'Is Master Frank in the house?' put in Mr. White; 'I should like to put
the question before him.'

'You can't expect a young man to make mortifying admissions,' exclaimed
the mother, and as she saw smiles in answer she added, 'Of course, the
girl has played the modest and proper throughout! That was her art, to
draw him on, till he did not know what he was about.'

'Setting aside the supposed purpose,' said Sir Jasper, 'you admit, Mrs.
Stebbing, that of your own knowledge, Miss White has never encouraged
your son's attentions.'

'N--no; but we all know what those girls are.'

'Fatherless and unprotected,' said Sir Jasper, 'dependent on their
own character and exertion, and therefore in especial need of kind
construction. Good morning, Mrs. Stebbing; I have learnt all that I wish
to know.'

Overpowered, but not convinced, Mrs. Stebbing saw her visitors depart.

'And I hope her husband will give it to her well,' said Mr. White, as
they left the house.

They looked in at Beechcroft Cottage with the tidings.

'All safe, I see!' cried Miss Jane. 'Is the money found?'

'No; Mrs. Stebbing burnt it, under the impression that it was a
love-letter,' drily said Sir Jasper.

Miss Mohun led the way in the hearty fit of laughter, to which the
gentlemen gave way the more heartily for recent suppression; and Mr.
White added--

'I assure you, it was as good as a play to hear Sir Jasper worm it out.
One would think he had been bred a lawyer.'

'And now,' said the General, 'I must go and relieve that poor girl's
suspense.'

'I will come with you,' volunteered Mr. White. 'I fully believe that she
is a good girl, though this business and Master Richard's applications
staggered me; and this soldier fellow must be an ass if he is not a
scamp.'

'Scarcely that, I think,' said Miss Adelaide, with her pleading smile.

'Well, discipline will be as good for him as for his father,' said Mr.
White. 'He has done for himself, but that was a nice little lad that you
had up--too good for a common national school.'

Wherewith they departed, and found that Kalliope must have been on the
watch, for she ran down to open the door to them, and the gladness which
irradiated her face as Sir Jasper's first 'All right,' lighted up her
features, which were so unlike the shop-girl prettiness that Mr. White
expected as quite to startle him.

Richard was in the parlour in a cloud of smoke, and began to do the
honours.

'Our acknowledgments are truly due to Sir Jasper. Mr. White, we are much
honoured. Pray be seated, please to excuse--'

They paid little attention to him, while Sir Jasper told as much to his
sister as could well be explained as to the fate of her envelope, and
added--

'You will not be wanted at Avoncester, as the case will not come on.
I shall go and see all safe, then on to town, but I mean to see your
brother's commanding officer, and you may tell your mother that I have
no doubt that he will be allowed a furlough.'

'But, Sir Jasper' broke in Richard, 'I beg your pardon; but there is a
family from Leeds at Bellevue, the Nortons, and imagine what it would be
if they reported me as connected with a common private soldier, just out
of prison too!'

'Let him come to me then,' exclaimed Mr. White.

In spite of appearances of disgust, Richard took the invitation to
himself, and looked amiable and gratified.

'Thank you, Mr. White, that will obviate the difficulty. When shall I
move up?'

'You, sir? Did you think I meant you?' said Mr. White contemptuously.
'No; I prefer a fool to a knave!'

'Mr. White,' interposed Sir Jasper, 'whatever you may have to say to
Richard White, consider his sister. Or had you not better report our
success to your mother, my dear?'

'One moment,' said Mr. White. 'Tell me, young lady, if you do not
object, what assistance have you ever received from me.'

'You have most kindly employed us, and paid for Maura's education,' said
Kalliope.

'Is that all? Has nothing been transmitted through this brother?'

'I do not understand,' said Kalliope, trembling, as Richard scowled at
her.

'Sir,' said he, 'I always intended, but unforeseen circumstances--'

'That's enough for the present, sir,' said Mr. White. 'I have heard all
I wish, and more too.'

'Sir,' said Kalliope, still trembling, 'indeed, Richard is a kind son
and brother. My mother is much attached to him. I am generally out all
day, and it is quite possible that she did not tell me all that passed
between them, as she knew that I did not like you to be applied to.'

'That will do, my dear,' said Mr. White. 'I don't want to say any more
about it. You shall have your brother to-morrow, if Sir Jasper can
manage it. I will bring him back to Rockstone as my guest, so that his
brother need not be molested with his company.'

CHAPTER XX. -- IVINGHOE TERRACE

On an east-windy Friday afternoon Valetta and Fergus were in a crowning
state of ecstasy. Rigdum Funnidos was in a hutch in the small garden
under the cliff, Begum and two small gray kittens were in a basket under
the kitchen stairs, Aga was purring under everybody's feet, Cocky was
turning out the guard upon his perch--in short, Il Lido was made as like
Silverfold as circumstances would permit. Aunt Ada with Miss Vincent was
sitting on the sofa in the drawing-room, with a newly-worked cosy,
like a giant's fez, over the teapot, and Valetta's crewel cushion fully
displayed. She was patiently enduring a rush in and out of the room of
both children and Quiz once every minute, and had only requested that
it should not be more than once, and that the door should neither be
slammed nor left open.

Macrae and the Silverfold carriage were actually gone to the station,
and, oh! oh! oh! here it really was with papa on the box, and heaps
of luggage, and here were Primrose and Gillian and mamma and Mrs.
Halfpenny, all emerging one after another, and Primrose, looking--oh
dear! more like a schoolroom than a nursery girl--such a great piece of
black leg below the little crimson skirt; but the dear little face as
plump as ever.

That was the first apparent fact after the disengaging from the general
embrace, when all had subsided into different seats, and Aunt Jane, who
had appeared from somewhere in her little round sealskin hat, had begun
to pour out the tea. The first sentence that emerged from the melee of
greetings and intelligence was--

'Fly met her mother at the station; how well she looks!'

'Then Victoria came down with you?'

'Yes; I am glad we went to her. I really do like her very much.'

Then Primrose and Valetta varied the scene by each laying a kitten in
their mother's lap; and Begum, jumping after her progeny, brushed Lady
Merrifield's face with her bushy tail, interrupting the information
about names.

'Come, children,' said Sir Jasper, 'that's enough; take away the cats.'
It was kindly said, but it was plain that liberties with mamma would not
continue before him.

'The Whites?' was Gillian's question, as she pressed up to Aunt Jane.

'Poor Mrs. White died the night before last,' was the return. 'I have
just come from Kally. She is in a stunned state now--actually too busy
to think and feel, for the funeral must be to-morrow.'

Sir Jasper heard, and came to ask further questions.

'She saw Alexis,' went on Miss Mohun. 'They dressed him in his own
clothes, and she seemed greatly satisfied when he came to sit by her,
and had forgotten all that went before. However, the end came very
suddenly at last, and all those poor children show their southern nature
in tremendous outbursts of grief--all except Kalliope, who seems not
to venture on giving way, will not talk, or be comforted, and is, as it
were, dried up for the present. The big brothers give way quite as
much as the children, in gusts, that is to say. Poor Alexis reproaches
himself with having hastened it, and I am afraid his brother does not
spare him. But Mr. White has bought his discharge.'

'You don't mean it.'

'Yes; whether it was the contrast between Alexis's air of refinement
and his private soldier's turn-out, or the poor fellow's patience and
submission, or the brother's horrid behaviour to him, Mr. White has
taken him up, and bought him out.'

'All because of Richard's brutal speech. That is good! Though I confess
I should have let the lad have at least a year's discipline for his own
good, since he had put himself into it; but I can't be sorry. There is
something engaging about the boy.'

'And Mr. White is the right man to dispose of them.'

No more passed, for here were the children eager and important, doing
the honours of the new house, and intensely happy at the sense of home,
which with them depended more on persons than on place.

One schoolroom again,' said Mysie. 'One again with Val and Prim and Miss
Vincent. Oh, it is happiness!'

Even Mrs. Halfpenny was a delightful sight, perhaps the more so that her
rightful dominion was over; the nursery was no more, and she was only to
preside in the workroom, be generally useful, wait on my lady, and look
after Primrose as far as was needful.

The bustle and excitement of settling in prevented much thought of the
Whites, even from Gillian, during that evening and the next morning; and
she was ashamed of her own oblivion of her friend in the new current of
ideas, when she found that her father meant to attend the funeral out of
respect to his old fellow-soldier.

Rockquay had outgrown its churchyard, and had a cemetery half a mile
off, so that people had to go in carriages. Mr. White had made himself
responsible for expenses, and thus things were not so utterly dreary
as poverty might have made them. It was a dreary, gusty March day,
with driving rushes of rain, which had played wildly with Gillian's
waterproof while she was getting such blossoms and evergreen leaves as
her aunt's garden afforded, not out of love for the poor Queen of
the White Ants herself, but thinking the attention might gratify the
daughters; and her elders moralised a little on the use and abuse of
wreaths, and how the manifestation of tender affection and respect had
in many cases been imitated in empty and expensive compliment.

'The world spoils everything with its coarse finger,' said Lady
Merrifield.

'I hope the custom will not be exaggerated altogether out of fashion,'
said Jane. 'It is a real comfort to poor little children at funerals
to have one to carry, and it is as Mrs. Gaskell's Margaret said of
mourning, something to prevent settling to doing nothing but crying;
besides that afterwards there is a wholesome sweetness in thus keeping
up the memory.'

Sir Jasper shared a carriage with Mr. White, and returned somewhat wet
and very cold, and saying that it had been sadly bleak and wretched for
the poor young people, who stood trembling, so far as he could see; and
he was anxious to know how the poor girls were after it. It had seemed
to him as if Kalliope could scarcely stand. He proved to be right.
Kalliope had said nothing, not wept demonstratively, perhaps not at all;
but when the carriage stopped at the door, she proved to be sunk back in
her corner in a dead faint. She was very long in reviving, and no sooner
tried to move than she swooned again, and this time it lasted so
long that the doctor was sent for. Miss Mohun arrived just as he had
partially restored her, and they had a conversation.

'They must get that poor girl to bed as soon as it is possible to
undress her,' he said. 'I have seen that she must break down sooner or
later, and I'm afraid she is in for a serious illness; but as yet there
is no knowing.'

Nursing was not among Jane's accomplishments, except of her sister Ada's
chronic, though not severe ailments; but she fetched Mrs. Halfpenny as
the most effective person within reach, trusting to that good woman's
Scotch height, strong arms, great decision, and the tenderness which
real illness always elicited.

Nor was she wrong. Not only did Mrs. Halfpenny get the half-unconscious
girl into bed, but she stayed till evening, and then came back to snatch
a meal and say--

'My leddy, if you have no objection, I will sit up with that puir
lassie the night. They are all men-folk or bairns there, except the
lodger-lady, who is worn out with helping the mother, and they want some
one with a head on her shoulders.'

Lady Merrifield consented with all her heart; but the Sunday morning's
report was no better, when Mrs. Halfpenny came home to dress Primrose,
and see her lady.

'That eldest brother, set him up, the idle loon, was off by the mail
train that night, and naething wad serve him but to come in and bid
good-bye to his sister just as I had gotten her off into something more
like a sleep. It startled her up, and she went off her head again, poor
dearie, and began to talk about prison and disgrace, and what not, till
she fainted again; and when she came to, I was fain to call the other
lad to pacify her, for I could see the trouble in her puir een, though
she could scarce win breath to speak.'

'Is Alexis there?'

'Surely he is, my leddy; he's no the lad to leave his sister in sic a
strait. It was all I could do to gar him lie down when she dozed off
again, but there's sair stress setting in for all of them, puir things.
I have sent the little laddie off to beg the doctor to look in as soon
as he can, for I am much mistaken if there be not fever coming on.'

'Indeed! And what can those poor children do?'

'That's what I'm thinking, my leddy. And since 'tis your pleasure that
the nursery be done awa' wi', and I have not ta'en any fresh work, I
should like weel to see the puir lassie through wi' it. Ye'll no mind
that Captain White and my puir Halfpenny listed the same time, and
always forgathered as became douce lads. The twa of them got their
stripes thegither, and when Halfpenny got his sunstroke in that weary
march, 'twas White who gave him his last sup of water, and brought me
his bit Bible. So I'd be fain to tend his daughter in her sickness,
if you could spare me, my leddy, and I'd aye rin home to dress Missie
Primrose and pit her to bed, and see to matters here.'

'There's no better nurse in the world, dear old Halfpenny,' said Lady
Merrifield, with tears in her eyes. 'I do feel most thankful to you for
proposing it. Never mind about Primrose, only you must have your meals
and a good rest here, and not knock yourself up.'

Mrs. Halfpenny smiled grimly at the notion of her being sooner knocked
up than a steam-engine. Dr. Dagger entirely confirmed her opinion that
poor Kalliope was likely to have a serious illness, low nervous fever,
and failing action of the heart, no doubt from the severe strain that
she had undergone, more or less, for many months, and latterly fearfully
enhanced by her mother's illness, and the shock and suspense about
Alexis, all borne under the necessity of external composure and
calmness, so that even Mrs. Lee had never entirely understood how much
it cost her. The doctor did not apprehend extreme danger to one young
and healthy, but he thought much would depend on good nursing, and on
absolute protection from any sort of excitement, so that such care as
Mrs. Halfpenny's was invaluable, since she was well known to be a dove
to a patient, but a dragon to all outsiders.

Every one around grieved at having done so little to lighten these
burthens, and having even increased them, her brother Alexis above all;
but on the other hand, he was the only person who was of any use to her,
or was suffered to approach her, since his touch and voice calmed the
recurring distress, lest he were still in prison and danger.

Alexis went back dutifully on the Monday morning to his post at the
works. The young man was much changed by his fortnight's experiences, or
rather he had been cured of a temporary fit of distraction, and returned
to his better self. How many discussions his friends held about him
cannot be recorded, but after a conversation with Mr. Flight, with whom
he was really more unreserved than any other being except Kalliope, this
was the understanding at which Miss Mohun and Lady Merrifield arrived as
to his nature and character.

Refined, studious, and sensitive, thoroughly religious-minded, and of a
high tone of thought, his aspirations had been blighted by his father's
death, his brother's selfishness, and his mother's favouritism. In
a brave spirit of self-abnegation, he had turned to the uncongenial
employment set before him for the sake of his family, and which
was rendered specially trying by the dislike of his fellows to 'the
gentleman cove,' and the jealousy of the Stebbings. Alike for his
religious and his refined habits he had suffered patiently, as Mr.
Flight had always known more or less, and now bore testimony. The
curate, who had opened to him the first door of hope and comfort, had
in these weeks begun to see that the apparent fitfulness of his kindness
had been unsettling.

Then came the brief dream of felicity excited by Gillian and the
darkness of its extinction, just as Frank Stebbing's failure and
the near approach of Mr. White had made the malice of his immediate
superiors render his situation more intolerable than ever. There was the
added sting of self-reproach for his presumption towards Gillian, and
the neglect caused by his fit of low spirits. Such a sensitive being,
in early youth, wearied and goaded on all sides, might probably have
persevered through the darkness till daylight came; but the catastrophe,
the dismissal, and the perception that he could only defend himself at
the expense of his idol's little brother, all exaggerated by youthful
imagination, were too much for his balance of judgment, and he fled
without giving himself time to realise how much worse he made it for
those he left behind him.

Of course he perceived it all now, and the more bitterly from his
sister's wanderings, but the morbid exaggeration was gone. The actual
taste of a recruit's life had shown him that there were worse things
than employment at the quarries with his home awaiting him, and his cell
had been a place of thought and recovery of his senses. He had never
seriously expected conviction, and Sir Jasper's visit had given him a
spring of hopeful resignation, in which thoughts stirred of doing his
duty, and winning his way after his father's example, and taking the
trials of his military life as the just cross of his wrong-doing in
entering it.

His liberation and Mr. White's kindness had not altered this frame. He
was too unhappy to feel his residence in the great house anything but a
restraint; he could not help believing that he had hastened his
mother's death, and could only bow his head meekly under his brother's
reproaches, alike for that and for his folly and imprudence and the
disgrace he had brought on the family.

'And now you'll, be currying favour and cutting out every one else,' had
been a sting which added fresh force to Alexis's desire to escape from
his kinsman's house to sleep at home as soon as his brother had gone;
and Richard had seen enough of Sir Jasper and of Mr. White to be anxious
to return to his office at Leeds as soon as possible, and to regulate
his affairs beyond their reach.

Alexis knew that he had avoided a duty in not working out his three
months' term, and likewise that his earnings were necessary to the
family all the more for his sister being laid aside. He knew that he
hardly deserved to resume his post, and he merely asked permission so to
do, and it was granted at once, but curtly and coldly.

Mr. Flight had asked if he had not found the going among the other
clerks very trying.

'I had other things to think of,' said Alexis sadly, then recalling
himself. 'Yes; Jones did sneer a little, but the others stopped that.
They knew I was down, you see.'

'And you mean to go on?'

'If I may. That, and for my sister to get better, is all I can dare to
hope. My madness and selfishness have shown me unworthy of all that I
once dreamt of.'

In that resolution it was assuredly best to leave him, only giving him
such encouragement and sympathy as might prevent that more dangerous
reaction of giving up all better things; and Sir Jasper impressed on
Mr. Flight, the only friend who could have aided him in fulfilling his
former aspirations, that Mr. White had in a manner purchased the
youth by buying his discharge, and that interference would not only be
inexpedient, but unjust. The young clergyman chafed a little over not
being allowed to atone for his neglect; but Sir Jasper was not a person
to be easily gainsayed. Nor could there be any doubt that Mr. White was
a good man, though in general so much inclined to reserve his hand that
his actions were apt to take people by surprise at last, as they had
never guessed his intentions, and he had a way of sucking people's
brains without in the least letting them know what use he meant to
make of their information. The measures he was taking for the temporal,
intellectual, and spiritual welfare of the people at the works would
hardly have been known except for the murmurs of Mrs. Stebbing,
although, without their knowing what he was about with them, Mr.
Stebbing himself, Mr. Hablot, Miss Mohun, to say nothing of Alexis, the
foremen and the men and their wives, had given him the groundwork of his
reforms. Meantime, he came daily to inquire for Kalliope, and lavished
on her all that could be an alleviation, greatly offending Mrs.
Halfpenny by continually proffering the services of a hospital nurse.

'A silly tawpie that would be mair trouble than half a dozen sick,' as
she chose to declare.

She was a born autocrat, and ruled as absolutely in No. l as in her
nursery, ordering off the three young ones to their schools, in spite
of Maura's remonstrances and appeals to Lady Merrifield, who agreed with
nurse that the girl was much better away and occupied than where she
could be of very little use.

Indeed, Mrs. Halfpenny banished every one from the room except Mrs. Lee
and Alexis, whom she would allow to take her place, while she stalked
to Il Lido for her meals, and the duties she would not drop. As to rest,
she always, in times of sickness, seemed to be made of cast iron, and if
she ever slept at all, it was in a chair, while Alexis sat by his sister
in the evening.

The fever never ran very high, but constant vigilance was wanted from
the extreme exhaustion and faintness. There was no violent delirium,
but more of delusion and distress; nor was it easy to tell when she
was conscious or otherwise, for she hardly spoke, and as yet the doctor
forbade any attempt to rouse her more than was absolutely needful. They
were only to give nourishment, watch her, and be patient.

A few months ago Gillian would have fussed herself into a frantic state
of anxiety and self-reproach, but her parents, when her mother had once
heard as much outpouring as she thought expedient, would not permit what
Sir Jasper called 'perpetual harping.'

'You have to do your duties all the same, and not worry your mother and
all the family with your feelings,' he said. She thought it very unkind,
and went away crying.

'Nobody could hinder her from thinking about Kalliope,' she said to
herself, and think she did at her prayers, and when the bulletins came
in, but the embargo on discussion prevented her from being so absolutely
engrossed, as in weaker hands she might have been, and there was a great
deal going on to claim her attention. For one thing, the results of the
Cambridge Examination showed that while Emma Norton and a few others had
passed triumphantly, she had failed, and conscience carried her back
to last autumn's disinclination to do just what Aunt Jane especially
recommended.

She cried bitterly over the failure, for she had a feeling that success
there would redeem her somewhat in her parents' eyes; but here again she
experienced the healing kindness of her father. He would not say that
he should not have been much pleased by her success, but he said
failure that taught her to do her best without perverseness was really a
benefit; and as arithmetic and mathematics had been her weakest points,
he would work at them with her and Mysie for an hour every morning.

It was somewhat formidable, but the girls soon found that what their
father demanded was application, and that inattention displeased
him much more than stupidity. His smile, though rare, was one of the
sweetest things in the world, and his approbation was delightful, and
gave a stimulus to the entire day's doings. Mysie was more than ever in
dread of being handed over to the Rotherwoods, though her love for poor
Fly and pity for her solitude were so strong. She would have been much
relieved if she had known what had passed; when the offer was seriously
made, Lord Rotherwood insisted that his wife should do it.

'Then they will believe in it,' he said.

'I do not know why you should say that,' she returned, always dutifully
blinding herself to that which all their intimates knew perfectly well.
However, perhaps from having a station and dignity of her own, together
with great simplicity, Lady Merrifield had from her first arrival got
on so well with her hostess as not quite to enter into Jane's sarcastic
descriptions of her efforts at cordiality; and it was with real warmth
that Lady Rotherwood begged for Mysie as a permanent companion and
adopted sister to Phyllis, who was to be taken back to London after
Easter, and in the meantime spent every possible moment with her
cousins.

Tears at the unkindness to lonely Fly came into Lady Merrifield's eyes
as she said--

'I cannot do it, Victoria; I do not think I ought to give away my child,
even if I could.'

'It is not only our feelings,' added Sir Jasper, 'but it is our duty to
bring up our own child in her natural station; and though we know she
would learn nothing but good in your family, I cannot think it well that
a girl should acquire habits, and be used to society ways and of life
beyond those which she can expect to continue.'

They both cried out at this, Lord Rotherwood with a halting declaration
of perfect equality, which his lady seconded, with a dexterous reference
to connections.

'We will not put it on rank then,' said Sir Jasper, 'but on wealth. With
you, Maria must become accustomed to much that she could not continue,
and had better not become natural to her. I know there are great
advantages to manners and general cultivation in being with you, and we
shall be most thankful to let her pay long visits, and be as much with
Phyllis as is consistent with feeling her home with us, but I cannot
think it right to do more.'

'But with introductions,' pleaded Lady Rotherwood, 'she might marry
well. With her family and connections, she would be a match for any
one.'

'I hope so,' said Sir Jasper; 'but at the same time it would not be well
for her to look on such a marriage as the means of continuing the habits
that would have become second nature.'

'Poor Mysie,' exclaimed Lord Rotherwood, bursting out laughing at the
idea, and at Lady Merrifield's look as she murmured, 'My Mysie!'

'You misunderstand me,' said the Marchioness composedly. 'I was as far
as possible from proposing marriage as a speculation for her.'

'I know you were,' said Sir Jasper. 'I know you would deal by Maria as
by your own daughter, and I am very grateful to you, Lady Rotherwood,
but I can only come back to my old decision, that as Providence did not
place her in your rank of life, she had better not become so accustomed
to it as to render her own distasteful to her.'

'Exactly what I expected,' said Lord Rotherwood.

'Yes,' returned his wife, with an effort of generosity; 'and I believe
you are right, Jasper, though I am sorry for my little solitary girl,
and I never saw a friend so perfectly suitable for her as your Mysie.'

'They may be friends still,' said Lord Rotherwood, 'and we will be
grateful to you whenever you can spare her to us.'

'Perhaps,' added Sir Jasper, 'all the more helpful friends for seeing
different phases of life.'

'And, said his wife, with one of her warm impulses, 'I do thank you,
Victoria, for so loving my Mysie.'

'As if any one could help it, after last winter,' said that lady, and an
impromptu kiss passed between the two mothers, much to the astonishment
of the Marquis, who had never seen his lady so moved towards any one.

The Merrifields were somewhat on the world, for Sir Jasper, on going
to Silverfold and corresponding with the trustees of the landlord, had
found that the place could not be put in a state either of repair or
sanitation, such as he approved, without more expense than either he
or the trustees thought advisable, and he decided on giving it up, and
remaining at Il Lido till he could find something more suitable.

The children, who had been there during the special homemaking age,
bewailed the decision, and were likely always to look back on Silverfold
as a sort of Paradise; but the elder ones had been used to changes from
infancy, and had never settled down, and their mother said that place
was little to her as long as she had her Jasper by her side, and as to
the abstract idea of home as a locality, that would always be to her
under the tulip-tree and by the pond at the Old Court at Beechcroft,
just as her abstract idea of church was in the old family pew, with the
carved oak panels, before the restoration, in which she had been the
most eager of all.

Thus a fortnight passed, and then the fever was decidedly wearing
off, but returning at night. Kalliope still lay weak, languid, silent,
fainting at any attempt to move her, not apparently able to think enough
to ask how time passed, or to be uneasy about anything, simply accepting
the cares given to her, and lying still. One morning, however, Alexis
arrived in great distress to speak to Sir Jasper, not that his sister
was worse, as he explained, but Richard had been selling the house. The
younger ones at home had never troubled themselves as to whose property
the three houses in Ivinghoe Terrace were. Perhaps Kalliope knew, but
she could not be asked; but the fact was that Captain White had been so
lost sight of, that he had not known that this inheritance had fallen to
him under the will of his grandfather, who was imbecile at the time of
his flight. On his deathbed, the Captain had left the little he owned to
his wife, and she had died intestate, as Richard had ascertained before
leaving home, so that he, as eldest son, was heir to the ground. He had
written to Kalliope, a letter which Alexis had opened, informing her
that he had arranged to sell the houses to a Mr. Gudgeon, letting to
him their own till the completion of the legal business necessary,
and therefore desiring his brothers and sisters to move out with their
lodgers, if not by Lady Day itself, thus giving only a week's spare
notice, at latest by Old Lady Day.

'Is he not aware of your sister's state?'

'I do not imagine that he has read the letter that I wrote to him. He
was very much displeased with me, and somewhat disposed to be angry at
my sister's fainting, and to think that we were all trying to work on
his feelings. He used to be rather fond of Maura, so I told her to write
to him, but he has taken no notice, and he can have no conception of
Kalliope's condition, or he would not have addressed his letter to her.
I came to ask if you would kindly write to him how impossible it is to
move her.'

'You had better get a certificate from Dr. Dagger. Either I or Lady
Merrifield will meet him, and see to that. That will serve both to stay
him and the purchaser.'

'That is another misfortune. This Gudgeon is the chief officer, or
whatever they call it, of the Salvation Army. I knew they had been
looking out for a place for a barracks, and could not get one because
almost everything belongs to Lord Rotherwood or to Mr. White.'

Sir Jasper could only reply that he would see what could be done in the
matter, and that, at any rate, Kalliope should not be disturbed.

Accordingly Lady Merrifield repaired to Ivinghoe Terrace for the
doctor's visit, and obtained from him the requisite certificate that the
patient could not be removed at present. He gave it, saying, however,
to Lady Merrifield's surprise, that though he did not think it would
be possible to remove her in a week's time, yet after that he fully
believed that she would have more chance of recovering favourably if she
could be taken out of the small room and the warm atmosphere beneath the
cliffs--though of course all must depend on her state at the time.

Meantime there was a council of the gentlemen about outbidding the
Salvation Army. Lord Rotherwood was spending already as much as he could
afford, in the days of agricultural depression, on the improvements
planned with Mr. White. That individual was too good a man of business
to fall, as he said, into the trap, and make a present to that scamp
Richard of more than the worth of the houses, and only Mr. Flight was
ready to go to any cost to keep off the Salvation Army; but the answer
was curt. Richard knew he had no chance with Mr. White, and did not care
to keep terms with him.

'Mr. Richard White begs to acknowledge the obliging offer of the Rev.
Augustine Flight, and regrets that arrangements have so far progressed
with Mr. Gudgeon that he cannot avail himself of it.'

Was this really regret or was the measure out of spite? Only the
widest charity could accept the former suggestion, and even Sir Jasper
Merrifield's brief and severe letter and Dr. Dagger's certificate did
not prevent a letter to Alexis, warning him not to make their sister's
illness a pretext for unreasonable delay.

What was to be done? Kalliope was still unfit to be consulted or even
informed, and she had been hitherto so entirely the real head and
manager of the family that Alexis did not like to make any decision
without her; and even the acceptance of the St. Wulstan's choristership
for Theodore had been put off for her to make it, look to his outfit,
and all that only the woman of the family could do for them.

And here they were at a loss for a roof over their heads, and nowhere
to bestow the battered old furniture, of which Richard magnanimously
renounced his sixth share; while she who had hitherto toiled, thought,
managed, and contrived for all the other four, without care of their
own, still lay on her bed, sensible indeed and no longer feverish, but
with the perilous failure of heart, renewed by any kind of exertion or
excitement, a sudden movement, or a startling sound in the street; and
Mrs. Halfpenny, guarding her as ferociously as ever, and looking capable
of murdering any one of her substitutes if they durst hint a word of
their perplexities. Happily she asked no questions; she was content when
allowed to be kissed by the others, and to see they were well. Nature
was enforcing repose, and so far "her senses was all as in a dream bound
up." Alexis remembered that it had been somewhat thus at Leeds, when,
after nursing all the rest, she had succumbed to the epidemic; but
then the mother had been able to watch over her, and had been a more
effective parent to the rest than she had since become.

The first practical proposal was Mrs. Lee's. They thought of reversing
the present position, and taking a small house where their present hosts
might become their lodgers. Moreover, Miss Mohun clenched the affair
about Theodore, and overcame Alexis's scruples, while Lady Merrifield,
having once or twice looked in, and been smiled at and thanked by
Kalliope, undertook to prepare her for his farewell.

Alexis and Maura both declared that she would instantly jump up, and
want to begin looking over his socks; but she got no further than--

'Dear boy! It is the sort of thing I always wished for him. People are
very good! But his things--'

'Oh yes, dearie, ye need not fash yourself. I've mended them as I sat by
you, and packed them all. Lie still. They are all right.'

There was an atmosphere of the Royal Wardours about Mrs. Halfpenny,
which was at once congenial and commanding; and Kalliope's mind at once
relinquished the burthen of socks, shirts, and even the elbows of
the outgrown jacket, nor did any of the family ever know how the
deficiencies had been supplied.

And when Theodore, well admonished, came softly and timidly for the
parting kiss, his face quivering all over with the effort at
self-control, she lay and smiled; but with a great crystal tear on each
dark eyelash, and her thin transparent fingers softly stroked his
cheeks, as the low weak voice said--

'Be a good boy, dear--speak truth. Praise God well. Write; I'll write
when I am better.'

It was the first time she had spoken of being better, and they told
Theodore to take comfort from it when all the other three walked him up
to the station.

CHAPTER XXI. -- BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

In the search for a new abode Mrs. Lee was in much difficulty, for it
was needful to be near St. Kenelm's, and the only vacant houses within
her means were not desirable for the reception of a feeble convalescent;
moreover, Mr. Gudgeon grumbled and inquired, and was only withheld by
warnings enhanced by the police from carrying the whole charivari of the
Salvation Army along Ivinghoe Terrace on Sunday afternoon.

Perhaps it was this, perhaps it was the fact of having discussed the
situation with the two Miss Mohuns, that made Mr. White say to Alexis,
'There are two rooms ready for your sister, as soon as Dagger says she
can be moved safely. The person who nurses her had better come with her,
and you may as well come back to your old quarters.'

Alexis could hardly believe his ears, but Mr. White waved off all
thanks. The Mohun sisters were delighted and triumphant, and Jane came
down to talk it over with her elder sister, auguring great things from
that man who loved to deal in surprises.

'That is true,' said Sir Jasper.

'What does that mean, Jasper?' said his wife. 'It sounds significant.'

'I certainly should not be amazed if he did further surprise us all. Has
it never struck you how that noontide turn of Adeline's corresponds with
his walk home from the reading-room?'

Lady Merrifield looked rather startled, but Jane only laughed, and said,
'My dear Jasper, if you only knew Ada as well as I do! Yes, I have seen
far too many of those little affairs to be taken in by them. Poor Ada! I
know exactly how she looks, but she is only flattered, like a pussy-cat
waggling the end of its tail--it means nothing, and never comes to
anything. The thing that is likely and hopeful is, that he may adopt
those young people as nephews and nieces.'

'Might it not spoil them?' said Lady Merrifield.

'Oh! I did not mean that. They might work with him still. However, there
is no use in settling about that. The only thing to be expected of him
is the unexpected!'

'And the thing to be done,' added her sister, 'is to see how and when
that poor girl can be got up to Cliff House.'

To the general surprise, Dr. Dagger wished the transit to take place
without loss of time. A certain look of resigned consternation crossed
Kalliope's face on being informed of her destiny, but she justified
Mrs. Halfpenny's commendation of her as the maist douce and conformable
patient in the world, for she had not energy enough even to plead
against anything so formidable, and she had not yet been told that
Ivinghoe Terrace was her home no longer.

The next day she was wrapped in cloaks and carried downstairs between
her brother and Mrs. Halfpenny, laid on a mattress in the Merrifield
waggonette, which went up the hill at a foot's pace, and by the same
hands, with her old friend the caretaker's wife going before, was taken
upstairs to a beautiful large room, with a window looking out on vernal
sky and sea. She was too much exhausted on her arrival to know anything
but the repose on the fresh comfortable bed, whose whiteness was almost
rivalled by her cheek, and Mrs. Halfpenny ordered off Alexis, who was
watching her in great anxiety. However, when he came back after his
afternoon's work, it was to find that she had eaten and slept, and now
lay, with her eyes open, in quiet interested admiration of a spacious
and pleasant bedroom, such as to be a great novelty to one whose life
had been spent in cheap lodging houses. The rooms had been furnished
twenty years before as a surprise intended for the wife who never
returned to occupy them, and though there was nothing extraordinary in
them, there was much to content the eyes accustomed to something very
like squalidness, for had not Kalliope's lot always been the least
desirable chamber in the family quarters?

At any rate, from that moment she began to recover, ate with appetite,
slept and woke to be interested, and to enjoy Theodore's letter of
description of St. Wulstan's, and even to ask questions. Alexis was
ready to dance for joy when she first began really to talk to him; and
could not forbear imparting his gladness to the Miss Mohuns that very
evening, as well as to Mr. White, and running down after dinner with
the good news to Maura, Mrs. Lee, and Lady Merrifield. Dinners with Mr.
White had, on his first sojourn in that house, been a great penance,
though there were no supercilious servants, for all the waiting was
by the familiar housekeeper, Mrs. Osborne, who had merely added an
underling to her establishment on her master's return; but Alexis then
had been utterly miserable, feeling guilty and ashamed, as one only
endured on sufferance out of compassion, because his brother cast him
out, and fresh from the sight of his mother's dying bed; a terrible
experience altogether, which had entirely burnt out and effaced his
foolish fit of romantic calf-love, and rendered him much more of a
man. Now, though not a month had passed, he seemed to be on a different
footing. He was doing his work steadily, and the hope of his sister's
recovery had brightened him. Mr. White had begun to talk to him, to ask
him questions about the doings of the day, and to tell him in return
some of his own experiences in Italy, and in the earlier days of the
town. Maura came up to see her sister every day, and tranquillised her
mind when the move was explained, and anxiety as to the transport of all
their worldly goods began to set in. Mrs. Lee had found a house where
she could place two bedrooms and a sitting-room at the disposal of the
Whites if things were to continue as before, and no hint had been given
of any change, or of what was to happen when the three months' notice
given to Kalliope and Alexis should have expired.

By the Easter holidays Mrs. Halfpenny began to get rather restless as to
the overlooking of the boys' wardrobes; and, indeed, she thought so well
of her patient's progress as to suggest to Mr. White that the lassie
would do very well if she had her sister to be with her in the holidays,
and she herself would come up every day to help at the getting up,
for Kalliope was now able to be dressed and to lie on a couch in the
dressing-room, where she could look out over the bay, and she had even
asked for some knitting.

'And really, Miss Gillian, you could not do her much harm if you came up
to see her,' said the despot. 'So you may come this very afternoon, if
ye'll be douce, and not fash her with any of your cantrips.'

Gillian did not feel at all in a mood for cantrips as she slowly
walked up the broad staircase, and was ushered into the
dressing-room, cheerful with bright fire and April sunshine, and with a
large comfortable sofa covered with a bright rug, where Kalliope could
enjoy both window and fire without glare. The beauty of her face so much
depended on form and expression that her illness had not lessened it.
Gillian had scarcely seen her since the autumn, and the first feeling
was what an air of rest and peace had succeeded the worn, harassed look
then almost perpetual. There was a calmness now that far better suited
the noble forehead, dark pencilled eyebrows, and classical features in
their clear paleness; and with a sort of reverence Gillian bent over
her, to kiss her and give her a bunch of violets. Then, when the thanks
had passed, Gillian relieved her own shyness by exclaiming with
admiration at a beautiful water-coloured copy of an early Italian
fresco, combining the Nativity and Adoration of the Magi, that hung over
the mantelpiece.

'Is it not exquisite?' returned Kalliope. 'I do so much enjoy making
out each head and dwelling on them! Look at that old shepherd's simple
wonder and reverence, and the little child with the lamb, and the
contrast with the Wise Man from the East, whose eyes look as if he saw
so much by faith.'

'Can you see it from there?' asked Gillian, who had got up to look at
these and further details dwelt on by Kalliope.

'Yes. Not at first; but they come out on me by degrees. It is such a
pleasure, and so kind of Mr. White to have put it there. He had it hung
there, Mrs. Halfpenny told me, instead of his own picture just before I
came in here.'

'Well, he is not a bad-looking man, but it is no harm to him or his
portrait to say that this is better to look at!'

'It quite does me good! And see,' pointing to a photograph of the Arch
of Titus hung on the screen that shielded her from the door, 'he sends
in a fresh one by Alexis every other day.

'How very nice! He really seems to be a dear old man. Don't you think
so?'

'I am sure he is wonderfully kind, but I have only seen him that once
when he came with Sir Jasper, and then I knew nothing but that when Sir
Jasper was come things must go right.'

'Of course; but has he never been to see you now that you are up and
dressed?'

'No, he lavishes anything on me that I can possibly want, but I have
only seen him once--never here.'

'It is like Beauty and the Beast!'

'Oh no, no; don't say that!'

'Well, George Stebbing really taught Fergus to call him a beast, and
you--Kally--I won't tease you with saying what you are.'

'I wish I wasn't, it would be all so much easier.'

'Never mind! I do believe the Stebbings are going away! Does Maura never
see him?'

'She has met him on the stairs and in the garden, but she has her meals
here. I trust by the time her Easter holidays are over I may be fit
to go back with her. But I do hope I may be able to copy a bit of that
picture first, though, any way, I can never forget it.'

'To go on as before?' exclaimed Gillian, with an interrogative sigh of
wonder.

'If that notice of dismissal can be revoked,' said Kalliope.

But would you like it--must you?'

'I _should_ like to go back to my girls,' said Kalliope; 'and things
come into my head, now I am doing nothing, that I want to work out, if I
might. So, you see, it is not at all a pity that I _must_.'

And why is it must?' said Gillian wistfully. 'You have to get well
first.'

Yes, I know that; but, you see, there are Maura and Petros. They must
not be thrown on Alexis, poor dear fellow! And if he could only be set
free, he might go on with what he once hoped for, though he thinks it is
his duty to give all that entirely up now and work obediently on. But I
know the longing will revive, and if I only could improve myself, and be
worth more, it might still be possible.'

'Only you must not begin too soon and work yourself to death.'

'Hardly after such a rest,' said Kalliope. 'It is not work I mind, but
worry'--and then a sadder look crossed her for a moment, and she added,
'I am so thankful.'

'Thankful?' echoed Gillian.

'Yes, indeed! For Sir Jasper's coming and saving us at that dreadful
moment, and my being able to keep up as long as dear mamma wanted me,
and then Mrs. Halfpenny being spared by dear Lady Merrifield to give me
such wonderful care and kindness, and little Theodore being so happily
placed, and this rest--such a strange quiet rest as I never knew before.
Oh! it is all so thankworthy'--and the great tears came to dim her eyes.
'It seems sent to help me to take strength and courage for the future.
"He hath helped me hitherto."'

'And you are better?'

'Yes, much better. Quite comfortable as long as I am quite still.'

'And content to be still?'

'Yes, I'm very lazy.'

It was a tired voice, and Gillian feared her half-hour was nearly over,
but she could not help saying--

'Do you know, I think it will be all nicer now. Mr. White is doing so
much, and Mr. Stebbing hates it so, that Mrs. Stebbing says he is going
to dissolve the partnership and go away.'

'Then it would all be easier. It seems too good to be true.'

'And that man Mr. White. He must do something for you! He ought.'

'Oh no! He has done a great deal already, and has not been well used.
Don't talk of that.'

'I believe he is awfully rich. You know he is building an Institute for
the workmen, and a whole row of model cottages.'

'Yes, Alexis told me. What a difference it will make! I hope he will
build a room where the girls can dine and rest and read, or have a
piano; it would be so good for them.'

'You had better talk to him about it.'

'I never see him, and I should not dare.'

'I'll tell my aunts. He always does what Aunt Ada tells him. Is that
really all you wish?'

'Oh! I don't wish for anything much--I don't seem able to care now dear
mamma is where they cease from troubling, and I have Alec again.'

'Well, I can't help having great hopes. I can't see why that man should
not make a daughter of you! Then you would travel and see mountains and
pictures and everything. Oh, should you not like that?'

'Like? Oh, one does not think about liking things impossible! And for
the rest, it is nonsense. I should not like to be dependent, and I ought
not.'

'You don't think what is to come next?'

'No, it would be taking thought for the morrow, would it not? I don't
want to, while I can't do anything, it would only make me fret, and I
am glad I am too stupid still to begin vexing myself over it. I suppose
energy and power of considering will come when my heart does not flutter
so. In the meantime, I only want to keep quiet, and I hope that's not
all laziness, but some trust in Him who has helped me all this time.'

'Miss Gillian, you've clavered as long as is good for Miss White, and
here are the whole clanjamfrie waiting in the road for you. Now be
douce, my bairn, and mind you are not in the woods at home, and don't
let the laddies play their tricks with Miss Primrose.'

'I must go,' said Gillian, hastily kissing Kalliope. 'The others were
going to call for me. When Lady Phyllis was riding with her father she
spied a wonderful field of daffodils and a valley full of moss at a
place called Clipston, two miles off, and we are all going to get some
for the decorations. I'll send you some. Good-bye.'

The clanjamfrie, as Mrs. Halfpenny called it, mustered strong, and
Gillian's heart leapt at the resumption of the tumultuous family life,
as she beheld the collection of girls, boys, dogs, and donkeys awaiting
her in the approach; and, in spite of the two governesses' presence,
her mind misgave her as to the likelihood of regard to the hint that her
mother had given that she hoped the elder ones would try to be sober
in their ways, and not quite forget what week it was. It was in their
favour that Jasper, now in his last term at school, was much more of a
man and less of a boy than hitherto, and was likely to be on the side
of discretion, so that he might keep in order that always difficult
element, Wilfred, whose two years of preparatory school as yet made him
only more ingenious in the arts of teasing, and more determined to show
his superiority to petticoat government. He had driven Fergus nearly
distracted by threatening to use all his mineralogical specimens to make
ducks and drakes, and actually confusing them together, so that Fergus
repented of having exhibited them, and rejoiced that Aunt Jane had let
them continue in her lumber-room till they could find a permanent home.

Wilfred had a shot for Mrs. Halfpenny, when she came down with Gillian
and looked for Primrose to secure that there were no interstices between
the silk handkerchief and fur collar.

'Ha, ha, old Small Change, don't you wish you may get it?'--as Primrose
proved to be outside the drive on one of the donkeys. 'You've got
nothing to do but gnaw your fists at us like old Giant Pope.'

'For shame, Wilfred!' said Jasper. 'My mother did Primrose's throat,
nurse, so she is all right.'

'Bad form,' observed Lord Ivinghoe, shaking his head.

'I'm not going to Eton,' replied Wilfred audaciously.

'I should hope not!'--in a tone of ineffable contempt, not for Wilfred's
person, but his manners, and therewith his Lordship exclaimed, 'Who's
that?' as Maura came flying down with Gillian's forgotten basket.

'Oh, that's Maura White!' said Valetta.

'I say, isn't she going with us?'

'Oh no, she has to look after her sister!'

'Don't you think we might take her, Gill?' said Fly. 'She never gets any
fun.'

'I don't think she ought to leave Kalliope to-day, Fly, for nurse is
going down to Il Lido; and besides, Aunt Jane said we must not take
_all_ Rockquay with us.'

'No, they would not let us ask Kitty and Clement Varley, said Fergus
disconsolately.

'I am sure she is five times as pretty as your Kitty!' returned
Ivinghoe. 'She is a regular stunner.' Whereby it may be perceived that
a year at Eton had considerably modified his Lordship's correctness of
speech, if not of demeanour. Be it further observed that, in spite of
the escort of the governesses, the young people were as free as if those
ladies had been absent, for, as Jasper observed, the donkeys neutralised
them. Miss Elbury, being a bad walker, rode one, and Miss Vincent felt
bound to keep close to Primrose upon the other; and as neither animal
could be prevailed on to moderate its pace, they kept far ahead of all
except Valetta, who was mounted on the pony intended for Lady Phyllis,
but disdained by her until she should be tired. Lord Ivinghoe's
admiration of Maura was received contemptuously by Wilfred, who was
half a year younger than his cousin, and being already, in his own
estimation, a Wykehamist, had endless rivalries with him.

'She! She's nothing but a cad! Her sister is a shop-girl, and her
brother is a quarryman.'

'She does not look like it,' observed Ivinghoe, while Mysie and Fly,
with one voice, exclaimed that her father was an officer in the Royal
Wardours.

'A private first,' said Wilfred, with boyhood's reiteration. 'Cads and
quarrymen all of them--the whole boiling, old White and all, though he
has got such a stuck-up house!'

'Nonsense, Will,' said Fly. 'Why, Mr. White has dined with us.'

'A patent of nobility, said Jasper, smiling.

'I don't care,' said Wilfred; 'if other people choose to chum with old
stonemasons and convicts, I don't.'

'Wilfred, that is too bad,' said Gillian. 'It is very wrong to talk in
that way.'

'Oh!' said the audacious Wilfred, 'we all know who is Gill's Jack!'

'Shut up, Will!' cried Fergus, flying at him. 'I told you not to--'

But Wilfred bounded up a steep bank, and from that place of vantage went
on--

'Didn't she teach him Greek, and wasn't he spoony; and didn't she send
back his valentine, so that--'

Fergus was scrambling up the bank after him, enraged at the betrayal of
his confidence, and shouting inarticulately, while poor Gillian moved
on, overwhelmed with confusion, and Fly uttered the cutting words,
'Perfectly disgusting!'

'Ay, so it was!' cried the unabashed Wilfred, keeping on at the top of
the bank, and shaking the bushes at every pause. 'So he broke down the
rocks, and ran away with the tin, and enlisted, and went to prison. Such
a sweet young man for Gill!'

Poor Gillian! was her punishment never to end? That scrape of hers,
hitherto so tenderly and delicately hinted at, and which she would have
given worlds to have kept from her brothers, now shouted all over the
country! Sympathy, however, she had, if that would do her any good.
Mysie and Fly came on each side of Ivinghoe, assuring him, in low eager
voices, of the utter nonsense of the charge, and explaining ardently;
and Jasper, with one bound, laid hold of the tormentor, dragged him
down, and, holding his stick over him, said--

'Now, Wilfred, if you don't hold your tongue, and not behave like a
brute, I shall send you straight home.'

'It's quite true,' growled Wilfred. 'Ask her.'

'What does that signify? I'm ashamed of you! I've a great mind to thrash
you this instant. If you speak another word of that sort, I shall. Now
then, there are the governesses trying to stop to see what's the row.
I shall give you up to Miss Vincent, if you choose to behave so like a
spiteful girl.'

A sixth-form youth was far too great a man to be withstood by one who
was not yet a public schoolboy at all; and Wilfred actually obeyed,
while Jasper added to Fergus--

'How could you be such a little ass as to go and tell him all that rot?'

'It was true,' grumbled Fergus.

'The more reason not to go cackling about it like an old hen, or a girl!
Your own sister! I'm ashamed of you both. Mind, I shall thrash you if
you mention it again.'

Poor Fergus felt the accusation of cackling unjust, since he had only
told Wilfred in confidence, and that had been betrayed, but he had got
his lesson on family honour, and he subsided into his wonted look-out
for curious stones, while Gillian was overtaken by Jasper--whether
willingly or not, she hardly knew--but his first word was, 'Little
beast!'

'You didn't hurt him, I hope,' said Gill, accepting the invitation to
take his arm.

'Oh no! I only threatened to make him walk with the governesses and the
donkeys.'

'Asses and savants to the centre,' said Gillian; 'like the orders to the
French army in Egypt.'

'But what's all this about? You wanted me to look after you! Is it that
Alexis?'

'Oh, Japs! Mamma knows all about it and papa. It was only that he was
ridiculous because I was so silly as to think I could help him with his
Greek.'

'You! With his Greek! I pity him!'

'Yes. I found he soon knew too much for me,' said Gillian meekly; 'but,
indeed, Japs, it wasn't very bad! He only sent me a valentine, and Aunt
Jane says I need not have been so angry.'

'A cat may look at a king,' said Jasper loftily. 'It is a horrid bad
thing for a girl to be left to herself without a brother worth having.'

So Gillian got off pretty easily, and after all the walk was not greatly
spoilt. They coalesced again with the other three, who were tolerably
discreet, and found the debate on the White gentility had been resumed.
Ivinghoe was philosophically declaring 'that in these days one must take
up with everybody, so it did not matter if one was a little more of a
cad than another; he himself was fag at Eton to a fellow whose father
was an oilman, and who wasn't half a bad lot.'

'An oilman, Ivy,' said his sister; 'I thought he imported petroleum.'

'Well, it's all the same. I believe he began as an oilman.'

'We shall have Fergus reporting that he's a petroleuse,' put in Jasper.

'No, a petroleuse is a woman.'

'I like Mr. White,' said Fly; 'but, Gillian, you don't think it is true
that he is going to marry your Aunt Jane?'

There was a great groan, and Japs observed--

'Some one told us Rockquay was a hotbed of gossip, and we seem to have
got it strong.'

'Where did this choice specimen come from, Fly!' demanded Ivinghoe, in
his manner most like his mother.

Fly nodded her head towards her governess in the advanced guard.

'She had a cousin to tea with her, and they thought I didn't know whom
they meant, and they said that he was always up at Rockstone.'

'Well, he is; and Aunt Jane always stands up for him,' said Gillian;
'but that was because he is so good to the workpeople, and Aunt Ada took
him for some grand political friend of Cousin Rotherwood's.'

'Aunt Jane!' said Jasper. 'Why, she is the very essence and epitome of
old maids.'

'Yes,' said Gillian. 'If it came to that, she would quite as soon marry
the postman.'

'That's lucky' said Ivinghoe. 'One can swallow a good deal, but not
quite one's own connections.'

'In fact,' said Jasper, 'you had rather be an oilman's fag than a
quarryman's--what is it?--first cousin once removed in law?'

'It is much more likely,' said Gillian, as they laughed over this, 'that
Kalliope and Maura will be his adopted daughters, only he never comes
near them.'

Wherewith there was a halt. Miss Elbury insisted that Phyllis should
ride, the banks began to show promise of flowers, and, in the search for
violets, dangerous topics were forgotten, and Wilfred was forgiven. They
reached the spot marked by Fly, a field with a border of sloping broken
ground and brushwood, which certainly fulfilled all their desires,
steeply descending to a stream full of rocks, the ground white with wood
anemones, long evergreen trails of periwinkles and blue flowers between,
primroses clustering under the roots of the trees, daffodils gilding the
grass above, and the banks verdant with exquisite feather-moss. Such a
springtide wood was joy to all, especially as the first cuckoo of the
season came to add to their delights and set them counting for the
augury of happy years, which proved so many that Mysie said they would
not know what to do with them.

'I should,' said Ivinghoe. 'I should like to live to be a great old
statesman, as Lord Palmerston did, and have it all my own way. Wouldn't
I bring things round again!'

'Perhaps they would have gone too far,' suggested Jasper, 'and then you
would have to gnaw your hand like Giant Pope, as Wilfred says.'

'Catch me, while I could do something better.'

'If one only lived long enough,' speculated Fergus, 'one might find out
what everything was made of, and how to do everything.'

'I wonder if the people did before the Flood, when they lived eight or
nine hundred years,' said Fly.

'Perhaps that is the reason there is nothing new under the sun,'
suggested Valetta, as many a child has before suggested.

'But then,' said Mysie, they got wicked.'

'And then after the Flood it had all to be begun over again,' said
Ivinghoe. 'Let me see, Methuselah lived about as long as from William
the Conqueror till now. I think he might have got to steam and
electricity.'

'And dynamite,' said Gillian. 'Oh, I don't wonder they had to be swept
away, if they were clever and wicked both!'

'And I suppose they were,' said Jasper. 'At least the giants, and that
they handed on some of their ability through Ham, to the Egyptians, and
all those queer primeval coons, whose works we are digging up.'

'From the Conquest till now,' repeated Gillian. 'I'm glad we don't live
so long now. It tires one to think of it.'

'But we shall,' said Fly.

'Yes,' said Mysie, 'but then we shall be rid of this nasty old self that
is always getting wrong.'

'That little lady's nasty old self does so as little as any one's,'
Jasper could not help remarking to his sister; and Fly, pouncing on the
first purple orchis spike amid its black-spotted leaves, cried--

'At any rate, these dear things go on the same, without any tiresome
inventing.'

'Except God's just at first,' whispered Mysie.

'And the gardeners do invent new ones,' said Valetta.

'Invent! No; they only fuss them and spoil them, and make ridiculous
names for them,' said Fly. These darling creatures are ever so much
better. Look at Primrose there.'

'Yes,' said Gillian, as she saw her little sister in quiet ecstasy over
the sparkling bells of the daffodils; 'one would not like to live eight
hundred years away from that experience.'

'But mamma cares just as much still as Primrose does,' said Mysie. 'We
must get some for her own self as well as for the church.'

'Mine are all for mamma,' proclaimed Primrose; and just then there was
a shout that a bird's nest had been found--a ring-ousel's nest on the
banks. Fly and her brother shared a collection of birds' eggs, and were
so excited about robbing the ousels of a single egg, that Gillian hoped
that Fergus would not catch the infection and abandon minerals for
eggs, which would be ever so much worse--only a degree better than
butterflies, towards which Wilfred showed a certain proclivity.

'I shall be thirteen before next holidays,' he observed, after making a
vain dash with his hat at a sulphur butterfly, looking like a primrose
flying away.

'Mamma won't allow any "killing collection" before thirteen years old,'
explained Mysie.

'She says,' explained Gillian, 'by that time one ought to be old enough
to discriminate between the lawfulness of killing the creatures for the
sake of studying their beauty and learning them, and the mere wanton
amusement of hunting them down under the excuse of collecting.'

'I say,' exclaimed Valetta, who had been exploring above, 'here is such
a funny old house.'

There was a rush in that direction, and at the other end of the wide
home-field was perceived a picturesque gray stone house, with large
mullioned windows, a dilapidated low stone wall, with what had once been
a handsome gateway, overgrown with ivy, and within big double daffodils
and white narcissus growing wild.

'It's like the halls of Ivor,' said Mysie, awestruck by the loneliness;
'no dog, nor horse, nor cow, not even a goose,'

'And what a place to sketch!' cried Miss Vincent. 'Oh, Gillian, we must
come here another day.'

'Oh, may we gather the flowers?' exclaimed the insatiable Primrose.

'Those poetic narcissuses would be delicious for the choir screen,'
added Gillian.

'Poetic narcissus--poetic grandmother,' said Wilfred. 'It's old butter
and eggs.'

'I say!' cried Mysie. 'Look, Ivy--I know that pair of fighting
lions--ain't these some of your arms over the door?'

'By which you mean a quartering of our shield,' said Ivinghoe.
'Of course it is the Clipp bearing. Or, two lions azure, regardant
combatant, their tails couped.'

'Two blue Kilkenny cats, who have begun with each other's tails,'
commented Jasper.

'Ivinghoe glared a little, but respected the sixth form, and Gillian
added--

'They clipped them! Then did this place belong to our ancestors?'

'Poetic grandmother, really!' said Mysie.

'Great grandmother,' corrected Ivinghoe. 'To be sure. It was from the
Clipps that we got all this Rockstone estate!'

'And I suppose this was their house? What a shame to have deserted it!'

'Oh, it has been a farmhouse,' said Fly. 'I heard something about farms
that wouldn't let.'

'Then is it yours?' cried Valetta, 'and may we gather the flowers?'

'And mayn't we explore?' asked Mysie. 'Oh, what fun!'

'Holloa!' exclaimed Wilfred, transfixed, as if he had seen the ghosts
of all the Clipps. For just as Valetta and Mysie threw themselves on the
big bunches of hepatica and the white narcissus, a roar, worthy of the
clip-tailed lions, proceeded from the window, and the demand, 'Who is
picking my roses?'

Primrose in terror threw herself on Gillian with a little scream.
Wilfred crept behind the walls, but after the general start there was
an equally universal laugh, for between the stout mullions of the oriel
window Lord Rotherwood's face was seen, and Sir Jasper's behind him.

Great was the jubilation, and there was a rush to the tall door, up
the dilapidated steps, where curls of fern were peeping out; but the
gentlemen called out that only the back-door could be opened, and the
intention of a 'real grand exploration' was cut short by Miss Elbury's
declaring that she was bound not to let Phyllis stay out till six
o'clock.

Fly, in her usual good-humoured way, suppressed her sighs and begged the
others to explore without her, but the general vote declared this to be
out of the question. Fly had too short a time to remain with her cousins
to be forsaken even for the charms of 'the halls of Ivor,' or the rival
Beast's Castle, as Gillian called it, which, after all, would not run
away.

'But it might be let,' said Mysie.

'Yes, I've got a tenant in agitation,' said Lord Rotherwood
mischievously. 'Never mind, I dare say he won't inquire what you have
done with his butter and eggs.'

So with a parting salute to the ancestral halls, the cavalry was set in
order, big panniers full of moss and flowers disposed on the donkeys,
Fly placed on her pony, and every maiden taking her basket of flowers,
Jasper and Ivinghoe alone being amiable, or perhaps trustworthy enough
to assist in carrying. Fly's pony demurred to the extra burthen, so
Jasper took hers; and when Gillian declared herself too fond of her
flowers to part with them, Ivinghoe astonished Miss Vincent, on whom
some stones of Fergus's, as well as her own share of flowers, had been
bestowed, by taking one handle of her most cumbrous basket.

Sir Jasper and Lord Rotherwood rode together through the happy young
troop on the homeward way. Perhaps Ivinghoe was conscious of a special
nod of approval from his father.

On passing Rock House, the youthful public was rather amused at his
pausing, and saying--

'Aren't you going to leave some flowers there?'

'Oh yes!' said Gillian. 'I have a basket on purpose.'

'And I have some for Maura,' said Valetta.

Valetta's was an untidy bunch; Gillian's a dainty basket, where white
violets reposed on moss within a circle of larger blossoms.

'That's something like!' quoth Ivinghoe.

He lingered with them as if he wanted to see that vision again, but only
the caretaker appeared, and promised to take the flowers upstairs.

Maura afterwards told how they were enjoyed, and they knew of Kalliope's
calm restfulness in Holy Week thoughts and Paschal Joys.

It was on Easter Tuesday that Mr. White first sent a message asking to
see his guest, now of nearly three weeks.

He came in very quietly and gently--perhaps the sight of the room he
had prepared for his young wife was in itself a shock to him, and he had
lived so long without womankind that he had all a lonely man's awe of an
invalid. He took with a certain respect the hand that Kalliope held out,
as she said, with a faint flush in her cheeks--

'I am glad to thank you, sir. You have been very good to me.'

'I am glad to see you better,' he said, with a little embarrassment.

'I ought to be, in this beautiful air, and with these lovely things to
look at,' and she pointed to the reigning photograph on the stand--the
facade of St. Mark's.

'You should see it as I did.' And he began to describe it to her,
she putting in a question or two here and there, which showed her
appreciation.

'You know something about it already,' he said.

'Yes; when I was quite a little girl one of the officers in the Royal
Wardours brought some photographs to Malta, and told me about them.'

'But,' he said, recalling himself, that is not my object now. Your
brother says he does not feel competent to decide without you.' And he
laid before her two or three prospectuses of grammar schools. 'It is
time to apply,' he added, 'if that little fellow--Peter, you call him,
don't you?--is to begin next term.'

'Petros! Oh, sir, this is kindness!'

'I desired that the children's education should be attended to,' said
Mr. White. 'I did not intend their being sent to an ordinary National
school.'

'Indeed,' said Kalliope; 'I do not think much time has been lost, for
they have learnt a good deal there; but I am particularly glad that
Petros should go to a superior school just now that he has been left
alone, for he is more lively and sociable than Theodore, and it might be
less easy for him to keep from bad companions.'

The pros and cons of the several schools were discussed, and
Hurstpierpoint finally fixed on.

'Never mind about his outfit,' added Mr. White. 'I'll give that fellow
down in Bellevue an order to rig him out. He is a sharp little sturdy
fellow, who will make his way in the world.'

'Indeed, I trust so, now that his education is secured. It is another
load off my mind,' said Kalliope, with a smile of exceeding sweetness
and gratitude, her hands clasped, and her eyes raised for a moment in
higher thankfulness,--a look that so enhanced her beauty that Mr. White
gazed for a moment in wonder. The next moment, however, the dark eyes
turned on him with a little anxiety, and she said--

'One thing more, sir. Perhaps you will be so kind as to relieve my mind
again. That notice of dismissal at the quarter's end. Was it not in some
degree from a mistake?'

'An utter mistake, my dear,' he said hastily. 'Never trouble your head
about it.'

'Then it does not hold?'

'Certainly not.'

'And I may go back to my office as soon as I am well enough?'

'Is that your wish?'

'Yes, sir. I love my work and my assistants, and I think I could do
better if a little more scope could be allowed me.'

'Very well, we will see about that--you have to get well first of all.'

'I am so much better that I ought to go home. Mr. Lee is quite ready for
me.'

Nonsense! You must be much stronger before Dagger would hear of your
going.'

After this Mr. White came to sit with Kalliope for a time in the course
of each day, bringing with him something that would interest her, and
seeming gratified by her responsiveness, quiet as it was, for she
was still very feeble, and exertion caused a failure of breath and
fluttering of heart that were so distressing that ten days more passed
before she was brought downstairs and drawn out in the garden in
a chair, where she could sit on the sheltered terrace enjoying the
delicious spring air and soft sea-breezes, sometimes alone, sometimes
with the company of one friend or another. Gillian and Aunt Jane had,
with the full connivance of Mr. White, arranged a temporary entrance
from one garden to the other for the convenience of attending to
Kalliope, and here one afternoon Miss Mohun was coming in when she
heard through the laurels two voices speaking to the girl. As she moved
forward she saw they were the elder and younger Stebbings, and that
Kalliope had risen to her feet, and was leaning on the back of her
chair. While she was considering whether to advance Kalliope heard her,
and called in a breathless voice, 'Miss Mohun! oh, Miss Mohun, come!'

'Miss Mohun! You will do us the justice--' began Mr. Stebbing, speaking
more to her indignant face and gesture than to any words.

'Miss White is not well,' she said. 'You had better leave her to me.'

And as they withdrew through the house, Kalliope sank back in her chair
in one of those alarming attacks of deadly faintness that had been
averted for many days past. Happily an electric bell was always at
hand, and the housekeeper knew what remedies to bring. Kalliope did
not attempt a word for many long minutes, though the colour came back
gradually to her lips. Her first words were,

'Thank you! Oh, I did hope that persecution was over!'

'My poor child! Don't tell me unless you like! Only--it wasn't about
your work?'

'Oh no, the old story! But he brought his father--to say he
consented--and wished it--now.'

There was no letting her say any more at that time, but it was all plain
enough. This had been one more attempt of the Stebbing family to recover
their former power; Kalliope was assumed to be Mr. White's favoured
niece; Frank could make capital of having loved her when poor and
neglected, and his parents were ready to back his suit. The father and
son had used their familiarity with the house to obtain admittance to
the garden without announcement or preparation, and had pressed the
siege, with a confidence that could only be inspired by their own
self-opinion. Kalliope had been kept up by her native dignity and
resolution, and had at first gently, then firmly, declined the
arguments, persuasions, promises, and final reproaches with which they
beset her--even threatening to disclose what they called encouragement,
and assuring her that she need not reckon on Mr. White, for the general
voice declared him likely to marry again, and then where would she be?'

'I don't know what would have become of me, if you had not come,' she
said.

And when she had rested long enough, and crept into the house, and
Alexis had come home to carry her upstairs, it was plain that she had
been seriously thrown back, and she was not able to leave her room for
two or three days.

Mr. White was necessarily told what had been the cause of the mischief.
He smiled grimly. 'Ay! ay! Master Frank thought he would come round the
old man, did he? He will find himself out. Ha, ha! a girl like that in
the house is like a honey-pot near a wasps' nest, and the little sister
will be as bad. Didn't I see the young lord, smart little prig as he
looks, holding an umbrella over her with a smile on his face, as much as
to say, "I know who is a pretty girl! No one to look after them either!"
But maybe they will all find themselves mistaken,' and his grim smile
relaxed into a highly amiable one.

Miss Mohun was not at all uneasy as to the young lord. An Eton boy's
admiration of a pretty face did not amount to much, even if Ivinghoe
had not understood 'Noblesse oblige' too well to leave a young girl
unsheltered. Besides, he and all the rest were going away the next day.
But what did that final hint mean?

CHAPTER XXII. -- THE MAIDEN ALL FORLORN

One secret was soon out, even before the cruel parting of Fly and Mysie,
which it greatly mitigated.

Clipston was to be repaired and put in order, to be rented by the
Merrifields. It was really a fine old substantial squire's house, though
neglected and consigned to farmers for four generations. It had great
capabilities--a hall up to the roof, wainscoted rooms--at present
happy hunting-grounds to boys and terriers--a choked fountain, numerous
windows, walled up in the days of the 'tax on light,' and never
reopened, and, moreover, a big stone barn, with a cross on the gable,
and evident traces of having once been a chapel.

The place was actually in Rockstone Parish, and had a hamlet of six or
seven houses, for which cottage services were held once a week, but the
restoration of the chapel would provide a place for these, and it would
become a province for Lady Merrifield's care, while Sir Jasper was
absolutely entreated, both by Lord Rotherwood and the rector of
Rockstone, to become the valuable layman of the parish, nor was he at
all unwilling thus to bestow his enforced leisure.

It was a beautiful place. The valley of daffodils already visited
narrowed into a ravine, where the rivulet rushed down from moorlands,
through a ravine charmingly wooded, and interspersed with rock. It would
give country delights to the children, and remove them from the gossip
of the watering-place society, and yet not be too far off for those
reading-room opportunities beloved of gentlemen.

The young people were in ecstasies, only mourning that they could not
live there during the repairs, and that those experienced in the nature
of workmen hesitated to promise that Clipston would be habitable by the
summer vacation. In the meantime, most of the movables from Silverfold
were transported thither, and there was a great deal of walking and
driving to and fro, planning for the future, and revelling in the spring
outburst of flowers.

Schoolroom work had begun again, and Lady Merrifield was hearing
Mysie read the Geruasalemme Liberata, while Miss Vincent superintended
Primrose's copies, and Gillian's chalks were striving to portray a bust
of Sophocles, when the distant sounds of the piano in the drawing-room
stopped, and Valetta came in with words always ominous--

'Aunt Jane wants to speak to you, mamma.'

Lady Merrifield gathered up her work and departed, while Valetta,
addressing the public, said, 'Something's up.'

'Oh!' cried Primrose, 'Sofi hasn't run away again?'

'I hope Kalliope isn't worse,' said Mysie anxiously.

'I guess,' said Valetta, 'somebody said something the other day!'

'Something proving us the hotbeds of gossip,' muttered Gillian.

'You had better get your German exercise, Valetta,' said Miss Vincent.
'Mysie, you have not finished your sums.'

And a sigh went round; but Valetta added one after-clap.

'Aunt Jane looked--I don't know how!'

Whereat Gillian nodded her head, and looked up at Miss Vincent, who was
as curious as the rest, but restrained the manifestation manfully.

Meantime Lady Merrifield found her sister standing at the window, and,
without turning round, the words were uttered--

'Jasper was right, Lily.'

'You don't mean it?'

'Yes; he is after her!'--with a long breath.

'Mr. White!'

'Yes'--then sitting down. 'I did not think much of it before. They
always are after Ada more or less--and she likes it; but it never has
come to anything.'

'Why should it now?'

'It has! At least, it has gone further than ever anything did before,
except Charlie Scott, that ridiculous boy at Beechcroft that William was
so angry with, and who married somebody else.'

'You don't say that he has proposed to her?'

'Yes, he has--the man! By a letter this morning, and I could see she
expected it--not that that's any wonder!'

'But, my dear, she can't possibly be thinking of it.'

'Well, I should have said it was impossible; but I see she has not made
up her mind. Poor dear Ada! It is too bad to laugh; but she does like
the having a real offer at last, and a great Italian castle laid at her
feet.'

'But he isn't a gentleman! I don't mean only his birth--and I know he is
a good man really--but Jasper said he could feel he was not a gentleman
by the way he fell on Richard White before his sister.'

'I know! I know! I wonder if it would be for her happiness?'

'Then she has not answered him?'

'No; or, rather, I left her going to write. She won't accept him
certainly now; but I believe she is telling him that she must have time
to consider and consult her family.'

'She must know pretty well what her family will say. Fancy William!
Fancy Emily! Fancy Reginald!'

'Yes, oh yes! But Ada--I must say it--she does like to prolong the
situation.'

'It is not fair on the poor man.'

'Well, she will act as she chooses; but I think she really does want
to see what amount of opposition--No, not that, but of estrangement it
would cause.'

'Did you see the letter?'

'Yes; no doubt you will too. I told her I should come to you, and she
did not object. I think she was glad to be saved broaching the subject,
for she is half ashamed.'

'I should have thought she would have been as deeply offended at the
presumption as poor Gillian was with the valentine.'

'Lily, my dear, forty-two is not all one with seventeen, especially when
there's an estate with an Italian countship attached to it! Though
I'm sure I'd rather marry Alexis than this man. _He_ is a gentleman in
grain!'

'Oh, Jenny, you are very severe!'

'I'm afraid it is bitterness, Lily; so I rushed down to have it all out
with you, and make up my mind what part to take.'

'It is very hard on you, my dear, after you have nursed and waited on
her all these years.'

'It is the little titillation of vanity--exactly like the Ada of
sixteen, nay, of six, that worries me, and makes me naughty,' said Jane,
dashing off a tear. 'Oh, Lily! how could I have borne it if you had not
come home!'

'But what do you mean about the part to take?'

'Well, you see, Lily, I really do not know what I ought to do. I want to
clear my mind by talking to you.'

'I am afraid it would make a great difference to you in the matter of
means.'

'I don't mean about that; but I am not sure whether I ought to stand up
for her. You see the man is really good at heart, and religious, and
he is taking out this chaplain. The climate, mountains, and sea might
really suit her health, and she could have all kinds of comforts and
luxuries; and if she can get over his birth, and the want of fine edge
of his manners, I don't know that we have any right to set ourselves
against it.'

'I should have thought those objections would have weighed most of all
with her.'

'And I do believe that if the whole family are unanimous in scouting the
very idea, she will give it up. She _is_ proud of Mohun blood, and
the Rotherwood connection and all, and if there were a desperate
opposition--well, she would be rather flattered, and give in; but I am
not sure that she would not always regret it, and pine after what she
might have had.'

'Rotherwood likes the man.'

'Like--but that's not liking him to marry his cousin.'

'Rotherwood will not be the person most shocked.'

'No. We shall have a terrible time, however it ends. Oh. I wish it was
all over!'

'Do you think she really cares for the man--loves him, in fact?'

'My dear Lily, if Ada ever was in love with anybody, it was with Harry
May, and that was all pure mistake. I never told anybody, but I believe
it was that which upset her health. But they are both too old to concern
themselves about such trifles. He does not expect it!'

'I have seen good strong love in a woman over forty.'

'Yes; but this is quite another thing. A lady of the house wanted!
That's the motive. I should not wonder if he came home as much to look
for a lady-wife as to set the Stebbings to rights; or, if not, he is
driven to it by having the Whites on his hands.'

'I don't quite see that. I was going to ask you how it would affect
them.'

'Well, you see, though she is perfectly willing and anxious to begin
again, poor dear Kally really can't. She did try to arrange a design
that had been running in her head for a long time, and she was so bad
after it that Dr. Dagger said she must not attempt it. Then, though she
is discreet enough for anything, Mr. White is not really her uncle, and
could not take her about with him alone or even with Maura; so I gather
from some expressions in his letter that he would like to take her out
with them, spend the summer at Rocca Marina, and let her have a winter's
study at Florence. Then, I suppose she might come back and superintend
on quite a different footing.

'So he wants Ada as a chaperon for Kalliope?'

'That is an element in the affair, and not a bad one, and I don't think
Ada will object. She won't be left entirely to his companionship.'

'My dear Jane! Then I'm sure she ought not to marry him!' cried Lady
Merrifield indignantly. 'Here comes Jasper. May I tell him?'

'You will, whether you may or not.'

And what Sir Jasper said was--

          '"Who married the maiden all forlorn--"'

At which both sisters, though rather angry, could not help laughing, and
Lady Merrifield explained that they had always said the events had gone
on in a concatenation, like the house that Jack built, from Gillian's
peep through the rails. However, he was of opinion that it was better
not to make a strenuous opposition.

'Adeline is quite old enough to judge for herself whether the
incongruities will interfere with her happiness,' he said; 'and this is
really a worthy man who ought not to be contemned. Violent contradiction
might leave memories that would make it difficult to be on affectionate
terms afterwards.'

'Yes,' said Jane; 'that is what I feel. Thank you, Jasper. Now I must
go to my district. Happily those things run on all the same for the
present.'

But when she was gone Sir Jasper told his wife that he thought it ought
to be seriously put before Adeline that Jane ought to be considered. She
had devoted herself to the care of her sister for many years, and the
division of their means would tell seriously upon her comfort.

'If it were a matter of affection, there would be nothing to say,' he
observed; 'but nobody pretends that it is so, and surely Jane deserves
consideration.

'I should think her a much more comfortable companion than Mr. White,'
said Lady Merrifield. 'I can't believe it will come to anything.
Whatever the riches or the castle at Rocca Marina may be, Ada would, in
a worldly point of view, give up a position of some consideration here,
and I think that will weigh with her.'

As soon as possible, Lady Merrifield went up to see her sister, and
found her writing letters in a great flutter of importance. It was quite
plain that the affair was not to be quashed at once, and that, whether
the suit were granted or not, all the family were to be aware that
Adeline had had her choice. Warned by her husband, Lady Merrifield
guarded the form of her remonstrances.

'Oh yes, dear Lily, I know! It is a sacrifice in many points of view,
but think what a field is open to me! There are all those English
workmen and their wives and families living out there, and Mr. White
does so need a lady to influence them.'

'You have not done much work of that kind. Besides, I thought this
chaplain was married.'

'Yes, but the moral support of a lady at the head must be needful,' said
Ada. 'It is quite a work.'

'Perhaps so,' said her sister, who had scarcely been in the habit of
looking on Ada as a great moral influence. 'But have you thought what
this will be to Jane?'

'Really, Lily, it is a good deal for Jane's sake. She will be so much
more free without being bound to poor me!'--and Ada's head went on one
side. 'You know she would never have lived here but for me; and now she
will be able to do what she pleases.'

'Not pecuniarily.'

'Oh, it will be quite possible to see to all that! Besides, think of
the advantage to her schemes. Oh yes, dear Jenny, it will be a wrench to
her, of course, and she will miss me; but, when that is once got over,
she will feel that I have acted for the best. Nor will it be such a
separation; he means always to spend the summer here, and the winter and
spring at Florence or Rocca Marina.' It was grand to hear the Italian
syllables roll from Adeline's tongue. 'You know he could take the title
if he pleased.'

'I am sure I hope he will not do anything so ridiculous!'

'Oh no, of course not!' But it was plain that the secret consciousness
of being Countess of Rocca Marina was an offset against being plain Mrs.
White, and Adeline continued: 'There is another thing--I do not quite
see how it can be managed about Kalliope otherwise, poor girl!'

It was quite true that the care of Kalliope would be greatly facilitated
by Mr. White's marriage; but what was absurd was to suppose that Ada
would have made any sacrifice for her sake, or any one else's, and there
was something comical as well as provoking in this pose of devotion to
the public good.

'You are decided, then?'

'Oh no! I am only showing you what inducements there are to give up so
much as I should do here--if I make up my mind to it.'

'There's only one inducement, I should think, valid for a moment.'

'Yes'--bridling a little. 'But, Lily, you always had your romance. We
don't all meet with a Jasper at the right moment, and--and'--the Maid of
Athens drooped her eyelids, and ingenuously curved her lips. 'I do think
the poor man has it very much at heart.'

'Then you ought not to keep him in suspense.'

'And you--you really are not against it, Lily?' (rather in a
disappointed tone), as if she expected to have her own value enhanced.

'I think you ought to do whatever is most right and just by him, and
everybody else. If you really care for the man enough to overlook his
origin, and his occasional betrayals of it, and think he will make you
better and happier, take him at once; but don't pretend to call it a
sacrifice, or for anybody's sake but for your own; and, any way, don't
trifle with him and his suspense.'

Lady Merrifield spoke with unwonted severity, for she was really
provoked.

'But, Lily, I must see what the others say--William and Emily. I told
him that William was the head of our family.'

'If you mean to be guided by them, well and good; if not, I see no sense
in asking them.'

After all, the family commotion fell short of what was expected by
either of the sisters. The eldest brother, Mr. Mohun, of Beechcroft
Court, wrote to the lady herself that she was quite old enough to know
what was for her own happiness, and he had no desire to interfere with
her choice if she preferred wealth to station. To Lady Merrifield his
letter began: 'It is very well it is no worse, and as Jasper vouches
for this being a worthy man, and of substantial means, there is no
valid objection. I shall take care to overhaul the settlements, and, if
possible, I must make up poor Jane's income.'

The sister, Lady Henry Grey, in her dowager seclusion at Brighton,
contented herself with a general moan on the decadence of society,
and the levelling up that made such an affair possible. She had been
meditating a visit to Rockquay, to see her dear Lilias (who, by the bye,
had run down to her at Brighton for a day out of the stay in London),
but now she would defer it till this matter was over. It would be too
trying to have to accept this stonemason as one of the family.

As to Colonel Mohun, being one of the younger division of the family,
there was no idea of consulting him, and he wrote a fairly civil little
note to Adeline, hoping that she had decided for the best, and would be
happy; while to the elder of the pair of sisters he said: 'So Ada has
found her crooked stick at last. I always thought it inevitable. Keep up
heart, old Jenny, and hold on till Her Majesty turns me off, and then we
will see what is to be done.'

Perhaps this cool acquiescence was less pleasing to Adeline Mohun than a
contest that would have proved her value and importance, and her brother
William's observation that she was old enough to know her own mind was
the cruellest cut of all. On the other hand, there was no doubt of
her swain's devotion. If he had been influenced in his decision by
convenience or calculation, he was certainly by this time heartily in
love. Not only was Adeline a handsome, graceful woman, whose airs and
affectations seemed far more absurd to those who had made merry over
them from childhood than to a stranger of an inferior grade; but there
was a great charm to a man, able to appreciate refinement, in his first
familiar intercourse with thorough ladies. Jane began to be touched
by the sight of his devotion, and convinced of his attachment, and
sometimes wondered with Lady Merrifield whether Adeline would rise to
her opportunities and responsibilities, or be satisfied to be a petted
idol.

One difficulty in this time of suspense was, that the sisters had no
right to take into their confidence the young folks, who were quite
sharp-eyed enough to know that something was going on, and, not being
put on honour, were not withheld from communicating their discoveries
to one another in no measured words, though fortunately they had sense
enough, especially under the awe of their father, not to let them go
any further than Mysie, who was entertaining because she was shocked at
their audacious jokes and speculations, all at first on the false scent
of their elder aunt, who certainly was in a state of excitement and
uncertainty enough to throw her off the even tenor of her way and
excite some suspicion. When she actually brought down a number of the
Contemporary Review instead of Friendly Work for the edification of her
G.F.S., Gillian tried not to look too conscious when some of the girls
actually tittered in the rear; and she absolutely blushed when Aunt
Jane deliberately stated that Ascension Day would fall on a Tuesday.
So Gillian averred as she walked up the hill with Jasper and Mysie. It
seemed a climax to the diversion she and Jasper had extracted from it in
private, both wearing Punch's spectacles for the nonce, and holding
such aberrations as proof positive. Mysie, on the other hand, was much
exercised.

'Do you think she is in love, then?'

'Oh yes! People always do those things in love. Besides, the Sofi hasn't
got a single white hair in her, and you know what that always means!'

'I can't make it out! I can't think how Aunt Jane can be in love with a
great man like that. His voice isn't nice, you know--'

'Not even as sweet as Bully Bottom's,' suggested Gillian.

'You're a chit,' said Jasper, 'or you'd be superior to the notion of
love being indispensable.'

'When people are so _very_ old,' said Mysie in a meditative voice,
'perhaps they can't; but Aunt Jane is very good--and I thought it was
only horrid worldly people that married without love.'

'Trust your good woman for looking to the main chance,' said Jasper, who
was better read in Trollope and Mrs. Oliphant than his sisters.

''Tis not main chance,' said Gillian. 'Think of the lots of good she
would do! What a recreation room for the girls, and what schools she
would set up at Rocca Marina! Depend upon it, it's for that!'

'I suppose it is right if Aunt Jane does it,' said Mysie.

'Well done, Mysie! So, Aunt Jane is your Pope!'

'No; she's the King that can do no wrong,' said Gillian, laughing.

'Wrong--I didn't say wrong--but things aren't always real wrong that
aren't somehow quite right, said Mysie, with the bewildered reasoning of
perceptions that outran her powers of expression.

'Mysie's speeches, for instance,' said Jasper.

'Oh, Japs, what did I say wrong?'

'Don't tease her, Japs. He didn't mean morally, but correctly.'

The three were on their way up the hill when they met Primrose, who had
accompanied Mrs. Halfpenny to see Kalliope, and who was evidently in a
state of such great discomposure that they all stood round to ask what
was the matter; but she hung down her head and would not say.

'Hoots! toots! I tell her she need not make such a work about it,' said
Mrs. Halfpenny. 'The honest man did but kiss her, and no harm for her
uncle that is to be.'

'He's a nasty man! And he snatched me up! And he is all scrubby and
tobacco-ey, and I won't have him for an uncle,' cried Primrose.

'I hope he is not going to proceed in that way,' said Gillian sotto voce
to Mysie.

'People always do snatch up primroses,' said Jasper.

'Don't, Japs! I don't like marble men. I wish they would stay marble.'

'You don't approve of the transformation?'

'Oh, Japs, is it true? Mysie, you know the statue at Rotherwood, where
Pig-my-lion made a stone figure and it turned into a woman.'

'Yes; but it was a woman and this is a man.'

Mysie began an exposition of classic fable to her little sister, while
Mrs. Halfpenny explained that this came of Christian folk setting up
heathen idols in their houses as 'twas a shame for decent folk to
look at, let alone puir bairnies; while Jasper and Gillian gasped in
convulsions of laughter, and bandied queries whether their aunt were the
statue 'Pig-my-lion' had animated, as nothing could be less statuesque
than she, whether the reverse had taken place, as Primrose observed,
and she had been the Pygmalion to awaken the soul in the man of marble.
Here, however, Mrs. Halfpenny became scandalised at such laughter in the
open street; and, perceiving some one in the distance, she carried off
Primrose, and enjoined the others to walk on doucely and wiselike.

Gillian was on her way to visit Kalliope and make an appointment for
her mother to take her out for a drive; but as they passed the gate at
Beechcroft out burst Valetta and Fergus, quite breathless.

'Oh, Gill, Gill! Mr. White is in the drawing-room, and he has brought
Aunt Ada the most beautiful box you ever saw, with all the stoppers made
of gold!'

'And he says I may get all the specimens I like at Rocca Marina,'
shouted Fergus.

'Ivory brushes, and such a ring--sparkling up to the ceiling!' added
Valetta.

'But, Val, Ferg, whom did you say?' demanded the elders, coming within
the shadow of the copper beeches.

'Aunt Ada,' said Valetta; 'there's a great A engraved on all those dear,
lovely bottles, and--oh, they smell!'

'Aunt Ada! Oh, I thought--'

'What did you think, Gill?' said Aunt Jane, coming from the grass-plat
suddenly on them.

'Oh, Aunt Jane, I am so glad!' cried Gillian. 'I thought'--and she
blushed furiously.

'They made asses of themselves,' said Jasper.

'They said it was you,' added Mysie. 'Miss Mellon told Miss Elbury,' she
added in excuse.

'Me? No, I thank you! So you are glad, Gillian?'

'Oh yes, aunt! I couldn't have borne for you to do anything--queer'--and
there was a look in Gillian's face that went to Jane's heart, and under
other circumstances would have produced a kiss, but she rallied to her
line of defence.

'My dear, you must not call this queer. Mr. White is very much attached
to your aunt Ada, and I think he will make her very happy, and give her
great opportunities of doing good.'

'That's just what Gillian said when she was afraid it was you,' said
Mysie. 'I suppose that's it? And that makes it real right.'

'And the golden stoppers!' said Valetta innocently, but almost choking
Jasper with laughter, which must be suppressed before his aunt.

'May one know it now?' asked Gillian, sensible of the perilous ground.

'Yes, my dears; you must have been on tenter-hooks all this time, for,
of course, you saw there was a crisis, and you behaved much better than
I should have done at your age; but it was only a fait accompli this
very day, and we couldn't tell you before.'

'When he brought down the golden stoppers,' Jasper could not help
saying.

'No, no, you naughty boy! He would not have dared to bring it in
before; he came before luncheon--all that came after. Oh, my dear, that
dressing-case is perfectly awful! I wouldn't have such a burthen on my
mind--for--for all the orphans in London! I hope there are no banditti
at Rocca Marina.'

'Only accepted to-day! How did he get all his great A's engraved?' said
Jasper practically.

'He could not have had many doubts,' said Gillian. 'Does Kalliope know?'

'I cannot tell; I think he has probably told her.'

'He must have met Primrose there,' said Jasper. 'Poor Prim!' And the
offence and the Pig-my-lion story were duly related, much to Aunt Jane's
amusement.

'But,' she said, 'I think that the soul in the marble man is very
real, and very warm; and, dear children, don't get into the habit of
contemning him. Laugh, I suppose you must; I am afraid it must look
ridiculous at our age; but please don't despise. I am going down to your
mother.

'May I come with you! said Gillian. 'I don't think I can go to Kally
till I have digested this a little; and, if you are going to mamma, she
won't drive her out.'

Jane was much gratified by this volunteer, though Jasper did suggest
that Gill was afraid of Primrose's treatment. He went on with the other
three to Clipston, while Gillian exclaimed--

'Oh, Aunt Jane, shall not you be very lonely?'

'Not nearly so much so as if you were not all here,' said her aunt
cheerfully. 'When you bemoaned your sisters last year we did not think
the same thing was coming on me.'

'Phyllis and Alethea! It was a very different thing,' said Gillian.
'Besides, though I hated it so much, I had got used to being without
them.'

'And to tell you the truth, Gill, nothing in that way ever was so bad to
me as your own mother going and marrying; and now, you see, I have got
her back again--and more too.'

Aunt Jane's smile and softened eyes told that the young niece was
included in the 'more too'; and Gillian felt a thrill of pleasure and
affection in this proof that after all she was something to the aunt,
towards whom her feelings had so entirely changed. She proceeded,
however, to ask with considerable anxiety what would be done about
the Whites, Kalliope especially; and in return she was told about the
present plan of Kalliope's being taken to Italy to recover first, and
then to pursue her studies at Florence, so as to return to her work more
capable, and in a higher position.

'Oh, how exquisite!' cried Gillian. 'But how about all the others?'

'The very thing I want to see about, and talk over with your mother. I
am sure she ought to go; and it will not even be wasting time, for she
cannot earn anything.'

Talking over things with Lady Merrifield was, however, impeded,
for, behold, there was a visitor in the drawing-room. Aunt and niece
exchanged glances of consternation as they detected a stranger's voice
through the open window, and Gillian uttered a vituperative whisper.

'I do believe it is that dreadful Fangs;' then, hoping her aunt had not
heard--'Captain Henderson, I mean. He threatened to come down after us,
and now he will always be in and out; and we shall have no peace. He has
got nothing on earth to do.'

Gillian's guess was right. The neat, trim, soldierly figure, with a long
fair moustache and pleasant gray eyes, was introduced to Miss Mohun
as 'Captain Henderson, one of my brother officers,' by Sir Jasper, who
stood on the rug talking to him. Looks and signs among the ladies were
token enough that the crisis had come; and Lady Merrifield soon secured
freedom of speech by proposing to drive her sister to Clipston, while
Sir Jasper asked his visitor to walk with him.

'You will be in haste to sketch the place,' he said, 'before the workmen
have done their best to demolish its beauty.'

As for Gillian, she saw her aunt hesitating on account of a parochial
engagement for that afternoon; and, as it was happily not beyond
her powers, she offered herself as a substitute, and was thankfully
accepted. She felt quite glad to do anything obliging towards her aunt
Jane, and in a mood very unlike last year's grudging service; it was
only reading to the 'mothers' meeting,' since among the good ladies
there prevailed such a strange incapacity of reading aloud, that this
part of the business was left to so few that for one to fail, either in
presence or in voice, was very inconvenient. All were settled down to
their needlework, with their babies disposed of as best they might be.
Mr. Hablot had finished his little lecture, and the one lady with a
voice had nearly exhausted it, and there was a slight sensation at
the absence of the unfailing Miss Mohun, when Gillian came in with the
apologies about going to drive with her mother.

'And,' as she described it afterwards 'didn't those wretched beings all
grin and titter, even the ladies, who ought to have had more manners,
and that old Miss Mellon, who is a real growth of the hotbed of gossip,
simpered and supposed we must look for such things now; and, though I
pretended not to hear, my cheeks would go and flame up as red
as--that tasconia, just with longing to tell them Aunt Jane was not so
ridiculous; and so I took hold of For Half a Crown, and began to read it
as if I could bite them all!'

She read herself into a state of pacification, but did not attempt to
see Kalliope that day, being rather shy of all that might be encountered
in that house, especially after working hours. The next day, however,
Lady Merrifield's services were required to chaperon the coy betrothed
in an inspection of Cliff House and furniture, which was to be renovated
according to her taste, and Gillian was to take that time for a visit to
Kalliope, whom she expected to find in the garden. The usual corner
was, however, vacant; and Mr. White was heard making a growl of 'Foolish
girl! Doesn't know which way her bread is buttered.'

Maura, however, came running up, and said to Gillian, 'Please come this
way. She is here.'

'What has she hidden herself for?' demanded Mr. White. 'I thought she
might have been here to welcome this--Miss Adeline.'

'She is not very well to-day,' faltered Maura.

'Oh! ay, fretting. Well, I thought she had more sense.'

Gillian followed Maura, who was no sooner out of hearing than she began:
'It is too bad of him to be so cross. Kally really is so upset! She did
not sleep all night, and I thought she would have fainted quite away
this morning!'

'Oh dear! has he been worrying her?'

'She is very glad and happy, of course, about Miss Ada! and he won't
believe it, because he wants her to go out to Italy with them for all
next winter.'

'And won't she? Oh, what a pity!'

'She said she really could not because of us; she could not leave us,
Petros and all, without a home. She thought it her duty to stay and look
after us. And then he got cross, and said that she was presuming on the
hope of living in idleness here, and making him keep us all, but she
would find herself mistaken, and went off very angry.'

'Oh, horrid! how could he?'

'I believe, if Kally could have walked so far, she would have gone down
straight to Mr. Lee's. She wanted to, but she was all in a tremble, and
I persuaded her not, though she did send me down to ask Mrs. Lee when
she can be ready. Then when Alexis came home, Mr. White told him that he
didn't in the least mean all that, and would not hear of her going
away, though he was angry at her being so foolish, but he would give her
another chance of not throwing away such advantages. And Alexis says she
ought not. He wants her to go, and declares that he and I can very well
manage with Mrs. Lee, and look after Petros, and that she must not think
of rushing off in a huff for a few words said in a passion. So, between
the two, she was quite upset and couldn't sleep, and, oh, if she were to
be ill again!'

By this time they were in sight of Kalliope lying back in a
basket-chair, shaded by the fence of the kitchen-garden, and her weary
face and trembling hand showed how much this had shaken her in her
weakness. She sent Maura away, and spoke out her troubles freely to
Gillian. 'I thought at first my duty was quite clear, and that I ought
not to go away and enjoy myself and leave the others to get on without
me. Alec would find it so dreary; and though Mr. and Mrs. Lee are very
good and kind, they are not quite companions to him. Then Maura has come
to think so much about people being ladies that I don't feel sure that
she would attend to Mrs. Lee; and the same with Petros in the holidays.
If I can't work at first, still I can make a home and look after them.'

'But it is only one winter, and Alexis thinks you ought; and, oh, what
it would be, and how you would get on!'

'That is what puzzles me. Alexis thinks Mr. White has a right to expect
me to improve myself, and not go on for ever making white jessamines
with malachite leaves, and that he can look after Maura and Petros. I
see, too, that I ought to try to recover, or I might be a burthen on
Alexis for ever, and hinder all his better hopes. Then, there's the not
liking to accept a favour after Mr. White said such things, though I
ought not to think about it since he made that apology; but it is a
horrid feeling that I ought not to affront him for the sake of the
others. Altogether I do feel so tossed. I can't get back the feeling I
had when I was ill that I need not worry, for that God will decide.'

And there were tears in her eyes.

'Can't you ask some one's advice?' said Gillian.

'If I were sure they quite understood! My head is quite tired with
thinking about it.'

Not many moments had passed before there were steps that made Kalliope
start painfully, and Maura appeared, piloting another visitor. It was
Miss Mohun, who had escaped from the survey of the rooms,--so far uneasy
at what she had gathered from Mr. White, that she was the more anxious
to make the offer previously agreed to.

'My dear,' she said, 'I am afraid you look tired.'

'They have worried her and knocked her up,' said Gillian indignantly.

'I see! Kally, my dear, we are connections now, you know, and I have
heard of Mr. White's plan. It made me think whether you would find the
matter easier if you let me have Maura while you are away to cheer my
solitude. Then I could see that she did her lessons, and, between all
Gillian's brothers, we could see that Petros was happy in the holidays.'

'Oh, Miss Mohun! how can I be grateful enough? There is an end of all
difficulties.'

And when the inspecting party came round, and Adeline bent to kiss the
white, weary, but no longer distressed face, and kindly said, 'We shall
see a great deal of each other, I hope,' she replied, with an earnest
'thank you,' and added to Mr. White, 'Miss Mohun has made it all easy to
me, sir, and I am very grateful!'

'Ay, ay! You're a good girl at the bottom, and have some sense!'

CHAPTER XXIII. -- FANGS

Events came on rapidly that spring. Mr. White was anxious that his
marriage should take place quickly--afraid, perhaps, that his prize
would escape him, and be daunted by the passive disapproval of her
family, though this was only manifested to him in a want of cordiality.
This, being sincere people, they could not help; and that outbreak to
Kalliope had made the sisters so uneasy, that they would have willingly
endured the ridicule of a broken engagement to secure Adeline from the
risks of a rough temper where gentlemanly instincts were not inbred.

Adeline, however, knew she had gone too far to recede, though she would
willingly have delayed, in enjoyment of the present homage and shrinking
from the future plunge away from all her protectors. Though the strong,
manly will overpowered hers, and made her submit to the necessities of
the case and fix a day early in July, she clung the more closely to her
sisters, and insisted on being accompanied by Jane on going to London to
purchase the outfit that she had often seen in visions before. So Miss
Mohun's affairs were put in commission, Gillian taking care of them, and
the two sisters were to go to Mrs. Craydon, once, as Marianne Weston,
their first friend out of their own family, and now a widow with a house
in London, well pleased at any recall of old times, though inclined,
like all the rest, to speak of 'poor Ada.'

Lord Rotherwood was, as his cousins had predicted, less disgusted than
the rest, as in matters of business he had been able to test the true
worth that lay beneath the blemishes of tone and of temper; and his wife
thought the Italian residence and foreign tincture made the affair much
more endurable than could have been expected. She chose an exquisite
tea-service for their joint wedding present; but she would not consent
to let Lady Phyllis be a bridesmaid; though the Marquis, discovering
that her eldest brother hated the idea of giving her away to the
stonemason, offered 'not to put too fine a point on it, but to act the
part of Cousin Phoenix.'

Bridesmaids would have been rather a difficulty; but then the deep
mourning of Kalliope and Maura made a decided reason for excluding them;
and Miss Adeline, who knew that a quiet wedding would be in much the
best taste, resolved to content herself with two tiny maidens, Primrose
and the contemporary Hablot, her own goddaughter, who, being commonly
known as Belle, made a reason for equipping each in the colour and with
the flowers of her name, and the idea was carried out with great taste.

Valetta thought it hard that an outsider should be chosen. The young
Merrifields had the failing of large families in clannish exclusiveness
up to the point of hating and despising more or less all who interfered
with their enjoyment of one another, and of their own ways. The absence
of society at Silverfold had intensified this farouche tone, and the
dispersion, instead of curing it, had rendered them more bent on being
alone together. Worst of all was Wilfred, who had been kept at home very
inconveniently by some recurring delicacy of brain and eyes, and who,
at twelve years old, was enough of an imp to be no small torment to his
sisters. Valetta was unmercifully teased about her affection for Kitty
Varley and Maura White, and, whenever he durst, there were attempts at
stings about Alexis, until new game offered itself on whom no one had
any mercy.

Captain Henderson was as much in the way as a man could be who knew but
one family in the place, and had no resource but sketching. His yellow
moustache was to be seen at all manner of unexpected and unwelcome
times. If that great honour, a walk with papa, was granted, out he
popped from Marine Hotel, or a seat in the public gardens, evidently
lying in ambush to spoil their walk. Or he was found tete-a-tete
with mamma before the five-o'clock tea, talking, no doubt, 'Raphaels,
Correggios, and stuff,' as in the Royal Wardour days. Even at Clipston,
or in the coves on the beach, he was only too apt to start up from some
convenient post for sketching. He really did draw beautifully, and Mysie
would have been thankful for his counsels if public opinion had not been
so strong.

Moreover, Kitty Varley conveyed to Valetta the speculations of Rockstone
whether Gillian was the attraction.

'Now, Val,' said Mysie, 'how can you listen to such nonsense!'

'You said so before, and it wasn't nonsense.'

'It wasn't Aunt Jane.'

'No, but it was somebody.'

'Everybody does marry somebody; but it is no use for us to think about
it, for it always turns out just the contrary to all the books one ever
read; so there's no going by anything, and I don't believe it right to
talk about it.'

'Why not? Every one does.'

'All the good teachings say one should not talk of what one does not
want one's grown-ups to hear.'

'Oh, but then one would never talk of anything!'

'Oh, Val! I won't be sure, but I don't believe I should mind mamma's
hearing all I say.'

'Yes; but you've never been to school, and I heard Bee Varley say she
never saw anybody so childishly simple for her age.'

This brought the colour into Mysie's face, but she said--

'I'd rather be simple than talk as mamma does not like; and, Val, do on
no account tell Gillian.'

'I haven't.'

'And don't; don't tell Wilfred, or you know how horrid he would be.'

There was a tell-tale colour in Valetta's cheeks, by which Mysie might
have discerned that Valetta had not resisted the charm of declaring
'that she knew something,' even though this was sure to lead to tortures
of various kinds from Wilfred until it was extracted. Still the youth as
yet was afraid to do much worse than look preternaturally knowing at his
sister and give hints about Fangs' holding fast and the like, but
quite enough to startle her into something between being flattered and
indignant. She was scarcely civil to the Captain, and felt bound to
express her dislike on every possible occasion, though only to provoke a
grin from Wilfred and a giggle from Valetta.

Lady Merrifield's basket-carriage and little rough pony had been brought
from Silverfold, and she took Kalliope out for quiet drives whenever
it was possible; but a day of showers having prevented this, she was
concerned to find herself hindered on a second afternoon. Gillian
offered to be her substitute.

'You know I always drive you, mamma.'

'These are worse hills than at Silverfold, and I don't want you to come
down by the sea-wall.'

'I am sure I would not go there for something, among all the stupid
people.'

'If you keep to the turnpike you can't come to much harm with Bruno.'

'That is awfully--I mean horribly dusty! There's the cliff road towards
Arnscombe.'

'That is safe enough. I don't think you could come to much real damage;
but remember that for Kally a start or an alarm would be really as
hurtful as an accident to a person in health.'

'Poor old Bruno could hardly frighten a mouse,' said Gillian.

'Only take care, and don't be enterprising.'

Gillian drove up to the door of Cliff House, and Kalliope took her seat.
It was an enjoyable afternoon, with the fresh clearness of June sunshine
after showers, great purple shadows of clouds flitting over the sea,
dimpled by white crests of wave that broke the golden path of sunshine
into sparkling ripples, while on the other side of the cliff road lay
the open moorland, full of furze, stunted in growth, but brilliant in
colour, and relieved by the purple browns of blossoming grasses and the
white stars of stitchwort.

'This is delicious!' murmured Kalliope, with a gesture of enjoyment.

'Much nicer than down below!'

'Oh yes; it seems to stretch one's very soul!'

'And the place is so big and wide that no one can worry with sketching.'

'Yes, it defies that!' said Kalliope, laughing.

'So, Fa--Captain Henderson won't crop up as he does at every sketchable
place. Didn't you know he was here?'

'Yes, Alexis told me he had seen him.'

'Everybody has seen him, I should think; he is always about with nothing
to do but that everlasting sketching.'

'He must have been very sorry to be obliged to retire.'

'Horrid! It was weak, and he might have been in Egypt, well out of the
way. No, I didn't mean that'--as Kalliope looked shocked--'but he might
have been getting distinction and promotion.'

'He used to be very kind,' said Kalliope, in a tone of regretful
remonstrance. 'It was he who taught me first to draw.'

'He! What, Fa--Captain Henderson?'

'Yes; when I was quite a little girl, and he had only just joined. He
found me out before our quarters at Gibraltar trying to draw an old
Spaniard selling oranges, and he helped me, and showed me how to hold my
pencil. I have got it still--the sketch. Then he used to lend me things
to copy, and give me hints till--oh, till my father said I was too old
for that sort of thing! Then, you know, my father got his commission,
and I went to school at Belfast.'

'And you have never seen him since?'

'Scarcely. Sometimes he was on leave in my holidays, and you know we
were at the depot afterwards, but I shall always feel that all that I
have been able to do since has been owing to him.'

'And how you will enjoy studying at Florence!'

'Oh, think what it would be if I could ever do a reredos for a church!
I keep on dreaming and fancying them, and now there really seems a hope.
Is that Arnscombe Church?'

'Yes, you know it has been nicely restored.'

'We had the columns to do. The reredos is alabaster, I believe, and we
had nobody fit to undertake that. I so longed for the power! I almost
saw it.'

'Have you seen what it is?'

'No; I never had time.'

'I suppose it would be too tiring for you now; but we could see the
outside.'

Gillian forgot that Arnscombe, whose blunt gray spire protruded through
the young green elms, lay in a little valley through which a stream
rushed to the sea. The lane was not very steep, but there were loose
stones. Bruno stumbled, he was down; the carriage stood still, and the
two girls were out on opposite sides in a moment, Gillian crying out--

'Don't be frightened--no harm done!'--as she ran to the pony's head.
He lay quite still with heaving sides, and she felt utterly alone and
helpless in the solitary road with an invalid companion whom she did not
like to leave.

'I am afraid I cannot run for help,' said Kalliope quietly, though
breathlessly; 'but I could sit by the horse and hold his head while you
go for help.'

'I don't like. Oh, here's some one coming!'

'Can I be of any use?'

Most welcome sound!--though it was actually Captain Henderson the
ubiquitous wheeling his bicycle up the hill, knapsack of sketching
materials on his back.

'Miss Merrifield! Miss White! I trust no one is hurt!'

'Oh no, thank you, unless it is the poor pony! Kally, sit down on the
bank, I insist! Oh, I am so glad you are come!'

'Can you sit on his head while I cut the traces?'

Gillian did that comfortable thing till released, when the pony
scrambled up again, but with bleeding knees, hip, and side, though the
Captain did not think any serious harm was done; but it was even more
awkward at the moment that both the shafts were broken!

'What is to be done?' sighed Gillian. 'Miss White can't walk. Can I run
down to the village to get something to take her home?'

'The place did not look likely to supply any conveyance better than a
rough cart,' said their friend.

'It is quite impossible to put the poor pony in anyhow! I don't mind
walking in the least; but you know how ill she has been.'

'I see. Only one thing to be done,' said the Captain, who had already
turned the carriage round by the stumps of the shafts; 'you must accept
me in lieu of your pony.'

'Oh yes, thank you!' cried Gillian eagerly. 'I can lead poor Bruno, and
take care of your bicycle. Jump in, Kally!'

Kalliope, who had wisely abstained from adding a useless voice to the
discussion, here demurred. She could not think of such a thing; they
could very well wait in the carriage while Captain Henderson went on to
the town on his bicycle and sent out a midge.

But there were showers about, and a damp feeling in the lane. Both
the others thought this perilous; besides that, there might be rude
passengers to laugh at their predicament; and Captain Henderson
protested that the weight was nothing. He prevailed at last; and she
allowed him to hand her into the basket, when she could hardly stand,
and wrap the dust-cloth about her. Thus the procession set forth,
Gillian with poor drooping Bruno's rein in one hand and the other on the
bicycle, and the Captain gallantly drawing the carriage with Kalliope
seated in the midst. He tramped on so vigorously as quite to justify his
declaration that it was no burthen to him. It was not a frequented road,
and they met no one in the least available to do more than stare or
ask a question or two, until, as they approached the town and Rockstone
Church was full in view, who should appear before their eyes but Sir
Jasper, Wilfred carrying on his back a huge kite that had been for many
evenings in course of construction, and Fergus acting as trainbearer.

Thus came on the first moment of Gillian's explanation, as Sir Jasper
took the poor pony from her and held counsel over the damage, with many
hearty thanks to Captain Henderson.

'I am sure, sir, no one could have shown greater presence of mind than
the young ladies,' said that gentleman; and her father's 'I am glad
to hear it!' would have gratified Gillian the more, but for the impish
grimace with which Wilfred favoured her behind Kalliope's impassive
back.

The kite-fliers turned, not without an entreaty from the boys that they
might go on alone and fly their kite.

'No, no, boys,' said their father--'not here; we shall have the kite
pulling you into the sea over the cliffs. I must take the pony home; but
I will come if possible to-morrow.'

Much disappointed, they went dolefully in the rear, grumbling sotto voce
their conviction that there would be no wind to-morrow, and that it was
all 'Fangs's' fault in some incomprehensible manner.

At Cliff House Kalliope was carefully handed out by Sir Jasper, trying,
but with failing voice, to thank Captain Henderson, and declaring
herself not the worse, though her hand shook so much that the General
was not content without giving her his arm up the stairs, and telling
Maura that he should send Mrs. Halfpenny up to see after her. The maimed
carriage was left in the yard, and Captain Henderson then took charge
of his iron horse, and the whole male party proceeded to the livery
stables; so that Gillian was able to be alone, when she humbly
repeated to her mother the tale parents have so often to hear of
semi-disobedience leading to disaster, but with the self-reproach and
sorrow that drew the sting of displeasure. Pity for Bruno, grief for
her mother's deprivation, and anxiety for Kalliope might be penance and
rebuke sufficient for a bit of thoughtlessness. Lady Merrifield made no
remark; but there was an odd expression in her face when she heard who
had come so opportunely to the rescue.

Sir Jasper brought a reassuring account of the poor little steed, which
would be usable again after a short rest, and the blemish was the less
important as there was no intention of selling him. Mrs. Halfpenny, too,
reported that her patient was as quiet as a lamb. 'She wasn't one to
fash herself for nothing and go into screaming cries, but kenned better
what was fitting for one born under Her Majesty's colours.'

So there was nothing to hinder amusement when at dinner Sir Jasper
comically described the procession as he met it. Kalliope White, looking
only too like Minerva, or some of those Greek goddess statues they used
to draw about, sitting straight and upright in her triumphal car, drawn
by her votary; while poor Gillian came behind with the pony on one side
and the bicycle on the other, very much as if she were conducting the
wheel on which she was to be broken, as an offering to the idol.

'I think,' said Mysie, 'Captain Henderson was like the two happy sons in
Solon's story, who dragged their mother to the temple.'

'Only they died of it,' said Gillian.

'And nobody asked how the poor mother felt afterwards,' added Lady
Merrifield.

'I thought they all had an apotheosis together,' said Sir Jasper. 'Let
us hope that devotion may have its reward.'

There was a little lawn outside the drawing-room windows at Il Lido.
Lady Merrifield was sitting just within, and her husband had just