Beechcroft at Rockstone

by Charlotte M. Yonge

  The telegram came early on Monday morning. Admiral Merrifield and Harrystarted by the earliest train, deciding not to take the girls; whereupontheir kind host, to mitigate the suspense, placed himself at the youngladies' disposal for anything in the world that they might wish to see.It was too good an opportunity of seeing the Houses of Parliament to belost, and the spell of Westminster Abbey was upon Mysie.

  Cousin Rotherwood was a perfect escort, and declared that he had notgone through such a course of English history since he had taken hiscousin Lilias and his sister Florence the same round more years ago thanit was civil to recollect. He gave a sigh to the great men he hadthen let them see and hear, and regretted the less that there was nopossibility of regaling the present pair with a debate. It was all likea dream to the two girls. They saw, but suspense was throbbing in theirhearts all the time, and qualms were crossing Gillian as she recollectedthat in some aspects her father could be rather a terrible personagewhen one was wilfully careless, saucy to authorities, or unable to seeor confess wrong-doing; and the element of dread began to predominate inher state of expectation. The bird in the bosom fluttered very hard asthe possible periods after the arrivals of trains came round; and itwas not till nearly eight o'clock that the decisive halt of wheels washeard, and in a few moments Mysie was in the dearest arms in the world,and Gillian feeling the moustached kiss she had not known for nearlyfour long years, and which was half-strange, half-familiar.

  In drawing-room light, there was the mother looking none the worse forher journey, her clear brown skin neither sallow nor lined, and the softbrown eyes as bright and sweet as ever; but the father must be learntover again, and there was awe enough as well as enthusiastic love tomake her quail at the thought of her record of self-will.

  There was, however, no disappointment in the sight of the fine, tallsoldierly figure, broad shouldered, but without an ounce of superfluousflesh, and only altered by his hair having become thinner and whiter,thus adding to the height of his forehead, and making his very darkeyebrows and eyes have a different effect, especially as he was stillpallid beneath the browning of many years, though he declared himself sowell as to be ashamed of being invalided.

  Time was short. Harry and the Admiral, who were coming to dinner,had rushed home to dress and to fetch Susan; and Lady Merrifield wasconducted in haste to her bedroom, and left to the almost too excitedministrations of her daughters.

  It was well that attentive servants had unfastened the straps, for whenGillian had claimed the keys of the dear old familiar box, her handshook so much that they jingled; the key would not go into the hole, andshe had to resign them to sober Mysie, who had been untying the bonnet,with a kiss, and answering for the health of Primrose, whom UncleWilliam was to bring to London in two days' time.

  'My dear silly child,' said her mother, surprised at Gillian's emotion.

  And the reply was a burst of tears. 'Oh, so silly! so wrong! I have sowanted you.'

  'I know all about it. You told us all, like an honest child.'

  'Oh, such dreadful things--the rock--the poor child killed--CousinRotherwood hurt.'

  'Yes, yes, I heard! We can't have it out now. Here's papa! she is upsetabout these misadventures,' added Lady Merrifield, looking up to herhusband, who stood amazed at the sobs that greeted him.

  'You must control yourself, Gillian,' he said gravely. 'Stop that! Yourmother is tired, and has to dress! Don't worry her. Go, if you cannotleave off.'

  The bracing tone made Gillian swallow her tears, the more easily becauseof the familiarity of home atmosphere, confidence, and protection; and amute caress from her mother was a promise of sympathy.

  The sense of that presence was the chief pleasure of the short evening,for there were too many claimants for the travellers' attention toenable them to do more than feast their eyes on their son and daughters,while they had to talk of other things, the weddings, the two families,the home news, all deeply interesting in their degree, though nottouching Gillian quite so deeply as the tangle she had left atRockstone, and mamma's view of her behaviour; even though it waspleasant to hear of Phyllis's beautiful home in Ceylon, and Alethea'sbungalow, and how poor Claude had to go off alone to Rawul Pindee. Shefelt sure that her mother was far more acceptable to her hostess thaneither of the aunts, and that, indeed, she might well be so!

  Gillian's first feeling was like Mysie's in the morning, that nothingcould go wrong with her again, but she must perforce have patiencebefore she could be heard. Harry could not be spared for another dayfrom his curacy, and to him was due the first tete-a-tete with hismother, after that most important change his life had yet known, and inwhich she rejoiced so deeply. 'The dream of her heart,' she said, 'hadalways been that one of her sons should be dedicated;' and now that thefulfilment had come in her absence, it was precious to her to hearall those feelings and hopes and trials that the young man could haveuttered to no other ears.

  Sir Jasper, meantime, had gone out on business, and was to meet therest at luncheon at his mother's house, go with them to call on theGrinsteads, and then do some further commissions, Lady Rotherwoodplacing the carriage at their disposal. As to 'real talk,' that seemedimpossible for the girls, they could only, as Mysie expressed it, 'baskin the light of mamma's eyes' and after Harry was gone on an errand forhis vicar, there were no private interviews for her.

  Indeed, the mother did not know how much Gillian had on her mind, andthought all she wanted was discussion, and forgiveness for the folliesexplained in the letter, the last received. Of any connection betweenthat folly and the accident to Lord Rotherwood of course she was notaware, and in fact she had more on her hands than she could well doin the time allotted, and more people to see. Gillian had to find thatthings could not be quite the same as when she had been chief companionin the seclusion of Silverfold.

  And just as she was going out the following letter was put into herhands, come by one of the many posts from Rockstone:--

  'MY DEAR GILLIAN--I write to you because you can explain matters, and Iwant your father's advice, or Cousin Rotherwood's. As I was on theway to Il Lido just now I met Mr. Flight, looking much troubled anddistressed. He caught at me, and begged me to go with him to tell poorKalliope that her brother Alexis is in Avoncester Jail. He knew itfrom having come down in the train with Mr. Stebbing. The charge isfor having carried away with him L15 in notes, the payment for a marblecross for a grave at Barnscombe. You remember that on the day of theaccident poor Field was taking it in the waggon, when he came home tohear of his child's death.

  'The receipt for the price was inquired for yesterday, and it appearedthat the notes had been given to Field in an envelope. In his trouble,the poor man forgot to deliver this till the morning; when on his wayto the office he met young White and gave it to him. Finding it had notbeen paid in, nor entered in the books, and knowing the poor boy to haveabsconded, off went Mr. Stebbing, got a summons, and demanded to havehim committed for trial.

  'Alexis owned to having forgotten the letter in the shock of thedismissal, and to having carried it away with him, but said that assoon as he had discovered it he had forwarded it to his sister, and haddesired her to send it to the office. He did not send it direct, becausehe could only, at the moment, get one postage-stamp. On this he wasremanded till Saturday, when his sisters' evidence can be taken at themagistrates meeting. This was the news that Mr. Flight and I had to taketo that poor girl, who could hardly be spared from her mother to speakto us, and how she is to go to Avoncester it is hard to say; but she hasno fear of not being able to clear her brother, for she says she putthe dirty and ragged envelope that no doubt contained the notes intoanother, with a brief explanation, addressed it to Mr. Stebbing, andsent it by Petros, who told her that he had delivered it.

  'I thought nothing could be clearer, and so did Mr. Flight, butunluckily Kalliope had destroyed her brother's letter, and had not readme this part of it, so that she can bring no actual tangible proof, andit is a much more serious matter than it appeared when we wer
e talkingto her. Mr. White has just been here, whether to condole or to triumphI don't exactly know. He has written to Leeds, and heard a veryunsatisfactory account of that eldest brother, who certainly hasdeceived him shamefully, and this naturally adds to the prejudiceagainst the rest of the family. We argued about Kalliope's highcharacter, and he waved his hand and said, "My dear ladies, you don'tunderstand those Southern women--the more pious, devoted doves they are,the blacker they will swear themselves to get off their scamps ofmen." To represent that Kalliope is only one quarter Greek was useless,especially as he has been diligently imbued by Mrs. Stebbing with alllast autumn's gossip, and, as he confided to Aunt Ada, thinks "that theytake advantage of his kindness!"

  'Of course Mr. Flight, and all who really know Alexis and Kalliope, feelthe accusation absurd; but it is only too possible that the Avoncestermagistrates may not see the evidence in the same light, as its weightdepends upon character, and the money is really missing, so that I muchfear their committing him for trial at the Quarter Sessions. It willprobably be the best way to employ a solicitor to watch the case atonce, and I shall speak to Mr. Norton tomorrow, unless your father cansend me any better advice by post. I hope it is not wicked to believethat the very fact of Mr. Norton's being concerned might lead to thenotes finding themselves.

  'Meantime, I am of course doing what I can. Kally is very brave in herinnocence and her brother's, but, shut up in her mother's sickroom, shelittle guesses how bad things are made to look, or how Greek and falseare treated as synonymous.

  'Much love to your mother. I am afraid this is a damper on yourhappiness, but I am sure that your father would wish to know. Aunt Adatackles Mr. White better than I do, and means if possible to make him goto Avoncester himself when the case comes on, so that he should at leastsee and hear for himself.--Your affectionate aunt,

  J. M.'

  What a letter for poor Gillian! She had to pocket it at first, and onlyopened it while taking off her hat at grandmamma's house, and there wasonly time for a blank feeling of uncomprehending consternation beforeshe had to go down to luncheon, and hear her father and uncle go on withtalk about India and Stokesley, to which she could not attend.

  Afterwards, Lady Merrifield was taken to visit grandmamma, and Bessiegratified the girls with a sight of her special den, where she wrote herstories, showing them the queer and flattering gifts that had come toher in consequence of her authorship, which was becoming less anonymous,since her family were growing hardened to it, and grandmamma was pasthearing of it or being distressed. It was in Bessie's room that Gilliangathered the meaning of her aunt's letter, and was filled with horrorand dismay. She broke out with a little scream, which brought both Mysieand Bessie to her side; but what could they do? Mysie was shocked andsympathising enough, and Bessie was trying to understand the complicatedstory, when the summons came for the sisters. There were hopes ofcommunicating the catastrophe in the carriage; but no, the firstexclamation of 'Oh, mamma!' was lost.

  Sir Jasper had something so important to tell his wife about hisinterviews at the Horse Guards, that the attempt to interrupt wassilenced by a look and sign. It was a happy thing to have a fatherat home, but it was different from being mamma's chief companion andconfidante, and poor Gillian sat boiling over with something very likeindignation at not being allowed even to allow that she had something totell at least as important as anything papa could be relating.

  She hardly knew whether to be glad or sorry that the Grinsteads provedto be out of town; but at any rate she might be grateful to LadyRotherwood for preventing a vain expedition--a call on another oldfriend, Mrs. Crayon, the Marianne Weston of early youth, and now awidow, as she too was out. Then followed some shopping that the parentswanted to do together, but at the door of the stores Lady Merrifieldsaid--

  'I have a host of things to get here for the two brides. Suppose, papa,that you walk home with Gillian across the Park. It will suit you betterthan this fearful list.'

  Lady Merrifield only thought of letting father and daughter renew theiracquaintance, and though she saw that Gillian was in an agony to speakabout something, did not guess what an ordeal the girl felt it to haveto begin with the father, unseen for four years, and whose searchingeyes and grave politeness gave a sense of austerity, so that trepidationwas spoiling all the elation at having a father, and such a father, towalk with.

  'Well, Gillian,' he said, 'we have a great deal of lee way to make up.I want to hear of poor White's children. I am glad you have had theopportunity of showing them some kindness.'

  'Oh, papa! it is so dreadful! If you would read this letter.'

  'I cannot do so here,' said Sir Jasper, who could not well make trial ofhis new spectacles in Great George Street. What is dreadful?'

  'This accusation. Poor Alexis! Oh! you don't know. The accident andall--our fault--mine really,' gasped Gillian.

  'I am not likely to know at this rate,' said Sir Jasper. 'I hope youhave not caught the infection of incoherency from Lord Rotherwood. Doyou mean his accident?'

  'Yes; they have turned them both off, and now they have gone and putAlexis in prison.'

  'For the accident? I thought it was a fall of rock.'

  'Oh no--I mean yes--it wasn't for that; but it came of that, and Fergusand I were at the bottom of it,' said Gillian, in such confusion thather words seemed to tumble out without her own control.

  'How did you escape with your lives?'

  Was he misunderstanding her on purpose, or giving a lesson on slipslopat such a provoking moment? Perhaps he was really only patient with thedaughter who must have seemed to him half-foolish, but she was forced tocollect her senses and say--

  'I only meant that we were the real cause. Fergus is wild about geology,and took away a stone that was put to show where the cliff was unsafe.He showed the stone to Alexis White, who did not know where it camefrom and let him have it, and that was the way Cousin Rotherwood came totread on the edge of the precipice.'

  'What had you to do with it?'

  'I--oh! I had disappointed Alexis about the lessons,' said Gillian,blushing a little;' and he was out of spirits, and did not mind what hewas about.'

  'H'm! But you cannot mean that this youth can have been imprisoned forsuch a cause.'

  'No; that was about the money, but of course he sent it back. He ranaway when he was dismissed, because he was quite in despair, and did notknow what he was about.'

  'I think not, indeed!'

  'Papa,' said Gillian, steadying her voice, 'you must not, please, blamehim so much, for it was really very much my fault, and that is whatmakes me doubly unhappy. Did you read my last letter to mamma?'

  'Yes. I understood that you thought you had not treated your auntsrightly by not consulting them about your intercourse with the Whites,and that you had very properly resolved to tell them all. I hope you didso.'

  'Indeed I did, and Aunt Jane was very kind, or else I should have had nocomfort at all. Was mamma very much shocked at my teaching Alexis?'

  'I do not remember. We concluded that whatever you did had your aunts'sanction.'

  'Ah! that was the point.'

  'Did these young people persuade you to secrecy?'

  'Oh no, no; Kalliope protested, and I overpowered her, because--becauseI was foolish, and I thought Aunt Jane interfering.'

  'I see,' said Sir Jasper, with perhaps more comprehension of theantagonism than sisterly habit and affection would have allowed to hiswife. 'I am glad you saw your error, and tried to repair it; but whatcould you have done to affect this boy so much. How old is he? Wethought of him as twelve or fourteen, but one forgets how time goes on,and you speak of him as in a kind of superintendent's position.'

  'He is nineteen.'

  Sir Jasper twirled his moustache.

  'I begin to perceive,' he said, 'you rushed into an undertaking thatbecame awkward, and when you had to draw off, the young fellow wasupset and did not mind his business. So far I understand, but you saidsomething about prison.'

  The worst part
of the personal confession was over now, and Gilliancould go on to tell the rest of the Stebbing enmity, of Mr. White'sarrival, and of the desire to keep his relations aloof from him.

  'This is guess work,' said Sir Jasper.

  'I think Cousin Rotherwood would say the same' rejoined Gillian, andthen she explained the dismissal, the flight, and the unfortunateconsequences, and that Aunt Jane hoped for advice by the morning's post.

  'I am afraid it is too late for that,' said Sir Jasper, looking at hiswatch. 'I must read her letter and consider.'

  Gillian gave a desperate sigh, and felt more desperate when at thatmoment the very man they had had a glimpse of on Saturday met them,exclaiming in a highly delighted tone--

  'Sir Jasper Merrifield!'

  Any Royal Wardour ought to have been welcome to the Merrifields, butthis individual had not been a particular favourite with the youngpeople. They knew he was the son of a popular dentist, who had made hisfortune, and had put his son into the army to make a gentleman of him,and prevent him from becoming an artist. In the first object there hadbeen very fair success; but the taste for art was unquenchable, and ithad been the fashion of the elder half of the Merrifield family tomake a joke, and profess to be extremely bored, when 'Fangs,' as theynaughtily called him among themselves, used to arrive from leave, armedwith catalogues, or come in with his drawings to find sympathy in hiscolonel's wife. Gillian had caught enough from her four elders to sharein an unreasoning way their prejudice, and she felt doubly savage andcontemptuous when she heard--

  'Yes, I retired.'

  'And what are you doing now?'

  'My mother required me as long as she lived' (then Gillian noticed thathe was in mourning). 'I think I shall go abroad, and take lessons atFlorence or Rome, though it is too late to do anything seriously--andthere are affairs to be settled first.'

  Then came a whole shoal of other inquiries, and even though theyactually included 'poor White' and his family, Gillian was angered anddismayed at the wretch being actually asked by her father to come inwith them and see Lady Merrifield, who would be delighted to see him.

  'What would Lady Rotherwood think of the liberty?' the displeased moodwhispered to Gillian.

  But Lady Rotherwood, presiding over her pretty Worcester tea-set, wasquite ready to welcome any of the Merrifield friends. There were variouspeople in the room besides Lady Merrifield and Mysie, who had just comein. There was the Admiral talking politics with Lord Rotherwood, andthere was Clement Underwood, who had come with Harry from the city, andBessie discussing with them boys' guilds and their amusements.

  Gillian felt frantic. Would no one cast a thought on Alexis in prison?If he had been to be hanged the next day, her secret annoyance at theirindifference to his fate could not have been worse.

  And yet at the first opportunity Harry brought Mr. Underwood to talkto her about his choir-boys, and to listen to her account of the 7thStandard boy, a member of the most musical choir in Rockquay, and thehighest of the high.

  'I hope not cockiest of the cocky,' said Mr. Underwood, smiling. 'Ourexperience is that superlatives may often be so translated.'

  'I don't think poor Theodore is cocky,' said Gillian; 'the Whites havealways been so bullied and sat upon.'

  'Is his name Theodore?' asked Mr. Underwood, as if he liked the name,which Gillian remembered to have seen on a cross at Vale Leston.

  'Being sat upon is hardly the best lesson in humility,' said Harry.

  'There's apt to be a reaction,' said Mr. Underwood; 'but the crack voiceof a country choir is not often in that condition, as I know too well. Iwas the veriest young prig myself under those circumstances!'

  'Don't be too hard on cockiness,' said Lord Rotherwood, who had come upto them, 'there must be consciousness of powers. How are you to fly, ifyou mustn't flap your wings and crow a little?'

  'On a les defauts de ses qualites,' put in Lady Merrifield.

  'Yes,' added Mr. Underwood. 'It is quite true that needfulself-assertion and originality, and sense of the evils around--'

  'Which the old folk have outgrown and got used to,' said LordRotherwood.

  'May be condemned as conceit,' concluded Mr. Underwood.

  'Ay, exactly as Eliab knew David's pride and the naughtiness of hisheart,' said Lord Rotherwood. 'If you won't fight your giant yourself,you've no business to condemn those who feel it in them to go at him.'

  'Ah! we have got to the condemnation of others, instead of theexaltation of self,' said Lady Merrifield.

  'It is better to cultivate humility in one's self than other people,eh?' said the Marquis, and his cousin thought, though she did not say,that he was really the most humble and unself-conscious man she hadever known. What she did say was, 'It is a plant that grows bestuncultivated.'

  'And if you have it not by happy nature, what then?' said ClementUnderwood.

  'Then I suppose you must plant it, and there will be plenty of tears ofrepentance to water it,' returned she.

  'Thank you,' said Clement. 'That is an idea to work upon.'

  'All very fine!' sighed Gillian to Mysie, 'but oh, how about Alexis inprison! There's papa, now he has got rid of Fangs, actually going towalk off with Uncle Sam, and mamma has let Lady Rotherwood get hold ofher. Will no-body care for anybody?'

  'I think I would trust papa,' said Mysie.

  He was not long gone, and when he came back he said, 'You may give methat letter, Gillian. I posted a card to tell your aunt she should hearto-morrow.'

  All that Gillian could say to her mother in private that eveningconsisted of, 'Oh, mamma, mamma,' but the answer was, 'I have heardabout it from papa, my dear; I am glad you told him. He is thinking whatto do. Be patient.'

  Externally, awe and good manners forced Gillian to behave herself; butinternally she was so far from patient, and had so many bitter feelingsof indignation, that she felt deeply rebuked when she came down nextmorning to find her father hurrying through his breakfast, with a cabordered to convey him to the station, on his way to see what could bedone for Alexis White.

  That day Gillian had her confidential talk with her mother--a talk thatshe never forgot, trying to dig to the roots of her failures in a mannerthat only the true mother-confessor of her own child can perhaps havepatience and skill for, and that only when she has studied the creaturefrom babyhood. The concatenation, ending (if it was so to end) in thecommittal to Avoncester Jail, and beginning with the interview over therails, had to be traced link by link, and was almost as long as 'thehouse that Jack built.'

  'And now I see,' said Gillian, 'that it all came of a nasty sort ofantagonism to Aunt Jane. I never guessed how like I was to Dolores, andI thought her so bad. But if I had only trusted Aunt Jane, and had nosecrets, she would have helped me in it all, I know now, and never havebrought the Whites into trouble.'

  'Yes,' said Lady Merrifield; 'perhaps I should have warned you a littlemore, but I went off in such a hurry that I had no time to think. Youchildren are all very loyal to us ourselves; but I suppose you are allrather infected by the modern spirit, that criticises when it ought tosubmit to authorities.'

  'But how can one help seeing what is amiss? As some review says, howrespect what does not make itself respectable? You know I don't meanthat for my aunts. I have learnt now what Aunt Jane really is--how verykind and wise and clever and forgiving--but I was naughty enough tothink her at first--'

  'Well, what? Don't be afraid.'

  'Then I did think she was fidgety and worrying--always at one, andwanting to poke her nose into everything.'

  'Poor Aunt Jane! Those are the faults of her girlhood, which she hasbeen struggling against all her life!'

  'But in your time, mamma, would such difficulties really not have beenseen--I mean, if she had been actually what I thought her?'

  'I think the difference was that no faults of the elders were dwelt uponby a loyal temper. To find fault was thought so wrong that the defectswere scarcely seen, and were concealed from ourselves as well asothers. It would scarcely, I suppo
se, be possible to go back to thatunquestioning state, now the temper of the times is changed; but Ibelong enough to the older days to believe that the true safety is insubmission in the spirit as well as the letter.'

  'I am sure I should have found it so,' said Gillian. 'And oh! I hope,now that papa is come, the Whites may be spared any more of the troublesI have brought on them.'

  'We will pray that it may be so.' said her mother.

  CHAPTER XIX. -- THE KNIGHT AND THE DRAGON