by L. T. Meade
Lushington.
Yes, Annie had achieved much, if those actions of hers could be spokenof in such a light; she had won that which she desired. Priscillaremained at school. Mabel had left Lyttelton School, and she (Annie)was to join her friend on the Continent.
Still, of course, there was a small thing to be done. Uncle Mauricemust produce the needful. Annie could not travel to Paris withoutmoney, and Uncle Maurice must supply it. She did not anticipate muchdifficulty in getting the necessary sum from her uncle. Her dress was,of course, very unsuitable for the time of triumph she hoped to have inthe gay capital and during her time abroad with Lady Lushington andMabel. But nevertheless, she was not going to fret about these thingsin advance, and perhaps Uncle Maurice would be good for more than themoney for her journey.
She was seated now in a high gig, her uncle himself driving her. He hadcome to meet her at the nearest railway station ten miles away, and asthe old horse jogged along and the old gig bumped over the uneven roadAnnie congratulated herself again and again on having such a short timeto spend at home.
Mr Brooke was an old clergyman approaching seventy years of age. He hadlived in this one parish for over forty years; he loved every stone onthe road, every light on the hills, every bush that grew, every plantthat flowered; and as to the inhabitants of the little parish ofRashleigh, they were to old Maurice Brooke as his own children.
He was pleased to see Annie, and showed it now by smiling at her fromtime to time and doing his best to make her comfortable.
"Is the rug tucked tightly round you, Annie?" he said. "You will feelthe fresh air a bit after your time down south. It's fine air we havein these ports--none finer in the land--but it's apt to be a littlefresh when you come new upon it. And how are you, my dear girl? I'vebeen looking, forward to your holidays. There's a great deal for you todo, as usual."
"Oh uncle!" said Annie, "but you know I don't like doing things."
"Eh, my love?" said the old clergyman. "But we have to do them, all thesame, when they come to us in the guise of duty."
"That is what I hate," said Annie, speaking crossly. "Don't let's worryabout them to-night, Uncle Maurice; I have had a long journey, and amtired."
"Poor bit thing!" said the old man. He stopped for a minute to pull therag up higher round Annie's knees. "Mrs Shelf is so pleased at yourcoming back, Annie. She looks to you to help her with the preserving.She is not as young as she was, and her rheumatism is worse."
"Oh, I hate rheumatic old folks!" thought Annie, but she did not say thewords aloud.
By-and-by they reached the Rectory, and while the rector took old Roverback to his stable Annie ran into the house.
The Rectory was large and rambling, and had
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"You are looking well, my dear," said the woman, "and I am glad you areback, for we want young life about the old place."
"You won't have it long," said Annie.
Mrs Shelf took no notice. "The raspberries are past," she said; "butthere are a good few gooseberries still to preserve, and there are theearly pears coming on; they make beautiful jam, if boiled whole withcloves and lemon-peel and a little port wine thrown in. But you muststand over them the whole time in order to keep them from breaking.Then there are the peaches; I set store by them, and always put them inbottles and bury them in the garden. There are gherkins, too, forpickling; and there are a whole lot of walnuts. We mustn't lose a dayabout pickling the walnuts, or they'll be spoiled. We might begin oversome of the jams to-morrow. What do you think?"
"You may if you like, Shelfy," said Annie; "but I sha'n't. I have onlycome here for a visit. I'm off to Paris immediately."
"You off to Paris!" said the old woman. "Highty-tighty! what will youruncle say?"
"Uncle Maurice will say just what I like him to say," answered Annie."Please have a chop or something nice for my supper, for I can't standslops. And is my room ready?"
"I hope so, child. I told Peggie to see to it." Peggie was not thebest of servants, and Annie's room was by no means in a state ofimmaculate order. It was a large room, but, like the rest of the house,very badly furnished. There was a huge old four-poster for the girl tosleep in, and there was a little rickety table which held alooking-glass with a crack down the middle, and there was a crackedwhite basin and jug on another table at the farther end of the room. Ofwardrobe there was none; but a large door, when opened, revealed someshelves and a hanging press.
"Oh! it is just as of old," thought the girl--"an intolerable, horridplace. I could never live here--never; and what's more, I won't. Howwise I was to make provision for myself while at school! I declare, badas I thought the old place, I didn't imagine it to be quite soramshackle."
While these thoughts were rushing through Annie's mind she was brushingout her pretty golden hair and arranging it becomingly round her smallhead. Then she straightened and tidied her dress, and presently randownstairs, her trim little figure quite stylish-looking for that oldhouse, and pretty enough, in the rector's opinion, to gladden any placewhich she chose to grace.
Old Mr Brooke loved Annie. She was all he possessed in the world. Hehad never married, and when his only brother, on dying, had left thechild to his care, he had vowed to be a father to her, to bring her upwell, and to do the best he could for her. Annie was the child of anEnglish father and an Italian mother. In appearance she had taken inevery respect after her father's race, being fair, with all theattributes of the Saxon, but in her nature she had some of thecraftiness which distinguishes the Italian. Hers was a difficult natureto fathom, and to a very high-minded man like the Rev Maurice Brookeshe was a problem he could never solve. For a couple of years past hehad owned himself puzzled by Annie. When she was a little child shedelighted him; but more and more, as she returned from school for eachholiday, he felt that there was something behind. She was frank withhim; she grumbled quite openly in his presence. These things he did notmind, but he was sure there was something behind the grumbling, and thatfact puzzled and distressed him.
Still, he looked forward to the weeks which Annie spent at RashleighRectory as the golden periods of his life. All the little pleasures andindulgences were kept for this time. "When my niece comes back we'll doso-and-so," was his favourite remark. "When Annie comes, Mrs Shelf, wemust have that new tarpaulin put down; and don't you think her roomought to be repapered and painted for her? Girls like pretty things,don't they?"
But Mrs Shelf read Annie's nature far more correctly than did her olduncle.
"If I were you, Mr Brooke," she said, "I wouldn't spend money on thatgirl until I knew what she was after. Maybe she won't take to the roomwhen it's painted and papered."
"Won't take to it?" he replied. "But naturally she'll take to it, MrsShelf, for it will be her own room, where, please God, she will sleepfor many long years, until, indeed, she finds another home of her own."
Mrs Shelf was silent when the rector said these things. But, somehow,the room was not papered, nor was the old paint renewed; and Anniefailed to notice these facts.
"Well, my little girl," he said on the present occasion, as they bothsat down to supper in a small room which opened out of the study, "it'sa sight for sair een to see you back again; and well you look, Annie--well and bonny." He looked at her admiringly. She was not at all abeautiful girl, but she was beautiful to him. "You have a look of mybrother Geoffrey," he said. "Ah, Geoffrey, dear fellow, was remarkablygood-looking. Not that looks signify much, Annie; we ought never to setstore by them. It is the beauty of the mind we ought to cultivate, mylove."
"Well," said Annie, "I'd like to be handsome. I don't see, for my part,why I should not have both. What do you think, uncle?"
"That would be as the Almighty chose," he replied. "But come now, mylove; time passes quickly. I often forget, myself, how the years runon. How old are you, my dearie?"
"I was seventeen my last birthday, Uncle Maurice; quite grown up, youknow."
"Why, to be
sure, to be sure," he replied.
"Your mother was married at seventeen, poor young thing! But in thesedays we are more sensible, and girls don't take the burden of life onthem while they are still children. You are a schoolgirl yet, Annie,and won't be anything else for another year at least."
"Oh, all right, uncle," said Annie, who had no wish to change LytteltonSchool for the dullness of Rashleigh Rectory.
"But the months fly on," said the old man. "Help yourself to aroast-apple, my dear. And before we know where we are," he