"Comes by nature, when you hear the music. Ha! what a delicious polka! Come along, or I must be off! She will be waiting for me, and she is the second prettiest girl here! Come!"
"I have been trying to make something of him, Harry," said the ubiquitous Flora, "but I don't know whether it is mauvaise honte, or headache."
"I see! Poor old June!" cried Harry. "I'll get you an ice at once, old fellow! Nothing like one for setting a man going!"
Before Norman could protest, Harry had flown off.
"Flora," asked Norman, "is--are the Walkinghames here?"
"Yes. Don't you see Sir Henry. That fine-looking man with the black moustache. I want you to know him. He is a great admirer of your prize poem and of Dr. Spencer."
Harry returning, administered his ice, and then darted off to excuse himself to his partner, by explanations about his brother, whom everybody must have heard of, as he was the cleverest fellow living, and had written the best prize poem ever heard at Oxford. He firmly believed Norman a much greater lion than himself.
Norman was forced to leave his friendly corner to dispose of the glass of his ice, and thus encountered Miss Rivers, of whom Sir Henry was asking questions about a beautiful collection of cameos, which Flora had laid out as a company trap.
"Here is Norman May," said Meta; "he knows them better than I do. Do you remember which of these is the head of Diana, Norman?"
Having set the two gentlemen to discuss them, she glided away on fresh hospitable duties, while Norman repeated the comments that he had so enjoyed hearing from poor Mr. Rivers, hoping he was, at least, sparing Meta some pain, and wondering that Flora should have risked hurting her feelings by exposing these treasures to the general gaze.
If Norman were wearied by Sir Henry, it was his own fault, for the baronet was a very agreeable person, who thought a first-class man worth cultivation, so that the last half-hour might have compensated for all the rest, if conversation were always the test.
"Why, Meta," cried Harry, coming up to her, "you have not once danced! We are a sort of brother and sister, to be sure, but that is no hindrance, is it?"
"No," said Meta, smiling, "thank you, Harry, but you must find some one more worthy. I do not dance this season; at least, not in public. When we get home, who knows what we may do?"
"You don't dance! Poor little Meta! And you don't go out! What a pity!"
"I had rather not work quite so hard," said Meta. "Think what good fortune I had by staying at home last night!"
"I declare!" exclaimed Harry, bewitched by the beaming congratulation of her look, "I can't imagine why Norman had said you had turned into a fine lady! I can't see a bit of it!"
"Norman said I had turned into a fine lady!" repeated Meta. "Why?"
"Never mind! I don't think so; you are just like papa's humming- bird, as you always were, not a bit more of a fine lady than any girl here, and I am sure papa would say so. Only old June had got a bad headache, and is in one of his old dumps, such as I hoped he had left off. But he can't help it, poor fellow, and he will come out of it, by and by--so never mind. Hallo! why people are going away already. There's that girl without any one to hand her downstairs."
Away ran Harry, and presently the brothers and sisters gathered round the fire--George declaring that he was glad that nuisance was so well over, and Harry exclaiming, "Well done, Flora! It was capital fun! I never saw a lot of prettier or more good-natured people in my life. If I am at home for the Stoneborough ball, I wonder whether my father will let me go to it."
This result of Harry's successful debut in high life struck his sister and Norman as so absurd that both laughed.
"What's the matter now?" asked Harry.
"Your comparing Flora's party to a Stoneborough ball," said Norman.
"It is all the same, isn't it?" said Harry. "I'm sure you are equally disgusted at both!"
"Much you know about it," said Flora, patting him gaily. "I'm not going to put conceit in that lion head of yours, but you were as good as an Indian prince to my party. Do you know to whom you have been talking so coolly?"
"Of course. You see, Norman, it is just as I told you. All civilised people are just alike when they get into a drawing-room."
"Harry takes large views of the Genus homo," Norman exerted himself to say. "Being used to the black and brown species, he takes little heed of the lesser varieties."
"It is enough for him that he does not furnish the entertainment in another way," said Flora. "But, good-night. Meta, you look tired."
CHAPTER XIX.
Let none, henceforward, shrink from daring dreams, For earnest hearts shall find their dreams fulfilled.--FOUQUE.
"I have it!" began Harry, as he came down to breakfast. "I don't know how I came to forget it. The will was to be sent home to Mr. Mackintosh's English partner. I'll go and overhaul him this very morning. They won't mind my coming by a later train, when there is such a reason."
"What is his name? Where shall you find him?" asked Flora.
"I can't be sure; but you've a navy list of that sort of cattle, have not you, Flora? I'll hunt him up."
Flora supposed he meant a directory; and all possible South American merchants having been overlooked, and the Mackintoshes selected, he next required a chart of London, and wanted to attempt self- navigation, but was forced to accept of George's brougham and escort; Flora would not trust him otherwise; and Norman was obliged to go to Oxford at once, hurrying off to his train before breakfast was over.
Flora might have trusted Harry alone. George contributed no more than the dignity of his presence; and, indeed, would have resigned the pursuit at the first blunder about the firm; and still more when the right one had been found, but the partner proved crusty, and would not believe that any such document was in his hands. George was consenting to let it rest till Mr. Mackintosh could be written to; but Harry, outrunning his management, and regardless of rebuffs, fairly teased the old gentleman into a search, as the only means of getting rid of the troublesome sailor.
In the midst of George's civil regrets at the fruitless trouble they were causing, forth came a bundle of papers, and forth from the bundle fell a packet, on which Harry pounced as he read, "Will of Alan Halliday Ernescliffe, Esquire, of Maplewood, Yorkshire, Lieutenant in H. M. S. Alcestis," and, in the corner, the executors' names, Captain John Gordon, of H. M. S. Alcestis; and Richard May, Esquire, M. D., Market Stoneborough.
As if in revenge, the prudent merchant would not be induced to entrust him with the document, saying he could not give it up till he had heard from the executors, and had been certified of the death of the testator. He withstood both the angry gentlemen, who finally departed in a state of great resentment--Harry declaring that the old land-lubber would not believe that he was his own father's son; and Mr. Rivers, no less incensed, that the House of Commons had been insulted in his person, because he did not carry all before him.
Flora laughed at their story, and told them that she suspected that the old gentleman was in the right; and she laid plans for having Harry to teach them yachting at Ryde, while Harry declared he would have nothing to do with such trumpery.
Harry found his home in a sort of agony of expectation, for his non- arrival at the time expected had made his first appearance seem like an unsubstantial illusion, though Dr. May, or Mary and Aubrey, had been at the station at the coming in of each train. Margaret had recovered the effects of the first shock, and the welcome was far more joyous than the first had been, with the mixed sensations that were now composed, and showed little, outwardly, but gladness.
Dr. May took Flora's view of the case, and declared that, if Harry had brought home the will, he should not have opened it without his co-executor. So he wrote to the captain, while Harry made the most of his time in learning his sisters over again. He spent a short time alone with Margaret every morning, patiently and gently allowing himself to be recalled to the sad recollections that were all the world to her. He kept Ethel and Mary merry with his droll
desultory comments; he made Blanche keep up her dancing; and taught Gertrude to be a thorough little romp. As to Dr. May, his patients never were so well or so cheerful, till Dr. Spencer and Ethel suspected that the very sight of his looks brightened them--how could they help it? Dr. Spencer was as happy as a king in seeing his friend freed from the heavy weight on his spirits; and, truly, it was goodly to watch his perfect look of content, as he leaned on his lion-faced boy's arm, and walked down to the minster, whither it seemed to have become possible to go on most evenings. Good Dr. May was no musician, but Mr. Wilmot could not regret certain tones that now and then burst out in the chanting, from the very bottom of a heart that assuredly sang with the full melody of thankfulness, whatever the voice might do.
Captain Gordon not only wrote but came to Stoneborough, whence Harry was to go with him to the court-martial at Portsmouth.
The girls wondered that, after writing with so much warmth and affection, both of and to Harry, he met him without any demonstration of feeling; and his short peremptory manner removed all surprise that poor Hector had been so forlorn with him at Maplewood, and turned, with all his heart, to Dr. May. They were especially impressed at the immediate subsidence of all Harry's noise and nonsense, as if the drawing-room had been the quarter-deck of the Alcestis.
"And yet," said Margaret, "Harry will not hear a single word in dispraise of him. I do believe he loves him with all his heart."
"I think," said Ethel, "that in a strong character, there is an exulting fear in looking up to a superior, in whose justice there is perfect reliance. It is a germ of the higher feeling."
"I believe you are right," said Margaret; "but it is a serious thing for a man to have so little sympathy with those below him. You see how Hector feels it, and I now understand how it told upon Alan, and how papa's warmth was like a surprise to him."
"Because Captain Gordon had to be a father to them, and that is more than a captain. I should not wonder if there were more similarity and fellow-feeling between him and Harry than there could be with either of them. Harry, though he has all papa's tenderness, is of a rougher sort that likes to feel itself mastered. Poor Hector! I wonder if he is to be given back to us."
"Do you know--when--whether they will find out this morning?" said Margaret, catching her dress nervously, as she was moving away.
"Yes, I believe so. I was not to have told you, but--"
"There is no reason that it should do me any harm," said Margaret, almost smiling, and looking as if she was putting a restraint on something she wished to say. "Go down, dear Ethel--Aubrey will be waiting for you."
Ethel went down to the difficult task of hearing Aubrey's lessons, while Harry was pretending to write to Mrs. Arnott, but, in reality, teaching Gertrude the parts of a ship, occasionally acting mast, for her to climb.
By and by Dr. May came in. "Margaret not downstairs yet?" he said.
"She is dressed, but will not come down till the evening," said Ethel.
"I'll go to her. She will be pleased. Come up presently, Ethel. Or, where's Richard?"
"Gone out," said Harry. "What, is it anything left to her?"
"The best, the best!" said Dr. May. "Ethel, listen--twenty thousand, to build and endow a church for Cocksmoor!"
No need to bid Ethel listen. She gave a sort of leap in her chair, then looked almost ready to faint.
"My dear child," said her father, "This is your wish. I give you joy, indeed I do!"
Ethel drew his arm round her, and leaned against him. "My wish! my wish!" she repeated, as if questioning the drift of the words.
"I'm glad it is found!" cried Harry. "Now I know why he talked of Cocksmoor, and seemed to rest in planning for it. You will mind the roof is as he said."
"You must talk to Dr. Spencer about that," said Dr. May. "The captain means to leave it entirely in our hands."
"Dear Alan!" exclaimed Ethel. "My wish! Oh, yes, but how gained? Yet, Cocksmoor with a church! I don't know how to be glad enough, and yet--"
"You shall read the sentence," said Dr. May. "'In testimony of thankfulness for mercy vouchsafed to him here--' poor dear boy!"
"What does the captain say?" asked Harry.
"He is rather astounded, but he owns that the estate can bear it, for old Halliday had saved a great deal, and there will be more before Hector comes of age."
"And Hector?"
"Yes, we get him back. I am fellow-trustee with Captain Gordon, and as to personal guardianship, I fancy the captain found he could not make the boy happy, and thinks you no bad specimen of our training."
"Famous!" cried Harry. "Hector will hurrah now! Is that all?"
"Except legacies to Captain Gordon, and some Scottish relations. But poor Margaret ought to hear it. Ethel, don't be long in coming."
With all Ethel's reputation for bluntness, it was remarkable how her force of character made her always called for whenever there was the least dread of a scene.
She turned abruptly from Harry; and, going outside the window, tried to realise and comprehend the tidings, but all she could have time to discover was that Alan's memory was dearer to her than ever, and she was obliged to hasten upstairs.
Her father quitted the room by one door, as she entered by the other; she believed that it was to hide his emotion, but Margaret's fair wan face was beaming with the sweetest of congratulating smiles.
"I thought so," she said, as Ethel came in. "Dear Ethel, are you not glad?"
"I think I am," said Ethel, putting her hands to her brow.
"You think!" exclaimed Margaret, as if disappointed.
"I beg your pardon," said Ethel, with quivering lip. "Dear Margaret, I am glad--don't you believe I am, but somehow, it is harder to deal with joy than grief. It confuses one! Dear Alan--and then to have been set on it so long--to have prayed so for it, and to have it come in this way--by your--"
"Nay, Ethel, had he come home, it was his great wish to have done it. He used to make projects when he was here, but he would not let me tell you, lest he should find duties at Maplewood--whereas this would have been his pleasure."
"Dear Alan!" repeated Ethel. "If you are so kind, so dear as to be glad, Margaret, I think I shall be so presently."
Margaret almost grudged the lack of the girlish outbreak of rejoicing which would once have forgotten everything in the ecstasy of the fulfilled vision. It did not seem to be what Alan had intended; he had figured to himself unmixed joy, and she wanted to see it, and something of the wayward impatience of weakness throbbed at her heart, as Ethel paced the room, and disappeared in her own curtained recess.
Presently she came back saying, "You are sure you are glad?"
"It would be strange if I were not," said Margaret. "See, Ethel, here are blessings springing up from what I used to think had served for nothing but to bring him pain and grief. I am so thankful that he could express his desire, and so grateful to dear Harry for bringing it to light. How much better it is than I ever thought it could be! He has been spared disappointment, and surely the good that he will have done will follow him."
"And you?" said Ethel sadly.
"I shall lie here and wait," said Margaret. "I shall see the plans, and hear all about it, and oh!"--her eyes lighted up--"perhaps some day, I may hear the bell."
Richard's tap interrupted them. "Had he heard?"
"I have." The deepened colour in his cheek betrayed how much he felt, as he cast an anxious glance towards Margaret--an inquiring one on Ethel.
"She is so pleased," was all Ethel could say.
"I thought she would be," said Richard, approaching. "Captain Gordon seemed quite vexed that no special token of remembrance was left to her."
Margaret smiled in a peculiar way. "If he only knew how glad I am there was not." And Ethel knew that the church was his token to Margaret, and that any "fading frail memorial" would have lessened the force of the signification.
Ethel could speak better to her brother than to her sister. "Oh, Richard! Richard! Richard!" she cri
ed, and a most unusual thing with both, she flung her arms round his neck. "It is come at last! If it had not been for you, this would never have been. How little likely it seemed, that dirty day, when I talked wildly, and you checked me!"
"You had faith and perseverance," said Richard, "or--"
"You are right," said Margaret, as Ethel was about to disclaim. "It was Ethel's steadiness that brought it before Alan's mind. If she had yielded when we almost wished it, in the time of the distress about Mrs. Green, I do believe that all would have died away!"
"I didn't keep steady--I was only crazy. You and Ritchie and Mr. Wilmot--" said Ethel, half crying; then, as if unable to stay, she exclaimed with a sort of petulance, "And there's Harry playing all sorts of rigs with Aubrey! I shan't get any more sense out of him to-day!"
And away she rushed to the wayfaring dust of her life of labour, to find Aubrey and Daisy half-way up the tulip tree, and Harry mischievously unwilling to help them down again, assuring her that such news deserved a holiday, and that she was growing a worse tartar than Miss Winter. She had better let the poor children alone, put on her bonnet, and come with him to tell Mr. Wilmot.
Whereat Ethel was demurring, when Dr. May came forth, and declared he should take her himself.
Poor Mr. Wilmot laboured under a great burden of gratitude, which no one would receive from him. Dr. May and Ethel repudiated thanks almost with terror; and, when he tried them with the captain, he found very doubtful approval of the whole measure, so that Harry alone was a ready acceptant of a full meed of acknowledgments for his gallant extraction of the will.
No one was more obliged to him than Hector Ernescliffe, who wrote to Margaret that it would be very jolly to come home again, and that he was delighted that the captain could not hinder either that or Cocksmoor Church. "And as to Maplewood, I shall not hate it so much, if that happens which I hope will happen." Of which oracular sentence, Margaret could make nothing.
The house of May felt more at their ease when the uncongenial captain had departed, although he carried off Harry with him. There was the better opportunity for a tea-drinking consultation with Dr. Spencer and Mr. Wilmot, when Margaret lay on her sofa, looking better than for months past, and taking the keenest interest in every arrangement.
The Daisy Chain, or Aspirations Page 73