The Long Vacation

by Шарлотта Мэри Йондж

  The party set off, with each little boy hugging a ship in full sail, and the two young sisters were disposed of by a walk to Clipstone to talk over their adventures. Mrs. Grinstead felt certain of the good manners and reticence prevailing there to prevent any banter about Lord Ivinghoe, and she secured the matter further by a hint to Anna.

  However, Miss Mohun was announced almost as they left the house. She too was full of the bazaar, which seemed so long ago to her hearers, but with the result of which she was exceedingly delighted. The voluntary schools were secured for the present, and the gratitude of the Church folk was unbounded, especially to the Vale Leston family, who had contributed so greatly to the success of the whole.

  Jane too had watched the evening manoeuvres, and perceived, with her sharp eyes, all that was avowed and not avowed under that rising moon. The pair of whom she had first to speak were "Ivanhoe and Rowena," as she called them, and she was glad to find that the "fair Saxon" had grown up at Vale Leston, educated by her aunt and sister, and imbibing no outside habits or impressions.

  "Poor child," said Jane, "she looks like a flower; one is sorry it should be meddled with."

  "So did my sister Stella, and there, contrary to all our fears, the course of true love did run smooth."

  "If it depended entirely on Rotherwood himself, I think it would," said Jane, "but-" She paused and went on, "Ivinghoe is, I fear, really volage, and he is the mark of a good many London mammas."

  "Is it true about Mrs. Henderson's sister?"

  "There's nothing in it. I believe he danced with her a few times, and the silly little thing put her own construction on it, but her sister made her confess that he had never said a word to her, nor made love in any sense. Indeed, my sister Adeline would never have consented to her coming here if she had believed in it, but Maura has a Greek nature and turns the Whites round her fingers. Well, I hope all will go well with your pretty Franceska. I should not like her lovely bloom to be faded by Ivinghoe. He is Rotherwood's own boy, though rather a prig, and a man in London. Oh, you know what that means!"

  "We have done notre possible to keep our interpretation from the poor child, or any hint of it from reaching her mother."

  "That's right. Poor Rowena, I hope the spark will be blown out, or remain only a pleasant recollection. As to little Maura, she had her lesson when she was reduced to hanging on Captain Henderson's other arm! She is off to-day to meet Mr. White in London. That purpose has been served."

  "And have you not a nearer interest?"

  "Oh, Gillian! Well, Captain Armytage did get hold of her, in what we must now call the Lover's Walk! Yes, she has yielded, to her father's great satisfaction and perhaps to her mother's, for she will be more comfortable in looking forward to a commonplace life for her than in the dread of modern aberrations. But Gillian is very funny, very much ashamed of having given in, and perfectly determined to go to her college and finish her education, which she may as well do while the Sparrow Hawk is at sea. He is off to-day, and she says she is very glad to be rid of him. She sat down at once to her dynamite, as Primrose calls it, having bound over Mysie and Valetta never to mention the subject! I tell them that to obey in silence is the way to serve the poor man best."

  Miss Mohun was interrupted by the announcement of Lady Flight and Mr. Flight, who came equally eager with delight and gratitude to thank the House of Underwood for the triumph. The rest of the clergy of Rockquay and half the ladies might be expected, and in despair at last of a "lucid interval," Geraldine ordered the carriage for a long drive into the country, so as to escape all visitors. Even then, they could not got up the hill without being stopped four or five times to receive the thanks and compliments which nearly drove Gerald crazy, so much did he want to hear what his family had to say to his plans, that he had actually consented to partake of a dowager-drive in a landau!

  He and his uncle had discovered from the police in the course of the morning that Ludmilla and her mother had not gone with the circus, but had been seen embarking in the Alice Jane, a vessel bound for London. His idea had been to hurry thither and endeavour to search out his half-sister, and rescue her; but Lance had assured him not only that it would probably be a vain quest, but that there would be full time to meet the Alice Jane by land before she could get there by sea.

  To this he had yielded, but not so readily to the representation that the wisest way would be to keep out of sight; but to let Lance, as a less interested party, go and interview the van proprietor, whose direction had been sent to Clement, try to see O'Leary, and do his best to bargain for Ludmilla's release, a matter on which all were decided, whatever might be the upshot of the question respecting Gerald. To leave a poor girl to circus training, even if there were no interest in her, would have been shocking to right-minded people; but when it was such a circus as O'Leary's, and the maiden was so good, sweet, and modest as Lida, the thought would have been intolerable even without the connection with Gerald, who had been much taken with all he had seen of her.

  "That is fixed, even if we have to bid high for our Mona," said Lance.

  "By all means," said Geraldine. "It will be another question what will be good for her when we have got her."

  "I will take care of that!" said Gerald.

  "Next," Lance went on, "we must see what proofs, or if there be any, of this person's story. I expect one of you will have to pay well for them, but I had better take a lawyer with me."

  Clement named the solicitor who had the charge of the Vanderkist affairs.

  "Better than Staples, or Bramshaw Anderson. Yes, it would be best to have no previous knowledge of the family, and no neighbourly acquaintance. Moreover, I am not exactly an interested party, so I may be better attended to."

  "Still I very much doubt, even if you do get any statement from the woman, whether it can be depended upon without verification," said Clement.

  "From the registers, if there are any at these places?"

  "Exactly, and there must be personal inquiry. The first husband, Gian Benista, will have to be hunted down, dead or alive."

  "Yes; and another thing," said Lance, "if the Italian marriage were before the revolution in Sicily, I expect the ecclesiastical ceremony would be valid, but after that, the civil marriage would be required."

  "Oh!" groaned Gerald, "if you would let me throw it all up without these wretched quibbles."

  "Not your father's honour," said his aunt.

  "Nor our honesty," said Clement. "It is galling enough to have your whole position in life depend on the word of a worthless woman, but there are things that must be taken patiently, as the will of One who knows."

  "It is so hard to accept it as God's will when it comes of human sin," said Geraldine.

  "Human thoughtlessness," said Clement; "but as long as it is not by our own fault we can take it as providential, and above all, guard against impatience, the real ruin and destruction."

  "Yes," said Lance, "sit on a horse's head when he is down to keep him from kicking."

  "So you all are sitting on my head," said Gerald; "I shall get out and walk-a good rush on the moors."

  "Wait at least to allow your head to take in my scheme," said Clement.

  "Provided it is not sitting still," said Gerald.

  "Far from it. Only it partly depends on my lady and mistress here-"

  "I guess," said Geraldine. "You know I am disposed that way by Dr. Brownlow's verdict."

  "And 'that way' is that we go ourselves to try to trace out this strange allegation-you coming too, Gerald, so that we shall not quite be sitting on your head."

  "But my sister?"

  "We will see when we have recovered her," said Mrs. Grinstead.

  "I would begin with a visit to Stella and her husband," said Clement; "Charlie could put us in the way of dealing with consuls and vice- consuls."

  "Excellent," cried his sister; "Anna goes of course, and I should like to take Francie. It would be such an education for her."

  "Well, why not?"r />
  "And what is to become of Adrian?"

  "Well, we should not have been here more than six months of course."

  "I could take him," said Lance, "unless Alda holds poor old Froggatt Underwood beneath his dignity."

  "That can be considered," said Clement; "it approves itself best to me, except that he is getting on so well here that I don't like to disturb him."

  "And when can you come up to town with me?" demanded Gerald; "tomorrow?"

  "To-morrow being Saturday, it would be of little use to go. No, if you will not kick, master, I must go home to-morrow, and look up poor 'Pur,' also the organ on Sunday. Come with me, and renew your acquaintance. We will make an appointment with your attorney, Clem, and run up on Monday evening, see him on Tuesday."

  Gerald sighed, submitting perforce, and they let him out to exhale as much impatience as he could in a tramp over the hills, while they sat and pitied him from their very hearts.

  CHAPTER XXV. DESDICHADO

  'Perish wealth and power and pride, Mortal boons by mortals given; But let constancy abide- Constancy's the gift of Heaven.-SCOTT.

  Lancelot and Gerald did not obtain much by their journey to London. Gerald wanted to begin with Mr. Bast, van proprietor, but Lance insisted on having the lawyer's counsel first, and the advice amounted to exhortations not to commit themselves, or to make offers such as to excite cupidity, especially in the matter of Ludmilla, but to dwell on the fact of her being so close to the age of emancipation, and the illegality of tyrannical training.

  This, however, proved to be wasted advice. Mr. Bast was impervious. He undertook to forward a letter to Mr. O'Leary, but would not tell where, nor whether wife and daughter were with him. The letter was written, and in due time was answered, but with an intimation that the information desired could only be given upon the terms already mentioned; and refusing all transactions respecting the young lady mentioned, who was with her natural guardians and in no need of intervention.

  They were baffled at all points, and the lawyer did not encourage any idea of holding out a lure for information, which might easily be trumped up. Since Lancelot had discovered so much as that the first marriage had taken place at Messina, and the desertion at Trieste, as well as that the husband was said to have been a native of Piedmont, he much recommended personal investigation at all these points, especially as Mr. Underwood could obtain the assistance and interest of consuls. It was likely that if neither uncle nor nephew made further demonstration, the O'Learys would attempt further communication, which he and Lance could follow up. This might be a clue to finding "the young lady"-to him a secondary matter, to Gerald a vital one, but for the present nothing could be done for her, poor child.

  So they could only return to Rockquay to make immediate preparations for the journey. Matters were simplified by Miss Mohun, who, hearing that Clement's doctors ordered him abroad for the winter, came to the rescue, saying that she should miss Fergus and his lessons greatly, and she thought it would be a pity for Mrs. Edgar to lose their little baronet, just after having given offence to certain inhabitants by a modified expulsion of Campbell and Horner, and therefore volunteering to take Adrian for a few terms, look after his health, his morals, and his lessons, and treat him in fact like a nephew, "to keep her hand in," she said, "till the infants began to appear from India."

  This was gratefully accepted, and Alda liked the plan better than placing him at Bexley, which she continued to regard as an unwholesome place. The proposal to take Franceska was likewise welcome, and the damsel herself was in transports of delight. Various arrangements had to be made, and it was far on in August that the farewells were exchanged with Clipstone and Beechcroft Cottage, where each member of the party felt that a real friend had been acquired. The elders, ladies who had grown up in an enthusiastic age, were even more devoted to one another than were Anna and Mysie. Gillian stood a little aloof, resolved against "foolish" confidences, and devoting herself to studies for college life, in which she tried to swallow up all the feelings excited by those ship letters.

  Dolores had her secret, which was to be no longer a secret when she had heard from her father, and in the meantime, with Gerald's full concurrence, she was about to work hard to qualify herself for lecturing or giving lessons on physical science. She could not enter the college that she wished for till the winter term, and meant to spend the autumn in severe study.

  "We will work," was the substance of those last words between them, and their parting tokens were characteristic, each giving the other a little case of mathematical instruments, "We will work, and we will hope."

  "And what for?" said Dolores.

  "I should say for toil, if it could be with untarnished name," said Gerald.

  "Name and fame are our own to make," said Dolores, with sparkling eyes.

  This was their parting. Indeed they expected to meet at Christmas or before it, so soon as Mr. Maurice Mohun should have written. Gerald was, by the unanimous wish of his uncles, to finish his terms at Oxford. Whatever might be his fate, a degree would help him in life.

  He had accepted the decision, though he had rather have employed the time in a restless search for his mother and sister; but after vainly pursuing two or three entertainments at fairs, he became amenable to the conviction that they were more likely to hear something if they gave up the search and kept quiet, and both Dolores and Mrs. Henderson promised to be on the watch.

  The state of suspense proved an admirable tonic to the whole being of the young man. His listlessness had departed, and he did everything with an energy he had never shown before. Only nothing would induce him to go near Vale Leston, and he made it understood that his twenty-first birthday was to be unnoticed. Not a word passed between Gerald and his aunt as to the cause of the journey, and the doubt that hung over him, but nothing could be more assiduous and tender than his whole conduct to her and his uncle throughout the journey, as though he had no object in life but to save them trouble and make them comfortable.

  The party started in August, travelled very slowly, and he was the kindest squire to the two girls, taking them to see everything, and being altogether, as Geraldine said, the most admirable courier in the world, with a wonderful intuition as to what she individually would like to see, and how she could see it without fatigue. Moreover, on the Sunday that occurred at a little German town, it was the greatest joy to her that he sought no outside gaiety, but rather seemed to cling to his uncle's home ministrations, and even to her readings of hymns. They had a quiet walk together, and it was a day of peace when his gentle kindness put her in mind of his father, yet with a regretful depth she had always missed in Edgar.

  Nor was there any of that old dreary, half-contemptuous tone and manner which had often made her think he was only conforming to please her, and shrinking from coming to close quarters, where he might confess opinions that would grieve her. He was manifestly in earnest, listening and joining in the services as if they had a new force to him. Perhaps they had the more from the very absence of the ordinary externals, and with nothing to disturb the individual personality of Clement's low, earnest, and reverent tones. There were tears on his eyelashes as he rose up, bent over, and kissed his Cherie. And that evening, while Clement and the two nieces walked farther, and listened to the Benediction in the little Austrian church, Gerald sat under a linden-tree with his aunt, and in the fullness of his heart told her how things stood between him and Dolores.

  Geraldine had never been as much attracted by Dolores as by Gillian and Mysie, but she was greatly touched by hearing that the meeting and opening of affection had been on the discovery that Gerald was probably nameless and landless, and that the maiden was bent on casting in her lot with him whatever his fate might be.

  He murmured to himself the old lines, with a slight alteration-

  "I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not justice more."

  "Yes, indeed, Cherie, our affection is a very different and better thing than it would be if I were o
nly the rich young squire sure of my position."

  "I am sure it is, my dear. I honour and love her for being my boy's brave comforter-comforter in the true sense. I see now what has helped you to be so brave and cheery. But what will her father say?"

  "He will probably be startled, and-and will object, but it would be a matter of waiting anyway, the patience that the Vicar preaches, and we have made up our minds. I'll fight my own way; she to prepare by her Cambridge course to come and work with me, as we can do so much better among the people-among them in reality, and by no pretence."

  "Ah! don't speak as if you gave up your cause."

  "Well, I won't, if you don't like to hear it, Cherie," he said, smiling; "but anyway you will be good to Dolores."

  "Indeed I will do my best, my dear. I am sure you and she, whatever happens, have the earnest purpose and soul to do all the good you can, whether from above or on the same level, and that makes the oneness of love."

  "Thank you, Cherie carissima. You see the secret of our true bond."

  "One bond to make it deeper must be there. The love of God beneath the love of man."

  CHAPTER XXVI. THE SILENT STAR

  Then the traveller in the dark Thanks you for your tiny spark; He would not know which way to go If you did not twinkle so.-JANE TAYLOR.

  And so they came to Buda, where Charles Audley represented English diplomatic interests on the banks of the Danube. When the quaint old semi-oriental-looking city came in sight and the train stopped, the neat English-looking carriage, with gay Hungarian postillions, could be seen drawn up to meet them outside the station.

  Charles and his father, now Sir Robert, were receiving them with outstretched hands and joyous words, and in a few seconds more they were with their little Stella! Yes, their little Stella still, as Clement and Cherry had time to see, when Gerald and the two girls had insisted on walking, however far it might be, with the two Audleys, though Charlie told them that no one ever walked in Hungary who could help it, and that he should be stared at for bringing such strange animals.