cleaner had heknown what awaited it. 'Mr. Audley lives here, I think.'
Lance was for once without a word to say for himself, though hismouth remained open. All he did was unceremoniously to throw wide Mr.Audley's door, and bolt upstairs, leaving his Lordship to usher himselfin, while Mr. Audley started up, and Ferdinand would have done thesame, had he been able, before he was forbidden.
There was a kindly talk upon his health and plans, how he was toremain at Bexley till after Easter and his first Communion, and thenMr. Audley would take him up to London to be inspected by a first-ratesurgeon before going down to the tutor's. The tutor proved to be anold school-fellow and great friend of the Bishop; and what Fernanheard of him from both the friend and pupil would have much diminishedhis dread, even if he had not been in full force of the feeling thatwhatever served to bind him more closely to the new world of blessingwithin the Church must be good and comfortable.
This visit over, the Bishop asked whether Mrs. Underwood would liketo be visited, and Mr. Audley went up to ascertain. She was a womanwho never was happy or at rest in an untidy room, or in disorderedgarments, and all was in as fair order as it could be with the oldfurniture, that all Wilmet's mending could not preserve from the vergeof rags. Her widow's cap and soft shawl were as neat as possible, andso were the little ones in their brown-holland, Theodore sitting at herfeet, and Stella on Wilmet's lap, where she was being kept out of theway of the more advanced amusement of a feast of wooden tea-things,carried on in a corner between Angela and Bernard, under Lance'ssomewhat embarrassing patronage.
Alda sprang up, stared about in consternation at the utter unlikenessto the drawing-room in Kensington Palace Gardens, and exclaimed, 'Oh!if Sibby had only come to take the children out! Take them away, Lance.'
'Sibby will come presently, or I will take them to her,' whisperedWilmet. 'I should like them just to have his blessing.'
'So many,' sighed Alda; but meantime Mr. Audley had seen that all wasright at the first _coup d'oeil_, had bent over Mrs. Underwood, toldher that the Bishop wished to call upon her, and asked her leave tobring him up; and she smiled, looked pleased, and said, 'He is verykind. That is for your Papa, my dears. You must talk to him, you know.'
The Bishop came up almost immediately, and the perfect tranquillity andabsence of flutter fully showed poor Mrs. Underwood's old high-bredinstinct. She was really gratified when he sat down by her, aftergreeting the three girls, and held out his hands to make friends withthe lesser ones, whom their sisters led up, Angela submissive andpretty behaved, Bernard trying to hide his face, and Stella in Wilmet'sarms staring to the widest extent of eyes. The sisters had theirwish--the fatherless babes received the pastoral blessing; and theBishop said a few kind words of real sympathy that made Mrs. Underwoodlook up at him affectionately and say, 'Indeed I have much to bethankful for. My children are very good to me.'
'I am sure they are,' said the Bishop. 'I cannot tell you how much Irespect your eldest son.'
The colour rose in the pale face. 'He is a very dear boy,' she said.
'I should like to see him before I go. Is he at home?'
'Lance shall run and call him,' said Alda; but the Bishop had askedwhere he was, and Wilmet had, not unblushingly, for she was red withpleasure, but shamelessly, answered that he was at Mr. Froggatt's,offering to send Lance in search of him.
'I had rather he would show me the way,' said the Bishop. 'Will you, myboy?'
The way to Mr. Froggatt's was not very long, but it was long enough toovercome Lance's never very large amount of bashfulness; and he hadmade reply that he went to the Grammar School, and was in the secondform, that he liked singing in the choir better than--no, not than_anything_--anything except--except what? Oh a jolly good snow-balling,or a game at hockey. Did he like the school? Pretty well, on the whole;but he did not suppose he should stay there long, his brother at theClergy Orphan said there was such a lot of cads, and that he was alwaysgrubbing his nose among them; but now, 'do you really think now thatcads are always such bad fellows?'
His Lordship was too much diverted to be easily able to speak, but heobserved that it depended on what was meant by a cad.
'That's just it!' exclaimed Lance. 'I'm sure some that he calls cadsare as good fellows as any going.'
'And what does your eldest brother say?'
'Felix! Oh! he does not mind, as long as one does not get into a realscrape.'
'And then?'
'Oh, then he minds so much that one can't do it, you know.'
'What, does he punish you?'
'N--no--he never licks any of us now--but he is so horridly sorry--andit bothers him
so,' said Lance. 'Here's old Froggatt's,' he concluded,stopping at the glass door. 'My eyes! what a sight of parsons!' (Lancehad pretty well forgotten whom he was talking to.) 'There, that'sFelix--no, no, not that one serving Mr. Burrowes, that's Redstone;Felix is out there, getting out the sermon paper for that fat one, andthat's old Froggy himself, bowing away. Shall I go and call Felix? Isuppose he will not mind this time.'
'No, thank you, I will go in myself. Good-bye, my little guide, andthank you.'
And Lance, when his hand came out of the Bishop's, found somethingin it, which proved to be a tiny Prayer-book, and moreover ahalf-sovereign. He would have looked up and thanked, but the Bishop andthat 'fat one' were absorbed in conversation on the step; and when heturned over the leaves of the little blue morocco book, with its inlaidred cross, he found full in his face, in the first page, the words,'Lancelot Underwood, March 15th, 1855,' and then followed an initial,and a name that utterly defeated Lance's powers, so that perceiving theshop to be far too densely full of parsons for him to have a chancethere, he galloped off at full speed to Cherry, who happily couldinterpret the contracted Latin by the name of the See, and was not_quite_ so much astonished as Lance, though even more gratified.
Meantime, the Bishop had made his way to the bowing Mr. Froggatt, andasked to speak with him in his private room, where he mentioned hiskindness to young Underwood, and was answered by a gratified disclaimerof having done anything that was not of great advantage to himself.The good man seemed divided between desire to do justice to Felix andnot to stand in his light, and alarm lest he should have to lose anassistant whom he had always known to be above his mark, and who wasgrowing more valuable every month; and he was greatly relieved anddelighted when the Bishop only rejoiced at his character of Felix, andcomplimented the Pursuivant by being glad that a paper of such goodprinciples should be likely to have such a youth on its staff; it hadbeen well for the lad to meet with so good a friend. Mr. Froggatt couldnot be denied an eulogium on the father, for whose sake he had firstnoticed the son; and when the Bishop had expressed his sorrow at neverhaving known so bright a light as all described the late Curate to havebeen, he courteously regretted the interruption on a busy day, but hebegged just to see the young man. He had little time himself, 'but ifhe could be spared to walk up to the station--'
Mr. Froggatt bustled out with great alacrity, and taking the charge ofthe customer on himself, announced, for the benefit of all who might bewithin earshot: 'Mr. Underwood, his Lordship wishes to speak with you.He wishes you to walk up to the station with him. You had better go outby the private door.'
Felix was red up to the ears. His eight years' seniority to Lance wereeight times eight more shyness and embarrassment, but he could onlyobey; and at his first greeting his hand was taken--'hoped to have seenyou sooner,' the Bishop said; 'but you had always escaped me in thevestry.'
'I had to go to help my sister, my Lord,' said Felix.
'And your friend,' said the Bishop. 'That is a good work that has beendone in your house.'
Felix coloured more, not knowing what to say.
'I wish to see you,' continued the Bishop, 'partly to tell you how muchI honour you for the step you have taken. I wish there were more whowould understand the true uprightness and dutifulness of thinking noshame of any honest employment. I am afraid you do sometimes meet withwhat may be trying,' he added, no doubt remembering Lady Price's tone.
'I do not care now, not much. I did at first,' said Felix.
'No one whose approval is worth having can consider yours really a lossof position. You are in a profession every one respects, and you seemto have great means of influence likely to be open to you.'
'So my father said, when he consented,' said Felix.
'I shall always regret having just missed knowing your father. Somepassages in that book of his struck me greatly. But what I wished tosay was to ask whether there is any way in which I can be useful to youin the education of any of the younger ones, or--'
'Thank you, my Lord,' said Felix. 'I think you kindly voted for mybrothers last year for the Clergy Orphan school. Only one got in, andif you would vote again for little Lancelot--'
'My droll little companion, who Mr. Audley tells me did so much forthat poor young American.'
'Indeed he did,' said Felix. 'I doubt if any of us would have got athim but for Lance, who did not mean anything but good-nature all thetime.'
'He is just the boy I want for our Cathedral school.' And then hewent on to explain that a great reformation was going on. There wasa foundation-school attached to the Cathedral, with exhibitions atthe University, to which the Cathedral choristers had the firstclaim. There had been, of course, a period of decay, but an excellentPrecentor had been just appointed, who would act as head master; andthe singing-boys would be kept on free of expense after their voicesbecame unavailable, provided that by such time they had passed acertain examination. Such a voice as Lance's was sure to recommendhim; and besides, the Bishop said with a smile, he wanted to raise thecharacter of the school, and he thought there was the stuff _here_ thatwould do so.
Felix could only be thankful and rejoiced; but it was a pang to thinkof Lance being as entirely separated from home as was Clement; withno regular holidays, and always most needed at his post at the greatfestivals. There was something in his tone that made the Bishop say,'You do not like to part with him?'
'No, my Lord; but I am glad it should be so. My father was not happyabout--things here, and charged me to get my brothers away when Icould.'
'And as to holidays, you are near at hand, and most of the choir areof our own town. I think he may generally be spared for a good term ateach holiday time. The organist is very considerate in giving leave ofabsence, even if he should turn out to have a dangerously good voicefor solos. I will let you know when to send him up for examination,which he will pass easily. Good-bye. You must write to me if there isanything for me to do for you. One month more, and your father wouldhave been one of my clergy, remember.'
Felix went back, flushed with gratification, and yet, to a certaindegree, with confusion, and not exactly liking the prospect of beinginterrogated as to what the Bishop had said to him: indeed, he nevertold the whole of it to any one but Cherry. Somehow, though Wilmet washis counsellor and mainstay, Geraldine was the sharer of all thoseconfidences that came spontaneously out of the full but reserved heart.
Besides, Wilmet was at present in such a trance of enjoyment of hertwin sister, that she seemed scarcely able to enter into anything else.She went through her duties as usual, but with an effort to shake offher absorption in the thought of having Alda at home; and every momentshe was not in sight of her darling seemed a cruel diminution of herone poor fortnight. Indeed it was _tete-a-tetes_ that her exclusivetenderness craved above all; and she was often disappointed that Aldashould be willing to go and visit Fernan Travis when they might havehad a quarter of an hour together alone. How much more selfish she musthave grown than Alda in this last half year!
Alda's talk was indeed full of interest, and gave a much better notionof her way of life than her letters did. She seemed to have beenfully adopted as a daughter of the house, and to enjoy all the sameprivileges as Marilda; indeed, she had a good deal more credit withall varieties of teachers, since she learnt rapidly and eagerly; andMarilda, while encouraging her successes, without a shade of jealousy,made no attempt to conquer her own clumsiness and tardiness. Even 'AuntMary,' as Alda called Mrs. Thomas Underwood, often had recourse to Aldafor sympathy in her endeavours to be tasteful, and continually held herup as an example to Marilda.
'And poor dear good woman,' said Alda, 'she has such a respect forUnderwood breeding and our education, that I believe I could persuadeher into anything by telling her it was what she calls "_comifo_."Even when she was going to get the boudoir done with apple-greenpicked out with mauve, enough to set one's teeth on edge, and Marildawould do nothing but laugh, she let me persuade her into a lovely palesea-green.'
'Is not sea-green too
delicate for her?' asked Cherry.
'Why, it was very wicked of Edgar, to be sure, but he said that itwas to suit the nymph reining in the porpoises. He made a sketch, andMarilda was delighted with it; she really is the most good-naturedcreature in the world.'
'She must be!' ejaculated Wilmet; 'but surely she ought not to likelaughing at her mother.'
'Oh, everybody laughs at Aunt Mary, and she hardly ever finds it out,and when she does, she does not mind! Even old Mrs. Kedge, her mother,does nothing but laugh at her for trying to be fine. Old Granny is nota bit by way of being a lady, you know; she lives in a little house inthe city with one maid, and I believe she rubs her own tables. I amsure she goes about in omnibuses, though she has lots of money; andMarilda is so fond of her, and so like her, only not so clever andshrewd.'
'But why does she live in such a small way?'
'Because she never was used to anything else, and does not like it. Shehates grand servants, and never will come to Kensington Palace Gardens;but she really is good-natured. She told Clement to drop in on herwhenever he likes, and bring any of his friends; and she always givesthem a superb piece of plum-cake, and once she took them to the Tower,and once to the Zoological Gardens, for she thinks that she cannot doenough to make up to them for being bred up to be little monks, withcords and sandals, and everything popish.'
'You don't let her think so?'
'Well, really when she has got a thing into her head nothing willuproot it; and, after all, they do carry things very far there, andClement goes on so that I don't wonder.'
'Goes on how?'
'Why, just fancy, the other day when Uncle Thomas fetched him in hisbrougham because I was coming home, there he sat at luncheon and wouldnot eat a scrap of meat.'
'Ah! it was a Wednesday in Lent,' said Cherry.
'Only a Wednesday, you know; and _there_, with four or five strangepeople, too. One of them asked if he was a Catholic, and of courseClement looked very wise, and greatly pleased, and said, "Yes, hewas;" and that brought down Aunt Mary with her heavy artillery. "Blessme, Clement, you don't say so. Is Mr. Fulmort really gone over?""Yes," said Clem. (I know he did it on purpose.) "He is gone over topreach at St. Peter's." And then one of the gentlemen asked if Clemmeant Mr. Fulmort of St. Matthew's, Whittingtonia, and when he said"Yes, he lived in the clergy house," he began regularly to play himoff, asking the most absurd questions about fasts and feasts andvigils and decorations, and Clem answered them all in his prim littleself-sufficient way, just as if he thought he was on the high-road tobe St. Clement the Martyr, till I was ready to run away.'
'Couldn't you have given him a hint?' asked Wilmet.
'My dear, have you lived twelve years with Clem without knowing thathints are lost on him?'
'Dear Clem, he is a very good steady-hearted little fellow,' saidCherry. 'It was very nice of him.'
'Well, I only hope he'll never come to luncheon again in Lent. Thereare times and seasons for everything, and certainly not for display!And to make it worse, Marilda is the most literal-minded girl. Fastingwas quite a new mind to her, for she never realises what she doesnot see; and she got Clem into a corner, where I heard him going on,nothing loth, about days of abstinence, out of Mr. Fulmort's lastcatechizing, I should think; and ended by asking what Cousin Edwarddid, so that I fully expected that I should find her eating nothing,and that I should be called to account.'
'And what did you tell her then?'
'Oh, you know I could say quite truly that he did not.'
'I don't think that was quite fair,' said Wilmet gravely. 'You know itwas only because he really could not.'
'You don't know how glad I was to have an answer that would hinder thehorrid commotion we should have had if Marilda had taken to fasting.And, after all, you _know_, Papa would have said minding her mother washer first duty.'
'Why did not you tell her that?'
'I have, dozens of times; but you know there are mothers and mothers,and nobody can always mind Aunt Mary, good soul! Marilda has just madeherself, with her own good rough plain sense. I wish she was a man,she would be a capital merchant like her father; but it is hard to bea great heiress, with nothing she really likes to do. She is alwayslonging to come down to Centry, and tramp about the lanes among thecottages.'
'Oh! I wish they would!'
'I don't think Aunt Mary will ever let them, she hates the country; andthough she likes to have a place for the name of the thing, she doesnot want to live there, especially where there are so many of us; andthen, Felix's situation!'
'For shame, Alda!'
'Well, I did not say anything myself. It is only Aunt Mary--it is veryfoolish of people, but, you see, they _will_. As to Marilda, I believeshe would like to stand behind the counter with him this minute.'
'Marilda is the oddest and best girl I ever heard of!'
'You may say that. And so ignorant she was! She had a greatvelvet-and-gold Church Service, and hardly guessed there was any Bibleor Prayer-Book besides. I am sure Felix cannot have had more work toteach that youth than I have had with Marilda. Such a jumble as she hadpicked up! She really had only little baby prayers to say, till she sawmy book.'
'What a blessing you must be to her!' said Wilmet, fondly looking ather sister.
'Well, I do hope so. You must know she was regularly struck with dearPapa. I am sure he is the first saint in her calendar, and everythingis--"What did Cousin Edward say?" And when once she has made up hermind that a thing is right, she will blunder on through fire and water,but she will do it.'
'Then,' said Cherry, 'she ought to try and learn, and not to be awkwardbecause of obedience.'
Alda burst out laughing. 'People can only do what they can. Marildatrying to be graceful would be worse than Marilda floundering her ownway. But she really is the best and kindest girl living, and she getson much better for having me to keep her out of scrapes.'
Wilmet went to bed that night thankful to have Alda's head on thepillow beside her, and most thankful for the tokens that she watchedamong her brothers and sisters, which showed how much her father'sinfluence was extending beyond his short life.
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