Maurice was sincerely sorry for the consequence of his disobedience, and would have been much to be pitied had it not been for his secret satisfaction in the success of his art. He called his sister into the schoolroom to explain how it happened. The room was a dismal sight, blackened with smoke, and flooded with water, the table and part of the floor charred, a mass of burnt paper in the midst, and a stifling smell of fire. A pane of glass was shattered, and Maurice ran down to the lawn to see if he could find anything there to account for it. The next moment he returned, the powder-horn in his hand. 'See, Jenny, how fortunate that this was driven through the window with the force of the explosion. The whole place might have been blown to atoms with such a quantity as this.'
'Then what was it that blew up?' asked Jane.
'What I had put out for my rocket, about two ounces. If this half-pound had gone there is no saying what might have happened.'
'Now, Maurice,' said Jane, 'I must go back to Ada, and will you run down to the parsonage with a parcel, directed to Robert, that you will find in the hall?'
This was a device to occupy Maurice, who, as Jane saw, was so restless and unhappy that she did not like to leave him, much as she was wanted elsewhere. He went, but afraid to see his cousin, only left the parcel at the door. As he was going back he heard a shout, and looking round saw Lord Rotherwood mounted on Cedric, his most spirited horse, galloping up the lane. 'Maurice!' cried he, 'what is all this? they say the New Court is blown up, and you and half the girls killed, but I hope one part is as true as the other.'
'Nobody is hurt but Ada,' said Maurice, 'but her face is a good deal burnt.'
'Eh? then she won't be fit for the 30th, poor child! tell me how it was, make haste. I heard it from Mr. Burnet as I came down to dinner. We have a dozen people at dinner. I told him not to mention it to my mother, and rode off to hear the truth. Make haste, half the people were come when I set off.'
The horse's caperings so discomposed Maurice that he could scarcely collect his wits enough to answer: 'Some signal rocket on a new principle-detonating powder, composed of oxymuriate-Oh! Rotherwood, take care!'
'Speak sense, and go on.'
'Then Phyllis came in, banged the door, and the vibration caused the explosion,' said Maurice, scared into finishing promptly.
'Eh! banging the door? You had better not tell that story at school.'
'But, Rotherwood, the deton-Oh! that horse-you will be off!'
'Not half so dangerous as patent rockets. Is Emily satisfied with such stuff?'
'Don't you know that fulminating silver-'
'What does Robert Devereux say?'
'Really, Rotherwood, I could show you-'
'Show me? No; if rockets are so perilous I shall have nothing to do with them. Stand still, Cedric! Just tell me about Ada. Is there much harm done?'
'Her face is scorched a good deal, but they say it will soon be right.'
'I am glad-we will send to inquire to-morrow, but I cannot come- ha, ha! a new infernal machine. Good-bye, Friar Bacon.'
Away he went, and Maurice stood looking after him with complacent disdain. 'There they go, Cedric and Rotherwood, equally well provided with brains! What is the use of talking science to either?'
It was late when he reached the house, and his two sisters shortly came down to tea, with news that Adeline was asleep and Phyllis was going to bed. The accident was again talked over.
'Well,' said Emily, 'I do not understand it, but I suppose papa will.'
'The telling papa is a bad part of the affair, with William and Eleanor there too,' said Jane.
'I do not mean to speak to Phyllis about it again,' said Emily, 'it makes her cry so terribly.'
'It will come out fast enough,' sighed Maurice. 'Good-night.'
More than once in the course of the night did poor Phyllis wake and cry, and the next day was the most wretched she had ever spent; she was not allowed to stay in the nursery, and the schoolroom was uninhabitable, so she wandered listlessly about the garden, sometimes creeping down to the churchyard, where she looked up at the old tower, or pondered over the graves, and sometimes forgetting her troubles in converse with the dogs, in counting the rings in the inside of a foxglove flower, or in rescuing tadpoles stranded on the broad leaf of a water-lily.
Her sisters and brothers were not less forlorn. Emily sighed and lamented; Adeline was feverish and petulant; and Jane toiled in vain to please and soothe both, and to comfort Maurice; but with all her good-temper and good-nature she had not the spirit which alone could enable her to be a comfort to any one. Ada whined, fretted, and was disobedient, and from Maurice she met with nothing but rebuffs; he was silent and sullen, and spent most of the day in the workshop, slowly planing scraps of deal board, and watching with a careless eye the curled shavings float to the ground.
In the course of the afternoon Alethea and Marianne came to inquire after the patient. Jane came down to them and talked very fast, but when they asked for a further explanation of the cause of the accident, Jane declared that Maurice said it was impossible that any one who did not understand chemistry should know how it happened, and Alethea went away strongly reminded that it was no affair of hers.
Notes passed between the New Court and the vicarage, but Mr. Devereux was feeling the effect of his yesterday's exertion too much to repeat it, and no persuasion of the sisters could induce Maurice to visit him.
CHAPTER XXII: THE BARONIAL COURT
'Still in his eyes his soul revealing,
He dreams not, knows not of concealing,
Does all he does with single mind,
And thinks of others that are kind.'
The travellers were expected to arrive at about seven o'clock in the evening, and in accordance with a well-known taste of Eleanor's, Emily had ordered no dinner, but a substantial meal under the name of tea. When the sound of carriage wheels was heard, Jane was with Adeline, Maurice was in his retreat at the Old Court, and it was with no cheerful alacrity that Emily went alone into the hall. Phyllis was already at the front door, and the instant Mr. Mohun set foot on the threshold, her hand grasped his coat, and her shrill voice cried in his ear, 'Papa, I am very sorry I blew up the gunpowder and burnt Ada.'
'What, my dear? where is Ada?'
'In bed. I blew up the gunpowder and burnt her face,' repeated Phyllis.
'We have had an accident,' said Emily, 'but I hope it is nothing very serious, only poor Ada is a sad figure.'
In another moment Mr. Mohun and Eleanor were on the way to the nursery; Lilias was following, but she recollected that a general rush into a sickroom was not desirable, and therefore paused and came back to the hall. The worst was over with Phyllis when the confession had been made. She was in raptures at the sight of the baby, and was presently showing the nurse the way upstairs, but her brother William called her back: 'Phyllis, you have not spoken to any one.'
Phyllis turned, and came down slowly in her most ungainly manner, believing herself in too great disgrace to be noticed by anybody, and she was quite surprised and comforted to be greeted by her brothers and Lily just as usual.
'And how did you meet with this misfortune?' asked Mr. Hawkesworth.
'I banged the door, and made it go off,' said Phyllis.
'What can you mean?' said William, in a tone of surprise, which Phyllis took for anger, and she hid her face to stifle her sobs.
'No, no, do not frighten her,' said Claude's kind voice.
'Run and make friends with your nephew, Phyllis,' said Mr. Hawkesworth; 'do not greet us with crying.'
'First tell me what is become of Maurice,' said Claude, 'is he blown up too?'
'No, he is at the Old Court,' said Phyllis. 'Shall I tell him that you are come?'
'I will look for him,' said Claude, and out he went.
The others dispersed in different directions, and did not assemble again for nearly half an hour, when they all met in the drawing-room to drink tea; Claude and Maurice were the last to appear, and, on entering,
the first thing the former said was, 'Where is Phyllis?'
'In the nursery,' said Jane; 'she has had her supper, and chooses to stay with Ada.'
'Has any one found out the history of the accident?' said William.
'I have vainly been trying to make sense of Maurice's account,' said Claude.
'Sense!' said William, 'there is none.'
'I am perfectly bewildered,' said Lily; 'every one has a different story, only consenting in making Phyllis the victim.'
'And,' added Claude, 'I strongly suspect she is not in fault.'
'Why should you doubt what she says herself?' said Eleanor.
'What does she say herself?' said William, 'nothing but that she shut the door, and what does that amount to?-Nothing.'
'She says she touched the powder,' interposed Jane.
'That is another matter,' said William; 'no one told me of her touching the powder. But why do you not ask her? She is publicly condemned without a hearing.'
'Who accuses her?' said Mr. Mohun.
'I can hardly tell,' said Emily; 'she met us, saying she was very sorry. Yes, she accuses herself. Every one has believed it to be her.'
'And why?'
There was a pause, but at last Emily said, 'How would you account for it otherwise?'
'I have not yet heard the circumstances. Maurice, I wish to hear your account. I will not now ask how you procured the powder. Whoever was the immediate cause of the accident, you are chiefly to blame. Where was the powder?'
Maurice gave his theory and his facts, ending with the powder-horn being driven out of the window upon the green.
'I hear,' said Mr. Mohun. 'But, Maurice, did you not say that Phyllis touched the powder? How do you reconcile that with this incomprehensible statement?'
'She might have done that before,' said Maurice.
'Now call Phyllis,' said his father.
'Is it not very formidable for her to be examined before such an assembly?' said Emily.
'The accusation has been public, and the investigation shall be the same,' said Mr. Mohun.
'Then you do not think she did it, papa?' cried Lily.
'Not by shutting the door,' said William.
Phyllis entered, and Mr. Mohun, holding out both hands to her, drew her towards him, and placing her with her back to the others, still retained her hands, while he said, 'Phyllis, do not be frightened, but tell me where you were when the powder exploded?'
'Coming into the room,' said Phyllis, in a trembling voice.
'Where had you been?'
'Fetching a wafer out of the drawing-room.'
'What was the wafer for?'
'To put on Emily's letter, which she told us to send.'
'And where was Ada?'
'In the schoolroom, reading the direction of the letter.'
'Tell me exactly what happened when you came back.'
'I opened the door, and there was a flash, and a bang, and a smoke, and Ada tumbled down.'
'I have one more question to ask. When did you touch the powder?'
'Then,' said Phyllis.
'When it had exploded? Take care what you say.'
'Was it naughty? I am very sorry,' said Phyllis, beginning to cry.
'What powder did you touch? I do not understand you, tell me quietly.'
'I touched the powder-horn. What went off was only a little in a paper on the table, and there was a great deal more. When the rocket blew up there was a great noise, and Ada and I both screamed, and Hannah ran in and took up Ada in her arms. Then I saw a great fire, and looked, and saw Emily's music-book, and all the papers blazing. So I thought if it got to the powder it would blow up again, and I laid hold of the horn and threw it out of the window. That is all I know, papa, only I hope you are not very angry with me.'
She looked into his face, not knowing how to interpret the unusual expression she saw there.
'Angry with you!' said he. 'No, my dear child, you have acted with great presence of mind. You have saved your sister and Hannah from great danger, and I am very sorry that you have been unjustly treated.'
He then gave his little daughter a kiss, and putting his hand on her head, added, 'Whoever caused the explosion, Phyllis is quite free from blame, and I wish every one to understand this, because she has been unjustly accused, without examination, and because she has borne it patiently, and without attempting to justify herself.'
'Very right,' observed Eleanor.
'Shake hands, Phyllis,' said William.
The others said more with their eyes than with their lips. Phyllis stood like one in a dream, and fixing her bewildered looks upon Claude, said, 'Did not I do it?'
'No, Phyllis, you had nothing to do with it,' was the general exclamation.
'Maurice said it was the door,' said Phyllis.
'Maurice talked nonsense,' said Claude; 'you were only foolish in believing him.'
Phyllis went up to Claude, and laid her head on his arm; Mr. Hawkesworth held out his hand to her, but she did not look up, and Claude withdrawing his arm, and raising her head, found that she was crying. Eleanor and Lilias both rose, and came towards her but Claude made them a sign, and led her away.
'What a fine story this will be for Reginald,' said William.
'And for Rotherwood,' said Mr. Mohun.
'I do not see how it happened,' said Eleanor.
'Of course Ada did it herself,' said William.
'Of course,' said Maurice. 'It was all from Emily's setting them to seal her letter, that is plain now.'
'Would not Ada have said so?' asked Eleanor.
Lily sighed at the thought of what Eleanor had yet to learn.
'Did you tell them to seal your letter, Emily?' said Mr. Mohun.
'I am sorry to say that I did tell them to send it,' said Emily, 'but I said nothing about sealing, as Jane remembers, and I forgot that Maurice's gunpowder was in the room.'
Eleanor shook her head sorrowfully, and looked down at her knitting, and Lily knew that her mind was made up respecting little Henry's dwelling-place.
It was some comfort to have raised no false expectations.
'Ada must not be frightened and agitated to-night,' said Mr. Mohun, 'but I hope you will talk to her to-morrow, Eleanor. Well, Claude, have you made Phyllis understand that she is acquitted?'
'Scarcely,' said Claude; 'she is so overcome and worn out, that I thought she had better go to bed, and wake in her proper senses to-morrow.'
'A very unconscious heroine,' said William. 'She is a wonder-I never thought her anything but an honest sort of romp.'
'I have long thought her a wonderful specimen of obedience,' said Mr. Mohun.
William and Claude now walked to the parsonage, and the council broke up; but it must not be supposed that this was the last that Emily and Maurice heard on the subject.
CHAPTER XXIII: JOYS AND SORROWS
'Complaint was heard on every part
Of something disarranged.'
The next day, Sunday, was one of the most marked in Lily's life. It was the first time she saw Mr. Devereux after his illness, and though Claude had told her he was going to church, it gave her a sudden thrill of joy to see him there once more, and perhaps she never felt more thankful than when his name was read before the Thanksgiving. After the service there was an exchange of greetings, but Lily spoke no word, she felt too happy and too awe-struck to say anything, and she walked back to the New Court in silence.
In the afternoon she had hopes that a blessing would be granted to her, for which at one time she had scarcely dared to hope; and she felt convinced that so it would be when she saw that Mr. Devereux wore his surplice, although, as in the morning, his friend read the service. After the Second Lesson there was a pause, and then Mr. Devereux left the chair by the altar, walked along the aisle, and took his stand on the step of the font. Lily's heart beat high as she saw who were gathering round him-Mrs. Eden, Andrew Grey, James Harrington, and Mrs. Naylor, who held in her arms a healthy, rosy-checked boy of a year old
.
She could not have described the feelings which made her eyes overflow with tears, as she saw Mr. Devereux's thin hand sprinkle the drops over the brow of the child, and heard him say, 'Robert, I baptize thee'-words which she had heard in dreams, and then awakened to remember that the parish was at enmity with the pastor, the child unbaptized, and herself, in part, the cause.
The name of the little boy was an additional pledge of reconciliation, and at the same time it made her feel again what had been the price of his baptism. When she looked back upon the dreary feelings which she had so lately experienced, it seemed to her as if she might believe that this christening was, as it were, a pledge of pardon, and an earnest of better things.
Naylor, who had recovered much more slowly than Mr. Devereux, was at church for the first time, and after the service Mr. Mohun sought him out in the churchyard, and heartily shook hands with him. Lily would gladly have followed his example, but she only stood by Eleanor and Mrs. Weston, who were speaking to Mrs. Eden and Mrs. Naylor, admiring the little boy, and praising him for his good behaviour in church.
Love of babies was a strong bond between Mrs. Weston and Mrs. Hawkesworth, who seemed to become well acquainted from the first moment that little Henry was mentioned; and Lily was well pleased to see that in Jane's phrase Eleanor 'took to her friends so well.'
And yet this day brought with it some annoyances, which once would have fretted her so much as to interfere even with such joy as she now felt. The song, with which she had taken so much pains, ought to have been sent home a week before, but owing to the delay caused by Emily's carelessness, it had been burnt in the fire in the schoolroom, and Lily could not feel herself forgiven till she had talked the disaster over in private with her friend, and this was out of her power throughout the day, for something always prevented her from getting Alethea alone. In the morning Jane stuck close to her, and in the afternoon William walked to the school gate with them. But Alethea's manner was kinder towards her than ever, and she was quite satisfied about her.
It gave her more pain to perceive that Emily in every possible manner avoided being alone with her. It was by her desire that Phyllis came to sleep in their room; she would keep Jane talking there, give Esther some employment which kept her in their presence, linger in the drawing-room while Lilias was dressing, and at bedtime be too sleepy to say anything but good-night.
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