The Pillars of the House; Or, Under Wode, Under Rode, Vol. 2 (of 2)

by Charlotte M. Yonge

  CHAPTER XXXIII.

  A BOOTLESS BENE.

  '"What is good for a bootless bene?" She answered, "Endless sorrow."' _Wordsworth._

  Geraldine was yet to discover how peaceful and happy was her life.For a year and a half, the words at the head of our chapter--whateverthey may mean--had been running in her head. That 'bootless bene' wasa thing of sudden stabs and longing heartaches; but Edgar had not beena sufficiently permanent inhabitant to be daily missed, as Wilmet was.He had been a crowning ornament of the fabric of the house, not a stonewhose loss made a gap, but rather an ever bright, enlivening, excitingpossibility in her life, whose criticism and approval had led her on toart, and trained her talent and taste. She never worked at a drawingwithout an inward moan, and would almost have lost heart, save that heand the clearance of his name were still her object; but for reliance,support, and fellow-feeling, she had more in the remaining brothersthan he could ever have given her. Felix and Lance were preciouscompanions, and Wilmet's departure had left her no time for drooping.Housekeeping began by being a grievous responsibility. Cherry could notbargain like Wilmet, nor go down into the kitchen and toss up somethingdainty out of mere scraps for her brothers' supper; and when she heardthat Zadok Krishnu excelled in curry and coffee, she could only liftup her hands and sigh on the waste of good gifts of cookery upon oneMajor! Martha was a good faithful servant, but odds and ends did notgo so far as they used to do; and Cherry never could, and never did,reduce her bills to the original standard, though she brought them onSaturday nights with such misery and humiliation that Felix was forcedto laugh at her, and represent that their pinch of poverty was over,and excessive frugality no longer necessary. His position was now whatMr. Froggatt's had been, and his means, with Lance's payment for board,were quite sufficient to bear the difference, even without Cherry'sown, which fully covered the diminution through her want of time andof notability. Waste there was not, profusion there was not; but acertain ease there was, so soon as Cherry had learnt, as Lance said,not to believe they should be in the County Court because they hadspent a shilling instead of elevenpence-three-farthings. She felt toothat home was comfortable to the others. The anxious stinting, thoughat times needful, had, as Felix hinted to her, been good for no one.Though praiseworthy and self-denying _when_ it was needful, the habithad become cramping to Wilmet herself, and to all the brothers it hadbeen an irritation, endured by some with forbearance, but certainlyprejudicial to others.

  Nobody was afraid of Cherry; but since all had outgrown the bear-gardenage, a sympathetic government was best. _Berserkarwuth_ might requireKing Stork's 'Now, boys;' but when the ruler was a lady, and a lamelady, chivalry might be trusted even in unruly Bernard, who had come toan age when freedom was better for him than strictness.

  So had the world gone till the autumn, when Major and Mrs. Harewoodhad to retreat from their mountain abode, but did not venture onwintering in England. They had made up their minds to winter atBiarritz. John would have preferred Pau, but Wilmet set her faceagainst it, dwelling upon the benefits of sea air; and he yielded, buthe would not be baulked of a day's halt there. It was a place he hadalways wished to see; and he would not defraud Robin of the castle ofthe Foix, and of the tortoise-shell cradle of _le Grand Monarque_.

  He could walk now, but only with a stick, and stooping and halting agood deal. His obstinate hip was still troublesome, and his recoveryhad been retarded by painful methods of preventing contraction. Nor wasit yet certain whether he would ever be fit to return to his corps;and though he moved about the house, and discarded invalid habits, hewas still so anxious a charge, that Wilmet was quite justified in hervexation at the charms of the old castle at Pau, where he _would_ walkand stand about, admiring and discussing history and architecture withRobina and a clever French priest, lionising like themselves. She didcatch her sister, and severely forbid her to make a remark that couldprotract the survey; but the wicked priest was infinitely worse, andbeguiled them into places where the ordinary guide would never havethought of taking them; nor was she certain that her provoking John didnot perceive and rather enjoy her agony.

  At last she got him safe to the hotel, and into the tiny bedroomopening out of their sitting-room.

  'It is much quieter there,' she said, returning. 'I have given him the_Times_, and I hope he will have a couple of hours' rest before the_table d'hote_.'

  'Then, Wilmet, would you come with me? I made out the street, and it isvery near,' said Robin.

  'What street?'

  'Alice Knevett's--Madame Tanneguy. O Wilmet,' as she saw hercountenance, 'you know Cherry promised the aunts that we would seeabout her if we went to Pau.'

  'Cherry had no right to make such a promise, and I do not mean to bebound by it. Madame Tanneguy does not deserve notice, especially fromus! I should have thought you had had enough of her.'

  'But should not I be unforgiving to remember that?'

  'It is not a matter of forgiveness, my dear. Her marriage was the bestthing that could have happened to us. I am absolutely obliged to herfor it; but that does not make her behaviour any better.'

  'No; but suppose she was in distress?'

  'No reason to suppose any such thing! The man was well to do; and ofcourse she is leading that gay life the _bourgeoisie_ do here--at thetheatre or out on the _place_ all the evening--nothing fit for us toassociate with.'

  'I don't want to associate, and I only think it right to find out.'

  'What does Robin want to find out?' said John, helping himself forwardwith the table; 'some defender for Jeanne d'Albret, whom we have heardso run down to-day?'

  'O John! why aren't you lying down?'

  'Because I have no taste for being condemned to solitary confinement asa punishment for being beguiled by that Jesuit--not even in disguise.I'm going to write to my father. Aren't you going out again?'

  'No,' said Wilmet.

  'I thought I heard Robin wanting to find out some one for Cherry. Thesedoors aren't adapted for secrets. What was it, Bobbie?'

  'I did not mean to trouble you about it, John,' said Wilmet. 'Do youremember about that unfortunate affair of Alice Knevett?'

  'Was it to her that your brother Edgar was attached?'

  'Yes. Remember, it was a clandestine affair; and these children weremade to serve as tools--that is, Angela was; and though Robina refused,she was involved in the scrape, and suffered so much for it that Ishould not have thought she would have wished to run after her again.'

  'Then she married a Frenchman, did she not?' interposed John.

  'Yes. After refusing to give Edgar up, and giving us all an infinityof trouble and annoyance, she suddenly threw him over without a word,and ran away with this Frenchman from Jersey. Yet here are the MissPearsons expecting us to call on her, Cherry undertaking that we shall,and this child expecting me to go and do so!'

  'Do you know anything about the Frenchman?'

  'A sort of commercial traveller, I believe.'

  'Agent for a wine merchant,' said Robina. 'Major Knevett said there wasnothing against his character. Miss Pearson sent the address; it is inthe street at right angles with this, about eight doors off.'

  'Well,' said John, 'I do not see how you can refuse to satisfy the MissPearsons about her.'

  'If she were in a right frame of mind she would write to them. Whileshe treats them with such neglect, I do not see why I should encourageher.'

  'Cherry said they thought she was ashamed to begin,' said Robina. 'MissPearson wrote severely at first, and now wants very much to make abeginning, and to be sure that Alice is not in distress.'

  'I think it ought to be done,' said John; 'it is so near, that you canwalk there at once with Robina, and at least inquire at the door. I donot see how you can refuse Miss Pearson.'

  Nobody had spoken to Wilmet with authority since her fifteenth year,and she did not recognise the sound.

  'I do not choose to notice a person who has behaved like that,' shesaid; 'Miss Pearson
has no right to ask it. Take off your things,Robina; I am going to pack for to-morrow.'

  There was no temper in her tone, only the calm reasonable determinationthat had governed her household and ruled her scholars; and she walkedinto the other room and shut the door, as on a concluded affair.

  John looked round. Robina was standing by the table, wiping away a fewtears.

  'I do not know what to do, John,' she said 'I wrote to Cherry that wewere coming here, and would do this. May I have Zadok to walk with me?'

  'Your sister is quite right,' said John. 'I am the fit person to go.How far did you say it was?'

  'Eight doors, I counted.'

  'Then we need not get a cabriolet,' said John, reaching for his hat andstick.

  'But you are so tired!'

  'Not at all. If we go early to-morrow, this is the only time for doingit.'

  Whether she experienced a spark of triumph, or whether she was merelyfrightened and uneasy, as her brother-in-law came limping downstairsafter her, Robina knew not. She had never seen any one but Fulbertfly in Wilmet's face. Felix might sometimes differ and get his way,but that was by persuasion; and the pillars of the house had alwayspreserved the dignity of concord towards the younglings. It wasastounding, even considering that he was her husband. So quietlyand easily he did it, too, as if he had no notion what an awful andunprecedented action he was committing. Force of habit made Robin feelas naughty as when Fulbert had led her and Lance to see-saw on thetimbers in the carpenter's yard; and she could not divest herself offears of some such reception as had awaited them on that occasion.

  Wilmet packed without misgiving. She had foreseen this perplexity whenshe endeavoured to avoid Pau, and her mind was too fully made up to beoverruled by Miss Pearson's ill-judged yearnings, Geraldine's imprudentpromise, Robina's foolish impulse, or John's good-nature. It was notresentment, but disapproval. If Alice had jilted young Bruce she shouldhave held the same course. She would not argue before her littlesister; but in private John should be brought to a proper understandingof Alice's enormities, and learn thankfulness to his domestic check onHarewood easiness and masculine tolerance.

  Then it struck her that those two were unusually quiet in the nextroom. Some sounds she had lost in opening drawers and moving boxes;but now all was still, John no doubt writing, and Robin--could shehave gone to her own room to cry? The elder sister began to relent,and think the moment come for drawing from her a confession of herwilfulness. She opened the door to seek her. Behold, John was notthere. No, nor his hat and gloves! Robina was not in her bedroom! Hadthey absolutely sallied forth in opposition?

  Wilmet had never been so defied by anything too big to kick andscream! She stood aghast. Naughty obstinate Robina had wroughtupon John! He ought to have known better! He would knock himselfup--inflammation would come on--the wounds would break out again, allbecause of this complication of foolish pity for that horrid littleflirt!

  Wilmet's tears gushed, her chest heaved with sobs. Why could he nothave attended to her? Withal his words came back to her.

  He had distinctly bidden her to go; and had she done so, he wouldhave been safe on that sofa. Bidden? yes, it had been a clear desire,courteously and calmly uttered, but decisive; and only at this momentdid it strike her that his orders were more binding on her than thoseof Felix. He had commanded. She had disobeyed, and he had done thething himself, to his own inconvenience, not to say peril.

  Then came vexation. It was not fair! She would have gone anywhere hadshe known the alternative. Was it kind or grateful, after her longnursing, to risk himself without warning! Nay, could a man use plainerwords than 'You ought'--'You cannot refuse?' Yet was she, as a wife, toobey blindly at the first word, against her judgment? Perhaps Wilmethad never known so hard a moment as this first galling of the yoke ofsubjection--the sense of being under the will of another. How could herun after that heartless Alice, who had been Edgar's bane and Felix'sgrief? Who could tell what company she kept, or if she were fit companyfor Robina? And the creature was so disgustingly pretty that she coulddeceive any man, even Felix. True; but a little moderation on her ownpart, and she herself--the prudent matron--might have gone forth withher husband, protecting and protected, instead of exposing Robina'sinexperienced girlhood and his manly good-nature to any possiblecontaminations or deceptions. Oh! would they but come!

  There was time for many such cycles of vexation, relenting,self-reproach, and anxiety--ever growing severer towards herself,bitterer towards Alice and Robina, tenderer towards John. It was nearlyseven o'clock before the slow thud of the stick, and the steps withone foot foremost, proclaimed the return. Zadok was in the ante-roomand let them in. She saw John heated and panting; and reproachfulsolicitude predominated in her voice as she exclaimed, 'You must stayhere. You are not fit for the _table d'hote_.'

  'None of us are,' he answered, in a low, grave tone that startled her;and she then saw that Robina was looking dreadfully white and overcome,and trembling violently.

  As the girl met her eye, all was forgotten but the old motherlyrelation; and there was a rush to hide her face on her, and aconvulsive sobbing of, 'O Wilmet! Wilmet!'

  'Lay her down! I will fetch something,' said John, moving towards theother room. 'She has held up with all her might.'

  'But oh, what is it? That wretched Alice! Bobbie, my dear child, liedown! Don't try to keep it in; cry--no, you can't speak. O John! Whatis it?--Yes, that's right,' as he brought what was needed from themedical resources always at hand for himself; 'only tell me the worst.'

  With his eyes on the measure-glass, and his steady hand dropping thestimulant, he said, in an under-tone, 'A duel! The husband was killed;but it was hardly Edgar's fault.'

  Wilmet, with Robina almost fainting on the sofa, was wholly occupied inadministering the drops, and bathing the flushed face; and the successof her efforts was shown by another cry of 'O Wilmet!' and then apassion of weeping that shook her whole frame violently.

  'That is best,' said John. 'She kept it in bravely.' And as the great_table d'hote_ bell clanged, he went to the door and spoke to Zadok.

  As he returned, Robina bounded up, nervously exclaiming, 'O John, liedown, do; you are done up!'

  But when strength was needed, he found it. 'Not now, thank you, mydear. I have told Zadok to bring us some dinner. That will make lessdisturbance. We will get ready, and after that we shall be better ableto talk.'

  Overwhelmed and crushed, the sisters did just as they were told; butWilmet turned once, and said as if out of a dream, 'Is there anythingto be done? Is he here?'

  'Oh no! It was months ago--before I saw him. It was forced on him. Youshall hear all presently, dearest.'

  The gentle kindness restored her, or rather drove everything out of herthoughts but his flushed, weary, affectionate face, and heavy painfultread; and when he grasped her arm to be helped into the sitting-room,and sank with a sigh into his chair, half the world might have killedthe other half, so long as he was neither ill nor angry with her.

  'Will you see for that poor child?' he said, as Zadok came up with thethree couverts; 'she needs restoration as much as any one.'

  Robina had washed her tear-stained face, but was only brought tothe table as an act of obedience; and all through the meal John wascoercing her into swallowing soup and wine, and Wilmet was watchingthat he did not neglect his own injunctions. Then disposing of Zadokwith some orders about coffee, he lay down on the sofa, but by a sortof tacit motion invited Wilmet to give him one hand to play with, andstroke his hair with the other--his old solace at Rameses--and oh! howmuch it made up for to her! Robina was now quite restored, and longingto relieve her soul, and the narration chiefly fell to her.

  'We soon found the house--one of those immense tall old ones--and werang, and asked whether Madame Tanneguy lived there. "_O oui_," saidthey, "_au quatrieme_." We thought that rather odd; and John askedagain if she were English, and the _concierge_ said, "Yes, assuredly;"and as someone else came just then, we asked no more questions, onlyclimbed
up, up those dreadful stairs, so dirty and so steep. I wantedJohn to sit down and wait for me, but he would not hear of it.'

  Wilmet looked at him with moist eyes, and pressed his hand. 'I wasaccountable for the child,' he said, smiling. 'Besides, there wasnothing to sit upon.'

  'At last,' continued Robin, 'we did get to the _quatrieme_, and rang;and we heard a little trot-trotting, and the door was opened by a queerlittle French child, that turned and ran away, calling out, "_Maman,Maman!_" and as we went in--O Wilmet! there rose up, with a little babyin her arms, poor Alice, all in black, with a great flowing white veil,like the widow at Bagneres. She knew me directly, and I believe we bothgave a little scream.'

  'That you did,' murmured Major Harewood.

  'And she said, "You--you! what do you come here for?" I did notknow what to say, but I got out something about the aunts; and sheanswered, "Then you do not know, or you could never have broken in onme and my poor orphans!" Really I thought she was mad with grief, andsaid the aunts would have sent all the more; but she burst out, "No!no! not his sister--his--the murderer of my husband!" and she began tocry. I only thought still she was mad, but--O John, what was it? Didn'tyou think so?'

  'No, I saw that was not the case; but I thought she took you forsomeone else, and began to explain; and I think the curiosity of makingout who I was, and how we came there, did more to bring her round thananything else.'

  'But how could this dreadful thing have been?' asked Wilmet. 'You saidit once: but it cannot really be true!'

  'Too true, my dear,' said John, 'but with much extenuation. It was lastSeptember. He really was with those National Minstrels.'

  'Ah!'

  'But not by name in the programme,' said Robina. 'She went to thetheatre with her husband, and there were Hungarian and German songs;but then when the English ballad began--the Red Cross Knight--the firstnotes overcame her; she had a _saisissement_, screamed, and almostfainted.'

  'Just like her!' exclaimed Wilmet 'Then it was all owing to that?'

  'I fear so. Edgar looked up, and when he saw her, he broke down. Hebegan again, and got through the rest of his part; but in the meantimeM. Tanneguy had been discovering that he was not Alice's first love.'

  'Not by ever so many,' muttered Wilmet. 'And of course she shuffled andshifted off the blame to Edgar.'

  'If so, she has suffered for it,' said John, with gentle repressiveness.

  'And,' continued Robina, 'whatever she could say only enraged him more;he took her home, then waited for Edgar at the door of the theatre,demanded an explanation, and challenged him. They fought outside thetown, and M. Tanneguy was wounded; but they did not think it so bad;and, like a brave Frenchman, he kept up to his own door, so that Edgarmight get safe away. On the third day he grew worse, and died! OWilmet! who could have thought it? How will Felix bear it?'

  'Remember,' said John, 'that this was fastened on your brother. Idon't, of course, look on it as anything but a crime, but it should notbe exaggerated. To be insulted and called to account by a fiery Gascon,when you believe yourself the injured party, cannot be easily bearable;besides, Edgar had had a foreign training, not so alien to duelling asours, and his associates would expect it of him. For the rest, I thinkhe must have won his enemy's heart, for the poor lady said much of herhusband's acknowledgment of his generosity, and desire for his escape.I am sure he might well, if he did half as much for him as he did forme.'

  'And he had done this when he touched you,' said Wilmet, shuddering.

  'Or I should not be here,' said John. 'My dear,' and he held both herhands, 'I wish I could make you look on it in a different light It wasnot an assassination. To have refused the challenge would have requireda sort of resolution that few men are capable of; above all, when allhis surroundings would have expected it of him.'

  'What surroundings?' replied Wilmet 'No wonder he could not bear toface your father and me! Poor Edgar! wandering about like Cain! Andhe was such a dear little boy! Papa used to call him his little KingOberon! Oh! I am glad Papa and Mamma don't know it.' She slipped downon her knees by John's side, hid her face in his pillow, and cried, butsoftly and gently now.

  'I don't think it can be less bad to Felix and Cherry,' said Robina,sadly. 'How can we write to them?'

  'We had better not do so till I have learnt more,' said John; 'I shallgo to the _bureau de police_ to-morrow, and make inquiries, and try tosee poor Tanneguy's employer, M. Aimery, who seems to have been theonly friend that poor young thing has had.'

  'Why did she not write?' asked Wilmet.

  'M. Aimery did write to her father,' said Robina, 'but he has leftJersey, and the letter was returned; and as to the aunts, you know MissPearson did write sharply once, and Alice always took her strictnessfor unkindness, and never knew how fond of her the aunts were. Indeed,I fancy she has been too ill and inert to do more than go on from dayto day.'

  'Has she anything to live on, poor child?'

  'Her husband had a small interest in the business, and M. Aimery paysher the proceeds every month--a hundred francs.'

  'A hundred francs! four pounds three and fourpence for herself and twochildren!'

  'She had to move up from the nice apartments below to this dismal_quatrieme_, only one room, and very little in it; and then she was illfor a long time, and the baby was born; and that took up all the readymoney there was left. She has been thinking whether she could get anydaily-governess work to do among the English; but then, how can sheleave the children?'

  'Poor thing!' said Wilmet, 'I must go and see her to-morrow.'

  'Do,' said her husband affectionately. 'Considering all things, we hadbetter remain here a few days, had we not?'

  'Certainly. I will speak about the rooms. Of course we must do our bestfor her and those poor children. I hope they are girls.'

  'No,' said Robin,' boys--Gustave and Achille. Gustave lookspreternaturally wise and solemn, with his black eyes and bullet head;but when his mother cried, he went into such an agony, that John had toshow him his watch, and give him his stick to ride on, before we couldhear ourselves speak. O John, what work you have done to-day!'

  'And you too, Bobbie,' said Wilmet kindly, 'you had better go to bed assoon as you have had your coffee.'

  Her head was aching enough to make her glad to take the advice; andwhen she was gone, John lay still, too weary, and yet too comfortable,for the exertion of going to bed; and he was not far from sleep whenWilmet came back from giving her sister the tender care that the shockdemanded.

  Bitterness and resistance had long been swept away by those terribletidings; but Wilmet could not forget that she had offended, andgathering herself into a great effort, she stood by the sofa,dignified, but rather constrained, and said, 'I am very sorry aboutthis afternoon, John.'

  'You were quite right,' said John, sleepily; 'it was not a business forwomen alone.'

  'That was not what I meant,' she answered. 'I ought not to have madethat flat refusal. I did not recollect.'

  John roused himself a little, to say, 'I suppose when two people cometogether who have grown up separately, their judgments must sometimesdiffer, and there is not always time to adjust them.' These last wordswere very sleepy again.

  'No, I see I ought to have submitted; but I had no notion you would go;I behaved very ill to you, and you did it to punish me.'

  'Not exactly,' he said, stirred up at those words. 'It would have beenkinder to have told, but you had spoken plainly, and there seemed notime--nor occasion--for--further--Jeanne d'Albret--'

  Which last words were sufficient testimony of the power of Morpheus.After all, he was inflicting, though he did not know it, a severepunishment. Wilmet was not a self-tormentor like Cherry; but shedid not like to have her little mutiny passed over without areconciliation, and to see him so perfectly unruffled by what had madeall the depths of her heart turbid. And when he had 'fallen asleep inher very face,' she had the strongest possible temptation, if not topursue the argument, at least to demand if he meant to sleep there allnight, a
nd rout him into going at once to undress; and when her realgoodness and affection would not permit this, to beguile the time withthe piece of intricate Pyrenean knitting, which had been the solace ofhis active nature, when he was good for nothing else. Though she hadtaught him to knit, those essential differences in the strength andmanipulation of male and female fingers, made him particularly disliketo have rows interpolated by either of the ladies, and this she alwaysso far resented, that it would have been uncommonly agreeable in herpresent mood to have gone on with the work. To abstain was all theharder to a person of her instincts, because no other occupation couldbe attained without opening a door, and breaking his slumbers; andthough Wilmet had plenty to think of, the deprivation of mechanicalemployment for her fingers was trying enough to take away serenity orconnection from her thoughts. Instead of any sort of meditation on theterrible tidings of the day, her mind _would_ vibrate between desire totake up the knitting and resolution to let him sleep till eleven.

  Perhaps in truth, nothing in her whole life was so difficult to WilmetHarewood, or of so much service to her, than using such abstinence.

  The shock and horror of the tidings when they reached Bexley may wellbe believed. John, after full enquiry, had written both to Felix andto the Miss Pearsons. Geraldine had perhaps never before believed thatEdgar was lost to her, and the blow of regarding him as a murdererhad such an effect upon her, that an illness was the consequence, inwhich Felix had to call in Sister Constance's aid to supplement littleStella's, and conquer the almost exaggerated feeling that for a timethreatened nervous fever.

  Sometimes, however, a lesser worry becomes a remedy for the effectsof a greater, and Cherry's recovery was certainly not retarded by acertain dismay at learning that the forgiving aunts had offered ahome to their errant niece and her little ones. No one could grudgethem the asylum, but it roused Cherry from bewailing the crime of theone brother to a far more common-place anxiety about the other--acounter-irritant that so restored her health and spirits, that SisterConstance left her to such peace as it allowed her to enjoy. Felixhad settled down so quietly--he seemed so entirely to have got overit, that it was hard to have all stirred up and the lady brought backagain, freed in so dreadful a manner. No woman can ever estimatebeforehand the effect that one of her own sex will produce on a man,however sensible. Her opinion is no gauge for his; and she laboursunder the further disadvantage that her better judgment is sure to bepitied, if not as feminine spite, at least as feminine incapability ofcandour; and Sister Constance advised Cherry to abstain from expressingthe faintest regret. The good old aunts religiously preserved thesecret of the mode of Tanneguy's death; but no one who knew the niececould doubt that the whole story would be at the mercy of whoever choseto cultivate her confidence.

  Her arrival was notified by the sending in of a parcel from thetravellers, containing Wilmet's sets of shirts for Lance and Bernardand two beautiful shawls in Pyrenean knitting, one for Cherry and onefor Mr. Harewood. Felix said very little, but his complexion was stillas tell-tale as a girl's. He was restless till Geraldine had called,though he feared to ask her to do so. She was not indeed uneasy abouthis actions; but only lest his affections should be so far out of hispower as to render him unhappy and open the old wound.

  Her visit went off better than she expected. She was greatly touchedby Alice's delicate appearance and altered looks, and was favourablyimpressed by her subdued affectionate manner, and her fervent gratitudeto the Harewoods, little guessing that it was to Robina that she owedit all. There was so much to hear about the Major's degree of recovery,his kindness, Wilmet's splendid beauty, and the sensation it excited,and all their arrangements for the winter, that Cherry went home in afar more ordinary mood than she could have thought possible.

  For some time there was no meeting with Felix. Cherry even began towish it was over, and off his mind as well as her own.

  It came about at last suddenly. Felix opened the house door exactly asAlice was passing; they greeted one another, and shook hands. She hadher eldest boy with her; he was leading Theodore, and Scamp, who was attheir heels, instantly thrust his tan nose into little Gustave's face,so terrifying the child, that Felix was lifting him in his arms out ofthe dog's way, when he was startled by a yell from Theodore. The boyhad an animal's instinctive jealousy. He had never seen any child buthimself and Stella caressed by his brother; and the sight brought onone of the accesses of passion which had begun to seize him since hiswill and his strength had become somewhat more developed. Felix had nochoice but peremptorily to snatch him indoors, leaving Madame Tanneguyand her child, who were both very much frightened, to Lance.

  No more effective separation could have been devised, for Alice couldnot but retain a great horror of that 'dreadful boy,' who, though muchsmaller than Stella, and with little force in his soft aimless fingers,was still nearly eleven years old, and twice as big as her tiny brownelf. If they had been shut up together, Gustave would have masteredhim in a minute; but she of course viewed him as a formidable being;and on the other hand, his face changed at the word 'little boy,'and his blue eyes grew fixed and round, and his soft murmuring to anangry inarticulate jabber, if he did but catch a sight of the littleFrench boy from the window. Geraldine was just beginning to feel thatthe preventive had come in a curious form, between the two unconsciouscreatures, when Madame Tanneguy received a remittance from M. Aimery,and could not understand how to get it cashed. So just at the oldtwilight hour of her former visits she was shown into the drawing-room,and a message was presently sent to beg Mr. Underwood to come up whenhe was at leisure.

  When he came, Geraldine was struck with the peculiar gentleness of hismanner. It was gentle to all women and children, but to Madame Tanneguyit had a sort of tender reverence that gave its exceeding kindness amarked character, and was so unlike the good-natured elder-brotherlyraillery that used to veil his youthful adoration, that Alicescandalised Cherry by exclaiming, 'How altered Mr. Underwood is! Grownso grave, I should not have known him!' As if anyone would not be gravewhen approaching the widow made by his brother.

  He had minutely fulfilled the little service for her, and no doubt thereverential tone gratified her, for thenceforth she was always comingfor the help and counsel that she never failed to find. 'Nobody couldadvise like Mr. Underwood,' she said; and it was amazing how much shefound to consult him about--not only her French investments, but herarrangements with her aunts, her correspondence, and at last whethershe ought to bring up Gustave and Achille as Roman Catholics. It somuch annoyed him to detect any pleasantry on his submission to herbehests, that Cherry and Lance scarce durst glance their half-amusedannoyance to one another; and Angel and Bear never fell into aworse scrape in their lives than when they concocted a forgery withthe tidings that Madame Tanneguy presented her compliments to Mr.Underwood, and was grieved to inform him that Gustave had scratchedAchille's nose. Would he give her his much esteemed advice whether toapply court-plaster or gold-beater's skin?

  Felix severely told Angela that to make a jest of Madame Tanneguy'sforlorn condition betokened heartlessness, and added to Bernard thatall the assistance that he or any of the brothers could afford was nomore than her due, and could never atone for the past. Bernard wasreally awed, and after sulking for the rest of the day, suddenlyveered into a certain private adoration of the lady, who by this time,with returning health, was resuming her vivacity. She had discarded herfloating crape, and her pretty little head shone in its native glossyjet, while she smiled, chattered, and except that she was a devotedmother, and did her duty conscientiously as an assistant in the school,was the old Alice to all intents and purposes. Nor was it her fault ifthe original Felix did not likewise revive; she tried many a little artto beguile him into the playful terms of their former intercourse, buthe never relaxed that reserved, compassionate gentleness, nor allowedhimself to forget that his brother had first loved and then made her awidow. Cherry could have jumped for joy that first time she detected,and saw that Lance did, a shadow of a shade of impatience at
thoseexactions; and finally she settled into the trust that propinquity wasthe best disenchantment, and that though there was still some romance,it was about the Alice of old visions, not the live Madame Tanneguy,whose obedient slave he would indeed always be, but merely as Edgar'sbrother, and who was fast, by force of boring and of levity, dispersingall the remaining glamour.

  Cherry had her own anxiety, for an inspection by Wilmet wasapproaching, and very suddenly. At the end of the winter, at Biarritz,the travellers' plans had been deranged by an offer of an appointmentat Woolwich, which hurried them home in the end of February instead ofthe beginning of May, as they had intended, and allowed them only togive one clear day to each of their families. To that day Cherry lookedforward with some dread. Certainly the household was not precisely theBabel that Wilmet had found on her former return, but a formidableconsciousness of shortcomings that would not bear inquisition besether, and she had such a frantic bout of tidying, that Lance found herhopping about half dead with fatigue, and Stella nearly smothered withdust; and begging an afternoon's remission from business, he becamethe merriest and most helpful of housemaids till the operation wasaccomplished.

  After all, the anxiety proved to have been a little superfluous. Windshowled all night, and Major Harewood's well-known discomfort at seamade the arrival dubious till about three o'clock, when, in pouringrain, a fly deposited the voyagers, shaken, battered, jaded, with aprolonged and wretched passage, and each too anxious that the othershould rest, to be good for anything but wan smiles and affectionategreetings. They had eaten or tried to eat at Southampton, and nothingcould be done with them but to shut them into Mr. Froggatt's statebed-chamber and leave them, promising to be better company in theevening.

  Then there was time for Robina, who meanwhile had done little but runabout in their service, select and open the boxes and bags containingwhat was wanted, and introduce the Hindoo, who was put under charge ofa young Lightfoot.

  Then Lance and Robin had time to stand up in the drawing-room gazingat one another after this thirteen months' interval. Lance held up hishands and pretended to fall back in dismay: 'Robin-a-Bobbin grown intoa young lady! Ah!'

  'And what's this?' as she flew at him to pinch the thick brown downupon his lip. 'What kind of crop is this?' And they took one of theirold tumbling waltzes round the room together, as if to shake themselvesinto one, while, with the hand that each kept loose, Robin continued tosnatch at the new decoration, and Lance to defend and smoothe it down.

  'Ay,' said Felix (who tolerated it by a certain effort of philosophy,and the humbling consciousness of being an old Philistine), 'he ischerishing it for the Handel festival. He wants to be taken for aGerman.'

  'O Lance, are you to go to the Handel festival?'

  'Yes, Miles has got me a place in the chorus--jolly, isn't it, of theold fellow? I say, Robin, we must get you up there.'

  'I--oh! I shall be at Woolwich then, I suppose. Do you know, Cherry, Imust only stay till Monday? Those two aren't in the least fit to getinto their house at Woolwich without help, and John has begged me--'

  'I suppose you must,' said Cherry. 'After all these good accounts, thisis disappointing; but how could you all cross on such a night?'

  'Why, Wilmet never minded the sea before, and John had made up hismind soldier-fashion, and thought nothing was to be gained by waiting.And when Wilmet had to succumb she would not believe it, and was sodisgusted at herself, and so miserable about him, that it did her allthe more harm.'

  'And you!'

  'Oh, I was quite well; but it was horrid enough any way--and poor Johnhad gone from the first to lie quite flat in the gentlemen's cabin,where I could not get at him.'

  'Before I go, what do you think of him?' asked Felix. 'One can't judgeof his looks to-day.'

  'Oh! he calls himself sound--the wounds are all healed at last, but hegets a great deal of bad pain still, either rheumatic or neuralgic; hesays it comes from the strain on his constitution, and will take noadvice about it till he can see Dr. Manby. Then he's so cripply that hecould not have gone on in the service if he were not a field-officer.He says he is quite up to it, but we think it a great experiment. Oh!Felix--Lance--don't go--there can't be anybody this wet afternoon!'

  'Yes,' said Felix, 'this is just the time that all the old gentlemenwho get tired of their own fire-sides, and all the professionalsthat can't take their walk, feel inclined to come and prose at"Froggatt's."--But they won't want you, Lance; I'll send if there'sanything for you to do.--Good-bye, Robin Redbreast, you do lookuncommonly nice!' and he took her round cheeks between his hands,and held up her face to kiss each of them, with mouth and brow,individually and gravely.

  'She's the Robin still,' said Cherry, 'only just a little polished up.'

  'Developing,' said Lance, stalking round her, and speaking his wordsdeliberately; 'developing--into--the--bloom--of--sweet--seventeen--andof--'

  'Not beauty!' broke in Robina. 'I would not be as pretty as Wilmet fortwo-pence.'

  'Not for a major?' suggested Lance.

  'He didn't marry her for her beauty,' vehemently responded Robina, 'butfor her--her niceness. Her beauty has been always in her way, and anuisance to her, and--'

  'Sour grapes!' quoth Lance.

  'Not a bit. It would be a worse hindrance in my branch of theprofession.'

  Lance did not answer in jest this time; he looked at the brightpleasant-faced girl in her maidenly bloom and fresh stylish dress, andsaid, 'What a horrid pity it is! she looks ten times more of a ladythan ninety-nine out of a hundred of 'em--and there she's to go andgrind and be ground just for a governess.'

  'Not a bit more of a pity than that--I'll not say that you should be aprinter, Lance, but than that anybody should be anything. I learnt myCatechism, you see, to learn and labour to get my _own_ living.'

  'So you sent Madame Tanneguy home to prevent you from getting intoWilmet's shoes at Miss Pearson's?'

  'I should hope I was fit for something more than that!'

  'Well done, Bob!'

  'I didn't mean--' said Robina, rather distressed, 'but you see I havehad a much better education than ever Wilmet could get, and have goneon longer with it; and I can go in for things that girls here would notcare to learn; so, as I am not wanted to keep house with Wilmet, itwould be just waste for me to come and do like her--poked up in thiscorner.'

  'Ah! you've had a taste of the world,' said Lance, speaking in jest;but Robina, recollecting how he had crushed any ambition of his own,and who _did_ veritably feel that though home was home, Bexley was dulland narrow, turned round with moist eyes.

  'O Lance, I hope it is not that! You know I have been brought up to goout, and it seems my work and duty; but I think it is a great deal morehonourable to stay here because one is wanted.'

  'Because one can't help it,' said Lance, pulling her hair and smiling.'Have you learnt to make speeches in France, Bob?'

  'No. But indeed, Lance, I do want to know if you do never get tired ofthings now?'

  'Oh! I've no right; I'm not one of the highly educated ones!' saidLance, in a spirit of teasing.

  'Now, Lance, don't punish me, when I really want to know.'

  'Taking into consideration the awful slowness and stodginess of theplace, and the contempt of one's highly educated brothers and sisters,'said Lance, slowly, but with a twinkle in his eye that somehow made upfor the words, 'one _does_ drag on life pretty well, by the help ofPur and the organ. The new one is coming by next summer, if there's anyfaith or conscience in the builder, which I believe there is not.'

  'And,' she added, coming near and speaking low, 'did I not hear thatthere had been a letter from Ferdinand?'

  Cherry looked for it. 'Felix took it down to answer,' she said, 'but itwas from Sydney. He had seen Mr. Allen.'

  'Oh!'

  'Yes. He tracked those National Minstrels all over India, Bombay,Calcutta, all manners of places--good faithful fellow--and at last hefound they had gone to Sydney, and there, actually, was Mr. Allen,settled down as a music-m
aster, making--I don't know what in a week.'

  'But--'

  'But there had been a great quarrel, and the concern had broken up; andhe did not in the least know where poor Edgar was gone,' sighed Cherry.'Robin, did you hear what name he sung under at Alexandria?'

  'No, Ferdinand only told Wilmet that his name was not in the programme.'

  'That good Cacique!' broke out Lance; 'he is about the slowest-wittedfellow that walks the earth. I believe he would never believe it was heif he saw anything less than Thomas Edgar Underwood in extra type. Ifhe only would have sent me, I'll be bound I'd have run Edgar down in notime, instead of being always three months behind him, and now off thescent.'

  'No, but is he?'

  'No, he has not given it up,' said Cherry. 'Mr. Allen did not knowwhether they were gone to Melbourne or Adelaide, and he meant to tryboth; and to go and see Fulbert and Mr. Audley.'

  'One of them will stumble on him while Fernan is staring about with hisnose in the air,' said Lance.

  'I am afraid he will only avoid them,' said Cherry sadly.

  'And another certainty is that he will have taken some fresh alias,'said Lance, 'while the Cacique is still hunting for Tom Wood. I bet onFulbert's finding him!'

  'Has he parted from those Hungarians too?'

  'Ay, there's the question! Should you like a prima-donna sister-in-law,Robbie?'

  'No, no, no--don't, Lance,' cried Cherry; 'Mr. Allen said MademoiselleZoraya had--the horrid woman--thought much more of Edgar since--' shecould only pause, 'but he was far too sharp to be drawn in.'

  'That I believe,' said Lance. 'Never fear, Cherry, we shall havehim some of these days, with a long beard, a longer fortune, andthe longest story--ah!' with a long sigh, 'if I wasn't an organist,wouldn't I like to be a scamp!' The offensiveness of which word wasconcealed by a sudden embrace of the Scamp dog, who was made to standon his hind legs, with his feet in Robina's hands, to display hisbeautiful topaz eyes; and in the midst of the exhibition the dooropened, and John came slowly in, leaning on his stout stick.

  'O John, I am glad! are you rested? Haven't you been asleep?'

  'No; I think Wilmet will sleep if she is alone, so I am going to wasteno more time. Thank you,' as Robina put the cushion as he liked it, andlooked into his face with inquiry as she detected the well-known linesthat showed it was pain that made sleep hopeless. He smiled and gave alittle nod, by which she understood that she was to keep her discoveryto herself, and that it was not so severe but that he hoped to amuse itaway; and he began at once laughing with Geraldine.

  'Well, Cherry, you see I've a rival to Lord Gerald.'

  'I began to think I ought to offer him to you, though it would go to myheart.'

  'As if I would be put off with a slender little wand like that,' saidJohn. 'That's what I call a stick.'

  'That's what I call a club,' retorted Cherry. 'I should want somebodyelse to carry me if I took such a monster;' and they proceeded to asort of tilt between their two supporters.

  'I won't have disrespect to my steadfast friend! She's made of olivetree; her name is Olivia; and I believe Wilmet is jealous of her.'

  'Indeed she is,' said Robin. 'When you go out all by yourself, and comein hardly able to speak. That's what he went and did at Paris.'

  'When one has got a wife and a sister, one breaks loose sometimes.Here, you little Star, come and speak to me! Why, you were ablackberry-gathering baby when I saw you last! Let me look at you now.How old are you?'

  'Eleven and a quarter,' breathed a little voice, as he gathered twotiny hands into his, and a pair of porcelain blue eyes glanced upfor a moment out of the most dainty little oval chiselled face andpink-and-white complexion, set in soft brown hair.

  'And can eleven and a quarter hatch an egg from the Palais Royal? Notfrom Bill's _nid d'avis_, but of a bird of larger growth,' as Stella,with a half-breathed 'thank you' rosiness spreading over her face,and lips raised for a kiss, beheld a beautiful blue egg, containingimplements of needlework.

  John tried to talk to her over it, but could get nothing butmonosyllables, and blushes, and smiles, till he released her, and sheflew off, 'To show her egg to Theodore,' said Cherry. 'There's somebaking going on; and he never stirs from the kitchen while he canhandle the dough.'

  'What a lovely little fairy it is!' said John; 'but is it wound up tosay nothing but yes or no?'

  'She is awfully shy,' said Lance. 'Bill can't get as much out of her asyou have done.'

  'She has not spoken a word since I have been in the room,' added Robin.

  'She is a strangely silent child,' said Cherry. 'Sometimes I thinkliving so much with Theodore helps to make her so. She is quick at herlessons, and is a perfect little book of reference; and will talk tome gravely when we are alone; but it never seems to come into her headto chatter. I'm sure Lance and Robin have talked more nonsense in thishour than she has in six months.'

  'I've a longing to hear Stella perpetrate a little nonsense,' saidLance. 'When Angel and Bear are at home, and there is a good gabble,there sits the child, her bright eyes smiling and gleaming, without aword.'

  A knock at the door. 'Mr. Lancelot, there's the Centry carriage in theHigh Street.'

  'There, you see what it is to be the lady's man!' said Lance, laughingand running down.

  'The Centry carriage means your cousin no more,' said John.

  'No; she has let Centry to an old general with a large family. She saidshe knew nothing about country poor, and hated county people; and hermother likes nothing really but Brighton. I think she is quite right,'said Cherry.

  'What sort of people are they?'

  'Oh! they do very well for the parish; but of course are nothing tous. The General proses over the papers to Felix sometimes, and thedaughters have the loveliest eyes in the world.'

  'That's Lance,' said Robina, laughing. 'Is he as tender-hearted asever?'

  'Oh yes; or more so; but as long as the ladies _all_ have the mostbeautiful faces that ever were seen, and his attentions are confined toputting attractive advertisements into their parcels, I don't mind.'

  'Lance is the most altered of you all,' said John.

  'Dear Lance,' said Cherry, 'he has got back a great deal of hissunshine--quite enough to be very delightful to us, though I doubtwhether he is always as bright to himself. There is a certain_sehnsucht_ in the pieces of music he goes on improvising, thatsometimes makes me anxious.'

  'You mean whether he has got into the right line,' said John.

  'It's no use thinking about that; Felix could not do without him; andhe is fit for nothing else now,' said Cherry. 'I fancy when the neworgan comes, he will have a love in that and be happy.'

  John was thoroughly one of themselves, more eager about Bexley affairsthan his wife, though she was thoroughly her affectionate self whenshe joined them in the evening. She was too much tired, and too gladto see their faces, to do more than repose in the sight; and it waskinder to sing than to talk to either traveller. Even the next day,when the ravages of the storm had been repaired, she had too much onher own hands to have leisure to set Cherry to-rights; and if sheperceived any disuse of her pet economies, she acquiesced as if itwere to be quite expected, and no more worth a protest than mattersat the Bailey, whither she was going the next day. To be sure, therewas a kind of implied expectation that she would some day arrive for ageneral rectification of what could just be tolerated under presentcircumstances; but this was not a very pressing alarm.

  The visit was over, the new home at Woolwich begun; and before manyweeks were over, it welcomed what father and aunt united in calling amagnificent boy. Felix went with Mr. Harewood to the christening, andfound his sister a different creature, lovelier than he ever rememberedher. It seemed as if her happiness would have been almost too greatfor this earth if John had only been as strong and well as he tried toappear. But, after all, Felix really believed Wilmet would have beenlost without some one to nurse besides Christopher Underwood, dutifullynamed after his two grandfathers.

 
Alda had actually come down for the day. It was the first time thesisters had met since the funeral at Centry Park, and it had cost heran effort, for her third daughter was but ten days older than Wilmet'sbaby; and she could not withhold a slight plaint at the inequalities offate, in bestowing only girls where they were less welcome, while thesex of Wilmet's magnificent boy could be of no possible consequence--aremark which so exasperated not only the mother, but the father, asgreatly to amuse Felix.

  Lady Vanderkist looked very thin and worn, as if much less recoveredthan Wilmet, who had a beautiful fresh bloom, and was vigorous whileAlda was languid; but the brother and sister gathered that herdifficulties in coming down were far less caused by health than bydisregard to her private wishes and plans. Wilmet regretted that shehad not brought her little Mary; and she said she had hoped to do so,but had found she could not have the horses, and did not like to takeher in a cab. She warmly invited Wilmet to town, but to Marilda'shouse, not her own, except for mornings; and she apologized with realvexation for not being able to offer Felix a bed, Adrian expectedsomeone that evening.

  She was, of course, beautifully dressed; but Wilmet, in a delicatepale-grey silk and Parisian rose-bud bonnet, was not the foil she usedto be; and the two sisters were still a very striking pair, though noone would have guessed them to be twins, so worn did Alda look. She wasmuch kinder to Robina, too, and absolutely eager to hear of every oneat home.

  But what struck Felix most was this. He had business in London, andwent back with her late in the afternoon. At the last moment, Wilmet,wanting to cloak her sister, transferred her baby to his father, who,as he held him, smiled to him with one of those little gestures oftenderness, that express so very much because they are involuntaryand unconscious; and after the brother and sister were seated in thefly, when they looked back with a last wave of the hand, Robina aloneanswered it; the papa and mamma were wholly occupied in handing backtheir treasure with a kiss on either side. Alda went on looking out,and presently Felix saw her handkerchief stealing up to her eyes.Perhaps she thought herself composed, for she turned round and said,with an effort at a smile, 'That's what it is to have a boy! If Adrianhad ever looked like that!'

  Felix charitably refrained from expressing his accordance with herformer sentiment, that it would have been all the same with a girl; andindeed Alda had miscalculated her fortitude, for speaking brought aflood of tears. Felix durst not look at her, and doubted whether to lethimself be conscious, but said at last, 'Caresses are no test. Many mendo not care for very young children.'

  She shook her head; but as they arrived at the station she forced backher tears, bit her lip, and drew forward her spangled veil; Felixbrought her a glass of water, and she walked along the platform withhim, holding his arm with a clasp that reminded him of the day he hadtaken her home from Thomas Underwood's, but not a word did she say inthe train.

  There was no carriage to meet her, and Felix could not resolve not tosee her home.

  'Oh! thank you,' she said, more warmly than perhaps she had everthanked him before. 'I've always said one must come to you forchivalry. But it is terribly out of the way; you will be late for thedinner in Palace Gardens.'

  'They must forgive me,' he said; 'and I should like to see the last ofyou.' And as he sat by her in the hansom, he tried to give her a smile,all affection and no pity.

  'I wish there was time for you to go in. I want you to see littleMary;' then presently, after an effort, 'You'll not speak of this,Felix. I'm not strong yet; and I suppose daughters always are adisappointment where there is a title.'

  Felix supposed it too, and very kindly.

  'Is there any chance of your coming to town again, soon?' she asked, 'Iam always at home and alone before three.'

  'I do not think I shall--no--Lance is going up to the Handel festival,and we cannot be away together.'

  'Little Lance! I've not seen him since he used to have his head-aches.But it is no use to think of it, we shall not be in town by that time,the house is so dreadfully expensive. We shall not have one anotheryear. One gets sick of so much going out, and with all these littlegirls it is time to begin to be prudent.'

  Felix had seen enough of Sir Adrian Vanderkist's name on the turfto think the sentence ominous; not that he was afraid of any greatcrash, but expensive tastes did not accord with estates entailed andthe annual birth of a daughter; and he was greatly touched by Alda'scollapse of self-importance.

  He was late, and Marilda forgave him easily, but Mrs. Underwood wascross. No doubt she had fumed about poor relations having no right tokeep her waiting; and though there was something indefinable aboutFelix that hindered her from manifesting this cause of displeasure,his having been engaged in Alda's service did not pacify her. Sheconsidered Lady Vanderkist as extremely ungrateful for not havingtransported Marilda into those upper circles to which marriage hadintroduced her, without taking into account that the obstacle lay, notwith Sir Adrian, who was ready enough to pay court to riches, but withMarilda herself. That young lady was forming her own way in the world.She had had enough of the Golden Venus line while, for her father'ssake, she submitted to it; and she did not choose to force herself intofashionable circles. Country poor and the Lady Bountiful life, thather mother would have accepted as 'comifo,' were distasteful to her;but she had thrown her business abilities into the service of Londoncharities, and was there becoming every year a more considerable power.Her business premises were in St. Matthew's district; and this madeher regard herself as a parishioner, and undertake no small amount ofservice, of descriptions better known to the clergy-house than to hermother, who set down to the accounts of the office many an hour spentin Whittingtonian schools and alleys. At any rate, Marilda had become amuch more agreeable person, with more aplomb, more ease, and decidedlyless touch of vulgarity, since she had made her standfast, ceased to bedragged at the wheels of the car of fashion, and become the managingspirit of Kedge and Underwood, besides all that St Matthew's knew of.