UNCLE MAX

by

ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY

Author of 'Nellie's Memories, ' 'Wee Wifie, ' 'Robert Ord's Atonement, 'etc. 

1894

CONTENTS

 I. Out of the Mist

 II. Behind the Bars

 III. Cinderella

 IV. Uncle Max Breaks The Ice

 V. 'When The Cat Is Away'

 VI. The White Cottage

 VII. Giles Hamilton, Esq

 VIII. New Brooms Sweep Clean

 IX. The Flag of Truce

 X. A Difficult Patient

 XI. One of God's Heroines

 XII. A Missed Vocation

 XIII. Lady Betty

 XIV. Lady Betty Leaves Her Muff

 XV. Up At Gladwyn

 XVI. Gladys

 XVII. 'Why Not Trust Me, Max?'

 XVIII. Miss Hamilton's Little Scholar

 XIX. The Picture In Gladys's Room

 XX. Eric

 XXI. 'I Ran Away, Then!'

 XXII. 'They Have Blackened His Memory Falsely'

 XXIII. The Mystery at Gladwyn

 XXIV. 'Weeping may endure for a Night'

 XXV. 'There is no one like Donald'

 XXVI. I hear about Captain Hamilton

 XXVII. Max opens his Heart

 XXVIII. Crossing the River

 XXIX. Miss Darrell has a Headache

 XXX. With Timbrels and Dances

 XXXI. Wedding-Chimes

 XXXII. A Fiery Ordeal

 XXXIII. Jack Poynter

 XXXIV. I communicate with Joe Muggins

 XXXV. Nightingales and Roses

 XXXVI. Breakers Ahead

 XXXVII. 'I claim that Promise, Ursula'

 XXXVIII. In the Turret-Room

 XXXIX. Whitefoot is saddled

 XL. The Talk in the Gloaming

 XLI. 'At five o'clock in the Morning'

 XLII. Down the Pemberley Road

 XLIII. 'Conspiracy Corner'

 XLIV. Leah's Confession

 XLV. 'This Home is yours no longer'

 XLVI. Nap barks in the Stable-yard

 XLVII. At last, Ursula, at last!'

 XLVIII. 'What o' the Way to the End?'

CHAPTER I

OUT OF THE MIST

It appears to me, looking back over a past experience, that certain daysin one's life stand out prominently as landmarks, when we arrive at somefinger-post pointing out the road that we should follow. 

We come out of some deep, rutty lane, where the hedgerows obscure theprospect, and where the footsteps of some unknown passenger have lefttracks in the moist red clay. The confused tracery of green leavesoverhead seems to weave fanciful patterns against the dim blue of thesky; the very air is low-pitched and oppressive. All at once we findourselves in an open space; the free winds of heaven are blowing over us;there are four roads meeting; the finger-post points silently, 'This wayto such a place'; we can take our choice, counting the mile-stones ratherwearily as we pass them. The road may be a little tedious, the stones mayhurt our feet; but if it be the right road it will bring us to ourdestination. 

In looking back it always seems to me as though I came to a freshlandmark in my experience that November afternoon when I saw Uncle Maxstanding in the twilight, waiting for me. 

There had been the waste of a great trouble in my young life, --sorrow, confusion, then utter chaos. I had struggled on somehow after my twinbrother's death, trying to fight against despair with all my youthfulvitality; creating new duties for myself, throwing out fresh feelerseverywhere; now and then crying out in my undisciplined way that thetask was too hard for me; that I loathed my life; that it was impossibleto live any longer without love and appreciation and sympathy; that souncongenial an atmosphere could be no home to me; that the world was anutter negation and a mockery. 

That was before I went to the hospital, at the time when my trouble wasfresh and I was breaking my heart with the longing to see Charlie's faceagain. Most people who have lived long in the world, and have parted withtheir beloved, know what that sort of hopeless ache means. 

My work was over at the hospital, and I had come home again, --to rest, sothey said, but in reality to work out plans for my future life, in a sortof sullen silence, that seemed to shut me out from all sympathy. 

It had wrapped me in a sort of mantle of reserve all the afternoon, during which I had been driving with Aunt Philippa and Sara. The airwould do me good. I was moped, hipped, with all that dreary hospitalwork, so they said. It would distract and amuse me to watch Sara makingher purchases. Reluctance, silent opposition, only whetted theircharitable mood. 

'Don't be disagreeable, Ursula. You might as well help me choose my newmantle, ' Sara had said, quite pleasantly, and I had given in with a badgrace. 

Another time I might have been amused by Aunt Philippa's majesticdeportment and Sara's brisk importance, her girlish airs and graces; butI was too sad at heart to indulge in my usual satire. Everything seemedstupid and tiresome; the hum of voices wearied me; the showroom atMarshall and Snelgrove's seemed a confused Babel, --everywhere strangevoices, a hubbub of sound, tall figures in black passing and repassing, strange faces reflected in endless pier-glasses, --faces of puckeredanxiety repeating themselves in ludicrous _vrai-semblance_. 

I saw our own little group reproduced in one. There was Aunt Philippa, tall and portly, with her well-preserved beauty, a little full-blownperhaps, but still 'marvellously' good-looking for her age, if she couldonly have not been so conscious of the fact. 

Then, Sara, standing there slim and straight, with the furred mantle justslipping over her smooth shoulders, radiant with good health, good looks, perfectly contented with herself and the whole world, as it behooves ahandsome, high-spirited young woman to be with her surroundings, lookingbright, unconcerned, good-humoured, in spite of her mother's fussycriticisms: Aunt Philippa was always a little fussy about dress. 

Between the two I could just catch a glimpse of myself, --a tallgirl, dressed very plainly in black, with a dark complexion, large, anxious-looking eyes, that seemed appealing for relief from all thisdulness, --a shadowy sort of image of discontent and protest in thebackground, hovering behind Aunt Philippa's velvet mantle and Sara'sslim supple figure. 

'Well, Ursula, ' said Sara, still good-humouredly, 'will you not give usyour opinion? Does this dolman suit me, or would you prefer a long jackettrimmed with skunk?'

I remember I decided in favour of the jacket, only Aunt Philippainterposed, a little contemptuously, --

'What does Ursula know about the present fashion? She has spent the lastyear in the wards of St. Thomas's, my dear, ' dropping her voice, andtaking up her gold-rimmed eye-glasses to inspect me more critically, --amere habit, for I had reason to know Aunt Philippa was not the leastnear-sighted. 'I cannot see any occasion for you to dress so dowdily, with three hundred a year to spend absolutely on yourself; for of coursepoor Charlie's little share has come to you. You could surely makeyourself presentable, especially as you know we are going to Hyde ParkMansions to see Lesbia. '

This was too much for my equanimity. 'What does it matter? I am notcoming with you, Aunt Philippa, ' I retorted, somewhat vexed at thispersonality; but Sara overheard us, and strove to pour oil on thetroubled waters. 

'Leave Ursula alone, mother: she looks tolerably well this afternoon;only mourning never suits a dark complexion--' But I did not wait tohear any more. I wandered about the place disconsolately, pretending toexamine things with passing curiosity, but my eyes were throbbing and myheart beating angrily at Sara's thoughtless speech. A sudden remembranceseemed to steal before me vividly: Charlie's pale face, with its sad, sweet smile, haunted me. 'Courage, Ursula; it will be over soon. ' Thosewere his last words, poor boy, and he was looking at me and not at Lesbiaas he spoke. I always wondered what he meant by them. Was it his longpain, which he had borne so patiently, that would soon be over? or wasit that cruel parting to which he alluded? or did he strive to comfortme at the last with the assurance--alas! for our mortal nature, so sadlytrue--that pain cannot last for ever, that even faithful sorrow isshort-lived and comforts itself in time, that I was young enough tooutlive more than one trouble, and that I might take courage from thisthought?

I looked down at the black dress, such as I had worn nearly two yearsfor him, and raged as I remembered Sara's flippant words. 'My darling, I would wear mourning for you all my life gladly, ' I said, with an inwardsob that was more anger than sorrow, 'if I thought you would care for meto do it. Oh, what a world this is, Charlie! surely vanity and vexationof spirit!'

I did not mean to be cross with Sara, but my thoughts had taken a gloomyturn, and I could not recover my spirits: indeed, as we drove down BondStreet, where Sara had some glittering little toy to purchase, Ireiterated my intention of not calling at Hyde Park Mansions. 

'I do not want any tea, ' I said wearily, 'and I would rather go home. Give my love to Lesbia; I will see her another day. '

'Lesbia will be hurt, ' remonstrated Sara. 'What a little misanthrope youare, Ursula! St. Thomas's has injured you socially; you have become ahermit-crab all at once, and it is such nonsense at your age. '

'Oh, let me be, Sara!' I pleaded; 'I am tired, and Lesbia always chattersso; and Mrs. Fullerton is worse. Besides, did you not tell me she wascoming to dine with us this evening?'

'Yes, to be sure; but she wanted us to meet the Percy Glyns. Mirrel andWinifred Glyn are to be there this afternoon. Never mind, Lesbia willunderstand when I say you are in one of your ridiculous moods. ' And Sarahummed a little tune gaily, as though she meant no offence by her wordsand was disposed to let me go my own way. 

'The carriage can take you home, Ursula; we can walk those few yards, 'observed Aunt Philippa, as she descended leisurely, and Sara trippedafter her, still humming. But I took no notice of her words: I had hadenough dulness and decorum to last me for some time, and the Black Princeand his consort Bay might find their way to their own stables withoutdepositing me at the front door of the house at Hyde Park Gate. I toldClarence so, to his great astonishment, and walked across the road in anopposite direction to home, as though my feet were winged withquicksilver. 

For the Park in that dim November light seemed to allure me; there wasa red glow of sunset in the distance; a faint, climbing mist between thetrees; the gas-lamps were twinkling everywhere. I could hear the ringingof some church bell; there was space, freedom for thought, a vague, uncertain prospect, out of which figures were looming curiously, --adelightful sense that I was sinning against conventionality and AuntPhilippa. 

'Halloo, Ursula!' exclaimed a voice in great astonishment; and there, outof the mist, was a kind face looking at me, --a face with a brown beard, and dark eyes with a touch of amusement in them; and the eyes and thebeard and the bright, welcoming smile belonged to Uncle Max. 

As I caught at his outstretched hand with a half-stifled exclamationof delight, a policeman turned round and looked at us with an air ofinterest. No doubt he thought the tall brown-bearded clergyman in theshabby coat--it was one of Uncle Max's peculiarities to wear a shabbycoat occasionally--was the sweetheart of the young lady in black. UncleMax--I am afraid I oftener called him Max--was only a few years olderthan myself, and had occupied the position of an elder brother to me. 

He was my poor mother's only brother, and had been dearly loved byher, --not as I had loved Charlie, perhaps; but they had been much to eachother, and he had always seemed nearer to me than Aunt Philippa, who wasmy father's sister; perhaps because there was nothing in common betweenus, and I had always been devoted to Uncle Max. 

'Well, Ursula, ' he said, pretending to look grave, but evidently far toopleased to see me to give me a very severe lecture, 'what is the meaningof this? Does Mrs. Garston allow young ladies under her charge to strollabout Hyde Park in the twilight? or have you stolen a march on her, naughty little she-bear?'

I drew my hand away with an offended air: when Uncle Max wished to teaseor punish me he always reminded me that the name of Ursula signifiedshe-bear, and would sometimes call me 'the little black growler'; and atsuch times it was provoking to think that Sara signified princess. I havealways wondered how far and how strongly our baptismal names influenceus. Of course he would not let me walk beside him in that dignifiedmanner: the next instant I heard his clear hearty laugh, and then Ilaughed too. 

'What an absurd child you are! I was thinking over your letter as Iwalked along. It did not bring me to London, certainly; I had business ofmy own; but, all the same, I have walked across the Park this evening totalk to you about this extraordinary scheme. '

But I would not let him go on. He was about to cross the road, so I tookhis arm and turned him back. And there was the gray mist creeping upbetween the trees, and the lamps glimmering in the distance, and thefaint pink glow had not yet died away. 

'It is so quiet here, ' I pleaded, 'and I could not get you alone for amoment if we went in. Uncle Brian will be there, and Jill, and we couldnot say a word. Aunt Philippa and Sara have gone to see Lesbia. I havebeen driving with them all the afternoon. Sara has been shopping, and howbored I was!'

'You uncivilised little heathen!' Then, very gravely, 'Well, how is poorLesbia?'

'Do not waste your pity on her, ' I returned impatiently. 'She is as welland cheerful as possible. Even Sara says so. She is not breaking herheart about Charlie. She has left off mourning, and is as gay as ever. '

'You are always hard on Lesbia, ' he returned gently. 'She is young, my dear, you forget that, and a pretty girl, and very much admired. It always seems to me she was very fond of the poor fellow. '

'She was good to him in his illness, but she never cared for Charlie ashe did for her. He worshipped the very ground she walked on. He thoughther perfection. Uncle Max, it was pitiful to hear him sometimes. He wouldtell me how sweet and unselfish she was, and all the time I knew she wasbut an ordinary, commonplace girl. If he had lived to marry her he wouldhave been disappointed in her. He was so large-hearted, and Lesbia hassuch little aims. '

'So you always say, Ursula. But you women are so severe in your judgmentof each other. I doubt myself if the girl lives whom you would haveconsidered good enough for Charlie. Yes, yes, my dear, '--as I uttered adissenting protest to this, --'he was a fine fellow, and his was a mostlovable character; but it was his last illness that ripened him. '

'He was always perfect in my eyes, ' I returned, in a choked voice. 

'That was because you loved him; and no doubt Lesbia possessed the sameideal goodness for him. Love throws its own glamour, ' he went on, andhis voice was unusually grave; 'it does not believe in commonplacemediocrity; it lifts up its idol to some fanciful pedestal, where thepoor thing feels very uncomfortable and out of its element, and thenpersists in falling down and worshipping it. We humans are very droll, Ursula: we will create our own divinities. '

'Lesbia would have disappointed him, ' I persisted obstinately; but Imight as well have talked to the wind. Uncle Max could not find it inhis heart to be hard to a pretty girl. 

'That is open to doubt, my dear. Lesbia is amiable and charming, and Idaresay she would have made a nice little wife. Poor Charlie hated cleverwomen, and in that respect she would have suited him. '

After this I knew it was no good in trying to change his opinion. UncleMax held his own views with remarkable tenacity; he had old-fashionednotions with respect to women, rather singular in so young a man, --for hewas only thirty; he preferred to believe in their goodness, in spite ofany amount of demonstration to the contrary; it vexed him to be remindedof the shortcomings of his friends; by nature he was an optimist, and hada large amount of faith in people's good intentions. 'He meant well, poorfellow, in spite of his failures, ' was a speech I have heard more thanonce from his lips. He was always ready to condone a fault or heal abreach; indeed, his sweet nature found it difficult to bear a grudgeagainst any one; he was only hard to himself, and on no one else did hestrive to impose so heavy a yoke. I was only silent for a minute, andthen I turned the conversation into another channel. 

'But my letter, Uncle Max!'

'Ah, true, your letter; but I have not forgotten it. How old are you, Ursula? I always forget. '

'Five-and-twenty this month. '

'To be sure; I ought to have remembered. And you have three hundred ayear of your own. '

I nodded. 

'And your present home is distasteful to you?' in an inquiring tone. 

'It is no home to me, ' I returned passionately. 'Oh, Uncle Max, how canone call it home after the dear old rectory, where we were so happy, father, and mother, and Charlie--and--'

'Yes, I know, poor child; and you have had heavy troubles. It cannot belike the old home, I am well aware of that, Ursula; but your aunt is agood woman. I have always found her strictly just. She was your father'sonly sister: when she offered you a home she promised to treat you withevery indulgence, as though you were her own daughter. '

'Aunt Philippa means to be kind, ' I said, struggling to repress mytears, --tears always troubled Uncle Max: 'she is kind in her way, and sois Sara. I have every comfort, every luxury; they want me to be gay andenjoy myself, to lead their life; but it only makes me miserable; they donot understand me; they see I do not think with them, and then they laughat me and call me morbid. No one really wants me but poor Jill: I am sofond of Jill. '

'Why cannot you lead their life, Ursula?'

'Because it is not life at all, ' was my resolute answer: 'to me it is themost wearisome existence possible. Listen to me, Uncle Max. Do you thinkI could possibly spend my days as Sara does, --writing a few notes, doinga little fancy-work, shopping and paying visits, and dancing half thenight? Do you think you could transform such a poor little Cinderellainto a fairy princess, like Sara or Lesbia? No; the drudgery of such alife would kill me with _ennui_ and discontent. '

'It is not the life I would choose for you, certainly, ' he said, pullinghis beard in some perplexity: 'it is far too worldly to suit my taste; ifCharlie had lived you would have made your home with him. He often talkedto me about that, poor fellow. I thought a year or two at Hyde Park Gatewould do you no harm, and might be wholesome training; but it has proveda failure, I see that. '

'They would be happier without me, ' I went on, more quietly, for he wasevidently coming round to my view of the case. 'Aunt Philippa does notmean to be unkind, but she often lets me see that I am in the way, thatshe is not proud of me. She would have taken more interest in me if I hadbeen handsome, like Sara; but a plain, dowdy niece is not to her taste. No, let me finish, Uncle Max, '--for he wanted to interrupt me here. 'They made a great fuss about my training at the hospital last year, but I am sure they did not miss me; Sara spoke yesterday as though shethought I was going back to St. Thomas's, and Aunt Philippa made noobjection. I heard her tell Mrs. Fullerton once "that really Ursula wasso strong-minded and different from other girls that she was prepared foranything, even for her being a female doctor. "'

'Well, my dear, you are certainly rather peculiar, you know. '

'Oh, Uncle Max, ' I said mournfully, 'are you going to misunderstand metoo? Providence has deprived me of my parents and my only brother: is itstrong-minded or peculiar to be so lonely and sad at heart that gaietyonly jars on me? Can I forget my mother's teaching when she said, "Ursula, if you live for the world you will be miserable. Try to do yourduty and benefit your fellow-creatures, and happiness must follow"?'

'Yes, poor Emmie, she was a good woman: you might do worse than takeafter her. '

'She would not approve of the life I am leading at Hyde Park Gate, ' Iwent on. 'She and Aunt Philippa never cared for each other. I often thinkthat if she had known she would not have liked me to be there. Sundaysare wretched. We go to church?--yes, because it is respectable to do so;but there is a sort of reunion every Sunday evening. '

'I wish I could offer you a home, Ursula; but--' here Uncle Maxhesitated. 

'That would not do at all, ' I returned promptly. 'Your bachelor homewould not do for me; besides, you might marry--of course you will, ' buthe flushed rather uncomfortably at that, and said, 'Pshaw! whatnonsense!' We had paused under a lamp-post, and I could see him plainly:perhaps he knew this, for he hurried me on, this time in the direction ofhome. 

'I am five-and-twenty, ' I continued, trying to collect the salient pointsof my argument. 'I am indebted to none for my maintenance; I am free, andmy own mistress; I neglect no duty by refusing to live under UncleBrian's roof; no one wants me; I contribute to no one's happiness. '

'Except to Jill's, ' observed Uncle Max. 

'Jill! but she is only a child, barely sixteen, and Sara is becomingjealous of my influence. I shall only breed dissension in the householdif I remain. Uncle Max, you are a good man, --a clergyman; you cannotconscientiously tell me that I am not free to lead my own life, to choosemy own work in the world. '

'Perhaps not, ' he replied, in a hesitating voice. 'But the scheme is apeculiar one. You wish me to find respectable lodgings in my parish, where you will be independent and free from supervision, and to placeyour superfluous health and strength--you are a muscular Christian, Ursula--at the service of my sick poor, and for this post you havepreviously trained yourself. '

'I think it will be a good sort of life, ' I returned carelessly, but howmy heart was beating! 'I like it so much, and I should like to be nearyou, Uncle Max, and work under you as my vicar. I have thought about thisfor years. Charlie and I often talked of it. I was to live with him andLesbia and devote my time to this work. He thought it such a nice ideato go and nurse poor people in their homes. And he promised that hewould come and sing to them. But now I must carry out my plan alone, forCharlie cannot help me now. ' And as I thought of the sympathy that hadnever failed me my voice quivered and I could say no more. 

'I wish we were all in heaven, ' growled Uncle Max, --but his tone was alittle husky, --'for this world is a most uncomfortable place for goodpeople, or people with a craze. I think Charlie is well out of it. '

'Under which category do you mean to place me?' I asked, trying to laugh. 

'My dear, there is a craze in most women. They have such an obstinatefaith in their own good intentions. If they find half a dozen fools tobelieve in them, they will start a crusade to found a new Utopia. Womenare the most meddlesome things in creation: they never let well alone. Their pretty little fingers are in every human pie. That is why we get somuch unwholesome crust and so little meat, and, of course, our digestionis ruined. '

'Uncle Max--' But he would not be serious any longer. 

'Ursula, I utterly refuse to inhale any more of this mist. I think acomfortable arm-chair by the fire would be far more conducive to comfort. You have given me plenty of food for thought, and I mean to sleep on it. Now, not another word. I am going to ring the bell. ' And Uncle Max was asgood as his word. 

CHAPTER II

BEHIND THE BARS

It was quite true, as I had told Uncle Max, that the scheme had been nonew one; it was no sudden emanation from a girl's brain, morbid withdiscontent and fruitless longings; it had grown with my youth and hadbecome part of my environment. As a child the thought had come to me asI followed my father into one cottage after another in his house-to-housevisitation. He had been a conscientious, hard-working clergyman; in fact, his work killed him, for he overtasked a constitution that was notnaturally strong. I accompanied my mother, too, in her errands of mercy, and saw a great deal of the misery engendered by drink, ignorance, andwant of forethought. In the case of the sick poor, the grossmismanagement and want of cleanly and thrifty habits led to an amountof discomfort and suffering that even now makes me shudder. The parishwas overgrown and insufficiently worked; the greater part of thepopulation belonged to the working-classes; dissenting chapels andgin-palaces flourished. Often did my childish heart ache at thesurroundings of some squalid home, where the parents toiled all day forworse than naught, just to satisfy their unhealthy cravings, while thechildren grew up riotous, half starved, and full of inherited vices. There was a little child I saw once, a cripple, dying slowly of some sadspinal disease, lying in a dark corner, on what seemed to me a heap ofrags. Oh, God, I can see that child's face now! I remember when we heardof its death my mother burst into tears. They were tears of joy, she toldme afterwards, that another suffering child's life was ended; 'and thereare hundreds and hundreds of these little creatures, Ursula, ' she said, 'growing up in sin and misery; and the world goes on, and people eat anddrink and are merry, for it is none of their business, and yet it is notthe will of the Father that one of these little ones should perish. '

I had learned much from my father, but still more from my mother. Uncle Max had called her a good woman, but she was more than that:she possessed one of those rare unselfish natures that cannot remainsatisfied with their own personal happiness: they wish to includethe whole world. She wanted to inculcate in me her own spirit ofself-sacrifice. I can remember some of her short, trenchant sentencesnow. 

'Never mind happiness: that is God's gift to a few: do your duty. '

'If you have loved your fellow-creatures sufficiently you will not beafraid to die. A good conscience will smooth your pillow. '

And once, in her last illness, when Charlie asked if she werecomfortable, 'Not very, but I shall soon be quite comfortable, for Ishall hope to forget in heaven how little I have done, after all, here;and yet I always wanted to help others. '

Oh, how good she was! And Charlie was good too, after the fashion ofyoung men: not altogether thoughtless, full of the promptings of his kindheart; but Uncle Max was right when he said his last illness had ripenedhim: it was not the old careless Charlie who had wooed Lesbia who laythere: it was another and a better Charlie. 

In the old days he had rallied me in a brotherly manner on myold-fashioned, grave ways. 'You are not a modern young lady, Ursie, ' hewould say; and he would often call me 'grandmother Ursula'; but all thesame he would listen to my plans with the utmost tolerance and goodnature. 

Ah, those talks in the twilight, before the fatal disease developeditself, and he lay in idle fashion on the couch with his arms under hishead, while I sat on the footstool or on the rug in the firelight! Wewere to live together, --yes, that was always the dream; even whenLesbia's fair face came between us, he would not hear of any difference. I was to live with him and Lesbia, Lesbia was rich, and, though Charliehad little, they were to marry soon. 

I was to form a part of that luxurious household, but my time was to bemy own, and I was to devote it to the sick poor of Rutherford. 'Mind, Ursula, you may work, but I will not have you overwork, ' Charlie had oncesaid, more decidedly than usual; 'you must come home for hours of restand refreshment. You have a beautiful voice, and it shall be properlytrained; you may sing to your invalids as much as you like, and sometimesI will come and sing too; but you must remember you have social duties, and I shall expect you to entertain our friends. ' And it was the idea ofthis dual life of home sympathy and outside work that had so stronglyseized upon my imagination. 

When Charlie died I was too sick at heart to carry out my plan. 'How canone work alone?' I would say sorrowfully to myself; but after a time theemptiness of my life and dissatisfaction with my surroundings broughtback the old thoughts. 

I remembered the dear old rectory life, where every one was in earnest, and contrasted it with the trifling pursuits that my aunt and cousincalled duties. My present existence seemed to shut me in like prisonbars. Only to be free, to choose my own life! And then came emancipationin the shape of hard hospital work, when health and spirits returned tome; when, under the stimulus of useful employment and constant exerciseof body and mind, I slept better, fretted less, and looked lessmournfully out on the world. Uncle Max was right when he said a yearat St. Thomas's would save me. 

By and by the idea dawned upon me that I might still carry out my plan;there were poor people at Heathfield, where Uncle Max's parish was. Whatshould hinder me from living there under Uncle Max's wing and trying tocombine the two lives, as Charlie wished?

I was young, full of activity. I did not wish to shut myself out from mykind. I could discharge my duties to my own class and enjoy a moderateamount of pleasure. I was young enough to desire that; but the greaterpart of my time would be placed at the disposal of my poorer neighbours. People might think it singular at first, but they would not talk forever, and the life would be a happy one to me. 

All this had been said in that voluminous letter of mine to Uncle Max;he might argue and shake his head over it, thereby proving himself awise man, but he could not but know that I was absolutely under my owncontrol, as far as a woman could be. I need ask no one's advice in thedisposal of my own life; his own and Uncle Brian's guardianship wasmerely nominal now. After five-and-twenty I was declared my ownmistress in every sense of the word. 

Uncle Brian came out to meet us as soon as he heard Uncle Max's voicein the hall; the two were very great friends, and they shook handscordially. 

'Glad to see you, Cunliffe; why did you not let us know that you werecoming up to town? We could have put you up easily--eh, Ursula?'

'Yes, indeed, Uncle Brian'; and then I added coaxingly, 'Do please sendfor your portmanteau, Uncle Max; you know Lesbia is coming this evening, and you are such a favourite with her. ' I knew this would be a stronginducement, for Uncle Max's soft heart would insist on treating Lesbiaas though she were a widowed princess. 

'All right, ' he returned in his lazy way, and then I took the matter intomy own hands by leaving the room at once to consult with Mrs. Martin, Aunt Philippa's housekeeper. As I closed the door I glanced back foranother look at Uncle Max. He had thrown himself into an easy-chair, asthough he were tired, and was leaning back with his hands under his headin Charlie's fashion, looking up at Uncle Brian, who was standing on therug. 

I always thought Uncle Brian a very handsome man. He had clear, well-cutfeatures and a gray moustache, and he was quiet and dignified. He alwayslooked to me, with his brown complexion, more like an Indian officer thana wealthy banker. There was nothing commercial in his appearance; but Ishould have admired him more if he had been less cold and repressive inmanner; but he was an undemonstrative man, even to his own children. 

I remember hinting this once to Uncle Max, and he had rebuked me moreseverely than he had ever done before. 

'I do not like young girls like you, Ursula, to be so critical abouttheir elders. Garston is an excellent fellow; he has plenty of brains, and always does the right thing, however difficult it may be. Men are notlike women, my dear: they often hide their deepest feelings. Your pooruncle has never been quite the same man since Ralph's death, and just ashe was getting over his boy's loss a little he had a fresh disappointmentwith Charlie: he always meant to put him in Ralph's place. '

I was a little ashamed of my criticism when Max said this. I felt I hadnot made sufficient allowance for Uncle Brian: the death of his only sonmust have been a dreadful blow. Ralph had died at Oxford; they said hehad overworked himself in trying for honours and then had taken a chill. He was a fine, handsome young fellow, nearly two-and-twenty, and hisfather's idol: no wonder Uncle Brian had grown so much older and graverduring the last few years. 

And he had been fond of Charlie, and had meant to have him in Ralph'splace; my poor boy would have been a rich one if he had lived. UncleBrian had taken him into the bank, and Lesbia and her fortune werepromised to him, but the goodly heritage was snatched away before hiseyes, and he was called away in the fresh bloom of his youth. 

I always thought Uncle Brian liked Max better than any other man: hewas always less stiff and frigid in his presence. I could hear his lowlaugh--Uncle Brian never laughed loudly--as I closed the door; Max hadsaid something that amused him. They would be quite happy without me, so I ran up to the schoolroom on the chance of getting a chat with Jill. 

The schoolroom was on the second floor, where Jill, I, and Fräulein allslept. Sara had a handsome room next to her mother's, and a littleboudoir furnished most daintily for her special use. I do not believeshe ever sat in it, unless she had a cold or was otherwise ailing; thedrawing-room was always full of company, and Sara was the life of thehouse. I used to peep in at the pretty room sometimes as I went up tobed; there were few notes written at the inlaid escritoire, and thehandsomely-bound books were never taken down from the shelves. Draper, Aunt Philippa's maid, fed the canaries and dusted the cabinets of china. Sometimes Sara would trip into the room with one of her cronies for aspecial chat; the ripple of their girlish laughter would reach us as Jilland I sat together. 'Whom has Sara got with her this afternoon?' Jillwould say peevishly. 'Do listen to them; they do nothing but laugh. IfFräulein had set her all these exercises she would not feel quite somerry, ' Jill would finish, throwing the obnoxious book from her with alittle burst of impatience. 

I always pitied Jill for having to spend her days in such a dull room;the furniture was ugly, and the windows looked out on a dismal back-yard, with the high walls of the opposite building. Aunt Philippa, who was arigid disciplinarian with her young daughter, always said that she hadchosen the room 'because Jill would have nothing to distract her from herstudies. ' The poor child would put up her shoulders at this remark anddraw down the corners of her lips in a way that would make Aunt Philippascold her for her awkwardness. 'You need not make yourself plainer thanyou are, Jocelyn, ' she would say severely; for Jill's awkward mannerstroubled her motherly vanity. 'What is the good of all the dancing anddrilling and riding with Captain Cooper if you will persist in hunchingyour shoulders as though you were deformed? Fräulein has been complainingof you this morning; she seems excessively displeased at yourcarelessness and want of application. ' 'I know I shall get stupid, shutup in that dull hole with Fräulein, ' Jill would say passionately, afterone of these maternal lectures. Aunt Philippa was really very fond ofJill; but she misunderstood the girl's nature. The system had answered so well with Sara that she could not be brought to comprehend why itshould fail with her other child. Sara had grown up blooming and radiantin spite of the depressing influences of Fräulein and the dull, narrowschoolroom. Her music and singing masters had come to her there. LittleMadame Blanchard had chirped to her in Parisian accent for the hourtogether over _les modes_ and _le beau Paris_. Sara had danced anddrilled with the other young ladies at Miss Dugald's selectestablishment, and had joined them at the riding-school or in thecavalcade under Captain Cooper. 

Sara had worn her bondage lightly, and had fascinated even grim old HerrSchliefer. Her tact and easy adaptability had kept Fräulein Sonnenscheinin a state of tepid good-humour. Every one, even cross old Draper, idolised Sara for her beauty and sprightly ways. When Aunt Philippadeclared her education finished, she tripped out of the schoolroom ashappily as possible to take possession of her grand new bedroom and thelittle boudoir, where all her girlish treasures were arranged. She hadnot been the least impatient for her day of freedom: it would all come ingood time. When the sceptre was put into her hands and her sovereigntyacknowledged by the whole household, the young princess was not a bitexcited. She put on her court dress and made her courtesy to her majestywith the same charming unconsciousness and ease of manner. No wonderpeople were charmed with such good-humour and freshness. If the glossyhair did not cover a large amount of brains, no one found fault with herfor that. 

Jill raged and stormed fiercely under Sara's light-hearted philosophy;when her sister told her to be patient under Fräulein's yoke, that a goodtime was coming for her also, when lesson-books would be shut up, andHerr Schliefer would cease to scatter snuff on the carpet as he satdrumming with his fingers on the keyboard and grunting out briefinterjections of impatience. 

'What does it matter about Herr Schliefer?' Jill would say, in a sort offury. 'I like him a hundred times better than I do that mincing littlepoll-parrot of a Madame Blanchard: she is odious, and I hate her, and Ihate Fräulein too. It is not the lessons I mind; one has to learn lessonsall one's life; it is being shut up like a bird in a cage when one'swings are ready for flight. I should like to fly away from this room, from Fräulein, from the whole of the horrid set; it makes me cross, wicked, to live like this, and all your sugar-plums will do me no good. Go away, Sara; you do not understand as Ursula does, it makes me feel badto see you standing there, looking so pretty and happy, and just laughingat me. '

'Of course I laugh at you, Jocelyn, when you behave like a baby, 'returned Sara, trying to be severe, only her dimples betrayed her. 'Well, as you are so cross, I shall go away. There is the chocolate I promisedyou. Ta-ta. ' And Sara put down the _bonbonnière_ on the table and walkedout of the room. 

I was not surprised to see Jill push it away. No one understood the poorchild but myself; she was precocious, womanly, for her age; she hadtwenty times the amount of brains that Sara possessed, and she wasstarving on the education provided for her. 

To dance and drill and write dreary German exercises, when one isthirsting to drink deeply at the well of knowledge; to go round and roundthe narrow monotonous course that had sufficed for Sara's moderateabilities, like the blind horse at the mill, and never to advance an inchout of the beaten track, this was simply maddening to Jill's sturdyintellect. She often told me how she longed to attend classes, to hearlectures, to rub against full-grown minds. 

'Now. Me-ess Jocelyn, we will do a little of ze Wallenstein, by theimmortal Schiller. Hold up the head, and leave off striking the tablewith your elbows. ' Jill would give a droll imitation of Fräulein, andend with a groan. 

'What does she know-about Schiller? She cannot even comprehend him. Sheis dense, --utterly dense and stupid; but because she knows her ownlanguage and has a correct deportment she is fit to teach me. ' And Jillground her little white teeth in impotent wrath. Jill always appeared tome like an infant Pegasus in harness; she wanted to soar, --to make use ofher wings, --and they kept her down. She was not naturally gay, like Sara, though her health was good, and she was as powerful as a young Amazon. Her nature was more sombre and took colour from her surroundings. 

She was like a child in the sunshine; plenty of life and movementdistracted her from interior broodings and made her joyous; when she wasriding with the young ladies from Miss Dugald's, she would be as merry asthe others. 

But her dreary schoolroom and Fräulein's society chafed her nervoussensibilities dangerously; there were only a few brown sparrows, ora stray cat intent on game, to be seen from her window. From thedrawing-room, from Sara's boudoir, from her mother's bedroom, there wasa charming view of the Park. In the spring the fresh foliage of thetrees, and the velvety softness of the grass, would be delicious; downin the broad white road, carriages were passing, horses cantering, happy-looking people in smart bonnets, in gorgeous mantles, driving abouteverywhere; children would be running up and down the paths in the Park, flower-sellers would stand offering their innocent wares to thepassengers. Jill would sit entranced by her mother's window watchingthem; the sunshine, the glitter, the hubbub, intoxicated her; she made upstories by the dozen, as her dark eyes followed the gay equipages. WhenFräulein summoned her she went away reluctantly; the stories got intoher head, and stopped there all the time she laboured through that longsonata. 

'Why are your fingers all thumbs to-day, Fräulein?' Herr Schlieferwould demand gloomily. Jill, who was really fond of the stern oldprofessor, hung her head and blushed guiltily. She had no excuse tooffer: her girlish dreams were sacred to her; they came gliding to herthrough the most intricate passages of the sonata, now with a _staccato_movement, --brisk, lively, --with fitful energy, now _andante_, then_crescendo, con passione_. Jill's unformed girlish hands strike thechords wildly, angrily. '_Dolce, dolce_, ' screams the professor in herears. The music softens, wanes, and the dreams seem to die away too. 'That will do, Fräulein: you have not acquitted yourself so badly afterall. ' And Jill gets off her music-stool reluctant, absent, half awake, and her day-dream broken up into chaos. 

CHAPTER III

CINDERELLA

As I opened the schoolroom door a half-forgotten picture of Cinderellacame vividly before me. 

The fire had burnt low; a heap of black ashes lay under the grate; and bythe dull red glow I could see Jill's forlorn figure, very indistinctly, as she sat in her favourite attitude on the rug, her arms clasping herknees and her short black locks hanging loosely over her shoulders. Shegave a little shrill exclamation of pleasure when she saw me. 

'Ah, you dear darling bear, do come and hug me, ' she cried, trying to getup in a hurry, but her dress entangled her. 

'Where is Fräulein?' I asked, pushing her back into her place, while Iknelt down to manipulate the miserable fire. 'Jill, you look just likeCinderella when the proud sisters drove away to the ball. My dear, wereyou asleep? Why are you sitting in the dark, with the fire going out, andthe lamp unlighted? There, it only wanted to be stirred; we shall havelight by which to see other's faces directly, '

'Fräulein has a headache and has gone to lie down, ' returned Jill, and, though I could not see her clearly, I knew at once by her voice that shehad been crying; only she would have been furious if I had noticed thefact. 'I hope I am not very wicked, but Fräulein's headaches are theredeeming points in her character; she has them so often, and then sheis obliged to lie down. '

'Of course you have offered to bathe her head?' I asked, a littlemischievously, but Jill, who was unusually subdued, took the questionin good part. 

'Oh yes, and I spoke to her quite civilly; but I suppose she saw thesavage gleam of delight in my eyes, for she was as cross as possible, andwent away muttering that "Meess Jocelyn had the heart like the flint; ifit had been Meess Sara, now--" and then she banged the door, so the paincould not have been so bad after all. It is my belief, ' went on Jill, 'that Fräulein always has a headache when she has a novel to finish. Mamma does not like her to set me an example of novel-reading, so sheis obliged to lock herself in her own room. '

I took no notice of this statement, as I rather leaned to this view ofthe subject myself. Fräulein's round placid face and excellent appetiteshowed no signs of suffering, and her constant plea of a bad headache wasonly received with any credulity by Aunt Philippa herself; neither Saranor I had much respect for Fräulein Sonnenschein, with her thick littlefigure, and big head covered with flimsy flaxen plaits. We were bothaware of the smooth selfishness of her character, though Sara chose toignore it for Jill's benefit. She was industrious, painstaking, andcapable of a great deal of dull routine in the way of duties, but shewas far too fond of her own comfort, and all the affection of which shewas capable was lavished upon her own relatives; she had cared for Saramoderately, but her other pupil, Jill, was a thorn in her side. So Ipassed over Fräulein's headache without comment, and took Jill to tasksomewhat sharply for the comfortless state of the room. A good scoldingwould rouse her from her dejection; the blinds were up and the curtainsundrawn; the remains of a meal, the usual five-o'clock schoolroom tea, were still on the table. Jill's German books were heaped up beside herempty cup and the glass dish that contained marmalade; the kettlespluttered and hissed in the blaze; Jill's little black kitten, Sooty, was dragging a half-knitted stocking across the rug. 

'I forgot to ring for Martha, ' faltered Jill; 'she will come presently. Don't be cross, Ursula. I like the room as it is; it is deliciouslyuntidy, just like Cinderella's kitchen; but there is no hope of the fairygodmother; and you are going away, and I shall be ten times moremiserable. '

It was this that was troubling her, then; for I had told her my plans andall about my letter to Uncle Max. Perhaps she had heard his voice in thehall, for Jill's pretty little ears heard everything that went on in thehouse: she admitted her knowledge at once when I taxed her with it. 

'Oh yes, I know Mr. Cunliffe is here. I heard papa go out and speak tohim; his voice sounded quite cheerful; and now he has come and it willall be settled; and you will go away and be happy with your poor people, and forget that I am fretting myself to death in this horrid room. '

She had drawn me down on the rug forcibly, --for she had the strength ofa young Titaness, --and was wrapping her arms around me with a sort offierce impatience. Her big eyes looked troubled and affectionate. Fewpeople admired Jill; she was undeveloped and awkward, full of angles, anda little brusque in manner; she had a way of thrusting out her big feetand squaring her shoulders that horrified Aunt Philippa. She was verybig, certainly, and would never possess Sara's slim grace. Her hair hadbeen cropped in some illness, and had not grown so fast as they expected, but hung in short thick lengths about her neck; it was always gettinginto her eyes, and was being pushed back impatiently, but she would muchoftener throw her head back with a fling like an unbroken pony, for shewas jerky as young things often are. 

But, though, people found fault with Jill, and often said that she wouldnever be as handsome as Sara, I liked her face. Perhaps it was a littleirregular and her complexion slightly sallow, but when she was flushed orexcited and she opened her big bright eyes, and one could see her littlewhite teeth gleaming as she laughed, I have thought Jill could lookalmost beautiful; but her good looks depended on her expression. 

'I suppose it will be settled, ' I replied, with a quick catch at mybreath, for the mere mention of the subject excited me; 'but you will bea good child and not fret if I do go away. No, I shall never forget you, 'as a close hug answered me; 'I love you too dearly for that; but I wantyou to be brave about it, dear, for I cannot be happy wasting my time anddoing nothing. You know how ill I was before I went to St. Thomas's, sothat Uncle Max was obliged to tell Aunt Philippa that I must have changeand hard work, or I should follow Charlie. '

'Oh yes, and we were all so frightened about you, you poor thing; youlooked so pinched and miserable. Well, I suppose I must let you go, asyou are so wicked as to disobey the proverb that "Charity begins athome. "'

'Listen to me, dear, ' I returned, quite pleased to find her soreasonable. 'I am very glad to know that I have been a comfort to you, but I shall hope to be so still. I will write long letters to you, Jill, and tell you all about my work, and you shall answer them, and talk to meon paper about the books you have read, and the queer thoughts you have, and how patient and strong you have grown, and how you have learned toput up with Fräulein's little ways and not aggravate her with youruntidiness. ' And here Jill's hand--and it was by no means a smallhand--closed my lips rather abruptly. But I was used to this sort ofsledge-hammer form of argument. 

'Oh, it is all very fine for you to sit there and moralise, Ursula, likea sort of sucking Diogenes, ' grumbled Jill, 'when you know you are goingto have your own way and live a deliciously sort of three-volume-novellife, not like any one else's, unless it were Don Quixote, or one of theKnights of the Round Table, poking about among a lot of strange people, doing wonderful things for them, until they are all ready to worship you. It is all very well for you, I say; but what would you do if you wereme?' cried Jill, in her shrill treble, and quite oblivious of grammaticalniceties; 'how would you like to be poor me, shut up here with that olddragon?'

This was a grand opportunity for airing my philosophy, and I rushed atit. To Jill's amazement, I shook my hair back in the way she usuallyshook her rough black mane, and, opening my eyes very widely, tried tocopy Jill's falsetto. 

'How thankful I am Jocelyn Garston and not Ursula Garston, ' I said, with rapid staccato. 'Poor Ursula! I am fond of her, but I would notchange places with her for the world. She has known such a lot of troublein her life, more than most girls, I believe; she has lost her lovelyhome, --such a sweet old place, --and her mother and father and Charlie, all her nearest and her most beloved, and she is so sad that she wantsto work hard and forget her troubles. '

'Oh dear!' sighed Jill at this. 

'How happy I am compared with her!' I went on, relapsing unconsciouslyinto my own voice. 'I am young and strong; I have all my life before me. True, poor Ralph has gone, but I was only a child, and did not miss him. I have a good father and an indulgent mother' ('Humph!' observed Jill atthis point, only she turned it into a cough); 'if my present schoolroomlife is not to my taste, I am sensible enough to know that the drudgeryand restraint will not last for long; in another year, or a year and ahalf, Fräulein, whom I certainly do not love, will go back to her owncountry. I shall be free to read the books I like, to study what Ichoose, or to be idle. I shall have Sara's cheerful companionship insteadof Fräulein's heavy company; I shall ride; I shall walk in the sunshine;I shall be a butterfly instead of a chrysalis; and if I care to beuseful, all sorts of paths will be open to me. '

'There, hold your tongue, ' interrupted Jill, with a rough kiss; 'ofcourse I know I am a wicked, ungrateful wretch, and that I ought to bemore patient. Yes, you shall go, Ursula; you are a darling, but I willnot want to keep you; you are too good to be wasted on me; it would belike pouring gold into a sieve. Well, I did cry about it this afternoon, but I won't be such a goose any more. I will live my life the same way, in spite of all of them, you will see if I don't, Ursula. Who is it whosays, "The thoughts of youth are long long thoughts"? I have such bigthoughts sometimes, especially when I sit in the dark. I send them outlike strange birds, all over the world, --up, up, everywhere, --but theynever come back to me again, ' finished Jill mournfully; 'if they buildnests I never know it: I just sit and puzzle out things, like poor littlegrimy Cinderella. '

Jill's eloquence did not surprise me. I knew she was very clever, andfull of unfledged poetry, and I had often heard her talk in that way; butI had no time to answer her, for just then the first gong sounded, and Icould hear Sara running up to her room to dress for dinner. Jill jumpedup, and tugged at the bell-rope rather fiercely. 

'Martha must have forgotten all about the tea-things; very likely thelamp is smoky and will have to be trimmed. I must not come and help you, Ursie dear, for I have to learn my German poetry before I dress. ' AndJill pulled down the blinds and drew the curtains with a vigorous hand. Martha looked quite frightened at the sight of Jill's energy and her ownremissness. 

'Why did you not ring before, Miss Jocelyn?' she said, plaintively, andin rather an injured voice, as she carried away the tea-tray. 

Uncle Max passed me in the passage; Clarence was following with hisportmanteau; he looked surprised to see me still in my bonnet with my furcape trailing over one arm; but I nodded to him cheerfully and wentquickly into my room. 

My life at St. Thomas's had inured me to hardness; it had contrastedstrangely with my luxurious surroundings at Hyde Park Gate. Aunt Philippacertainly treated me well in her way. I had a full share of the loavesand the fishes of the household; my room was as prettily furnished asJill's; a bright fire burnt in the grate; there were pink candles on thedressing-table. Martha, who waited upon us both, had put out my blackevening dress on the bed, and had warmed my dressing-gown; she would cometo me by and by with a civil offer of help. 

I was rather puzzled at the sight of a little breast-knot of whitechrysanthemums that lay on the table, until I remembered Uncle Max; noone had ever brought me flowers since Charlie's death; he had gatheredthe last that I ever wore--some white violets that grew in a littlehollow in the ground of Rutherford Lodge. I hesitated painfully beforeI pinned the modest little bouquet in my black dress, but I feared UncleMax would be hurt if I failed to appear in it. I wore mother's pearlnecklace as usual, and the little locket with her hair; somehow I tookmore pleasure in dressing myself this evening, when I knew Uncle Max'skind eyes would be on me. 

I had not hurried myself, and the second gong sounded before I reachedthe drawing-room, so I came face to face with Lesbia, who was coming outon Uncle Brian's arm. She kissed me in her quiet way, and said, 'How doyou do, Ursula?' just as though we had met yesterday, and passed on. 

I thought she looked prettier than ever that evening--like a snowprincess, in her white gown, with a little fleecy shawl drawn round hershoulders, for she took cold easily. She had a soft creamy complexion, and fair hair that she wore piled up in smooth plaits on her head; shehad plaintive blue eyes that could be brilliant at times, and a lovelymouth, and she was tall and graceful like Sara. 

They made splendid foils to each other; but in my opinion Sara carriedthe palm: she was more piquant and animated; her colouring was brighter, and she had more expression; but Charlie's Lily, as he called her, wasquite as much admired, and indeed they were both striking-looking girls. 

I saw that Uncle Max took a great deal of notice of Lesbia, who sat nextto him. I could not hear their conversation, but a pretty pink colourtinged Lesbia's face, and her eyes grew dark and bright as she listened, and I saw her glance at her left hand where the half-hoop of diamondsglistened that Charlie had placed there; she had not quite forgotten thedear boy then, for I am sure she sighed, but the next moment she hadturned from Uncle Max, and was engaged in an eager discussion with Saraabout some private theatricals in which Sara was to take a part. 

When we went back to the drawing-room we found Fräulein in her favouritered silk dress, trying to repair the damage that Sooty had wrought in herhalf-knitted stocking, and Jill, looking very bored and uncomfortable, turning over the photograph album in a corner. She looked awkward andsallow in her Indian muslin gown: the flimsy stuff did not suit her anymore than the pink coral beads she wore round her neck. Her black locksbobbed uneasily over the book. She looked bigger than ever when she stoodup to speak to Lesbia. 

'How that child is growing!' observed Aunt Philippa behind her fan toFräulein, whose round face was beaming with smiles at the entrance of theladies. 'That gown was made only a few weeks ago, and she is growing outof it already. Jocelyn, my love, why do you hunch your shoulders so when, you talk to Lesbia? I am always telling you of this awkward habit. '

Poor Jill frowned and reddened a little under this maternal admonition;her eyes looked black and fierce as she sat down again with herphotographs. This hour was always a penance to her; she could not speakor move easily, for fear of some remark from Aunt Philippa. When hermother and Fräulein interchanged confidences behind the big spangled fan, the poor child always thought they were talking about her. 

Her bigness, her awkwardness, troubled Jill excessively. Her clumsy handsand feet seemed always in her way. 

'I know I am the ugly duckling, ' she would say, with tears in her eyes;'but I shall never turn into a swan like Sara and Lesbia, --not that Iwant to be like them!'--with a little scorn in her voice. 'Lesbia is tootame, too namby-pamby, for my taste; and Sara is stupid. She laughs andtalks, but she never says anything that people have not said a hundredtimes before. Oh, I am so tired of it all! I grow more cross anddisagreeable every day, ' finished Jill, who was very frank on thesubject of her shortcoming. 

I would have stopped and talked to Jill, only Lesbia tapped me on the armrather peremptorily. 

'Come into the back drawing-room, ' she said, in a low voice. 'I want tospeak to you. --Jill, why do you not practise your new duet with Sara? Shewill play nothing but valses all the evening, unless you prevent it'

But Jill shook her head sulkily; she felt safer in her corner. Sara wasstrumming on the grand pianoforte as we passed her; her slim fingers wererunning lazily over the keys in the 'Verliebt und Verloren' valse. Clarence was lighting the candles; William was bringing in the coffee;and Colonel Ferguson was following rather unceremoniously. People werealways dropping in at Hyde Park Gate: perhaps Sara's bright eyesmagnetised them. We had colonels and majors and captains at our will, for there was a martial craze in the house: to-night it was grave, handsome Colonel Ferguson. 

He was rather a favourite with Uncle Brian and Aunt Philippa, perhapsbecause his troubles interested them; he had buried his young wife andchild in an Indian grave, and some people said that he had come toEngland to look out for a second wife. 

He was a very handsome man, and still young enough to find favour in agirl's sight, and his wealth made him a _grand parti_ in the parents'eyes. At present he had bestowed equal attention on Sara and Lesbia, though close observers might have noticed that he lingered longest bySara's side. 

'How do you do, Colonel Ferguson?' said Sara, nodding to him in herbright, unconcerned way, as she finished her valse. 'Mother is overthere talking to Fräulein: you will find your coffee ready for you. ' Andher glossy little head bent over the keys again, while the lazy musictrickled through her fingers. Though Colonel Ferguson did as he was told, I fancied he would keep a close watch over the young performer. 

The inner drawing-room had heavy velvet hangings that closed over thearchway; on cold evenings the curtains would be drawn rather closely;there would be a bright fire, and a single lamp lighted. Very often UncleBrian would retire with his book or paper when Sara's valses wearied himor the room filled with young officers. Since Ralph's death he hadcertainly become rather taciturn and unsociable. Aunt Philippa, who lovedgaiety, never accompanied him, but now and then Jill would creep from hercorner, when her mother was not looking, and slip behind the rubycurtains. I have caught her there sometimes sitting on the rug, with herrough head against her father's knee; they would both of them look alittle shamefaced, as if they were guilty of some fault. 

'Go to bed, Jill; it is time for little girls to be asleep, ' he wouldsay, patting her cheek. Jill would nestle it on his coat-sleeve for amoment, as she obeyed him. Her father had the softest place in her heart. She always would have it that her mother was hard on her, but she nevercomplained of want of kindness from her father. 

'Colonel Ferguson comes very often, ' remarked Lesbia, a little peevishly, as she walked to the fireplace to warm herself: she was a chilly being, and loved warmth. 'His name is Donald, is it not? some one told me so:Donald Ferguson. Well, he is not bad; he may do for Sara. She has plentyof quicksilver to balance his gravity. '

I was rather surprised at this beginning; but without waiting for anyanswer, she went on. 

'What is this Mr. Cunliffe tells me?' she asked, fixing her blue eyeson my face with marked interest. 'You are going to carry out your oldscheme, Ursula, about nursing poor people and singing to them. He tellsme you have chosen Heathfield for your future home, and that he is tofind you lodgings. Sit down, dear, and tell me all about it, ' she went oneagerly. 'I thought you had given up all that when--when--' but here shestopped and her lips trembled; of course she meant when Charlie died, butshe rarely spoke his name. I would not let her see my astonishment, --shehad never seemed so sisterly before, --but I took the seat close to herand talked to her as openly as though she were Jill or Uncle Max; now andthen I paused, and we could hear Colonel Ferguson's deep voice: he wasevidently turning over the pages of Sara's music. 

'Go on, Ursula; I like to hear it, ' Lesbia would say when I hesitated;she was not looking at me, but at the fire, with her cheek supportedagainst her hand. 

'What do you think of it?' I asked, presently, when I had finished andwe had both been silent a few minutes listening to one of Mendelssohn'sSongs without Words that Sara was playing very nicely. 

'What do I think of it?' she replied, and her voice startled me, it wasso full of pain. 'Oh, Ursula, I think you are to be envied! If I couldonly come with you and work too!--but there is mother, she could not dowithout me, and so we must just go on in the same old way. '

I was so shocked at the hopelessness of her tone, so taken aback at herwords, that I could not answer her for a moment: it seemed inconceivableto me that she could be saying such things. Poor pretty Lesbia, whomCharlie had loved and whom I considered a mere fragile butterfly. Shewas quite pale now, and her eyes filled suddenly with tears. 

'You do not believe me, Ursula; no, I was right--you never understood me. I often told dear Charlie so. You think, because I laugh and dance and doas other girls do, that I have forgotten--that I do not suffer. Do youthink I shall ever find any one so good and kind in this world again? Oh, you are hard on me, and I am so miserable, so unhappy, without Charlie. And I am not like you: I cannot work myself into forgetfulness; I muststop with mother and do as she bids me, and she says it is my duty to begay. '

I was so ashamed of myself, of my mean injustice, that I was very nearlycrying myself as I asked her pardon. 

'Why do you say that?' she returned, almost pettishly, only she looked somiserable. 'I have nothing to forgive. I only want you to be good to meand not think the worst, for I'm really fond of you, Ursula, only you areso reserved and cold with me, '

'My poor dear, ' I returned, taking the pretty face between my hands andkissing it. 'I will never be unkind to you again. Forgive me if I havemisunderstood you: for Charlie's sake I want to love you. ' And then sheput her head down on my shoulder and cried a little, and bemoaned herselffor being so unhappy; and all the time I comforted her my guiltyconscience owned that Uncle Max was right. 

CHAPTER IV

UNCLE MAX BREAKS THE ICE

Uncle Max was one of those men who like to take their own way aboutthings; he never hurried himself, or allowed other people's impatienceto get the better of him. 'There is a time for everything, as Solomonsays, ' was his favourite speech when any one reproached him withprocrastination; 'depend upon it, the best work is done slowly. What isthe use of so much hurry? When death comes we shall be sure to leavesomething unfinished. '

So for two whole days he just chatted commonplaces with Aunt Philippa, rallied Sara, who loved a joke, and talked politics with Uncle Brian, andnever mentioned one word about my scheme; if I looked anxiously at him hepretended to misunderstand my meaning, and, in fact, behaved frommorning to night in a most provoking way. 

At last I could bear it no longer, and one wet afternoon, when I knew hewas in the drawing-room, making believe to write his letters, but inreality getting a deal of amusement out of Sara's sprightly conversation, for she was never silent for two minutes if she could help it, I shutmyself up in my own room, and would not go near him. I knew he would askwhere Ursula was every half-hour, and would soon guess that I was out ofhumour about something; and possibly in an hour or two his consciencewould prick him, and he would feel that I deserved reparation. 

This little piece of ill-tempered artifice bore excellent fruit, forbefore I had nearly finished the piece of plain sewing I had set myselfas a sort of penance, there was a tap at the door, and Sara came in, looking very excited, with her bright eyes full of wonder. 

'Oh, Ursula, there is such a fuss downstairs! Uncle Max has been tellingus all about your absurd scheme. Mother is as cross as possible; she isso angry, and yet half crying at the same time. '

'And Uncle Brian, ' I exclaimed eagerly, --'what does he say?'

'Oh, you know father's way. He just smiled as though the whole thingwere beneath his notice, and went on reading his paper, and when motherappealed to him he said, coolly, that it was none of his business or herseither if Ursula chose to make a fool of herself; she had the right to doso, --something like that, you know. '

'How very pleasant!' I remarked satirically, for I hated the way UncleBrian put down his foot on things that displeased him. I preferred AuntPhilippa's voluble arguments to that. 

'To make things worse, ' went on Sara cheerfully, 'Mrs. Fullerton andLesbia have come in, and mother and Mrs. Fullerton are trying which cantalk the faster. Lesbia asked for you, and then did not speak anotherword. What shall you do, Ursula, dear?'

'I shall just go down and ask Aunt Philippa for a cup of tea, ' I returnedcoolly, folding up my work. Sara looked half frightened at my boldness, and then she began to laugh. 

'It is so absurd, you know, ' she returned, linking her arm in mineaffectionately. 'What ever put such nonsense in your head? you are socomfortable here with us, and you have your own way, and I never teaseyou now about going to balls. It is so silly of you trying to makeyourself miserable, and living in poky lodgings. You might as well bea fakir, or a dervish, or a Protestant nun, or anything else that isunpleasant. '

'My dear, you do not know anything about it, ' I answered rather angrily. 'You and I are different people, Sara; we shall never think the sameabout anything. '

'Well, I don't know, ' she returned, half affronted: 'when people try tobe extra good I always find they succeed in making themselves extradisagreeable. It is far more religious, in my opinion, to be pleasantto every one, and make them believe that there is something cheerfulin life, instead of pulling a long face and doing such dreadfully badthings. ' And after this little fling, in which she tried to be verysevere, only as usual her dimples betrayed her, she begged me quiteearnestly to smooth my hair, as though I were breaking one of thecommandments by keeping it rough; and, having obliged her in thisparticular, and allowed her to peep at her own pretty face over myshoulder, we went down to the drawing-room as though we were the bestof friends. 

It was impossible to quarrel with Sara; she was as gay and irresponsibleas a child; one might as well have been angry with a butterfly forbrushing his gold-powdered wings across your face; the gentle flappingsof Sara's speeches never raised a momentary vexation in my mind. I wasoften weary of her, but then we do weary of children's company sometimes;in certain moods her bright sparkling effervescence seemed to jar uponme: but I never liked to see her sad. Sadness did not become Sara; whenshe cried, which was as seldom as possible, and only when some one died, or she lost a pet canary, all her beauty dimmed, and she looked limp andforlorn, like a crushed butterfly or a draggled flower. 

I do not think I was quite as cool and unconcerned as I wished to appearwhen I marched into the drawing-room, and, after greeting Mrs. Fullertonand Lesbia, asked Aunt Philippa for a cup of tea. 

Quite a hubbub of voices had struck on my ear as I opened the door, andyet complete silence met me. Lesbia, indeed, whispered 'Poor Ursula' as Ikissed her, but Mrs. Fullerton looked at me with grave disapproval. AuntPhilippa was sitting bolt upright behind the tea-tray, and handed me mycup, rather as Lady Macbeth did the dagger. I received it, however, asthough it were my due, and glanced at Uncle Max; but he was too wise tolook at me, so I said, as coolly as possible, 'Why are you so silent, andyet you were talking loudly enough before Sara and I came into the room?'For there is nothing like taking the bull of a dilemma by the horns; andI had plenty of, let us say, native impudence, only, personally, I shouldhave given it another name; and then, of course, I brought the storm uponme. 

Sara was right. Aunt Philippa certainly talked the faster; Mrs. Fullertontried her best to edge in a word now and then, --a very scathing word, too, --but there was no silencing that flow of rapid talk. I quite enviedher pure diction and the ingenious turn of her sentences; she made somuch of her own admirable foresight and care of me, and so little of mymerits. 

'I always said something like this would happen, Ursula. I have told youruncle often, --Brian, why don't you speak?--yes, indeed, I have told himoften that I never met any one so strong-minded and self-willed. You neednot laugh, Sara, --unless you do it to provoke me, --but I have been like amother to Ursula. Thank heaven, my daughters are not of this pattern!they do not mistake eccentricity for goodness, or flaunt ridiculousnotions in the faces of their elders. '

This was too bad of Aunt Philippa; only she had lost her temper, and wasfeeling utterly aggrieved, and Mrs. Fullerton, who was a meddlesome, good-humoured woman, and who had nothing of which to complain in lifeexcept a little over-plumpness and too much money, was agreeing with herlike a good neighbour and friend. 

Uncle Max was smiling, and pulling his beard behind his paper; but hemade no attempt to check the flow of feminine eloquence. He had said hissay like a man, and had taken my part behind my back, and he knew womenwere like new wine, --very sound and sweet, but they must find their vent. Aunt Philippa would be kinder ever after if we let her scold us properly, and took our scolding with a good grace. 

Once or twice Uncle Brian let his eye-glasses dangle, and spoke a peevishword or two. 

'Nonsense, my dear! have I not said over and over again that this isnone of our business? Ursula is old enough to know her own mind; if shechooses to be eccentric we cannot hinder her. All this talk goes fornothing. '

'Ah, but, Mr. Garston, young people want guidance, ' observed Mrs. Fullerton impressively, for Aunt Philippa was beginning to sob, partlyfrom the effects of wasted eloquence, and perhaps with a little shortnessof breathing: anyway, her anger was working itself out. 'If you were toadvise Ursula as you would Sara, your influence might induce her tochange her mind. '

'I cannot endorse your opinion, Mrs. Fullerton, ' returned Uncle Briandrily. 'I am far too keen an observer of human nature to think we cantalk sense to deaf ears with any benefit. --Ursula, my child, ' turning tome with a smile that might have been kinder, but perhaps he meant it tobe so, 'there is not a grain of sense in your scheme: in spite ofCunliffe's eloquence, it will not hold water; in fact, in a little whileyou will be glad to come back to us again. When you do, I think I canpromise that we will not laugh at you more than once a day, and thenmoderately. '

Now, this speech of Uncle Brian's made me very angry. No doubt he meantto be kind, and to show me that if my scheme failed I might come home tothem again; but I was so much in earnest that his satire and his laughingat me hurt me more than all Aunt Philippa's hard speeches. So I flushedup, and for the first time tears came into my eyes; for he had prophesiedfailure, and I could not bear that, and I might have said words in mysudden irritation for which I should have been sorry afterwards, onlyLesbia, who had sat behind me all this time, as silent and soft-breathedas a mouse, got up quickly and took my hand and stood by me. 

'I think you have all said plenty of hard things to Ursula, and no onehas been kind to her. I think she deserves praise and not all this blame;if she cannot lead the comfortable life we do, thinking how we are to getthe most pleasure and enjoy ourselves, it is because she is better thanwe are, and thinks more about her duty. Mrs. Garston, --I do not mean tobe rude, I am far too fond of you all, because you have all been so goodto me, '--and here Lesbia's while throat swelled, --'but I cannot bear tohear Ursula so blamed. Mr. Cunliffe, I know you agree with me, you saidso many nice things when Ursula was out of the room. '

This little burst of eloquence surprised us all. Uncle Max saidafterwards that he was quite touched by it. Lesbia was generally so quietand undemonstrative that her words took Aunt Philippa by storm. She mighthave been offended by Lesbia saying that I was better than the rest ofthem, --a fact that my conscience most emphatically contradicted; but whenLesbia kissed her, and begged her to think better of things, she cried alittle because Charlie was not there to see how pretty she could look, and then cheered up, and made overtures that I might come and kiss hertoo, which I did most willingly, and with a full heart, remembering shewas my father's sister and had been good to me according to her lights. 

When Uncle Max saw that reconciliation was imminent, and that by Lesbia'shelp I was likely to have the best of it, my own way, and a good deal ofpetting to follow, --for they would all make more of me during the shorttime I would be with them, --he threw down his paper in high good-humourand joined us. 

'That is what I call sensible, Mrs. Garston, ' he said, paying her acompliment at once, as she sat flushed and fanning herself, 'and Ursulaought to feel herself very grateful to you for your forbearance andacquiescence in her plan. '

I do not believe he knew any more than myself where the forbearance hadbeen, but he took it all for granted. 

'Nothing puts heart into a person more than feeling sure of one'sfriends' sympathy. Now, we all of us, even Garston, in spite of hisdisapproval, wish Ursula good success in her scheme; some of us thinkbetter of it than others; for my own part, I am so convinced that shewill have so many difficulties and disappointments to hamper her thatI cannot bear to say a discouraging word. ' And yet he had said dozens, only I was magnanimous and forgave him. 

This settled the matter, for Aunt Philippa grew so sorry for me that shewas almost out of breath again pitying me. 'I do not believe she can helpit, ' she said, in rather an audible aside to Mrs. Fullerton; 'her motherhad a sort of craze about these things, and seemed to think it part ofher religion to make herself uncomfortable; and poor Herbert was quite asbad, only he was a clergyman, and it did not matter so much with him; soI suppose the poor child inherits it. This sort of thing runs infamilies, ' went on Aunt Philippa, in an awe-struck voice, as though itwere a species of insanity. 'I am only thankful that my own girls havenot got these notions. '

Mrs. Fullerton found out now that it was time to go home and dress fordinner, so Lesbia came round to me and whispered that I must come and seeher soon, for she wanted to talk to me, and not to Sara, who was alwaysrunning in and out. 

'I am very fond of Sara, and like to see her, she amuses me so; but whenI want advice or sympathy I feel I must come to you now, Ursula. ' Andthough she had never said so much to me before, I knew she meant it; thatthere was some change in her, some want of nature or heaven knows whatfeminine need, when she missed me, and wanted me, and found some comfortin the thought of me. 

There was no time for more discussion, and indeed we were all a littleweary of it; but after dinner Uncle Max, who seemed in excellent spirits, as though he had done something wonderful and was proud of his ownachievements, beckoned me into the inner drawing-room under pretence ofshowing me some engravings, and when we found ourselves alone, he saidpleasantly, though abruptly--

'Well, Ursula, I thought you would be glad to have an opportunity ofthanking me, for of course you feel very grateful to me for all thetrouble I have taken. '

'Oh, indeed!' I returned scornfully, for it would never do to encouragethis vainglorious spirit. 'I should have felt more disposed to thank youif you had not kept me for two days in suspense!'

'That is the result of doing a woman a good turn, ' shaking his headmournfully. 'The moment she gets her own way, she turns upon you andrends you. Fie, fie on you, little she-bear!'

'Oh, Max, do be quiet a moment. '

'Max, indeed! Where are your manners, child? What would Garston say if heheard your flippancy?' But by the way he stroked his beard and looked atme, I saw he was not displeased. No one would have taken him for my unclewho had seen us together, for he was a young-looking man, and I was oldfor my age. 

'I do want you to be serious a moment, ' I went on plaintively. 'I amreally very obliged to you for having broken the ice: after all, I havenot been badly submerged. I soon rose to the surface when Lesbia held outa helping hand. '

'Well, now, Ursula, do you not agree with me?--was not Lesbia a darling?'

'She was very nice and sisterly, ' I confessed. 'She has more in her thanI ever thought. Poor little thing! I am afraid she is very unhappy, onlyshe hides it so. '

'Just so. That shows her good sense: the world is very intolerant of aprotracted grief; its victims must learn to dry their eyes quickly. '

Uncle Max was becoming philosophical: this would never do. 

'Never mind about Lesbia, ' I observed impatiently, 'we can talk abouther in the next room; what I want to know is, how soon I may come toHeathfield. ' For I knew how dilatory men can be about other people'sbusiness, and I fully expected that Uncle Max would put me off to thesummer. 

'You may come as soon as you like, ' he returned, rather too carelessly. 'Shall we say next week, or will that be too early?'

I suppressed my astonishment cleverly, but was down on him in a moment. 

'I should like to have some place found for me first, ' I remarkedsententiously; 'you must take lodgings for me first, and then I cansettle my plans. '

'Oh, that is done already, ' he observed cheerfully. 'I have spoken toMrs. Barton about you, and she has very nice rooms vacant. I wanted themfor Tudor, until I mooted the vicarage plan. It is a tidy little place, Ursula, and I think you will be very comfortable there. '

I felt that Uncle Max deserved praise, and I gave it to him withoutstint or limit; he took it nobly, like a man who feels he has earnedhis reward. 

'I fancy I have done a neat thing, ' he said modestly. 

'Directly I read your letter and saw that you were in earnest, I wentdown to Mrs. Barton and had a long talk with her. Do you remember theWhite Cottage, Ursula, that stands just where the road dips a little, after you have passed the vicarage? It is on the main road that leads tothe common: there is a field, and one or two houses, and on the right theroad branches off to Main Street, where my poorer parishioners live. Oh, I see that you have forgotten. Well, there is a low white cottage, standing far back from the road, with rather a pretty garden, and a fieldat the back: people call it the White Cottage; though it is smothered injasmine in the summer; and there is a nice little parlour with a bedroomover it. That will do capitally, I fancy. Old Mrs. Meredith lived thereuntil her death, and she left her furniture to Mrs. Barton. '

I expressed myself as being well pleased at this description, and theninquired a little anxiously if there were room for my piano and my books. 

'Oh yes, it is quite a good-sized room; that is why I wanted it forTudor. You will not mind it being a little low: it is only a cottage, remember. There is a nice easy couch, I spotted that at once, and acapital easy-chair, and some corner cupboards that will, hold a store ofgood things; you can make it as pretty as possible. '

'And Mrs. Barton, Max, --is she a pleasant person?'

'There could not be a pleasanter. You will find yourself in clover, Ursula, you will indeed; she is a nice little woman, and has all thecardinal virtues, I believe; she is a widow and has a big son who worksat Roberts's, the builder's. Nathaniel is very big, very big indeed, somuch so that I feel it my duty to warn you of his size, for fear youshould receive a shock. The cottage just holds him when he sits down, and his mother's one anxiety is that he should not bring down the kitchenceiling more than once a year, as it hurts his head and comes expensive;he has a black collie they call Tinker, the cleverest dog in the place, so Nathaniel says; and these three constitute the household of the WhiteCottage. '

I was charmed with Uncle Max's account; the cottage seemed cosy andhomelike. I knew I could trust his opinion; he was a good judge ofcharacter, and was seldom wrong in his estimate of a man, woman, orchild, and he would be especially careful to intrust me to a thoroughlyreliable person. I begged him therefore to close with Mrs. Barton atonce; she asked a very moderate price for her rooms, and I could haveafforded higher terms. It would not take me long to pack my books andother treasures: some of them I should be obliged to leave behind, butI must take all Charlie's books and my own, and my favourite pictures andbits of china, and a store of fine linen for my own use. I was somewhatdemoralised by the luxury at Hyde Park Gate, and liked to make myselfcomfortable after my own way. Poor Charlie used to laugh at me and sayI should be an old maid, and, as I considered this fact inevitable, Itook his teasing in good part. 

I told Uncle Max that I thought I could be ready in another week, andthat I saw no good in delay. He assented to this, and was kind enoughto add that the sooner I came the better. I was a little dismayed tofind that he had not considered himself bound to keep my counsel; he hadtalked about my plan to his curate, Mr. Tudor, and I gathered from hismanner, for he refused to tell me any more, that he had discussed itwith another person. 

This was too bad, but I would not let him see that this vexed me. Iwanted to settle in and begin my work quietly before the neighbourhoodknew of my existence; but if Uncle Max published my intended arrival inevery house he visited, I felt I could not even worship in comfort, forfear the congregation should be eying me suspiciously. 

I thought it better to change the subject: so I began to question himabout Mr. Tudor and Mrs. Drabble, the latter being the ruling power atthe vicarage; and he fell upon the bait and swallowed it eagerly, so myvexation passed unnoticed. 

Uncle Max did not live quite alone. His house was large, far too largefor an unmarried man, and he was very sociable by nature, so he inducedhis curate to take up his abode with him; but the two men and Mrs. Drabble, the housekeeper, and the maid under her, could not fill it, andseveral rooms were shut up. Lawrence Tudor had been a pupil of Uncle Max, and the two were very much attached to each other. Uncle Max had broughthim up once or twice to Hyde Park Gate, and we had all been much pleasedwith him. He was not in the least good-looking, but I remember Sara saidhe was gentlemanly and pleasant and had a nice voice. I knew his frankmanner and evident affection for Uncle Max prepossessed me in his favour;he had been very athletic in his college days, and was passionately fondof boating and cricket, and he was very musical and sang splendidly. 

The little Uncle Max had told me about him had strongly interested me. The Tudors had been wealthy people, and Uncle Max had spent more than onelong vacation at their house, coaching Walter Tudor, who was going in foran army examination, and reading Greek with Lawrence (or Laurie, as theygenerally called him) and another brother, Ben. 

Lawrence had meant to enter the army too. Nelson, the eldest of all, wasalready in India, and had a captaincy. They were all fine, stalwart youngmen, fond of riding and hunting and any out-of-door pursuit. But therenever would have been a parson among them but for the failure of thecompany in which Mr. Tudor's money was invested. He had been one of thedirectors, and from wealth he was reduced to poverty. 

There was no money to buy Walter a commission, so he enlisted, bringingfresh trouble to his parents by doing so. Ben entered an office, butLawrence was kept at Oxford by an uncle's generosity, and under strongpressure consented to take orders. 

The poor young fellow had no special vocation, and he owned to Maxafterwards that he feared that he had done the wrong thing. I am afraidMax thought so too, but he would not discourage him by saying so; on thecontrary, he treated him in a bracing manner, telling him that he hadput his hand to the plough, and that there must be no looking backward, and bidding him pluck up heart and do his duty as well as he could; andthen he smoothed his way by asking him to be his curate and live withhim, so saving him from the loneliness and discomfort of some curates'existence, who are at the mercy of their landladies and laundresses. 

So the two lived merrily together, and Lawrence Tudor was all the betterman and parson for Uncle Max's genial help and sympathy; and though Mrs. Drabble grumbled and did not take kindly to him at first, she made himthoroughly comfortable, and mended his socks and sewed on his buttons inmotherly fashion. Mrs. Drabble was quite a character in her way; she wasa fair, fussy little woman, who looked meek enough to warrant the best oftempers; she had a soft voice and manner that deceived you, and a vaguerambling sort of talk that landed you nowhere; but if ever woman could bea mild virago Mrs. Drabble was that woman. She worshipped her master, andnever allowed any one to find fault with him; but with Mr. Tudor, or themaid, or any one who interfered with her, she could be a flaxen-hairedtermagant; she could scold in a low voice for half an hour togetherwithout minding a single stop or pausing to take breath. Mr. Tudor usedto laugh at her, or get out of her way, when he had had enough of it; sheonly tried it on her master once, but Max stood and stared at her withsuch surprise and such puzzled good-humour that she grew ashamed andstopped in the very middle of a sentence. 

But, with all her temper, neither of them could have spared Mrs. Drabble, she made them so comfortable. 

CHAPTER V

'WHEN THE CAT IS AWAY'

Aunt Philippa had one very good point in her character: she was not ofa nagging disposition. When she scolded she did it thoroughly, and wasperhaps a long time doing it, but she never carried it into the next day. 

Jill always said her mother was too indolent for a prolonged effort; butthen poor Jill often said naughty things. But we all of us knew that AuntPhilippa's wrath soon evaporated; it made her hot and uncomfortable whileit lasted, and she was glad to be quit of it: so she refrained herselfprudently when I spoke of my approaching departure; and, being of abustling temperament, and not averse to changes unless they gave her muchtrouble, she took a great deal of interest in my arrangements, and boughta nice little travelling-clock that she said would be useful to me. 

Seeing her so pleasant and reasonable, I made a humble petition that Jillmight be set free from some of her lessons to help me pack my books andornaments. She made a little demur at this, and offered Draper's servicesinstead; but it was Jill I wanted, for the poor child was fretting sadlyabout my going away, and I thought it would comfort her to help me. Soafter a time Aunt Philippa relented, after extorting a promise from Jillthat she would work all the harder after I had gone; and, as young peopleseldom think about the future except in the way of foolish dreams, Jillcheerfully gave her word. So for the last few days we were constantlytogether, and Fräulein had an unexpected holiday. Jill worked like ahorse in my service, and only broke one Dresden group; she came to mehalf crying with the fragment in her hand, --the poor little shepherdesshad lost her head as well as her crook, and the pink coat of the shepherdhad an unseemly rent in it, --but I only laughed at the disaster, andwould not scold her for her awkwardness. China had a knack of slippingthrough Jill's fingers; she had a loose uncertain grasp of things thatwere brittle and delicate; she had not learned to control her muscles orrestrain her strength. She had a way of lifting me up when I teased herthat turns me giddy to remember: I was quite a child in her hands. Shewas always ashamed of herself when she had done it, and begged my pardon, and as long as she put me on my feet again I was ready to forgiveanything. Jill felt a sort of forlorn consolation in using up herstrength in my service: she would hardly let me do anything myself;I might sit down and order her about from morning to night if I chose. 

I made her very happy by leaving some of my possessions under hercare--some books that I knew she would like to read, and other treasuresthat I had locked up in my wardrobe. Jill had the key and could rummageif she liked, but she told me quite seriously that it would comfort herto come and look at them sometimes. 'It will feel as though you werecoming back some day, Ursie, ' she said affectionately. 

Late one afternoon I left her busy in my room, and went to the AlbertHall Mansions to bid good-bye to Lesbia. I had called once or twice, buthad always missed her. So I slipped across in the twilight, as I thoughtat that hour they would have returned from their drive. 

The Albert Hall Mansions were only a stone's throw from Uncle Brian'shouse, so I considered myself safe from any remonstrance on AuntPhilippa's part. I liked to go there in the soft, early dusk; the smoothnoiseless ascent of the lift, and the lighted floors that we passed, gaveone an odd, dreamy feeling. Mrs. Fullerton had a handsome suite ofapartments on the third floor, and there was a beautiful view from herdrawing-room window of the Park and the Albert Memorial. It was a nice, cheerful situation, and Mrs. Fullerton, who liked gaiety, preferred itto Rutherford Lodge, though Lesbia had been born there and she had passedher happiest days in it. 

I found Mrs. Fullerton alone, but she seemed very friendly, and wasevidently glad to see me. I suppose I was better company than her ownthoughts. 

I liked Mrs. Fullerton, after a temperate fashion. She was a nice littlewoman, and would have been nicer still if she had talked less and thoughtmore. But when one's words lie at the tip of one's tongue there is littletime for reflection, and there are sure to be tares among the wheat. 

She was looking serious this evening, but that did not interfere with hercomeliness or her pleasant manners. I found her warmth gratifying, andprepared to unbend more than usual. 

'Sit down, my dear. No, not on that chair: take the easy one by the fire. You are looking rather fagged, Ursula. It seems to be the fashion withyoung people now: they get middle-aged before their time. Oh yes, Lesbiais out. It is the Engleharts' "At Home, " and she promised to go with Mrs. Pierrepoint. But she will be back soon. Now we are alone, I want to askyou a question. I am rather anxious about Lesbia. Dr. Pratt says thereis a want of tone about her. She is too thin, and her appetite is notgood. The child gets prettier every day, but she looks far too delicate. '

I could not deny this. Lesbia certainly looked far from strong, and thenshe took cold so easily. I hinted that perhaps late hours and so muchvisiting (for the Fullertons had an immense circle of acquaintances, with possibly half a dozen friends among them) might be bad for her. 

Mrs. Fullerton looked rather mournful at this. 

'I hope you have not put that in her head, ' she returned uneasily. 'All yesterday she was begging me to give up the place and go back toRutherford Lodge. Major Parkhurst is going to India in February, and sothe house will be on our hands. '

'I think the change will be good for Lesbia. It is such a pretty place, and she was always so fond of it. '

'Oh, it is pretty enough, ' with a discontented air; 'but life in avillage is a very tame affair. There are not more than four families inthe whole place whom we can visit, and when we want a little gaiety wehave to drive into Pinkerton. '

'I think it would be good for Lesbia's health, Mrs. Fullerton. '

'Well, well, ' a little peevishly, 'we must talk to Dr. Pratt about it. But how is Lesbia to settle well if I bury her in that poky littlevillage? Perhaps I ought not to say so to you, Ursula; but poor dearCharlie has been dead these two years, so there can be no harm inspeaking of such things now. But Sir Henry Sinclair is here a great deal, and there is no mistaking his intentions, only Lesbia keeps him at sucha distance. '

I thought it very bad taste of Mrs. Fullerton always to talk to me aboutLesbia's suitors. Lesbia never mentioned such things herself. As far as Icould judge, she was very shy with them all. I could not believe that theplacid young baronet had any chance with her. She might possibly marry, but poor Charlie's successor would hardly be a thick-set, clumsy youngman, with few original ideas of his own. Colonel Ferguson would have beenfar better; but he evidently preferred Sara. 

I was spared any reply, for Lesbia entered the room at that moment. Shelooked more delicately fair than usual, perhaps because of the contrastwith her heavy furs. Her hair shone like gold under her little velvetbonnet, but, though she was so warmly dressed, she shivered and crept asclose as possible to the fire. 

Mrs. Fullerton had some notes to write, so she went into the dining-roomto write them and very good-naturedly left us by ourselves. 

Lesbia looked at me rather wistfully. 

'I have missed you twice, Ursula. I am so sorry; and now you go the dayafter to-morrow. I wish I could do something for you. Is there nothingyou could leave in my charge?'

'Only Jill, ' I said, half laughing. 'If you would take a little morenotice of her after I have gone, I should be so thankful to you. '

I thought Lesbia seemed somewhat amused at the request. 

'Poor old Jill! I will do my best; but she never will talk to me. I thinkI should like her better than Sara if she would only open her lips to me. Well, Ursula, what have you and mother been talking about?'

'About Rutherford Lodge, ' I returned quickly. 'Do you really want to goback there?'

'Did mother talk about that?' looking excessively pleased. 'Oh yes, Iam longing to go back. I don't want to frighten you, Ursie, dear, --and, indeed, there is no need, --but this life is half killing me. I am tooclose to Hyde Park Gate; one never gets a chance of forgetting oldtroubles; and then mother is always saying gaiety is good for me, and shewill accept every invitation that comes; and I get so horribly tired; andthen one cannot fight so well against depression. '

I took her hand silently, but made no answer; but I suppose she felt mysympathy. 

'You must not think I am wicked and rebellious, ' she went on, with asigh. 'I promised dear Charlie to be brave, and not let the trouble spoilmy life; he would have it that I was so young that happiness must returnafter a time, and so I mean to do my best to be happy, for mother's sake, as well as my own; and I know Charlie would not like me to go ongrieving, ' with a sad little smile. 

'No, darling, and I quite understand you. ' And she cheered up at that. 

'I knew you would, and that is why I want to tell you things. I havetried to do as mother wished, but I do not think her plan answers;excitement carries one away, and one can be as merry as other girlsfor a time, but it all comes back worse than ever. '

'Mere gaiety never satisfied an aching heart yet. '

'No; I told mother so, and I begged her to go back to Rutherford becauseit is so quiet and peaceful there and I think I shall be happier. I shallhave my garden and conservatory, and there will be plenty of riding andtennis. I am very fond of our vicar's wife, Mrs. Trevor, and I ratherenjoy helping her in the Sunday-school and at the mothers' meeting; notthat I do much, for I am not like you, Ursula, but I like to pretend tobe useful sometimes. '

'I see what you mean, Lesbia: your life will be more natural and lessstrained than it is here. '

'Yes, and time will hang less heavy on my hands. I do love gardening, Ursula. I know I shall forget my troubles when I find myself with dearold Patrick again, grumbling because I will pick the roses. I shall sleepbetter in my little room, and wake less unhappy. Oh, mother!' as Mrs. Fullerton entered at that moment with a half-finished note in her hand, 'I am telling Ursula how home-sick I am, and how I long for the dear oldLodge. Do let us go back, mother darling: I want to hunt for violetsagain in the little shady hollow beyond the lime-tree walk. '

'Yes, dearest, we will go if you really wish it so much, ' returned Mrs. Fullerton, with a sigh. 'Why, my pet, did you think I should refuse?' asLesbia put her arms round her neck and thanked her. 'When a mother hasonly got one child she is not likely to deny her much: is she, Ursula?'

'Oh, mother, how good you are to me!' returned Lesbia, and her blue eyeswere shining with joy. When Mrs. Fullerton had left the room again shetold me that she had often cried herself to sleep with the longing to bein her old home again; she loved every flower in the garden, every animalabout the place, and she grew quite bright and cheerful as she plannedout her days. No, there was nothing morbid about Lesbia's nature; she wasan honest, well-meaning girl, who had had a great disappointment in herlife; she meant to outlive it if she could, to be as happy as possible. A wise instinct told her that her best chance of healing lay in countrysights and sounds: the fresh gallop over the downs, the pleasant saunterthrough the sweet Sussex lanes, the sweet breath of her roses andcarnations, would all woo her back to health and cheerfulness. When thepretty colour came back into Lesbia's face her mother would not regrether sacrifice; and then I remembered that Charlie's friend HarcourtManners lived about half a dozen miles from Rutherford, and alwaysattended the Pinkerton dances, and he was a nice intelligent fellow. But I scolded back the foolish thoughts, and felt ashamed of myself forentertaining them. 

I parted from Lesbia very affectionately, for she seemed loath to saygood-bye, but I knew poor Jill would be grumbling at my absence; theothers were dining out, and I had promised to join the schoolroom tea, which was to be half an hour later on my account, but it was nearly sixbefore I made my appearance, very penitent at my delay, and fullyexpecting a scolding. 

I found Jill, however, kneeling on the rug, making toast, with Sooty inher arms; she had blacked her face in her efforts, but looked in highgood-humour. 

'Fräulein has gone out for the whole evening: that freckled FräuleinMisschenstock has been here, and has invited her to tea and supper. Mammasaid she could go, as you would remain with me, so we shall be alone andcosy for the whole evening. Now, you may pour out tea, if you like, for Ihave all this buttered toast on my mind. I am as hungry as a hunter; butthere is a whole seed-cake, I am glad to see. Now, darling, be quick, foryou have kept me so long waiting. ' And Jill brushed vigorously at herblackened cheek, and beamed at me. 

But, alas! we had reckoned without our host, and a grand disappointmentwas in store for us, though, as it turned out, things were not as bad asthey appeared to be at first. 

I was praising Jill's buttered toast, for I knew she prided herselfon this delicacy, and she had just cut herself a thick wedge of theseed-cake, which she was discussing with a school-girl's appetite, whenI heard Uncle Brian's voice calling for Ursula rather loudly: so I ran tothe head of the staircase, and, to my surprise, saw him coming up in hisslow, dignified manner. 

'Look here, Ursula, I shall be late at the Pollocks', and your aunt andSara have gone on, and there is Tudor in the drawing-room, just arrivedwith a message from Cunliffe. Of course we must put him up; but thetrouble is there is no dinner, and of course he is famished: young menalways are. '

My heart sank as I thought of Jill, but there was no help for it. Max'sfriends were sacred. Mr. Tudor must be made as comfortable as possible. 

'It cannot be helped, Uncle Brian, ' I returned, trying to keep thevexation I felt out of my voice. 'Supposing you send Mr. Tudor up to theschoolroom, and we will give him some tea. Jill has made some excellentbuttered toast, and Clayton can get some supper for him by and by in thedining-room: there is sure to be a cold joint, --or perhaps Mrs. Martinwill have something cooked for him. '

'That must do, ' he replied, somewhat relieved at this advice. 'We shallbe back soon after tea, so you will not have him long on your hands. Entertain him as well as you can, there's a good girl. ' He had quiteforgotten, and so had I for the moment, that Fräulein was out for theevening, and that possibly Aunt Philippa might object to a young manjoining the schoolroom tea; but, as it proved afterwards, she was moreshocked at Uncle Brian than at any one else: she said he ought to havegiven up his dinner and stayed with his guest. 

'I confess I do not see what Ursula could have done better, ' sheremarked severely; 'she could not spend the evening alone with him in thedrawing-room; and of course he wanted his tea. That comes of allowingFräulein to neglect her duties: she is too fond of spending her time withFräulein Misschenstock. '

I did not dare break the news to Jill, for fear she should lock herselfin her own room, for she never liked the society of young men; theylaughed at her too much, in a civil sort of way: so I hurried down intothe drawing-room and explained matters to Mr. Tudor, whom I found walkingabout the room and looking somewhat ill at ease. 

He seemed rather amused at the idea of the schoolroom tea, but owned thathe was hungry and tired, as he had had a fourteen-mile walk that day. 

'It is all Mr. Cunliffe's fault that I am quartered on you in this way, 'he said, laughing a little nervously--and very likely Uncle Brian'sdignified reception had made him uncomfortable; 'but he would insist onmy bringing my bag, and Mr. Garston has a dinner-engagement, and cannotattend to business until to-morrow morning. '

'I am afraid you would like a dinner-engagement too, after your fourteenmiles, ' I returned, in a sympathetic voice, for he did look very tired. 'We will give you some tea now, and then you can get rid of the dust ofthe journey, and by that time Mrs. Martin will have done her best toprovide you with some supper. '

'I see I have fallen in good hands, ' he replied, brightening at this ina boyish sort of way. 'Where is the schoolroom? I did not know there wassuch an apartment, but of course Mrs. Garston told me that her youngestdaughter had not finished her studies. I think I saw her once: she wasvery tall, and had dark hair. '

'Oh yes; that was Jill--I mean Jocelyn, but we always call her Jill. Willyou come this way, please? Fräulein is out, and we were having a goodtime by ourselves. '

'And I have come to spoil it, ' he answered regretfully, as I opened thedoor. 

I shall never forget Jill's face when she saw us on the threshold. Shequite forgot to shake hands with Mr. Tudor in her dismay, but stoodhunching her shoulders, with Sooty still clasped in her arms and hergreat eyes staring at him, till he said a pleasant word to her, and thenshe flushed up, and subsided into her chair. I stole an anxious glance atthe cake; to my great relief, Jill had been quietly proceeding with hermeal in my absence, for I knew that in her chagrin she would refuse totouch another morsel. I wondered a little what Mr. Tudor would think ofher ungracious reception of him; but he showed his good-breeding bytaking no notice of it and confining his remarks to me. 

Jill's ill-humour thawed by and by when she saw how he entered into thespirit of the fun. He vaunted his own skill with the toasting-fork, and, in spite of fatigue, insisted on superintending another batch of thebuttered toast; he was very particular about the clearness of the fire, and delivered quite an harangue on the subject. Jill's sulky countenancerelaxed by and by; she opened her lips to contradict him, and was met soskilfully that she appealed to me for assistance. 

By the time tea was over, we were as friendly with Mr. Tudor as though wehad known him all our lives, and Jill was laughing heartily over his racydescriptions of schoolroom feasts and other escapades of his youth. Helooked absurdly young, in spite of his clerical dress; he had a brightface and a peculiarly frank manner that made me trust him at once; he didnot look particularly clever, and Jill had the best of him in argument, but one felt instinctively that he was a man who would never do a mean oran unkind action, that he would tell the truth to his own detriment witha simple honesty that made up for lack of talent. 

I could see that Jill's bigness and cleverness surprised him. Heevidently found her amusing, for he tried to draw her out; perhaps heliked to see how her great eyes opened and then grew bright, as shetossed back her black locks or shook them impatiently. When Jill washappy and at ease her face would grow illuminated; her varyingexpression, her animation, her quaint picturesque talk, made herthoroughly interesting. I was never dull in Jill's company; she hadalways something fresh to say; she had a fund of originality, and drewher words newly coined from her own mint. 

I do not believe that Mr. Tudor quite understood her, for he was a simpleyoung fellow. But she piqued his curiosity. I must have appeared quite atame, commonplace person beside her. When Jill went out of the room tofetch something, he asked me, rather curiously, how old she was, and whenI told him that she was a mere child, not quite sixteen, he said, halfmusing, that she seemed older than that. She knew so much about things, but he supposed she was very clever. 

We went down into the drawing-room after this, and Jill kept me companywhile Mr. Tudor supped in state, with Clayton and Clarence to wait onhim. He came up after a very short interval, and said, half laughing, that his supper had been a most formal affair. 

'By the bye, Miss Garston, ' he observed, as though by an afterthought, 'I hear you are coming down to Heathfield. ' He stole a glance at Jill ashe spoke. She had discarded her Indian muslin and coral necklace as beingtoo grand for the occasion, and wore her ruby velveteen, that alwayssuited her admirably. She looked very nice, and quite at her ease, sitting half-buried in Uncle Brian's arm-chair, instead of being boltupright in her corner. She had drawn her big feet carefully under hergown, and was quite a presentable young lady. 

I thought Mr. Tudor was rather impressed with the transformationCinderella in her brown schoolroom frock, with a smutty cheek and rumpledcollar, was quite a different person:--presto--change--the young princessin the ruby dress has smooth locks and a thick gold necklace. She has bigshining eyes and a happy child's laugh. Her little white teeth gleam inthe lamplight. I do not wonder in the least that Mr. Tudor looks at Jillas he talks to me. It is a habit people have with me. 

But I answered him quite graciously. 

'Yes, I am coming down to Heathfield the day after to-morrow. I supposeI ought to say _Deo volente_. I hope you all mean to be good to me, Mr. Tudor, and not laugh at my poor little pretensions. '

'I shall not laugh, for one, ' he replied, looking me full in the facenow with his honest eyes. 'I think it is a good work, Miss Garston. Thevicar'--he always called Uncle Max the vicar--'was talking about it upat Gladwyn the other day, and Mr. Hamilton said--'

'Gladwyn? Is that the name of a house?' I asked, interrupting Mr. Tudora little abruptly. 

'To be sure. Have you not heard of Gladwyn?' And at that he looked alittle amused. But I was not fated to hear more of Gladwyn that night, for the next moment Aunt Philippa came bustling into the room, and Saraand Uncle Brian followed her. 

CHAPTER VI

THE WHITE COTTAGE

Good-bye is an unpleasant word to say, and I said mine as quickly aspossible, but I did not like the remembrance of Jill's wet cheek thatI had kissed: I was haunted by it during the greater part of my briefjourney. For some inexplicable reason I had chosen to arrive atHeathfield late in the afternoon; I wanted to slip into my new home inthe dusk. I knew that Uncle Max would meet me at the station and lookafter my luggage, so I should have no trouble, and I hoped that I shouldwake up among my neighbours the next morning before they knew of myarrival. 

When we stopped at some station a little while before we reachedHeathfield, the guard put a gentleman in my compartment: I fancied theyhad not noticed me, for a large black retriever followed him. 

The gentleman lifted his hat directly he saw me, and apologised forhis dog's presence, until I assured him it made no difference to me; andthen he drew a newspaper from his bag and tried to read by the somewhatflickering light. As I had nothing else to do, and his attention wasevidently very much absorbed, I looked at him from time to time in anidle, furtive sort of way. 

He had taken off his hat and put it on the seat; his dark smooth-shavenface reminded me of a Romish priest, but he had no tonsure; instead ofthat he had thick closely-cropped hair without a hint or suspicion ofbaldness, was strongly built and very broad, and looked like a man whohad undergone training. 

I was rather given to study the countenances of my fellow-passengers, --itwas a way I had, --but I was not particularly prepossessed with this man'sface; it looked hard and stern, and his manner, though perfectlygentlemanly, was a little brusque. I abandoned the Romish priest theoryafter a second glance, and told myself he was more like a Romangladiator. 

As we approached Heathfield, he folded up his paper and patted his dog, who had sat all this time at his feet, with his head on his knees. It wasa beautiful, intelligent animal, and had soft eyes like a woman, and bythe way he wagged his tail and licked the hand that fondled his glossyhead I saw he was devoted to his master. 

Just then I encountered a swift, searching glance from the stranger, which rather surprised me. He had looked at me, as he spoke, in anindifferent way; but this second look was a little perplexing; it wasas though he had suddenly recognised me, and that the fact amused him;and yet we had never met before, --it was such an uncommon face, sosingular altogether, that I could never have forgotten it. 

I grew irritated without reason, for how could a stranger recognise me?Happily the lights from the station flashed before my eyes at thatmoment, and I began nodding and smiling towards a corner by thebookstall, where a felt hat and brown head were all that I could seeof Uncle Max. 

'Well, here you are, Ursula, punctual to a minute, ' exclaimed Max, as heshook hands. 'Halloo, Hamilton, where did you spring from?' going to thecarriage door to speak to my fellow-passenger. I was so provoked at this, fearing an introduction, for Max was such a friendly soul, that I went tothe luggage-van and began counting my boxes, and Max did not hurryhimself to look after me. 

'Now, then, ' he observed cheerily, when he condescended to join me, 'isyour luggage all right? Do you mean all those traps are yours? Bless me, Ursula, what will Mrs. Barton say? Put them on the fly, you fellows, andbe sharp about it. Come along, child; it is pelting cats and dogs, if youknow what that means: you have a wet welcome to Heathfield. '

I took the news philosophically, and assured him it did not matter in theleast. We could hear the rain beating against the windows as we reachedthe booking-office. A closed waggonette with a pair of horses was waitingat the door; my fellow-passenger, whom Max had addressed as Hamilton, wasstanding on the pavement, speaking somewhat angrily to the coachman. Iheard the man's answer as he touched his hat. 

'Miss Darrell said I was to bring the waggonette, sir: it did not rain sobadly when the order was brought round to the stables. '

'I could have taken a fly easily: it is worse than folly bringing outthe horses this wet night. Jump in, Nap. What, must I go first? Mannersbefore a wet coat. '

I heard no more, for Max hurried me into a fly, and the waggonette passedus on the road. 

'Who was that?' I asked curiously. 

'Oh, that is Mr. Hamilton. Why did you not wait for me to introducehim to you, Ursula? He is a rich doctor who lives in these parts; hepractises for his own pleasure among the poor people; he will not attendgentle-folks. He told me that he had studied medicine meaning to make ithis profession, but a distant relative died and left him a fortune, andby so doing spoiled his career. '

'That was rather ungracious of him; but he looks the sort of man whocould do plenty of grumbling. Where does he live, Max?'

'Oh, at Gladwyn: I cannot show you the house now, because we do not passit. There is the church, Ursula, and there is Tudor in his mackintoshcoming out of the vicarage: that is the best of Lawrence, he never shirkshis duty; he hates the job, but he does it. He is going down to see oldSmithers and get sworn at for his pains. '

'Have you got any cases ready for me, Max?' I asked, with a littletingling of excitement. 

'Hamilton has. I was at Gladwyn the other evening, and had a talk withhim. He was a little off-hand about your mission; he thinks you must beromantic, and all that sort of thing. You would have laughed to haveheard him talk, and I let him go on just for the joke of it. It was richto hear him say that he did not believe in hysterical goodness; a girlwould do anything now to get herself talked about--no, I did not mean torepeat that, ' interrupting himself, with an annoyed air. 'Hamilton alwayssays more than he means. Look, Ursula, there is the White Cottage; thatbow-window to the right belongs to your parlour. Now, my dear, I willopen the gate, and you must just run up the path as quickly as you can, for you can hardly hold up an umbrella in this wind. You see the cottagedoes not boast of a carriage-drive. '

That odious Mr. Hamilton--or Dr. Hamilton, which was it? No wonder helooked like a Romish priest if he could make those Jesuitical remarks!I felt I almost hated him, but I resolved to banish him from my mind, as I ran past the dripping laurels that bordered the narrow path. Thecottage door was open as soon as our fly had stopped at the gate; andby the light I could see the neat flower-borders and clipped yews, anda leafless wide-spreading tree with a seat under it. As I made my wayinto the porch, a very big man without his coat passed me with a civil'good-evening. ' I thought it must be Nathaniel, from his great height, and of course the prim-looking little widow in black, standing on thethreshold, was Mrs. Barton. She had a nice, plaintive face, and spokein a mild, deprecating voice. 

'Good-evening, Mrs. Barton. What dreadful weather! I hope my wet boxeswill not spoil the oilcloth. '

'That is easily wiped off, Miss Garston; but I am thinking the damp musthave made you chilly. Come into the parlour: there is a fine rousing firethat will soon warm you. A fire is a deal of comfort on a wet, coolnight. I have lighted one in your bedroom too. '

Evidently Mrs. Barton spared herself no trouble. I was a fire-worshipper, and loved to see the ruddy flame lighting up all the odd corners, and Iwas glad to think both my rooms would be cheerful. The parlour looked thepicture of comfort; my piano was nicely placed, and the davenport, andthe chair that I had sent with it. A large old-fashioned couch was drawnacross the window, the round table had a white cloth on it, and thetea-tray and a cottage loaf were suggestive of a meal. The room was longand rather low, but the bow-window gave it a cosy aspect; one glancesatisfied me that I had space for the principal part of my books, therest could be put in my bedroom. When Mrs. Barton stirred the fire andlighted the candles the room looked extremely cheerful, especially asTinker, the collie, had taken a fancy to the rug, and had stretchedhimself upon it after giving me a wag of his tail as a welcome. Mrs. Barton would hardly give me time to warm my hands before she begged meto follow her upstairs and take off my things while they brought in theluggage. 

I found my bedroom had one peculiarity: you had to descend two broadsteps before you entered it. 

It was the same size as the parlour, and had a bow-window. The furniturewas unusually good; it had belonged to the previous lodger, Mrs. Meredith, who had bequeathed it to Mrs. Barton at her death. 

I was thankful to see a pretty iron bedstead with a brass ring and bluechintz hangings, instead of the four-poster I had dreaded. There was acommodious cupboard and a handsome Spanish mahogany chest of drawers thatMrs. Barton pointed out with great pride. A bright fire burned in theblue-tiled fireplace; there was an easy-chair and a round table in thebow-window; a pleasant perfume of lavender-scented sheets pervaded theroom, and a winter nosegay of red and white chrysanthemums was prettilyarranged in a curious china bowl. I praised everything to Mrs. Barton'ssatisfaction, and then she went downstairs to see to the tea, firstgiving me the information that Nathaniel was coming upstairs with thebig trunk, and would I tell him where to place it?

He entered the next moment, carrying the heavy trunk on his shoulder aseasily as though it were a toy. He was a good-looking man, with a fairbeard and a pair of honest blue eyes, and in spite of his size andstrength--for he was a perfect son of Anak--seemed rather shy andretiring. 

I left him loosening the straps of my box, and went downstairs to findUncle Max. 

He had made himself quite at home, and was sitting in the big easy-chaircontemplating the fire. 

'Well, Ursula, how do you like your rooms? Oh yes, there are two cups andsaucers, ' as I looked inquiringly at the table, 'because Mrs. Bartonexpects me to remain to tea. She is frying ham and eggs at the presentmoment; I hope you do not mind such homely country fare; but to-morrowyou will be your own housekeeper. '

I assured Uncle Max that I had fallen in love with the White Cottage, andthat I liked Mrs. Barton excessively, that my bedroom was especially cosyand was most comfortably furnished. 'You will see how pretty this roomwill look when I put up my new curtains and pictures, ' I went on; 'it isa little bare at present, but it will soon have a more furnishedappearance. I mean to be so busy to-morrow settling all my treasures. 'And I spoke with so much animation that Uncle Max smiled at what hecalled my youthful enthusiasm. 

'You may be as busy as you like all day, ' he returned, in his pleasantway, 'so that you come up to the vicarage in the afternoon to see Mrs. Drabble. Lawrence will be out: that fellow always is out, '--in a humoroustone of vexation. 'He makes himself so confoundedly agreeable that peopleare always asking him to dinner: he is terribly secular, is Lawrence, buthe is young and will mend. Come up to the vicarage and dine with me, Ursula; I want you to taste Mrs. Drabble's pancakes: they are food forangels, as Lawrence always says. '

I accepted the invitation a little regretfully, for it seemed hard toleave my hermitage the first evening; but then Uncle Max had been so goodto me that it would never do to disappoint him, and, as Mr. Tudor wouldbe out, we should be very cosy together. 

Mrs. Barton brought in the ham and eggs at this moment, and I sat downbefore my gay little tea-tray, marvelling secretly at the scarletflamingo. There were plenty of homely delicacies on the table, --hot cakesand honey, and a basket of brown-and-yellow pippins. Uncle Max shook hishead and pretended the hot cakes would ruin his digestion, but he enjoyedthem all the same, and made an excellent meal. 

We sat for a long time talking over the fire, chiefly of Lesbia and Jill, for he took a warm interest in them both; but about eight o'clock heremembered he had an engagement, and went off rather hurriedly, and Iwent upstairs and unpacked one of my boxes, and arranged my clothes inthe chest of drawers and in the big, roomy cupboard. 

When the church clock struck ten, I went down again in search of hotwater. At the sound of my footstep, Mrs. Barton came out in the passageand invited me into the kitchen. 

'There is only Nat there at his books, ' she said, in her plaintive voice;'he works late sometimes, though I tell him he uses up candle andfirelight. Please make yourself at home, Miss Garston; we shall alwaysbe pleased to see you in our kitchen, when you like to pop in. '

'I hope I shall not come too often, ' I returned, looking round at itsbright snug appearance. A square of dark carpet covered part of thered-tiled floor; the round deal table in the centre was hidden under acrimson cloth, and two big elbow-chairs stood on each side of the widefireplace. Nathaniel sat in one, with a little round table in front ofhim, covered with books and papers, with a small lamp for his own use. Mrs. Barton's work-box and mending-basket were on the centre table, thehearth had just been swept up, there was a smell of hot bread, and a rowof freshly-baked loaves were cooling on the dresser; the firelight shoneon the gleaming pewter and brass utensils, and a great tabby cat satpurring on the elbow of Nathaniel's chair. I thought he seemed a littleconfused at my entrance, for he got up rather awkwardly and shuffled hispapers together, so I took pity on his embarrassment, and only spoke toMrs. Barton. 

She took me into the little outer kitchen to show me where she did hercooking, and I asked her in a low voice what he was studying. 

'He does a little of everything, ' she said, with a sort of suppressedpride in her voice. 'Sometimes it is history, and oftener summing; hewill have it that a man cannot have too much learning, and that he wantsto improve himself; he is always fretting because he never had a chancewhen he was young, all along of his having to work when his poor fatherdied, and so he is all for making up for lost time; sometimes Dr. Hamilton comes in and helps him with the Latin and--what do you callthose figures?'

I suggested mathematics, and she nodded assent. 

'Oh, Nat is a sight cleverer already than his master, ' she went on. 'I amthinking that if he goes on learning more and more, that Mr. Roberts willbe taking him into the business some day. Nat is a sort of foreman now, for his master thinks a deal of Nathaniel, and no wonder, for it is notonly his learning, and his sitting up late, and getting up early in thewinter's morning, and creeping downstairs without his boots so as notto wake me; for all he is such a good son; but I will say it, that thereis not a young man in these parts that can beat Nat, ' finished the littlewidow, in a broken voice. 

I said I was glad to hear it, for she evidently expected me to saysomething; and then I asked how long Dr. Hamilton had given him lessonsin Latin and mathematics. She was only too ready to tell me, and seemedpleased at my interest. 

'Ever since Nat hurt his arm in the railway accident; and I will say thatDr. Hamilton brought him round in a wonderful way; he found him at hisbooks one evening, and ordered him off to bed in a hurry; but when hecame next time he had a long talk with Nat, and promised to give him anhour when he could spare it. Sometimes Nat goes up to Gladwyn, butoftener Dr. Hamilton drops in here; he has taken a fancy to our kitchen, he says; but that is his way of putting it. There are plenty of folks whofind fault with the doctor, and say he is not what he ought to be to hisown flesh and blood; but I always will have it, and Nathaniel says thesame, that the doctor has a fine character. Why, Nat swears by him, '

I was beginning to be afraid that Mrs. Barton would never arrive at afull stop, --she was a little like Mrs. Drabble in that; they were bothdiscursive and parenthetical speakers, only Mrs. Drabble's meaning wasmore involved, --but before I had time to answer, a deep voice from thekitchen startled us. 

'Mother, how long do you mean to keep Miss Garston in that cold, darkplace? It is enough to starve her, ' And at this rebuke Mrs. Bartonhurried me into the front kitchen. I was tired by this time, and glad tobid them both good-night. And yet the widow's talk interested me. It wasnot Mr. Hamilton's fault that he had a face like a Romish priest;evidently he had his good points, like other people, in spite of hisrudeness in laughing at me. But I could not--no, I could not toleratethat remark of his, 'that a girl would do anything to make herself talkedabout. ' It was odious, cynical, utterly malevolent. I hoped Uncle Maxwould defer the introduction as long as possible. I never wished to knowanything of Gladwyn or its master. These thoughts occupied me until Ifell asleep; and then I dreamt of Jill. 

Once or twice I woke in the night, disturbed by a low growl from Tinker, who slept in the passage. I heard afterwards that his dreams were alwayshaunted by cats. He was an inveterate enemy to all the feline species, with the exception of Peter, the great tabby cat. They had long ago swornan armistice, and, in his way, Tinker took a great deal of notice ofPeter. 

It was strange to look round the low cottage room by the flickering, fast-dying firelight. The rain still pattered on the garden paths. I wasrather dismayed to find that it had not ceased the next morning; it is sopleasant to wake up in a fresh place and see the bright sunshine. Thispiece of good luck was denied me, however. When I looked out of my windowI could only see dripping laurels and great pools in the gravel walks. The gray sky had not a break in it. I was glad when I was ready to godown to my parlour, for the fire and breakfast-table would look cheerfulby comparison; and afterwards I would set to work so busily that I shouldnot have time to notice the rain. 

And so it proved; for until my early dinner--or rather luncheon--wasserved, I was employed in unpacking and arranging my books and ornaments. 

On my journeys to and fro I often paused at the low staircase windowto reconnoitre the weather. There was no garden behind the cottage; asmall gravelled yard, where Mrs. Barton kept her poultry and some rabbitsbelonging to Nathaniel, opened by a gate into a field. There was acow-house there, and a white cow was standing rather disconsolatelyunder some trees. I found out afterwards that both the field and the cowbelonged to Mrs. Barton, so I could always rely on a good supply of sweetnew milk. 

Nathaniel had put up my book-shelves when I had sent them with the otherfurniture, so I had only to arrange the books. I made use, too, of somenails he had driven in for my pictures. 

The parlour really looked very nice when I had finished; the newcream-coloured curtains were up, and I had tied them back with ambersilk; two or three sunny little landscapes, and Charlie's portrait, abeautifully-painted photograph, hung on the walls; my favourite bookswere in their places, and the mantelpiece and the corner cupboards heldsome of the lovely old china that had belonged to mother. Aunt Philippahad wished me to leave it behind, as she feared it might be broken; butI liked to feast my eyes on the soft rich colours, and every piece wasprecious to me. 

When I had disposed the furniture to the best advantage, --had placed mydavenport and work-table and special chair in the bow-window, and hadreplaced the shabby red cloth by a handsome tapestry one, --I called Mrs. Barton to see the room. 

She held up her hands in astonishment. 

'Dear me, Miss Garston, it looks quite a different place. What willNathaniel say when he sees it?--he is so fond of books and pretty things. It only wants sunshine and a bird-cage, and perhaps a geranium or two, to make it quite a bower. May I make so bold, ma'am, as to ask who thatpleasant-faced young gentleman is in the oak frame?'--but I think shewas sorry that she had asked the question when I told her it was mytwin-brother, now in heaven. 

'That is where my husband and my dear little daughter both are, ' shesaid, with moist eyes, as she turned away from the picture. 'Oh, there isa deal of trouble in the world, but you are young to know it, ma'am. ' Andthen she looked kindly at me, and went away, to give Nathaniel hisdinner. 

CHAPTER VII

GILES HAMILTON, ESQ. 

It was quite late in the afternoon when I put the last finishing-touchesto my sitting-room, and it was already dusk when I left the cottage andwalked quickly up the road that led to the vicarage. 

My busy day had not tired me, and I should have enjoyed a solitary ramblein spite of the wet roads and dark November sky, only I knew Uncle Maxwould be waiting for me. A keen sense of independence, of liberty, ofcongenial work in prospective, seemed to tingle in my veins, as thoughnew life were coursing through them. I was no longer trammelled by theconstant efforts to move in other people's grooves. I was free to thinkmy own thought and lead my own life without reproof or hindrance. 

The vicarage was a red, irregular house, shut off from the road bya low wall, with a court-yard planted somewhat thickly with shrubs: theliving-rooms were chiefly at the back of the house, and their windowslooked out on a pleasant garden: a glass door in the hall opened on abroad gravel terrace bordered by standard rose-trees, and beyond lay asmooth green lawn almost as level as a bowling-green; a laurel hedgedivided it from an extensive kitchen-garden, to which Uncle Max and Mr. Tudor devoted a great deal of their spare time and superfluous energies. 

It was far too large a house for an unmarried man: the broad staircaseand spacious rooms seemed to require the echo of children's voices. UncleMax used to call it the barracks, but I think in his heart he liked theroomy emptiness; when he was restless he would prowl up and down the widelanding from one unused room to another. It was an old-fashioned house, and more than one generation had grown up in it. Uncle Max was fond oftelling me about his predecessors' histories. Two little children haddied in the big nursery overlooking the garden. There was a little brownroom where a _ci-devant_ vicar had written his sermons, with a bigcupboard in the wall where he hung his cassock. He had a grown-up family, but his wife was dead. One day he married again and brought home a slim, pale-faced girl--a certain Priscilla Howe--to be the mistress of hishouse. There were stories rife in the village that her step-children weretoo much for poor, pretty Priscilla; that while her husband wrote hissermons in the little brown room the young wife pined and moped in hergreen sitting-room. 

Uncle Max found a picture of her one day in a garret where they storedapples; a faint musty smell clung to the canvas. 'Priscilla Howe' waswritten in one corner; there was a childish look on the small oval face;large melancholy eyes seemed appealing to one out of the canvas. She wasdressed in a heavy white material like dimity, and held a few primrosesbetween her fingers. What an innocent, pathetic little bride thestern-faced vicar must have brought home!

I read her epitaph afterwards when Uncle Max showed me hergrave, --'Priscilla, wife of Ralph Combermere, aged twenty, and her infantson. ' What a sad little inscription! But Uncle Max read something sadderstill one day. A letter in faded ink was found in a corner of the sameold garret, and the signature was 'Priscilla'; there was only onesentence legible in the whole, and to whom it was written remained amystery: 'Trust me, dear love, that I shall ever do my duty, in spite offlaunts and jeers and most unkindly looks; and if God spares me health, which I cannot believe, He may yet right me in the eyes that no longerlook at me with fondness. '

Poor Priscilla! so her husband had ceased to love her. No wonder the poorchild dwindled and pined among 'the flaunts and jeers and most unkindlylooks' of her step-children. One could imagine her clasping her baby toher sad heart as she closed her eyes to the bitter misunderstanding ofthis life. 'Where the weary are at rest, '--they might have written thosewords upon her tomb. 

The thought of Priscilla used to haunt me when I roamed about thepassages on windy days; the old garret especially seemed haunted by hermemory. Uncle Max once said to me that he could have constructed aromance out of her poor little history. 'She came from a place calledEcclesbourne Hall, ' he said, one day. 'She was an heiress; old RalphCombermere knew what he was about when he transplanted the pale primrose. Do you know, Ursula, this room is supposed to be haunted? And one of themaids told me seriously that Mistress Combermere walks here on windynights with her babe in her arms. Fancy such a report in an Englishvicarage!'

When I reached the house the little maid who opened the door informed methat Uncle Max was in his study: it was a large room with a bow-windowoverlooking the garden, and I knew Uncle Max never used any other roomexcept for his meals. I had volunteered to announce myself. I was neverformal with Max, so I knocked at the door, and, without waiting to hearhis voice in reply, marched in without ceremony. 

But the next moment I stood discomfited on the threshold, for instead ofUncle Max's familiar face I saw a dark, closely-cropped head bending overthe table as though searching for something, and the ruddy firelightreflected the broad shoulders and hairless profile of the obnoxious Mr. Hamilton. 

My first idea was to escape, and my fingers were already on thedoor-handle, when he turned abruptly and saw me. 'I beg your pardon, 'coming towards me and speaking in the deep peculiar voice I had alreadyheard. 'I was hunting for the matches that Cunliffe always mislays. Youare Miss Garston, are you not? I was told to expect you. ' And then heactually shook hands with me in an off-hand way. 

I am not generally devoid of presence of mind, but at that moment Ibehaved as awkwardly as a school-girl. If I could only have thought ofsome excuse for leaving him, --an errand or a message to Mrs. Drabble; butno form of words would occur to me. I could only mutter an apology for myabrupt entrance, and ask after Uncle Max, stammering with confusion allthe time, and then take the chair he was placing for me, while he renewedhis search for the match-box. 

'Oh, Cunliffe has only gone down to the village to post his letters: hewill be back in a few minutes. Ah! here are the matches. Now we shall beable to see each other. ' And he coolly lighted Uncle Max's reading-lampand two candles, and stirred the fire with such a vigorous hand that thehuge lump of coal splintered into fragments. 

'There; I do like a mighty blaze. Take that newspaper, Miss Garston, ifthe flame scorches your face. I know young ladies are afraid of theircomplexions. ' Why need he have said that, as though my brown skin wereSara's pretty pink cheeks? 'Why do you not throw off your wraps if theroom be too hot?' And he spoke so imperatively that I actually obeyedhim, and got rid of my hat and ulster, which he deposited on the couch. 

I did not like the look of Mr. Hamilton any better than I had liked ityesterday. His dark, smoothly-shaven face was not to my taste; it lookedstern and forbidding. He had a low forehead, and there was a hard setlook about the mouth, and the eyes were almost disagreeable in theirkeenness. 

Perhaps I was prejudiced, but he looked to me like a man who rarelylaughed, and who would take a pleasure in saying bitter things; his voicewas not unpleasant, but it had a peculiar depth in it, and now and thenthere was an odd break in it that was almost a hesitation. 

'Well, ' he said, looking full at me, but, I was sure, not in the leastwishful to set me at my ease, 'I suppose I ought to introduce myself. Myname is Hamilton. '

I bowed. I certainly did not think it necessary that I should tell himthat I was aware of that fact. 

'We met yesterday, when you were good enough to put up with Nap'scompany. I was half disposed to introduce myself then: only I feared youwould be shocked at such a piece of unconventionality; young ladies havesuch strict ideas of decorum. '

'And very properly so, too, ' I put in severely, for my irritation wasgetting the better of my nervousness. I could not bear the tone in whichhe said 'young ladies. ' I felt convinced he had an antipathy to the wholesex. 

'Our skies were very uncivil in their welcome, ' he went on, quitedisregarding my remark: 'it was the wettest night we have had for an age. I was quite savage when I found the horses had been taken out of theirwarm stables: the coachman was an ass, as I told him. '

'You scolded him somewhat severely. '

'Ah! did you hear me?' smiling a little at that, as though he wereamused. 'I am afraid I speak my mind pretty freely, in spite ofbystanders. Well, Miss Garston, so I hear you have come down as a sort offemale Quixote among us. Heathfield is to be the scene of your mission. '

I was so angry at the tone in which he said this that I made no reply. What right had a perfect stranger to meddle in my business? It was allUncle Max's fault; if he had only held his tongue. 

'Cunliffe was up at Gladwyn the other night, ' he continued in the sameoff-hand way, 'and he told us all about it. '

'I am sorry to hear it, ' very stiffly. 

'Sorry! Why? Good deeds ought to be talked about, ought they not, _probono publico_, eh? Why not, Miss Garston?'

'Good intentions are not deeds. '

'True; you have me there. I suppose you think you must not reckon on yourchickens before they are hatched; the _pro bono publico_ scheme is notproperly hatched yet, except in theory. I am afraid I shall make youangry if I tell you I was rather amused at the whole thing. '

'I am glad to afford you amusement, Mr. Hamilton. '

'Ah, I see you are deeply offended; what a pity, and in five minutes too!That comes of my unfortunate habit of speaking my mind. Let me followthis out. I am afraid Cunliffe has been a traitor; that fellow is notreliable: no parsons are. Let me hear what you have against me, MissGarston. I have spoken against your pet theory, and you are aggrieved inconsequence, '

He spoke in a half-jesting manner, but his ironical voice challenged me. 

I felt I detested him, and he should know why. 

'I expected to be misunderstood, ' I returned coldly, 'but hardly to beaccused of hysterical goodness. To be sure, a girl will do anythingnowadays to get herself talked about!'

'Oh, ' in a low voice, 'that rascal! But I will be even with him. How manymore of my speeches did Cunliffe repeat?'

'Oh, I had heard enough, ' I replied hastily. 'Does it not strike you asa little hard, Mr. Hamilton, that one should be judged beforehand in thisharsh manner?--that because some girls are full of vagaries, the wholesex must be condemned?'

'Oh, if you put it in that cut-and-dried way, I must plead guilty: infact, I should owe you some sort of apology, only'--with a stress on theword--'my speech was not intended for the house-top. I am rather asceptic about female missions, Miss Garston, and do not always measure mywords when I am discussing abstract theories with a friend. In my opinionCunliffe is the one you ought to blame, though if the speech rankles Iwill take my share. '

'I certainly wish you had not said it, Mr. Hamilton. '

'There, now, '--in an injured voice, --'that is the way you treat myhandsome apology, and I am not a man ever to own myself in the wrong, mind you. What does it matter, may I ask, what I think of girls in theabstract? I had not met you, Miss Garston, or discussed the subject inits bearings: so where may the offence lie? Of course you have no answerready; of course you have taken offence where none is meant. This is solike a woman--to undertake to renovate society, and lose her temper atthe first adverse word. '

He was looking at me with a peculiar but not unkindly smile as he spoke;in fact, his expression was almost pleasant; but I was too muchprejudiced to be softened. I did not care in the least what he thoughtof my temper; I was quite sure he had one of his own. 

'No one likes to meet discouragement on the threshold, ' I answeredcurtly. 

'Not if it comes out with timbrels and dances, like Jephtha'sdaughter, to be sacrificed: that was discouragement on the thresholdwith a vengeance. I was always sorry for that old fellow. Well, _apropos_of that touching remark, --which, by the way, is exquisitelyfeminine, --supposing we strike a truce. I daresay you look upon me as aninterfering stranger; but the fact is, I am the poor folk's doctor downhere; so you cannot work without me. That alters the case, eh?'--with asmile meant to be propitiatory, but really too triumphant for my taste. 

'Under those circumstances I could wish that you had less narrow views ofwomen's work, ' I returned, with some warmth. 

He opened his eyes so widely at this that at any other moment I shouldhave been amused. 

'By all that is wonderful, it is the first time I have been accused ofnarrowness. ' And here he gave a gruff little laugh. 'I think I had betterleave yon alone, Miss Garston, and label you "dangerous. " There is a hotsparkle in your eyes that warns me to keep off the premises. "Trespasserswill be taken up. " I begin to feel uncomfortable. Cunliffe has put me _enparole_, and I dare not break bounds. Can you manage to sit inthe same room a little longer with such a heretic?'

'Heretics can be converted. '

He shrugged his shoulders at this. 

'Not such a hardened sceptic as myself. Now, look here, Miss Garston. I will say something civil. I believe you are in earnest; so it shall be_pax_ between us; and I will promise not to thwart you. As for women'smission in general, I believe their principal mission is not to stop athome and mind their own business; in fact, home and homely duties are thelast straws that break the back of the emancipated woman. ' And with theseaudacious words Mr. Hamilton stirred the fire again with prodigiousenergy. Happily, Uncle Max came into the room at that moment; so I wasspared any reply. 

Max must have thought that I was suspiciously glad to see him, for helooked from one to the other rather anxiously. 

'Sorry to be so late, Ursula; but I met Pardoe, and he entrapped me intoan argument. Well, how have you and my friend Hamilton got on together?'

I turned away without answering, but Mr. Hamilton responded, in amelancholy voice--

'I have been suppressed, like the dormouse in Alice's teapot. There isvery little left of me. I had no idea your niece had such a taste forargument, Cunliffe. I take it rather unkindly that I was not warned offthe track. '

'So you two have been quarrelling. ' And Uncle Max looked a little vexed. 'What a fellow you are, Hamilton, for stroking a person the wrong way! Ofcourse Ursula has believed all your cross-grained remarks?'

'Swallowed them whole and entire; and a fit of moral indigestion is theresult. Well, I must be going; but first let me administer a palliative, Miss Garston. What time do you have breakfast? If it be before ten, Ishall be happy to introduce you to a very eligible case. '

I would have given much to dispense with Mr. Hamilton's patronage; butunder the circumstances it would have been absurd to refuse his offer. I could not sacrifice my work to my temper; but I recognised with asinking heart that Mr. Hamilton would cross my daily path. The ideawas as delightful to me as the anticipation of a daily east wind. Irestrained myself, however, and briefly mentioned that I would be readyby nine. 

'Oh, that is an hour too early: I will call for you at ten. Let me see, you are at the White Cottage. You are not curious about your firstpatient; in that you are not a true daughter of Eve. Well, good-bye, MissGarston; good-bye, Cunliffe. ' And he left the room without shaking handswith me again. 

Uncle Max followed him out into the hall, and they stood so long talkingthat I lost patience, and went into the kitchen to see Mrs. Drabble. 

She received me in a resigned way, as usual, and talked without takingbreath once while she buttered the hot cakes and prepared the tea-tray. I understood her to say that Mr. Tudor's collars were her chief cares inlife; that no young gentleman she had ever known was so hard to please inthe matter of starch; that her master was a lamb in comparison; and didI not think he was looking ill and overworking himself?

I had some difficulty in finding out to whom she was alluding, but Iimagined she meant her master, who was certainly looking a little thin, and then she went off on another tack. 

'Folks seem mighty curious about you, Miss Ursula; people do saythat only a young lady crossed in love would think of doing such anout-of-the-way thing as putting up at the White Cottage and nursingpoor people. There was Rebecca Saunders, --you know Rebecca at thepost-office, --she said to me last night, "So your young lady has come, Mrs. Drabble; the vicar was at the station, I hear, and Dr. Hamilton camedown by the same train: wasn't that curious, now? I am thinking she mustbe a mighty independent sort of person to take this work on her; therehas been trouble somewhere, take my word for it, for it is not in youngfolks' nature to go in for work and no play. "'

'Oh, I mean to play as well as work, ' I returned, laughing. 'Don't tellme any more, Mrs. Drabble; people will talk in a village, but I wouldrather not hear what they say. ' And then I went back to the study andmade tea for Uncle Max, and tried to pretend that I felt quite myself, and was not the least uneasy in my mind, --as though I could deceive Max. 

'Well, Ursula, ' he said, shaking his head at me, 'did Hamilton or Mrs. Drabble give you those hot cheeks?'

'Oh, Uncle Max, ' I returned hastily, 'I am so sorry Mr. Hamilton is yourfriend. '

'Why so, little she-bear?'

'Because--because--I detest him: he is the most disagreeable, insufferable, domineering person I have ever met. '

'Candid; but then you were always outspoken, my dear. Now, shall I tellyou what this disagreeable, insufferable, domineering person said to mein the hall?'

'Oh, nothing he said will make any difference in my opinion, I assureyou. '

'Possibly not, but it is too good to be lost. He said, "That little girlactually believes in herself and her work; it is quite refreshing to meetwith such _naïveté_ nowadays. Ursula did you call her? Well, the namejust suits her. " How do you like that, poor little bear?'

'I like it as well as I liked all Mr. Hamilton's speeches. Max, do youreally care for that odious man? Must I be civil to him?'

'Indeed, I hope you will be civil, Ursula, ' replied Uncle Max, in analarmed voice. 'My dear, Giles Hamilton, Esq. , is my most influentialparishioner; he is rich; he doctors all my poor people _gratis_, bulliesthem one moment, and does them a good turn in the next; he is clever, kind-hearted, and has no end of good points, and, though he is eccentricand has plenty of faults, we chum together excellently, and I am veryintimate with his people. '

'His people--who are they?' I asked irritably. 

'Oh, it is a queer household up at Gladwyn, ' returned Max, ratheruneasily. 'Hamilton has a cousin living with him, as well as his twosisters; her name is Darrell, --Etta Darrell; she is a stylish-lookingwoman, about five-and-thirty; one never knows a lady's age exactly. '

'Are his sisters very young, then? Does Miss Darrell manage the house?'

'Yes. How could you guess that?' looking at me in surprise. 'Gladys, Miss Hamilton, is about three-and-twenty, but she is very delicate;the younger one, Elizabeth, is two years younger; they are Hamilton'shalf-sisters, --his father married twice: that accounts for a good deal. '

'How do you mean, --accounts for a good deal, Max?'

'Why people say that Hamilton doesn't always get on with his sisters, 'he returned reluctantly: 'there are often misunderstandings infamilies, --want of harmony, and that sort of thing. Mind, I do notsay it is true. '

'But you are so often at Gladwyn, you ought to know, Max. '

'Yes, of course; and now and then I have seen Hamilton a little sternwith his sisters; he is rather irritable by nature. I don't quiteunderstand things myself, but I have got it into my head that they wouldbe happier without Miss Darrell; she is a splendid manager, but it putsMiss Hamilton out of her right place. '

'But she is an invalid, you say?'

'No, not an invalid, only very delicate, and a little morbid; notquite what a girl ought to be. You could do some good there, Ursula, 'rather eagerly. 'Miss Hamilton has no friends of her own age; she isreserved, --peculiar. You might be a comfort to her; you are sympathetic, sensible, and have known trouble yourself. I should like to see you useyour influence there. '

'I will try, if you wish it, Max. And her name is Gladys?'

'Yes, Gladys, of Gladwyn, ' he returned, with a smile, but I thought hesaid it with rather a singular intonation, but it had a musical sound, and I repeated it again to myself, --'Gladys, of Gladwyn. '

CHAPTER VIII

NEW BROOMS SWEEP CLEAN

We were interrupted just then by Mrs. Drabble, who came in for thetea-things, and, as usual, held a long colloquy with her master on sundrydomestic affairs. When she had at last withdrawn, Uncle Max did notresume the subject. I was somewhat disappointed at this, and in spiteof my strong antipathy to Mr. Hamilton I wanted to hear more about hissisters. 

He disregarded my hints, however, and began talking to me about my work. 

'Do you know anything about the family Mr. Hamilton mentioned?' I asked, rather eagerly. 

'Oh yes; Mary Marshall's is a very sad case; she has seven children, not one of them old enough to work for himself; and she is dying, poorcreature, of consumption. Her husband is a navvy, and he is at work atLewes; I believe he is pretty steady, and sends the greater part of hiswages to his wife, but there are too many mouths to feed to allow ofcomforts; his old blind mother lives with them. I believe the neighboursare kind and helpful, and Peggy, the eldest child, is a sharp littlecreature, but you can imagine the miserable condition of such a home. '

'Yes, indeed. ' And I shuddered as I recalled many a sad scene in myfather's home. 

'I have sent in a woman once or twice to clean up the place; and Mrs. Drabble has made excellent beef-tea, but the last lot turned sour frombeing left in the hot kitchen one night, and the cat upset the basin ofcalf's-foot jelly, --at least the children said so. I go there myself, because Tudor says the air of the place turns him sick: he looked aswhite as a ghost after his last visit, and declared he was poisoned withfoul air. '

'I daresay he was right, Max; poor people have such an objection to opentheir windows. '

'I believe you there. I have talked myself nearly hoarse on that subject. Hamilton and I propose giving lectures in the schoolroom on domestichygiene. There is a fearful want of sanitary knowledge in women belongingto the lower class; want of cleanliness, want of ventilation, want ofwhitewashing, are triple evils that lead to the most lamentable results. We cannot get people to understand the common laws of life; the air oftheir rooms may be musty, stagnant, and corrupt, and yet they areastonished if their children have an attack of scarlet fever ordiphtheria. '

I commended the notion of the lectures warmly, and asked with whom theidea had originated. 

'Oh, Hamilton, of course: he is the moving spirit of everything. We haveplanned the whole thing out. There is to be a lecture every Fridayevening; the first is to be on household hygiene, the sanitary conditionof houses, ventilation, cleanliness, etc. In the second lecture Hamiltonwill speak of the laws of health, self-management, personal cleanliness, to be followed by a few simple lectures on nursing, sick-cookery, andthe treatment of infantile diseases. We want all the mothers to attend. Do you think it a good idea, Ursula?'

'It is an excellent one, ' I returned reluctantly, for I grudged thepraise to Mr. Hamilton. He could benefit his fellow-creatures, and givetime and strength and energy to the poor sick people, and yet sneer at mecivilly when I wanted to do the same, just because I was a woman. PerhapsMax was disappointed with my want of enthusiasm, for he ceased talkingof the lectures, and said he had some more letters to write beforedinner, and during the rest of the evening, though we discussed a hundreddifferent topics, Mr. Hamilton's name was not again mentioned. 

Uncle Max walked with me to the gate of the White Cottage, and bade me acheerful good-night. 

'I like to feel you are near me, Ursula, ' he said, quite affectionately;'an old bachelor like myself gets into a groove, and the society of avigorous young woman, brimful of philanthropy and crotchets, will rub meup and do me good; one goes to sleep sometimes, ' he finished, rathermournfully, and then he walked away in the darkness, and I stood for aminute to watch him. 

It seemed to me that Max was a little different this evening. He wasalways kind, always cheerful; he never wrapped himself up in gloomyreserve like other people, however depressed or ill at ease he might be;but Mrs. Drabble was right, he was certainly thinner, and there was ananxious careworn look about his face when he was not speaking. I wascertain, too, that his cheerfulness and ready flow of conversation werenot without effort. I had asked him once if he were quite well, and hehad looked at me in evident astonishment. 

'Perfectly well, thank you, --in a state of rude health. Nothing ever ailsme. Why do you ask?' But I evaded this question, for I knew Max hated tobe watched; and, after all, what right had I to intrude into his privateanxieties? doubtless he had plenty of these, like other men. Themanagement of a large parish was on his shoulders, and he was tooconscientious and hard-working to spare himself; but somehow the shadowlying deep down in Max's honest brown eyes haunted me as I unlatched thecottage door. 

I heard Nathaniel's voice in the kitchen, and went in to bid him and hismother good-night. Mrs. Barton was not there, however, but, to mychagrin, Mr. Hamilton occupied her seat. He looked up with a ratherquizzical glance as I entered: he and Nathaniel had the round tablebetween them, strewn with books and papers; Nathaniel was writing, andMr. Hamilton was sitting opposite to him. 

'I beg your pardon, ' I said hurriedly. 'I thought Mrs. Barton was here. '

'She has gone to bed, ' returned Mr. Hamilton coolly: 'my friend Nathanieland I are hard at work, as you see. Do you know anything of mathematics, Miss Garston?--no, you shake your head--' I do not know what more hewould have said, but I escaped with a quick good-night. 

As I went upstairs I made a resolution to avoid the kitchen in future:I might at any moment stumble upon Mr. Hamilton. I had forgotten that hegave Nathaniel lessons sometimes in the evening. What a ubiquitous mortalthis man appeared, here, there, and everywhere! It had given me rather ashock to see him so comfortably domiciled in Mrs. Barton's cosy kitchen;he looked as much at home there as in Uncle Max's study. How brightNathaniel had looked as he raised his head to bid me good-night! I wasobliged to confess that they had seemed as happy as possible. 

It was very late when he left the cottage; I was just sinking off tosleep when I heard his voice under my window. Tinker heard it too, andbarked, and then the gate shut with a sudden sharp click and all wasstill. Nathaniel must have crept up to bed in his stocking-feet, as theysay in some parts, for I never heard him pass my door. 

I was glad to be greeted by sunshine the next morning; the day seemed tosmile on my new work like an unuttered benison, as I went down to mysolitary breakfast. I resolved that nothing Mr. Hamilton could say shoulddamp or put me out of temper, and then I sat down and read a sad ramblingletter from Jill, which was so quaint and original, in spite of itslugubriousness, that it made me smile. 

I was standing by the door, caressing Tinker, who was in a frolickingmood this morning, when I saw Mr. Hamilton cross the road; he wore a darktweed suit and a soft felt hat, --a costume that did not suit him in theleast; he held open the gate for me, and made a sign that I should joinhim. As I approached without hurrying myself in the least, he lookedinquiringly at the basket I carried. 

'I hope you do not intend to pauperise your patients, ' was his firstgreeting. 

'Oh no, ' was my reply, but I did not volunteer any information as to thecontents of the basket. There was certainly a jar of beef-tea that Mrs. Drabble had given me, and a few grapes; but the little store of soap, soda, fine rags, and the two or three clean towels and cloths would havesurprised him a little, though he might have understood the meaning ofthe neat housewife. 

'I am glad you wear print dresses, ' was his next remark; 'they are properfor a nurse. Stuff gowns that do not wash are abominations. I am takingyou to a very dirty place, Miss Garston, but what can you expect whenthere are seven children under thirteen years of age and the mother isdying? She was a clean capable body when she was up; it is hard for herto see the place like a pig-sty now. Old Mrs. Marshall is blind, and ashelpless as the children, ' He spoke abruptly, but not without feeling. 

'The neighbours are good to them, Uncle Max tells me. '

'Oh yes; they come in and tidy up a bit, that is their expression; nowand then they wash the baby or take off a batch of dirty clothes, butthey have their own homes and children. I tell my patient that she wouldbe far more comfortable in a hospital; but she says she cannot leave thechildren, she would rather die at home. That is what they all say. '

'But the poor creatures mean what they say, Mr. Hamilton. '

'Oh, but it is all nonsense!' he returned irritably. 'She can do nothingfor the children; she cannot have a moment's quiet or a moment's comfort, with all those grimy noisy creatures rushing in and out. I found hersitting up in bed yesterday, in danger of breaking a blood-vessel throughcoughing, because one of the imps had fallen down and cut his head andshe was trying to plaster it. '

'Her husband ought to be with her, ' I said, somewhat indignantly. 

'He is on a job somewhere, and cannot come home; they must have breadto eat, and he must work. This is the house, ' pointing to a low whitecottage at the end of a long straggling street of similar houses; two orthree untidy-looking children were playing in the front garden with someoyster-shells and a wooden horse without a head. One little white-headedurchin clapped his hands when he saw Mr. Hamilton, and a pretty littlegirl with a very dirty face ran up to him and clasped him round the knee. 

''As 'oo any pennies to-day?' she lisped. 

'No nonsense; run away, children, ' he said, in a rough voice that did notin the least alarm them, for they scampered after us into the porch untilan elder girl, with a year-old baby in her arms, met us on the thresholdand scolded them away. 

Mr. Hamilton shook a big stick at them. 

'I shall give no pennies to children with dirty faces. Well, Peggy, howis mother? Have the boys gone to school, both of them? That is right. This is the lady who is coming to look after mother. '

Here Peggy dropped a courtesy, and said, 'Yes, sir, ' and 'yes please, mum. '

'Mind you do all she tells you. Now out of my way. I want to speak toyour grandmother a moment, and then I will come into the other room. '

I followed him into the untidy, miserable looking kitchen. An old womanwas sitting by the fire with an infant in her arms; we found out that itbelonged to the neighbour who was washing out some things in the yard. She came in by and by, clattering over the stones in her thick clogs, --abrisk, untidy-looking young woman, --and looked at me curiously as shetook her baby. 

'I must be going home now, granny, ' she said, in a loud, good-humouredvoice. 'Peggy can rinse out the few things I've left. '

Granny had a pleasant, weather-beaten face, only it looked sunken andpale, and the poor blind eyes had a pathetic, unseeing look in them. Tomy surprise, she looked neat and clean. I had yet to learn the slowmartyrdom the poor soul had endured during the last few months in thatsqualid, miserable household. To her, cleanliness was next to godliness. She had brought up a large family well and thriftily, and now in her oldage and helplessness her life had no comfort in it. I was rathersurprised to see Mr. Hamilton shake the wrinkled hand heartily. 

'Well, Elspeth, what news of your son? Is he likely to come home soon?'

'Nay, doctor, ' in a faint old treble: 'Andrew cannot leave his job fortwo or three months to come. He is terrible down-hearted about poor Mary. Ay, she has been a good wife to him and the bairns; but look at her now!Poor thing! Poor thing!'

'We must all dree our weird. You are a canny Scotch-woman, and know whatthat means. Come, you must cheer up, for I have brought a young lady withme who is going to put your daughter-in-law a little more comfortable andsee after her from time to time. '

'Ay, but that is cheering news, ' returned Elspeth; and one of the raretears of old age stole down her withered cheek. 'My poor Mary! she ispatient, and never complains; but the good Lord is laying a heavy crosson her. '

'That is true, ' muttered Mr. Hamilton, and then he said, in abusiness-like tone, 'Now for the patient, Miss Garston'; and as he ledthe way across the narrow passage we could hear the hard, gasping coughof the sick woman. 

Peggy, with the baby still in her arms, was trying to stir a black, cindery fire, that was filling the room with smoke. The child was crying, and the poor invalid was sitting up in bed nearly suffocated by hercough. The great four-post bed blocked up the little window. The remainsof a meal were still on the big round table. Some clothes were drying bythe hearth; a thin tortoise-shell cat was licking up a stream of milkthat was filtering slowly across the floor, in the midst of jugs, cans, a broken broom, some children's toys, and two or three boots. The bedlooked as though it had not been made for days; the quilt and valancewere deplorably dirty; but the poor creature herself looked neat andclean, and her hair was drawn off from her sunken cheeks and knottedcarefully at the back of her head. Mr. Hamilton uttered an exclamationof impatience when he saw the smoke, and almost snatched the poker outof Peggy's hands. 

'Take the child away, ' he said angrily. 'Miss Garston, if you can findsome paper and wood in this infernal confusion, I shall be obliged toyou: this smoke must be stopped. '

I found the broken lid of a box that split up like tinder, and Peggybrought me an old newspaper, and then I stood by while Mr. Hamiltonskilfully manipulated the miserable fire. 

'All these ashes must be removed, ' he said curtly, as he rose withblackened hands: 'the whole fireplace is blocked up with them. ' And thenhe went to the pump and washed his hands, while I sent Peggy after himwith a nice clean towel from my basket. While he was gone I stepped upto the bed and said a word or two to poor Mrs. Marshall. 

She must have been a comely creature in her days of health, but she wasfearfully wasted now. The disease was evidently running its course; asshe lay there exhausted and panting, I knew her lease of life would notbe long. 

'It was the smoke, ' she panted. 'Peggy is young: she muddles over thefire. Last night it went out, and she was near an hour getting it tolight. '

'It is burning beautifully now, ' I returned; and then Mr. Hamilton cameback and began to examine his patient, professionally. I was surprisedto find that his abrupt manner left him; he spoke to Mrs. Marshall sogently, and with such evident sympathy, that I could hardly believe itwas the same person; her wan face seemed to light up with gratitude; butwhen he turned to me to give some directions for her treatment he spokewith his old dryness. 

'I shall be here about the same time to-morrow, ' he finished; and then henodded to us both, and went away. 

'Mrs. Marshall, ' I said, as I warmed the beef-tea with some difficulty ina small broken pipkin, 'do you know of any strong capable girls who wouldclean up the place a little for me?'

'There is Weatherley's eldest girl Hope still at home, ' she replied, after a moment's hesitation, 'but her mother will not let her workwithout pay. She is a poor sort of neighbour, is Susan Weatherley, andis very niggardly in helping people. '

'Of course I should pay Hope, ' I answered decidedly; and when thebeef-tea was ready I called Peggy and sent her on my errand. One glanceat the place showed me that I could do nothing for my patient withouthelp. Happily, I had seen some sheets drying by the kitchen fire, butthey would hardly be ready for us before the evening; but when Mrs. Marshall had taken her beef-tea I covered her up and tried to smooth theuntidy quilt. Then, telling her that we were going to make her room alittle more comfortable, I pinned up my dress and enveloped myself in aholland apron ready for work. 

Peggy came back at this moment with a big, strapping girl of sixteen, wholooked strong and willing. She was evidently not a woman of words, butshe grinned cheerful acquiescence when I set her to work on the grate, while I cleared the table and carried out all the miscellaneous articlesthat littered the floor. 

Mrs. Marshall watched us with astonished eyes. 'Oh dear! oh dear!' Iheard her say to herself, 'and a lady too!' but I took no notice. 

I sent Hope once or twice across to her mother for various articles weneeded, --black lead, a scrubbing-brush, some house flannel and softsoap, --and when she had finished the grate I set her to scrub the floor, as it was black with dirt. I was afraid of the damp boards for mypatient, but I covered her up as carefully as possible, and pinned someold window-curtains across the bed. Neglect and want of cleanliness hadmade the air of the sick-room so fetid and poisonous that one couldhardly breath it with safety. 

Now and then I looked in the other room and spoke a cheerful word togranny. Peggy was doing her best for the children, but the poor babyseemed very fretful. Towards noon two rough-headed boys made theirappearance and began clamouring for their dinner. The same untidy youngwoman whom I had seen before came clattering up the yard again in herclogs and helped Peggy spread great slices of bread and treacle for thehungry children, and warmed some food for the baby. I saw granny tryingto eat a piece of bread and dripping that they gave her and then lay itdown without a word: no wonder her poor cheeks were so white and sunken. 

Mrs. Drabble had promised me some more beef-tea, so I warmed a cupful forgranny and broke up a slice of stale bread in it: it was touching to seeher enjoyment of the warm food. The eldest boy, Tim, was nearly elevenyears old, and looked a sharp little fellow, so I set him to clean up thekitchen with Peggy and make things a little tidier, and promised somebuns to all the children who had clean faces and hands at tea-time. 

I left Hope still at work when I went up to the White Cottage to eat somedinner. Mrs. Barton had made a delicate custard-pudding, which I carriedoff for the invalid's and granny's supper. My young healthy appetiteneeded no tempting, and my morning's work had only whetted it. I did notlinger long in my pretty parlour, for a heavy task was before me. I wasdetermined the sick-room should have a different appearance the nextmorning. 

I sent Hope to her dinner while I washed and made my patient comfortable. The room felt fresher and sweeter already; a bright fire burned in thepolished grate; Hope had scoured the table and wiped the chairs, and thedirty quilt and valance had been sent to Mrs. Weatherley's to be washed. When Hope returned, and the sheets were aired, we re-made the bed. I hadsent a message early to Mrs. Drabble begging for some of the lendingblankets and a clean coloured quilt, which she had sent down by a boy. The scarlet cover looked so warm and snug that I stood still to admirethe effect; poor Mary fairly cried when I laid her back on her pillow. 

'It feels all so clean and heavenly, ' she sobbed; 'it is just a comfortto lie and see the room. '

'I mean granny to come and have her tea here, ' I said, for I was longingfor the dear old woman to have her share of some of the comfort; and Ihad just led her in and put her in the big shiny chair by the fire, whenUncle Max put his head in and looked at us. 

'Just so, ' he said, nodding his head, and a pleased expression came intohis eyes. 'Bravo, Ursula! Tudor won't know the place again. How you musthave worked, child!' And then he came in and talked to the sick woman. 

I had taken a cup of tea standing, for I was determined not to go homeand rest until I left for the night. I could not forget the poor fretfulbaby, and, indeed, all the children were miserably neglected. I made upmy mind that Hope and I would wash the poor little creatures and put themcomfortably to bed. My first day's work was certainly exceptionally hard, but it would make my future work easier. 

The baby was a pale, delicate little creature, very backward for its age;it left off fretting directly I took it in my lap, and began staring atme with its large blue eyes. Hope had just filled the large tub, and thechildren were crowding round it with evident amusement, when Uncle Maxcame in. He contemplated the scene with twinkling eyes. 

'"There was an old woman who lived in a shoe, "' he began humorously. 'Mydear Ursula, do you mean to say you are going to wash all those children?The tub looks suggestive, certainly. '

I nodded. 

'Who would have believed in such an overplus of energy? Hard workcertainly agrees with you. ' And then he went out laughing, and we set towork, and then Hope and I carried in the children by detachments, thatthe poor mother might see the clean rosy faces. I am afraid we had tobribe Jock, the youngest boy, for he evidently disliked soap and water. 

Peggy and the baby slept in the mother's room; there was a little bed inthe corner for them. I did not leave until granny had been taken upstairsand poor tired Peggy was fast asleep with the baby beside her. 

The room looked so comfortable when I turned for a last peep. I had drawnthe round table to the bed, and left the night-light and cooling drinkbeside the sick woman; she was propped up with pillows, and her breathingseemed easier. When I bade her good-night, and told her I should be roundearly in the morning, she said, 'Then it will be the first morning Ishall not dread to wake. Thank you kindly, dear miss, for all you havedone'; and her soft brown eyes looked at me gratefully. 

CHAPTER IX

THE FLAG OF TRUCE

It could not be denied that I was extremely tired as I walked down thedark road; but in spite of fatigue my heart felt lighter than it had donesince Charlie's death, and the warm glow from the window of my littleparlour seemed to welcome me, it looked so snug and bright. My low chairwas drawn to the fire, a sort of tea-supper was awaiting me, and Mrs. Barton came out of the kitchen as soon as I had lifted the latch, to askwhat she could do for me. 

The first words surprised me greatly. Mr. Hamilton had called late in theafternoon, and had seemed somewhat surprised to hear I was still at thecottage, but he had left no message, and Mrs. Barton had no idea what hewanted with me. 

I was half inclined to think that he had another case ready for me, butI had done my day's work and refused to think of the morrow. The firstvolume of _Kingsley's Life_ was lying on the little table: I had broughtit from the vicarage the preceding evening. I passed a delicious hour inmy luxurious chair, and went to bed reluctantly that I might be fit forthe next day's fatigue. 

As soon as I had breakfasted the next morning and read my letters, achatty one from Sara and an affectionate note from Lesbia, I went downto the cottage. 

I found my patient a little easier; she had passed a better night, andseemed, on the whole, more cheerful. Hope had arrived, and was scrubbingthe kitchen, as I had enjoined her. Baby seemed poorly and fretful. Igave her in charge of Peggy, and set myself to the work of putting mypatient and the sick-room in order, after which I intended to wash thebaby and see after granny's and the children's dinner. 

I had just brushed up the hearth and put the kettle to boil, when Mr. Hamilton's shadow crossed the window, and the next moment he was in theroom. 

I was sure that a half-smile of approbation came to his lips as helooked round the room; he lifted his eyebrows as though in surprise ashe noticed everything, --the neat hearth, white boards, and bright window, and lastly the comfortable appearance of the bed, with its scarlet quiltand clean sheets. 

'This is quite a transformation-scene, Miss Garston, ' he said, in anapproving tone. 'No wonder you were not at home in the afternoon. Mypatient looks cheery too: one would think I had set the fairy Order towork. ' I felt that this was meant for high praise, and I received itgraciously. I knew I had worked well and achieved wonders; but then I hadHope's strong arms to help me: it had been straightforward work, too, with no complication: any charwoman could have done it as well. I wassorry that his commendation set Mrs. Marshall's tongue going; she becameso voluble, in spite of her cough, that I was obliged to enforce silence. 

Mr. Hamilton's visit was very brief. I asked him to prescribe for thebaby, but he said nothing ailed it in particular; it had always beensickly, and had been so neglected of late, most likely sour food had beengiven it. Mrs. Tyler, the next-door neighbour, who had looked after it, was a thoughtless body. 'You must take it in hand yourself, MissGarston, ' he finished; 'keep it warm and clean, and see the food properlyprepared: that will be better than any medicine. ' And then he went offwith his usual abruptness, only I saw him stop at the gate to givepennies to Janie and little Jock. 

There was still so much to do that I determined to spend the whole day atthe cottage. I sent off all the dirty things for Mrs. Tyler to wash athome, for she was so noisy and untidy that I did not care to have her onthe premises, and I thought granny could sit in Mrs. Marshall's room andhold baby while Peggy waited on me and ran errands. 

Hope worked splendidly: when she had scoured the kitchen and frontpassage, she went upstairs and scrubbed the two rooms where granny andthe children slept. I had made a potato pie with some scraps of meatPeggy had brought from the butcher's, and had seen the dish emptied bythe hungry children. When I had fed the sandy cat and had had my owndinner, which Mrs. Barton had packed in a nice clean basket, and hadpeeped at my patient, I went upstairs to help Hope, and Peggy wentwith me. The state of the sleeping-rooms had horrified me in the morning;the windows had evidently not been open for weeks, and the sheets ongranny's bed were black with dirt. Hope had washed the bedstead, andPeggy had lighted a fire, that the room might be habitable by night. Timcame up while we were busy, and stared at us. I was helping Peggy dragthe mattresses and bedclothes into the passage. The open windows and thewet boards reeking with soft soap evidently astonished him. 

'Where be us to sleep to-night?' quoth Tim; 'it is colder than in theyard. ' But Peggy, who was excited by her work, bade him hold his tongueand not stand gaping there blocking up the passage. 

I had been singing over my work, just to put heart into all of us andmake us forget what a very disagreeable business it was, when Tim againmade his appearance and said there was a gentleman in the kitchen. 'Hethought he knowed him, but wasn't sure, but he had asked for the lady. 'I went down at once, and found it was Mr. Tudor; he was sitting verycomfortably by the fire, with all the children round him; little Janiewas on his knee; her face was clean, and her pretty curls had been nicelybrushed, so I did not mind her cuddling up to him, and I knew he was fondof children and always ready to play with them. 

He put her down and shook hands with me, and said the vicar had sent himto look after me, as he could not come himself. I thought he looked alittle amused at my appearance; and no wonder. I had quite forgotten thatI had tied a handkerchief over my head to keep the dust from off my hair;with my holland bib-apron and sleeves, and pinned-up dress, I must havelooked an odd figure; but when I said so he laughed, and observed that herather admired my novel costume: it reminded him of a Highland peasant hehad once seen. 

'Was that you who were singing just now, Miss Garston?' he askedpresently, looking at me with some attention. 

'Yes, ' I returned. 'You seem surprised. Surely you have heard me sing atHyde Park Gate?' But he shook his head very decidedly. 

'I should not have forgotten your voice if I had once heard it, ' he said, in such a pleasant manner that the straightforward compliment did notembarrass me. 'You ought not to let such a talent rust, Miss Garston: thevicar must utilise you for our Penny Readings. '

I was horrified at this notion, and told him very seriously that nothingwould induce me to sing on a platform, but that it was not my intentionto let it rust, only I had my own ideas how best to utilise it. 

He looked curious at this, but I changed the subject by asking him if hewould like to see Mrs. Marshall. He hesitated, coloured slightly asthough the question were distasteful, then he put down Janie from hisknee, --for the child had clambered up again, --and said the vicar hadundertaken the case, as he was rather new to the work, but he would seeher if I wished it. 

I was provoking enough to say that I did wish it, for I wanted him tosee the comfortable appearance of the room that he so dreaded to enter. I felt sorry for Mr. Tudor in my heart that his work should be sodistasteful to him: he was a fine, manly young fellow, who would havemade a splendid sailor or soldier, but sick-rooms and old women were notto his taste, and yet he was very gentle and sympathising in his manners, and all the poor people liked him. 

Granny was dozing by the fire, and the baby was asleep on the mother'sbed, and as I opened the door I quite enjoyed Mr. Tudor's start ofastonishment at the changed scene. I did not let him stay long, but Ithought his kind looks and pleasant voice would cheer poor Mary. He saidvery little to either her or Elspeth, but what he said was sensible andto the point. 

I sent him away after this, for my work was waiting for me. He went offlaughing, and protesting that he had no idea that I had taken up the_rôle_ of a charitable charwoman, and that the vicar would remonstratewith me on the subject. 

I think we all felt the brighter for Mr. Tudor's little visit, though hehad said nothing specially clever; but he was an honest, genial creature, and I liked him thoroughly. I stopped at the cottage late that evening, for Mrs. Marshall wanted a letter written to her husband, and I could notrefuse to do it. I was almost too tired to enjoy Kingsley that night, andfound myself dozing over it, so I shut it up and went to bed. 

Mr. Hamilton did not make his appearance until later the next day, whenI was presiding over the children's dinner. I had just carried in a plateof lentil soup to granny, whom I now kept entirely in the sick-room, asshe was too old to bear the children's noise, and the constant draughtsfrom the opening door would soon have laid her on a sick-bed. I had babyin my lap, and was feeding her when he looked in on us. 

I rose at once to follow him into the sick-room, but he waved me back. 

'Do not disturb yourself, Miss Garston; you all look very comfortable. Jock, are you trying to swallow that spoon? You will find it a hardmorsel. ' And then he went into the other room, and, to my surprise, wedid not see him again. 

I left a little earlier that evening, as I knew Uncle Max meant to pay mea visit; but it was already dark when I closed the little gate behind me. I had not gone many paces when I heard footsteps behind me, and, somewhatto my dismay, Mr. Hamilton joined me. 

'Have you only just finished your day's work?' he said, in evidentsurprise. 'This will never do, Miss Garston; we shall have you knockingyourself up if you use up your time and strength so recklessly, and Iwant you for another case. '

'I am quite prepared for that, ' I answered; but I am afraid my voice wasa little weary. 'You called on me yesterday, Mr. Hamilton. I was sorry tobe out, but there was so much to do that I stayed at the cottage untilquite late in the evening. '

'Just so, ' in rather a vexed tone. 'The village nurse will be on asick-bed herself if this goes on. '

'Oh, what nonsense!' I returned, laughing, for I forgot for the moment inthe darkness that I was speaking to the formidable Mr. Hamilton. 'I donot always mean to work quite so hard. Mr. Tudor called me a charitablecharwoman last evening; but this is an exceptional case, --so manyhelpless beings, and such shocking mismanagement and neglect. When I putthings on a proper footing I shall not spend so much time there. '

'What do you mean by putting things on a proper footing?' he asked, withsome show of interest. 

'When the place has been properly cleaned it will be kept tolerably tidywith less labour. Hope Weatherley has been hard at work for two days, andthings are now pretty comfortable. '

'I suppose--excuse me if the question seems impertinent, but I imaginethat you paid Hope out of your own purse?'

'For those two days, certainly. It was necessary for my own comfort, speaking selfishly, that the place should be made habitable. My nursingwould have been a mere mockery unless we could have got rid of the dirt, '

'You are perfectly right. I had no idea you were such a practical person. But, if you will allow me to give you a hint, Marshall earns good wages, and there ought to be sufficient money to pay for a moderate amount ofhelp. '

'I told Mrs. Marshall so this morning, ' I returned, pleased to findmyself talking with such ease to Mr. Hamilton; but he seemed quitedifferent to-night; evidently his _brusquerie_ was a mere mannerism thathe laid aside at times; he had lost that sneering manner that I so muchdisliked. I remembered Uncle Max said that he was kind-hearted andeccentric. 

'We had a long talk, ' I went on. 'Marshall sends the money regularly, andI am to manage it. Mrs. Tyler is to wash for us, and I think we canafford to have Hope for at least an hour a day, to do the rough work;Peggy is so little to do everything. '

'Heaven help poor Peg!' he ejaculated; 'for she will soon have all thosechildren on her hands. Mrs. Marshall cannot last long. Well, MissGarston, how many hours do you intend to spend at the cottage daily?'

'I should think two hours in the morning and an hour and a half in thelate afternoon or evening might do, unless there be a change for theworse, or Elspeth falls ill; she is very old and feeble. '

'She was half starved, poor old creature, --fairly clemmed, as they sayin the North. Here we are at your place, Miss Garston. How bright andinviting your parlour looks! I wonder if I may ask to come in for a fewminutes, while I tell you about the other case?'

Of course I could not do less than invite him to enter, after that; butI am afraid my manner lacked enthusiasm, and betrayed the fact that I wasunwilling to entertain Mr. Hamilton as a guest, for when I saw his facein the lamplight he was regarding me with some amusement. 

'Cunliffe has done me no end of mischief, ' he said, as he offered torelieve me of my wraps: 'that unfortunate speech has strongly prejudicedyou against me. Confess, now, you think me a very disagreeable person, because I happened to disagree with you that evening. '

'Certainly not on that account, ' I returned, falling into the trap; andthen we both laughed, for I had as good as owned that I thought himdisagreeable. That laugh made us better friends. I felt I no longerdisliked him: it was certainly not his fault that Providence had givenhim that type of face, and I supposed one could get used to it. 

'I was in an evil mood that afternoon, ' he went on, and then I knewinstinctively that he wanted to efface his satirical words from mymemory. 'Things had gone wrong somehow, --for this world of ours is amighty muddle sometimes. ' And here he gave an impatient sigh. 'It is arelief to human nature to vent one's spleen on the first handy personthat crosses one's path, and, pardon me for saying so, you were just alittle aggressive yourself, ' looking at me rather dubiously, as thoughhe were not quite sure how I should take this hit. My conscience told methat I had been far from peaceable; on the contrary, I had been decidedlycross; not that I would confess that this was the case, so I onlyreturned mildly that I considered that he had been hard on me that day, and had handled my pet theory very roughly. 

'Come, now you are talking like a reasonable woman, and I will pleadguilty to some severity. Let me own that I distrusted you, Miss Garston. I have a horror of gush, and what I call the working mania of youngladies, and you had not proved to me then that you could work. At thepresent day, if a girl is restless and bad-tempered, and cannot get onwith her own people, she takes up hospital-nursing, and a rare muddle shemakes of it sometimes. I own hospital work is better than the convent ofthe Middle Ages, where the troublesome young ladies were safely immured;but, as I said before, I distrust the hysterical restlessness of theage. '

'No doubt you have a fair amount of argument on your side, ' I replied, so meekly that he looked at me, and then got up from his chair and saidhastily that I was tired, and he was thoughtless to keep me waiting formy tea. 

'Let me give you some, while you tell me about the case, ' was myhospitable reply; for, though I felt no special desire to prolong our_tête-à-tête_, mere civility prompted my offer. 

He hesitated, then, to my surprise, sat down again, and said he would bevery much obliged if I would give him a cup of tea, as he was tired too, and had to go farther and keep his dinner waiting. 

I went out of the room to remove my hat and speak to Mrs. Barton. WhenI came back he was standing before Charlie's photograph, and evidentlystudying it with some attention, but he made no remark about it; and Itold him of my own accord that it was the portrait of my twin-brother, who had died two years ago. 

'Indeed! There is no likeness; at least I should not have known it wasyour brother. This is often the case between relations, ' he continuedhastily, as though he feared he had hurt me. 'What a snug little berthyou have, Miss Garston, and everything so ship-shape too! I suppose thatis your piano; but I am afraid you will have little time to practise. 'And then, as I handed him his tea, he threw himself down in theeasy-chair and seemed prepared to enjoy himself. 

Looking at Mr. Hamilton this evening, I could have believed he had twosides to his character: he presented such a complete contrast to the Mr. Hamilton in Uncle Max's study that I was quite puzzled by it. He hadcertainly a clever face, and his smile was quick and bright; it was onlyin rest that his mouth looked so stern and hard. I found myself wonderingonce or twice if he had known any great trouble that had embittered him. 

'Well, I must tell you about poor Phoebe Locke, ' he began suddenly. 'Iwant you to find out what you can do for her. The Lockes are respectablepeople: Phoebe and her sister were dressmakers. They live a little lowerdown, --at Woodbine Cottage. 

'Some years ago spinal disease came on, and now Phoebe is bedridden. Shesuffers a good deal at times, but her worst trouble is that her nervesare disordered, most likely from the dulness and monotony of her life. She suffers cruelly from low spirits; and no wonder, lying all day inthat dull little back room. Her sister cannot sit with her, as Phoebecannot bear the noise of the sewing-machine, and the sight of the outerworld seems to irritate her. The neighbours would come in to cheer herup, but she does not seem able to bear their loud voices. It iswonderful, ' he continued musingly, 'how education and refinement trainthe voice: strange to say, though my voice is not particularly low, andcertainly not sweet, it never seems to jar upon her. '

'Very likely not, ' I returned quickly; 'no doubt she depends upon you forall her comforts: to most invalids the doctor's visit is the one brightspot in the day. '

'It seems strange that we do not project our own shadows sometimes, andmake our patient shiver, ' he said, with a touch of gruffness. 'It islittle that I can do for Phoebe, except order her a blister or ice whenshe needs it. One cannot touch the real nervous suffering: there is whereI look to you for help; a little cheerful talk now and then may lightenher burden. Anyhow, it would be a help for poor Miss Locke, who has a sadtime of it trying to earn food for them both. There is a little niecewho lives with them, a subdued, uncanny little creature, who looks asthough the childhood were crushed out of her; you might take her in handtoo. '

'I wonder if Phoebe would like me to sing to her, ' I observed quietly. 'I have found it answer sometimes in nervous illnesses. '

I thought my remark surprised him. 

'It is a good idea, ' he said slowly. 'You might try it. Of course itwould depend a great deal on the quality of voice and style of singing. I wonder if you would allow me to judge of this, '--looking meaningly atthe piano; but I shook my head at this, and he did not press the point. 

We had very little talk after this, for he went away almost directly, first arranging to meet me at Mrs. Marshall's about four the next day andgo with me to Woodbine Cottage. 

'You will find plenty of work, Miss Garston, ' were his final words, 'sodo not waste your strength unnecessarily. ' And then he left the room, butcame back a moment afterwards to say that his sisters meant to call onme, only they thought I was hardly settled yet: 'we must get Mr. Cunliffeto bring you up to Gladwyn: we must not let you mope. '

I thought there was little chance of this, with Uncle Max and Mr. Tudoralways looking after me. Mr. Hamilton had hardly closed the door beforeUncle Max opened it again. 

'So the enemy has tasted bread and salt, Ursula, ' he said, lookingexcessively pleased: 'that is right, my dear: do not give way to absurdprejudices. You and Hamilton will get on splendidly by and by, when youget used to his brusque manner. ' And, though I did not quite endorse thisopinion, I was obliged to acknowledge to myself that the last half-hourhad not been so unpleasant after all. 

CHAPTER X

A DIFFICULT PATIENT

I had a little talk with granny the next day. 

Mrs. Marshall was dozing uneasily, and I was sitting by granny, nursingthe baby, and waiting for Mr. Hamilton, when I felt her cold wrinkledhand laid on mine. 

'What is it, Elspeth?' I asked, thinking she wanted something. 

'What put it in your head, my bairn, to do the Lord's work? that is whatI am wanting to know. I have been listening to you this morning singinglike a bird about the house, with all the bit creatures chirping aboutyou, and I said to myself, "What could have put it into her head to leaveall her fine friends, and come and wait on the likes of us old and sickfolk and young bairns?"'

I do not know what there was in this speech that made me cry, but Iknow I had some difficulty in answering, but I told her a little aboutCharlie, and how sad I was, and how I loved the work, and she patted myhand softly all the time. 

'Never fret, my bairn. You will not be lonely long: the Lord will see tothat. He would not let you work for Him and do nothing for you in return. Nay, that is not His way. Look at me: as doctor said the other day, Ihave dreed my weird; few and evil have been my days, like Jacob, but hereI sit like a lady by the fire, warm and comfortable and hearty, thankGod; and Andrew's wife lies on her death-bed, poor woman. '

'Yes; but, Elspeth, you sit there in the dark. '

'Eh, but it is peaceful and quiet-like, and the Lord bides with me, "anddarkness and light are both alike to him, "' finished Elspeth reverently. And then I heard the click of the gate, and rose hastily, only the babycried as I laid her on Elspeth's lap, and I had to stay a moment topacify her. 

Mr. Hamilton came in and stood by us. 

'Do not hurry yourself; I can easily wait a few minutes if you are notready. Are you sure you are not too tired to come?' he continued, lookingat me a little inquisitively, and I was certain that he noticed the traceof tears on my face. Why was it I never could speak of my darling quitecalmly?

'I am perfectly ready, and baby has left off crying, ' I returned, takingup my basket, and then we left the house together. 

'I hope you do not suffer from low spirits, like the rest of us, ' hesaid, in rather a kind tone, as we walked on. 'It is to be expected thata cross-grained fellow like myself should have fits of the bluesoccasionally. That is one thing I particularly admire about Cunliffe!however worried he is, one never sees him out of humour; his ups anddowns are never perceptible. I do believe he is less selfish than otherpeople. '

'There is no one like Uncle Max, ' I rejoined fervently. 

'Is it not odd that we should suit each other so well?' he askedpresently, 'for we are complete contrasts. I can bear him to say thingsto me that I would knock any other fellow down for saying. That is why Ilet him preach to me, because he honestly believes what he says and triesto act up to his profession. ' He broke off here, for by this time we hadreached Woodbine Cottage, and he unlatched the gate for me. 

A thin-faced child with a cropped head and clean white pinafore openedthe door, and dropped an alarmed courtesy when she saw us. 

'Please sir, Aunt Susan is out, and Aunt Phoebe is very bad thisafternoon, and cannot see any one. She is lying in the dark, and I wasto let none of the neighbours in while Aunt Susan was away. '

'All right, Kitty; but Aunt Phoebe will see me. ' And he walked into thepassage, and told the child to close the door gently. The room we passedwas strewn with work-material, and looked cold and comfortless, but asmall kitchen opposite had a warm cosy aspect. Mr. Hamilton passed bothrooms and tapped at a door lower down the passage, and then withoutwaiting for an answer entered, and beckoned me to follow him. 

A dark curtain had been drawn across the window, and the dim glow of acindery fire scarcely gave sufficient light to discern the differentpieces of furniture. Mr. Hamilton gave vent to a suppressed exclamationof impatience as he seized the poker, but I could not but notice theskilful and almost noiseless manner in which he manipulated the coals. Then he looked round for a match, and lighted a candle on themantelpiece, in spite of a peevish remonstrance from the patient. 

'You will make my head worse, doctor: nothing but the dark eases it. '

'Nonsense, Phoebe! I know better than that, ' he returned cheerfully, and then he stepped up to the bed, and I followed him. The woman wholay there was still young in years, she could not have been more thanthree- or four-and-thirty, but every semblance of youth was crushed outof her by some subtile and mysterious suffering; it might have been theface of a dead woman, only for the living eyes that looked at us. 

The hopeless wistful look in those eyes gave me a singular shock. I hadnever seen human eyes with the same expression; they seemed as thoughthey were appealing against some awful destiny. Once when Charlie andI were staying at Rutherford a beautiful spaniel belonging to Lesbia hadbeen accidentally shot while straying in some wood. The poor animal haddragged himself with pain and difficulty to the garden-gate, and there wefound him. I shall never forget the wistfulness of the poor creature'seyes when his mistress knelt down and caressed him. He died a few minutesafterwards, licking her hand. I could not help thinking of Tito when Ifirst saw Phoebe Locke; for the same unreasoning anguish seemed in thesick woman's eyes. A tormented soul looked out of them. 

There was something rigid and uncompromising in the whole aspect of thesick-room; there was nothing to tone down and soften the harsh details ofbodily suffering; everything was in spotless order; the sheets were whiteas the driven snow; a formidable phalanx of medicine-bottles stood on thesmall square table; there were no books, no pictures, no flowers; asampler hung over the mantelpiece, that was all. I saw Mr. Hamiltonglance disapprovingly at the row of bottles. 

'I told Kitty to clear all that rubbish away, ' he said curtly. 'Why doyou not have something pleasanter to look at, Phoebe?--some flowers, ora canary? you would find plenty of amusement in watching a canary. '

'Birds are never still for a moment; they would drive me mad, ' returnedPhoebe, in the hollow tones that seemed natural to her. 'Flowers arebetter; but what have I to do with flowers? Doctor, ' her voice risinginto a shrill crescendo, 'you must give me something to send me to sleep, or I shall go mad. I think, think, think, until my head is in a crazewith pain and misery. '

'Well, well, we will see about it, ' humouring her as though she were achild. 'Will you not speak to this lady, Phoebe? She has come down hereto help us all, --sick people, and unhappy people, and every one thatwants help. '

'She can't do anything for me, ' muttered Phoebe restlessly; 'no one--noteven you, doctor, can do anything for me. I am doomed, --doomed before mytime. '

Mr. Hamilton looked at me meaningly, as though to say, 'Now you see whatyou have to do: this is more your work than mine. ' I obeyed the hint, andaccosted the sick woman as cheerfully as though her dismal speech had notcurdled my blood. 

'I hope I shall be some comfort to you; it is hard indeed if no one canhelp you, when you have so much to bear!'

'To bear!' repeating my words as though they stung her. 'I have lain herefor three years--three years come Christmas Eve, doctor--between thesefour walls, summer and winter, winter and summer, and never knew exceptby heat or cold what season of the year it was. And I am young, --justturned four-and-thirty, --and I may lie here thirty years more, unlessI die or go mad. '

'Now, Phoebe, ' remonstrated Mr. Hamilton, --and how gently hespoke!--'have I not told you over and over that things may mend yet ifyou will only be patient and good? You are just making things worse bybearing them so badly. Why, a friend of mine has been seven years on herback like you, and she is the happiest, cheeriest body: it is quite apleasure to go into her room. '

'Maybe she is good, and I am wicked, ' returned Phoebe sullenly. 'I cannothelp it, doctor: it is one of my bad days, and nothing but wicked wordscome uppermost. The devil has a deal of power when a woman is chained asI am. '

'Don't you think you could exorcise the demon by a song, Miss Garston?'observed Mr. Hamilton, in an undertone. 'This is just the case wheremusic may be a soothing influence; something must be tried for the poorcreature. '

The proposition almost took away my breath. Sing now! before Mr. Hamilton! And yet how in sheer humanity could I refuse? I had often sungbefore to my patients, and had never minded it in the least; but beforeMr. Hamilton!

'You need not think of me, ' he continued provokingly, --for of course Iwas thinking of him: 'I am no critic in the musical line. Just try how itanswers, will you?' And he walked away and turned his back to us, andseemed absorbed in the sampler. 

For one minute I hesitated, and then I cleared my throat. 'I am going tosing something, Phoebe. Mr. Hamilton thinks it will do you good. ' Andthen, fearful lest her waywardness should stop me, I commenced at oncewith the first line of the beautiful hymn, 'Art thou weary? art thoulanguid?'

My voice trembled sadly at first, and my burning face and cold handstestified to my nervousness; but after the first verse I forgot Mr. Hamilton's presence and only remembered it was Charlie's favourite hymnI was singing, and sang it with a full heart. 

When I had finished, I bent over Phoebe and asked if I should sing anymore, and, to my great delight, she nodded assent. I sang 'Abide withme, ' and several other suitable hymns, and I did not stop until the hardlook of woe in Phoebe's eyes had softened into a more gentle expression. 

As I paused, I looked across the room. Mr. Hamilton was still standing bythe mantelpiece, perfectly motionless. He had covered his eyes with hishand, and seemed lost in profound thought. He absolutely started when Iaddressed him. 

'Yes, we will go if you have finished, ' but he did not look at me as hespoke. 'Phoebe, has the young lady done you any good? Did you close youreyes and think you heard an angel singing? Now you must let me take heraway, for she is very tired, and has worked hard to-day. To-morrow, ifyou ask her, she will come again. '

'I shall not wait to be asked, ' I returned, answering the dumb, wistfullook that greeted the doctor's words. 'Oh yes, I shall come againto-morrow, and we will have a little talk, and I will bring you someflowers, and if you care to hear me sing I have plenty of pretty songs. 'And then I kissed her forehead, for I felt strongly drawn to the poorcreature, as though she were a strange, suffering sister, and I thoughtthat the kiss and the song and the flowers would be a threefold cordof sympathy for her to bind round her harassed soul through the longhours of the night. 

Mr. Hamilton followed me silently out, and on the threshold weencountered Susan Locke. She was a thin, subdued-looking woman, dressedin rusty black, with a careworn, depressed expression that changed intopleasure at the sight of Mr. Hamilton. 

'Oh, doctor, this is good of you, surely, --and you so busy! It is one ofPhoebe's bad days, when nothing pleases her and she will have naught tosay to us, but groan and groan until one's heart is pretty nigh broken. I was half hoping that you would look in on us and give her a bit of aword. '

'Miss Garston has done more than that, ' replied Mr. Hamilton. 'Ithink you will find your sister a little cheered. Give her somethingcomfortable to eat and drink, and speak as cheerfully as you can. Good-night, Miss Locke. ' And then he motioned to me to precede him downthe little garden. Mr. Hamilton was so very silent all the way home thatI was somewhat puzzled; he did not speak at all about Phoebe, --only saidthat he was afraid that I was very tired, and that he was the same; andwhen we came in sight of the cottage he left me rather abruptly; if ithad not been for his few approving words to Susan Locke, I should havethought something had displeased him. 

Uncle Max made me feel a little uncomfortable the next morning. I methim as I was starting for my daily work, and he walked with me to Mrs. Marshall's. 

'I was up at Gladwyn last evening, Ursula, ' he began. 'Miss Elizabethis still away, but the other ladies asked very kindly after you. MissHamilton means to call on you one afternoon, only she seems puzzled toknow how she is ever to find you at home. I cannot think what putHamilton into such a bad temper; he scarcely spoke to any of us, andlooked horribly cranky, only I laughed at him and he got better; henever mentioned your name. You have not fallen out again, eh, littleshe-bear?' looking at me rather anxiously. 

'Oh dear, no; we are perfectly civil to each other; I understand himbetter now. ' But all the same I could not help wondering, as I partedfrom Max, what could have made Mr. Hamilton so strangely silent. 

It was still early in the afternoon when I found myself free to go andsee Phoebe; she had been on my mind all day, and had kept me awake fora long time; those miserable eyes haunted me. I longed so to comfort her. Miss Locke opened the door; I thought she seemed pleased to see me, butshe eyed my basket of flowers dubiously. 

'Phoebe is looking for you, Miss Garston, though she says nothing aboutit; it is not her way; but I see her eyes turning to the door every nowand then, and she made Kitty open the curtains. If I may make so bold, those flowers are not for Phoebe, surely?'

'Yes, indeed they are, Miss Locke. Dr. Hamilton wishes her to havesomething pleasant to look at. ' But Miss Locke only shook her head. 

'The neighbours have sent in flowers often and often, and she has made mecarry them out of the room; the vicar used to send them too, but he knowsnow that it is no manner of use: she always says they do not put flowersin tombs, only outside them: she will have it she is living in a tomb. '

'We must get this idea out of her head, ' I returned cheerfully, for I wasobstinately bent on having my own way about the flowers. 

Kitty was sewing on a little stool by the window; the curtains wereundrawn, so that the room was tolerably light, and might have beencheerful, only an ugly wire blind shut out all view of the little garden. 

I could not help marvelling at the strange perversity that could wilfullyexclude every possible alleviation; there must be some sad warp or twistof the mental nature that could be so prolific of unwholesome fancies. AsI turned to the bed I thought Phoebe looked even more ghastly in thedaylight than she had done last evening; her skin was yellow andshrivelled, like the skin of an old woman; her eyes looked deep-set andgloomy, but their expression struck me as more human; her thin lips evenwore the semblance of a smile. 

When I had greeted her, and had drawn from her rather reluctantly thatshe had had some hours' sleep the previous night, I spoke to Kitty. Thelittle creature looked so subdued and moped in the miserable atmospherethat I was full of pity for her, so I showed her a new skipping rope thatI had bought on my way, and bade her ask her aunt Susan's permission togo out and play. 

The child's dull eyes brightened in a moment. 'May I go out, AuntPhoebe?' she asked breathlessly. 

'Yes, go if you like, ' was the somewhat ungracious answer. 

'She is glad enough to get away from me, ' she muttered, when Kitty hadshut the door gently behind her. 'Children have no heart; she is anungrateful, selfish little thing; but they are all that; we clothe herand feed her, and it is little we get out of her in return; and Susanis working her fingers to the bone for the two of us. '

I took no notice of this outburst, and commenced clearing away themedicine-bottles to make room for my basket of chrysanthemums andivy-leaves. Uncle Max had procured them for me, but I had no idea asI arranged them that they had come from Gladwyn. 

Phoebe watched my movements very gloomily; she evidently disapprovedof the whole proceeding. I carried out the bottles to Miss Locke, andbegged her to throw them away: 'they are of no use to her, ' I observed. 'Mr. Hamilton intends to send her a new mixture, and this array ofhalf-emptied phials is simply absurd: it is just a whim. If your sisterasks for them when I have gone, you can tell her that Miss Garstonordered them to be destroyed. '

On my return to the room I found Phoebe lying with her eyes closed. Icould have laughed outright at her perversity, for of course she had shutthem to exclude the sight of the flower-basket, though it was theloveliest little bit of colour, the dark-red chrysanthemum nestled soprettily among trails of tiny variegated ivy. I resolved to punish herfor this piece of morbid obstinacy, and took down the wire blind; she wasspeechless with anger when she found out what I had done, but I wasresolved not to humour these ridiculous fancies; the dull wintry lightwas not too much for her. 

'You must not be allowed to have your own way so entirely, ' I said, laughing: 'your sister is very wrong to give in to you. Mr. Hamiltonwishes your room to be more cheerful: he says the dull surroundingsdepress and keep you low and desponding, and I must carry out his orders, and try how we are to make your room a little brighter. Now'--as sheseemed about to speak--'I am going to sing to you, and then we will havea talk. '

'I don't care to hear singing to-day, my head buzzes so with all thisflack, ' was the sullen answer; but I took no notice of this ill-temperedremark, and began a little Scotch ballad that I thought was bright andspirited. 

She closed her eyes again, with an expression of weariness and disgustthat made me smile in spite of my efforts to keep serious; but I soonfound out that she was listening, and so I sang one song after another, without pausing for any comment, and pretended not to notice when thehaggard weary eyes unclosed, and fixed themselves first on the flowers, next on my face, and last and longest at the strip of lawn, with the baregooseberry bushes and the narrow path edged with privet. 

When I had sung several ballads, I waited for a minute, and thencommenced Bishop Ken's evening hymn, but my voice shook a little as I sawa sudden heaving under the bedclothes, and in another moment the largeslow tears coursed down Phoebe's thin face. It was hard to finish thehymn, but I would not have dispensed with the Gloria. 

'What is it, Phoebe?' I asked gently, when I had finished. 'I am sorrythat I have made you cry. '

'You need not be sorry, ' she sobbed at last, with difficulty: 'it easesmy head, and I thought nothing would ever draw a tear from me again. Iwas too miserable to cry, and they say--I have read it somewhere, in thedays when I used to read--that there is no such thing as a tear in hell. '

I tried not to look astonished at this strange speech. I must let thispoor creature talk, or how should I ever find out the root of herdisease? so I answered quietly that no doubt she was right, that in thatplace of outer darkness there should be weeping, without tears, and agnashing of teeth, beside which our bitterest human sorrow would seemlike nothing. 

'That is true, ' she returned, with a groan; 'but, Miss Garston, hell hasbegun for me here; for three years I have been in torment, and rightlytoo, --and rightly too, --for I never was a good woman, never like Susan, who read her Bible and went to church. Oh, she is a good creature, isSusan. '

'I am glad to hear it, Phoebe: so, you see, your affliction, heavy as itis, --and I am not saying it is not heavy, --is not without alleviation. The Merciful Father, who has laid this cross upon you, has given you thiskind companion as a consoler. What a comfort you must be to each other!what a divine work has been given to you both to do, --to bring up thatmotherless little creature, who must owe her very life and happiness toyou!'

She lay and looked at me with an expression of bewildered astonishment, and at this moment Miss Locke opened the door, carrying a little tea-trayfor her sister. I had a glimpse of Kitty curled up on the mat outside thedoor, with the skipping-rope still in her hand. She had evidently beenlistening to the singing, for she crept away, but in the distance I couldhear her humming 'Ye banks and braes' in a sweet childish treble that wasvery harmonious and true. 

CHAPTER XI

ONE OF GOD'S HEROINES

No. I was quite right when I told poor Phoebe that her sad case was notwithout alleviation. I was still more sure of the truth of my words whenI saw with what care Miss Locke had prepared the invalid's meal, and howgently she helped to place her in a proper position. There was evidentlyno want of love between the sisters; only on one side the love was moreself-sacrificing and unselfish than the other. It needed only a look atSusan Locke's spare form and thin, careworn face to tell me that she waswearing herself out in her sister's service. Phoebe looked in her faceand broke into a harsh laugh, to poor Susan's great alarm. 

'What do you think Miss Garston has been saying, Susan? That we must be acomfort to each other. Fancy my being a comfort to you! You poor thing, when I am the plague and burden of your life, ' And she laughed again, ina way that was scarcely mirthful. 

'Nay, Phoebe, you have no need to say such things, ' returned her sistersadly; but she was probably used to this sort of speeches. 'I am bound totake care of you and Kitty, who are all I have left in the world. It isnot that I find it hard, but that you might make it easier by looking alittle cheered sometimes. '

Phoebe took this gentle rebuke somewhat scornfully. 

'Cheered! The woman actually says cheered, when I am already on theborder-land of the place of torment. Was I not as good as dead and buriedthree years ago? And did not father always tell us that hell begins inthis world for the wicked?'

'Ay, that was father's notion; and I was never clever enough to arguewith him. But you are not wicked, my woman, only a bit tiresome andperverse and wanting in faith. ' And Miss Locke, who was used to thesewild moods, patted her sister's shoulder, and bade her drink her teabefore it got cold, in a sensible matter-of-fact way, that was notwithout its influence on the wayward creature; for she did not refusethe comforting draught. 

I took my leave soon after this, after promising to repeat my visit onthe next evening. Phoebe bade me good-bye rather coldly, but I took nonotice of her contrary mood. Miss Locke followed me out of the room, andasked me anxiously what I thought of her sister. 

'It is difficult to judge, ' I returned, hesitating a little. 'You mustremember this is only my second visit, and I have not made much way withher. She is in a state of bodily and mental discomfort very painful towitness. If I am not mistaken, she is driving herself half-crazy withintrospection and self-will. You must not give way to this morbid desireto increase her own wretchedness. She needs firmness as well askindness. '

Miss Locke looked at me wistfully a moment. 

'What am I to do? She would fret herself into a fever if I crossed herwhims. Directly you have left the house she will be asking for that wireblind again, though it would do her poor eyes good to see the thrushesfeeding on the lawn, and there is the little robin that comes to us everywinter and taps at the window for crumbs; but she would shut them allout, --birds, and sunshine, and flowers. '

'Just as she would shut out her Father's love, if she could; but it isall round her, and no inward or outward darkness can hinder that. MissLocke, you must be very firm. You must not move the flowers or replacethe blind on any pretext whatever. She must be comforted in spite ofherself. She reminds me of some passionate child who breaks all itstoys because some wish has been denied. We are sorry for the child'sdisappointment, but a wise parent would inflict punishment for the fitof passion. '

Miss Locke sighed; her mouth twitched with repressed emotion. She wasevidently an affectionate, reticent woman, who found it difficult toexpress her feelings. 

'I am keeping you standing all this time, ' she said apologetically, 'andI might have asked you to sit down a minute in our little kitchen. Let mepour you out a cup of tea, Miss Garston. Kitty and I were just going tobegin. '

I accepted this offer, as I thought Miss Locke evidently wanted to speakto me. She seemed pleased at my acquiescence, and told Kitty to stay withher aunt Phoebe a few minutes. 

'I have baked a nice hot cake with currants in it, Kitty, ' she saidpersuasively, 'and you shall have your share, hot and buttered, if youwill be patient and wait a little. '

'She is a good little thing, ' I observed, as the child reluctantlywithdrew to her dreary post, after a longing look at the table, whileMiss Locke placed a rocking-chair with a faded green cushion by the fire, and opened the oven door to inspect the cake. 'It is dull work for thelittle creature to be so much in the sick-room. It is hardly a wholesomeatmosphere for a child. '

Miss Locke shook her head as though she endorsed this opinion. 

'What am I to do?' she returned sorrowfully. 'Kitty is young, but shehas to bear our burdens. I spare her all I can; but when I am at mydressmaking Phoebe cannot be left alone, and she has learned to be quietand handy, and can do all sorts of things for Phoebe. I know it is notgood for her living alone with us, but the Lord has ordered the child'slife as well as ours, ' she finished reverently. 

'We must see what can be done for Kitty, ' was my answer. 'She can befree to play while I am with your sister. I sent her out with her newskipping-rope this evening. What brought her back so soon?'

'It was the singing, ' returned Miss Locke, smiling. 'The street doorwas just ajar, and Kitty crept in and curled herself up on the mat. Itsounded so beautiful, you see; for Kitty and I only hear singing atchurch, and it is not often I can get there, with Phoebe wanting me;so it did us both good, you may be sure of that. '

I could not but be pleased at this simple tribute of praise, butsomething else struck me more, the unobtrusive goodness and self-denialof Susan Locke. What a life hers must be! I hinted at this as gently asI could. 

'Ay, Phoebe has always been a care to me, ' she sighed. 'She was never asstrong and hearty as other girls, and she wanted her own way, and frettedwhen she could not get it. Father spoiled her, and mother gave in to hermore than she did to me; and when trouble came all along of Robert Owen, and he used her cruel, just flinging her aside when he saw some one hefancied more than Phoebe, and driving her mad with spite and jealousy, then she let herself go, as it were. She was never religious, not tospeak of, all the time she kept company with Robert, so when her hopesof him came to an end she had nothing to support her. It needs plenty offaith to make us bear our troubles patiently. '

'And then her health failed. '

'Yes; and mother died, and father followed her within six months, andPhoebe could not be with them, and she took on about that; she has had adeal of trouble, and that is why I cannot find it in my heart to be hardon her; she was that fond of Robert, though he was a worthless sort offellow, that, as the saying is, she worshipped the ground he walked on. Ah, Phoebe was bonnie-looking then, though she was never over-strong, and had not much colour; but he need not have called her a sicklyill-tempered wench when he threw her over and married Nancy. It wasa cruel way to serve a woman that loved him as Phoebe did. '

'She has certainly had her share of trouble. How long ago did this happento your sister?'

'It must be five years since Robert and Nancy were married. Phoebe wasnever the same woman since then, though her health did not fail for ayear or more afterwards; Mr. Hamilton always says she has had a goodriddance of Robert. He never thought much of him, and he has told me thatit is far better that Phoebe never had a chance of marrying him, for shewould have been a sad burden to any man; and she would not have had youto nurse her. ' And Miss Locke's careworn face brightened. 'That is justwhat I tell myself, when I am out of heart about her; the Lord knewRobert would have been a cruel husband to her, --for he is not too kindto Nancy, --and so He kept Phoebe away from him. Phoebe is not one to bearunkindness, --it just maddens her, --and we have all spoilt her. '

'Just so, and she knows her power over you. I am afraid she gives you agreat deal to bear, Miss Locke. '

'I never mind it from her, ' she answered simply. 'She is all I have inthe world except Kitty, and I am thinking what I can do for her frommorning to night; that is the best and the worst of my work, one neednever stop thinking for it. Sometimes, when I am tired, or things havegone wrong with my customers, or I am a bit behindhand with the rent, I wish I could talk it over with her; it would ease me somehow; but Inever do give way to the feeling, for it would only fret and worry her. '

'You are wrong, ' I returned warmly. 'Mr. Hamilton would tell you so ifyou asked him. Any worry, any outside trouble, would be better for Phoebethan this unhealthy feeding on herself. Take my advice, Miss Locke, talkabout yourself and your own troubles. Phoebe is fond of you, it willrouse her to enter more into your life. '

Miss Locke shook her head, and the tears came into her mild hazel eyes. 

'There is One who knows it all. I'll not be troubling my poor Phoebe, 'she said, and her hands trembled a little. Kitty came in at this momentand said her aunt Phoebe wanted her, so we were obliged to break off theconversation. 

I thought about it all rather sadly as I sat by my solitary fire thatevening with Tinker's head on my lap. He had taken to me, and I alwaysfound him waiting for my return; but it was less of Phoebe than of SusanI was thinking. I was so absorbed in my reflections that Uncle Max'svoice outside quite startled me. 

'May I come in, Ursula?' he said, thrusting in his head. 'I have beenat the choir-practice, so I thought I would call as I passed. '

Of course I gave him a warm welcome, and he drew his chair to theopposite side of the fire, and declared he felt very comfortable: thenhe asked me why I was looking grave, and if I were tired of my solitude. I disclaimed this indignantly, and gave him a sketch of my day's work, ending with my talk to Susan Locke. 

He seemed interested, and listened attentively. 

'It is such a sad case, Max, --poor Phoebe's, I mean, --but I am almostas sorry for her sister. Susan Locke is such a good woman. '

'You would say so if you knew all, Ursula, but Miss Locke would nevertell you herself. When Phoebe's illness came on, and Hamilton told themthat she might not get well for a year or two, or perhaps longer, Susanbroke off her own engagement to stay with her sister. Her father was justdead, and the child Kitty had to live with them. '

'Miss Locke engaged!' I exclaimed, in some surprise, for it had neverstruck me that the homely middle-aged woman had this sort of experiencein her life. 

Max looked amused. 

'In that class they do not always choose youth and beauty. CertainlySusan Locke was neither young nor handsome, but she was a neat-lookingbody, only she has aged of late. Do you want to know all about it? Well, she was engaged to a man named Duncan: he was a widower with three orfour children; he had the all-sorts shop down the village, only he movedlast year. He was a respectable man and had a comfortable littlebusiness, and I daresay he thought Miss Locke would make a good mother tohis children. She told me all about it, poor thing! She would have likedto marry Duncan; she was fond of him, and thought he would have made hera steady husband; but with Phoebe on her hands she could not do her dutyto him or the children. 

'"And there is Kitty; and he has enough of his own; and a sickly bodylike Phoebe would hinder the comfort of the house, and I have promisedmother to take care of her. " And then she asked my opinion. Well, I couldnot but own that with the shop and the house to mind, and five children, counting Kitty, and a bedridden invalid, her hands would be over-weightedwith work and worry. 

'"I think so too, " she answered, as quietly as possible, "and I have noright to burden Duncan. I am sure he will listen to reason when I tellhim Phoebe is against our marrying. " And she never said another wordabout it. But Duncan came to me about six months afterwards and asked meto put up his banns. 

'"I wanted Susan Locke, " he said, in a shamefaced manner, "but thatsister of hers hinders our marrying; so, as I must think of the children, I have got Janet Sharpe to promise me. She is a good, steady lass, andSusan speaks well of her. "'

Uncle Max had told his story without interruption. I listened to it withalmost painful interest. 

With what quiet self-denial this homely woman had put aside her own hopesof happiness for the sake of the sickly creature dependent on her! Shehad owned her affection for Duncan with the utmost simplicity; but in herunselfishness she refused to burden him with her responsibilities. If shemarried him she must do her duty by him and his children, and she feltthat Phoebe would be a drag on her strength and time. 

'She is a good woman, Uncle Max, ' I observed, when he had finished. 'She is working herself to death, and Phoebe never gives her a wordof comfort. '

'How can you expect it?' he replied quietly. 'You cannot draw comfort outof empty wells, and poor Phoebe's heart is like a broken cistern, holdingnothing. '

'But surely you talk to her, Uncle Max?'

'I have tried to do so, ' he answered sadly; 'but for the last year shehas refused to see me, and Hamilton has advised me to keep away. If Icross the threshold it is to see Miss Locke. I thought it was a whim atfirst, and I sent Tudor in my stead; but she was so rude to him, andlashed herself into such a fury against us clerics, that he came backlooking quite scared, and asked why I had sent him to a mad woman. '

'She was angry with me to-day. ' And I told him about the blind. 

'That is right, Ursula, ' he said encouragingly. 'You have made a goodbeginning: the singing may do more to soften her strange nature than allour preaching. You will be a comfort to Miss Locke, at any rate. ' Andthen he stopped, and looked at me rather wistfully, as though he longedto tell me something but could not make up his mind to do it 'You will bea comfort to us all if you go on in this way, ' he continued; and then hesurprised me by asking if I had not yet seen the ladies from Gladwyn. 

The question struck me as rather irrelevant, but I took care not to sayso as I answered in the negative. 

'You have been here nearly a week; they might have risked a call by thistime, ' he returned, knitting his brows as though something perplexed him;but I broke in on his reflections rather impatiently. 

'I declare, Max, you have quite piqued my curiosity about these people;some mystery seems to attach to Gladwyn. I shall expect to see somethingvery wonderful. '

'Then you will be disappointed, ' he returned quietly, not a bit offendedby my petulance. 'I cannot help wishing you to make acquaintance withthem, as they are such intimate friends of mine, and I think it will be amutual benefit. '

Then, as I made no reply to this, he went on, still more mildly:

'I confess I should like your opinion of them. I have a great reliance inyour intuition and common sense; and you are so deliciously frank andoutspoken, Ursula, that I shall soon know what you think. Well, I mustnot stay gossiping here. Your company is very charming, my dear, but Ihave letters to write before bedtime. You will see our friends in churchon Sunday. I hear Miss Elizabeth comes home to-morrow; she is the livelyone, --not quite of the Merry Pecksniff order, but still a bright, chattylady. 

"From morning till nightIt is Betty's delightTo chatter and talk without stopping. "

'You know the rest, Ursula, my dear. By the bye, ' opening the door, andlooking cautiously into the passage, 'I wonder whom the Bartons areentertaining in the kitchen to-night? I hear a masculine voice. '

'It is only Mr. Hamilton, ' I returned indifferently. 'I heard him comein half an hour ago; he is giving Nathaniel a lesson in mathematics. '

'To be sure. What a good fellow he is!' in an enthusiastic tone. 'Well, good-night, child: do not sit up late. ' And he vanished. 

I am afraid I disregarded this injunction, for I wanted to write to mypoor Jill--who was never absent from my mind--and Lesbia; and I was loathto leave the fireside, and too much excited for sleep. 

When I had finished my letters I still sat on gazing into the brightcaverns of coal, and thinking over Susan Locke's history. 

'How many good people there are in the world!' I said, half aloud; but Ialmost jumped out of my chair at the sound of a deep, angry voice on theother side of the door. 

'It is a thriftless, wasteful sort of thing burning the candle at bothends. Women have very little common sense, after all. '

I extinguished the lamp hastily, for of course Mr. Hamilton's growl wasmeant for me, though it was addressed to Nathaniel. I heard him close thedoor a moment afterwards, and Nathaniel crept back into the kitchen. Iwoke rather tired the next day, and owned he was right, for I found myduties somewhat irksome that morning. The feeling did not pass off, andI actually discovered that I was dreading my visit to Phoebe, only ofcourse I scouted it as nonsense. 

Miss Locke was out, and Kitty opened the door. Her demure little facebrightened when she saw me, and especially when I placed a largebrown-paper parcel in her arms, of that oblong shape dear to alldoll-loving children, and bade her take it into the kitchen. 

'It is too dark and cold for you to play outside, Kitty, ' I observed, 'so perhaps you will make the acquaintance of the blue-eyed baby I havebrought you; when Aunt Susan comes in, you can ask her for some pieces todress her in, for her paper robe is rather cold. '

Kitty's eyes grew wide with surprise and delight as she ran off with hertreasure; the baby-doll would be a playmate for the lonely child, andsolace those weary hours in the sick-room. I would rather have broughther a kitten, but I felt instinctively that no animal would be toleratedby the invalid. 

It was somewhat dark when I entered the room, but one glance showed methat my directions had been obeyed; the window was unshaded, and theflowers were in their place. 

Phoebe was lying watching the fire. I saw at once that she was in abetter mood. The few questions I put to her were answered quietly andto the point, and there was no excitement or exaggeration in her manner. 

I did not talk much. After a minute or two I sat down by the uncurtainedwindow and began to sing as usual. I commenced with a simple ballad, butvery soon my songs merged into hymns. It began to be a pleasure to me tosing in that room. I had a strange feeling as though my voice werekeeping the evil spirits away. I thought of the shepherd-boy who playedbefore Saul and refreshed the king's tormented mind; and now and then anunuttered prayer would rise to my lips that in this way I might be ableto comfort the sad soul that truly Satan had bound. 

When my voice grew a little weary, I rose softly and took down the oldbrown sampler, as I wished to replace it by a little picture I hadbrought with me. 

It was a sacred photograph of the Crucifixion, in a simple Oxford frame, and had always been a great favourite with me; it was less painful in itsdetails than other delineations of this subject: the face of the divinesufferer wore an expression of tender pity. Beneath the cross the BlessedVirgin and St. John stood with clasped hands, --adopted love and mostsacred responsibility, --receiving sanction and benediction. 

I had scarcely hung it on the nail before Phoebe's querulous voiceremonstrated with me. 

'Why can you not leave well alone, Miss Garston? I was thanking you in myheart for the music, but you have just driven it away. I cannot have thatpicture before my eyes; it is too painful. '

'You will not find it so, ' I replied quietly; 'it is a little present Ihave brought you. My dead brother bought it for me when he was a boy atschool, and it is one of the things I most prize. He is dead, you know, and that makes it doubly dear to me. That is why I want you to have it, because I have so much and you so little. '

My speech moved her a little, for her great eyes softened as she lookedat me. 

'So you have been in trouble, too, ' she said softly. 'And yet you cansing like a bird that has lost its way and finds itself nearly at thegate of Paradise. '

'Shall I tell you about my trouble?' I returned, sitting down by thebed. It wrung my heart to talk of Charlie, but I knew the history ofhis suffering and patience would teach Phoebe a valuable lesson. 

An hour passed by unheeded, and when I had finished I exclaimed at thelateness of the hour. 

'Ay, you have tired yourself; you look quite pale, ' was her answer; 'butyou have made me forget myself for the first time in my life. ' Shestopped, and then with more effort continued, 'Come again to-morrow, andI will tell you my trouble; it is worse than yours, and has made me thecrazy creature you see. Yes, I will tell you all about it'; but, halfcrying, as though she had little hope of contesting my will, 'You willnot leave that picture to make my heart ache more than, it does now?'

'My poor Phoebe, ' I said, kissing her, 'when your heart once aches forthe thought of another's sorrow your healing will have begun. Let thatpicture say to you what no one has said to you before, "that all yourlife you have been an idolater, that you have worshipped only yourselfand one other--"'

'Whom? What do you mean? Have you heard of Robert?' she asked excitedly. 

'To-morrow is Sunday, ' I returned, touching her softly. 'I am going tochurch in the morning, and I shall not be here until evening; but weshall have time then for a long talk, and you shall tell me everything. 'And then, without waiting for an answer, I left the room. It was lateindeed. Miss Locke had long returned, and was busying herself over hersister's supper; she held up her finger to me smiling as I passed, andI peeped in. 

Kitty was lying on the rug, fast asleep, with the doll in her arms. 

'I found them like this when I came in, ' whispered Miss Locke; 'she musthave been listening to the music and fallen asleep. How late you havestopped with Phoebe! it is nearly eight o'clock!'

'I do not think the time has been wasted, ' I answered cheerfully, asI bade her good-night and stepped out into the darkness. Is time everwasted, I wonder, when we stop in our daily work to give one of theseweak ones a cup of cold water? It is not for me to answer; only ourrecording angel knows how some such little deed of kindness may brightensome dim struggling life that seems over-full of pain. 

CHAPTER XII

A MISSED VOCATION

It was pleasant to wake to bright sunshine the next morning, and to hearthe sparrows twittering in the ivy. 

It had been my intention to set apart Sunday as much as possible as a dayof rest and refreshment. Of course I could not expect always to controlthe various appeals for my help or to be free from my patients, but bymanagement I hoped to secure the greater part of the day for myself. 

I had told Peggy not to expect me at the cottage until the afternoon;everything was in such order that there was no necessity for me to forgothe morning service. My promise to Phoebe Locke would keep me a prisonerfor the evening, but I determined that her sister and Kitty should be setfree to go to church, so my loss would be their gain. 

I thought of Jill as I dressed myself. She had often owned to me that theSundays at Hyde Park Gate were not to her taste. Visitors thronged thehouse in the afternoon; Sara discussed her week's amusements with herfriends or yawned over a novel; the morning's sermon was followed as amatter of course by a gay luncheon party. 'What does it mean, Ursula?'Jill would say, opening her big black eyes as widely as possible: 'I donot understand. Mr. Erskine has been telling us that we ought to renouncethe world and our own wills, and not to follow the multitude to dofoolishness, and all the afternoon mother and Sara having been talkingabout dresses for the fancy-ball. Is there one religion for church andanother for home? Do we fold it up and put it away with our prayer-booksin the little book-cupboard that father locks so carefully?' finishedJill, with girlish scorn. 

Poor Jill! she had a wide, generous nature, with great capabilities, butshe was growing up in a chilling atmosphere. Young girls are terriblyhonest; they dig down to the very root of things; they drag off theswathing cloths from the mummy face of conventionality. What does itmean? they ask. Is there truth anywhere? Endless shams surround them;people listen to sermons, then they shake off the dust of the holy placecarefully from the very hem of their garments; their religion, as Jillexpressed it, is left beside their prayer-books. Ah! if one could but seeclearly, with eyes purged from every remnant of earthliness, --see as theangels do, --the thick fog of unrisen and unprayed prayers clinging to therafters of every empty church, we might well shudder in the cloggingheavy atmosphere. 

Jill had not more religion than many other girls, but she wanted to betrue; the inconsistency of human nature baffled and perplexed her; shewas not more ready to renounce the world than Sara was, but she wishedto know the inner meaning of things, and in this I longed to help her. I could not help thinking of her tenderly and pitifully as I walkeddown the road leading to the little Norman church. I was early, and thebuilding was nearly empty when I entered the porch; but it was quiet andrestful to sit there and review the past week, and watch the sunshinelighting up the red brick walls and touching the rood-screen, while afaint purple gleam fell on the chancel pavement. 

Two ladies entered the seat before me, and I looked at them a littlecuriously. 

They were both very handsomely dressed, but it was not their fashionableappearance that attracted me. I had caught sight of a most beautiful andstriking face belonging to one of them that somehow riveted my attention. 

The lady was apparently very young, and had a tall graceful figure, andstrange colourless hair that looked as though it ought to have beengolden, only the gloss had faded out of it; but it was lovely hair, fineand soft as a baby's. 

As she rose she slightly turned round, and our eyes met for a moment;they were large, melancholy eyes, and the face, beautiful as it was, wasvery worn and thin, and absolutely without colour. I could see herprofile plainly all through the service, but the dull impassiveexpression of the countenance that she had turned upon me gave me asensation of pain; she looked like a person who had experienced somegreat trouble or undergone some terrible illness. I could not make upmy mind which it could be. 

The other lady was much older, and had no claims to beauty. I could seeher face plainly, for she looked round once or twice as though she wereexpecting some one. 

She must have been over thirty, and had rather a singular face; it wasthin, dark-complexioned, and very sallow; she was a stylish-lookingwoman, but her appearance did not interest me. To my surprise, just asthe service commenced, Mr. Hamilton came in and joined them. So thesemust be the ladies from Gladwyn, I thought. That beautiful pale girl mustbe his sister Gladys, and the other one Miss Darrell. 

I tried to keep my attention to my own devotions, but every now andthen my eyes would stray to the lovely face before me. Mr. Hamilton'sbehaviour was irreproachable. I could hear his voice following all theresponses, and he sang the hymns very heartily. 

I think he knew I was behind him, for he handed me a hymn-book, with aslight smile, when I was offering to share mine with a young woman. MissDarrell gave me a curiously penetrating look when she came out that didnot quite please me, but the girl who followed her did not seem to noticemy presence. I sat still in my place for a minute, as I did not wish toencounter them in the porch. I had lingered so long that the congregationhad quite dispersed when I got out, but, to my surprise, I could see thethree walking very slowly down the road. Could they have been waiting forme? I wondered; but I dismissed this idea as absurd. 

But I could not forget the face that had so interested me; and when Iencountered Uncle Max on his way to the children's service I questionedhim at once about the two ladies. 

'Yes, you are right, Ursula, ' he said, a little absently. 'The one withfair hair was Miss Gladys: her cousin, Miss Darrell, sat by Hamilton. '

'But you never told me how beautiful she was, ' I replied, in ratheran injured voice. 'She has a perfect face, only it is so worn andunhappy-looking. '

'You must not keep me, ' observed Max hurriedly; 'Miss Darrell wants tospeak to me before service. ' And he rushed off, leaving me standing inthe middle of the path rather wondering at his abruptness, for the bellhad not commenced. 

A little farther on, I came face to face with Miss Darrell; she waswalking with Mr. Tudor, and seemed talking to him with much animation. 

She bowed slightly, as he took off his hat to me, in a graceful well-bredmanner, but her face prepossessed me even less than it had done in themorning. She had keen, dark eyes like Mr. Hamilton's, only they somehowrepelled me. I was somewhat quick with my likes and dislikes, as I hadproved by the dislike I had taken to Mr. Hamilton. This feeling waswearing off, and I was no longer so strongly prejudiced against him. Imight even find Miss Darrell less repelling when I spoke to her. She wasevidently a gentlewoman; her movements were quiet and graceful, and shehad a good carriage. 

I was somewhat surprised on reaching the cottage to find Mr. Hamiltonsitting by my patient. He had Janie on his knee, and seemed as though hehad been there for some time, but he rose at once when he saw me. 

'I was waiting for you, Miss Garston, ' he said quietly. 'I wanted to giveyou some directions about Mrs. Marshall'; and when he had finished, hesaid, a little abruptly--

'What made you so long coming out of church this morning? I was waitingto introduce my sister and cousin to you, but you were determined todisappoint me. '

I was a little confused by this. 

'Did you recognise me?' I asked, rather tamely. 

'No, --not in that smart bonnet, ' was the unexpected reply. 'I did notidentify the wearer with the village nurse until I heard your voice inthe Te Deum: you can hardly disguise your voice, Miss Garston: my cousinEtta pricked up her ears when she heard it. ' And then, as I made noanswer, he picked up his hat with rather an amused air and wished megood-bye. 

I was rather offended at the mention of my bonnet; the little gray wingthat relieved its sombre black trimmings could hardly be called smart, --aword I abhorred, --but he probably said it to tease me. 

'Ay, the doctor has been telling us you have a voice like a skylark, 'observed Elspeth, 'but I have been thinking it must be more like anangel's voice, my bairn, since you mostly use it to sing the Lord'spraises, and to cheer the sick folk round you: that is more than askylark does. '

So he had been praising my voice. What an odd man!

I stayed at the cottage about two hours, and read a little to thechildren and Elspeth, and then I started for the Lockes'. 

Kitty clapped her hands when she heard she was to go to church with heraunt Susan. I found out afterwards the child had always gone alone. 

Phoebe was evidently expecting me, for her eyes were fixed on the dooras I entered, and the same shadowy smile I had seen once before sweptover her wan features when she saw me. She seemed ready and eager totalk, but I adhered to my usual programme. I was rather afraid that ourconversation would excite her, so I wanted to quiet her first. I sang afew of my favourite hymns, and then read the evening psalms. She heardme somewhat reluctantly, but when I had finished her face cleared, andwithout any preamble she commenced her story. 

I never remember that recital without pain. It positively wrung my heartto listen to her. I had heard the outline of her sad story from hersister's lips, but it had lacked colour; it had been a simple statementof facts, and no more. 

But now Phoebe's passionate words seemed to clothe it with power; thevery sight of the ghastly and almost distracted face on the pillow gavea miserable pathos to the story. It was in vain to check excitement whilethe unhappy creature poured out the history of her wrongs: the old oldstory, of a credulous woman's heart being trampled upon and tortured byan unworthy lover, was enacted again before me. 

'I just worshipped the ground he walked on, and he threw me aside like abroken toy, ' she said over and over again. 'And the worst of it is that, villain as he is, I cannot unlove him, though I am that mad with himsometimes that I could almost murder him. '

'Love is strong as death, and jealousy is cruel as the grave, ' Imuttered, half to myself, but she overheard me. 

'Ay, that is just true, ' she returned eagerly: 'there are times when Ihate Robert and Nancy and would like to haunt them. Did I not tell you, Miss Garston, that hell had begun with me already? I was never a goodwoman, --never, not even when I was happy and Robert loved me. I wasjust full of him, and wanted nothing else in heaven and earth; and whenthe trouble came, and father and mother died, and I lay here like alog, --only a log has not got a living heart in it, --I seemed to go madwith the anger and unhappiness, and I felt "the worm that dieth not, andthe fire that is not quenched. "'

I stooped over and wiped her poor lips and poor head, for she wasfearfully exhausted, and then in a perfect passion of pity closed herface between my hands and bade God bless her. 

'What do you mean?' she said, staring at me; but her voice trembled. 'Haven't I been telling you how wicked I am? Do you think that is areason for His blessing me?'

'I think His blessing has always been with you, my poor Phoebe, like thesunlight that you try to shut out from your windows. You hide yourselfin your own darkness, and pretend that the all-embracing love is not foryou. Well may you call your present existence a tomb; but you must notwrong your Almighty Father. Not He, but you yourself have walled yourselfup with your own sinful hands, and then you wonder at the weight thatlies upon your heart. '

'Can I forget my trouble when I am not able to move?' she said bitterly. And it was sad to see how her hands beat upon the bedclothes. But I heldthem in mine. They were icy cold. The action seemed to calm her frenzy. 

'You cannot forget, ' I returned quietly; 'but all this time, all theseweary years, you might have learned to forgive Robert. '

'Nay, I will have nothing to do with forgiving, ' was the hard answer. 

'And yet you say you love him, Phoebe. Why, the very devils would laughat such a notion of love. '

'Didn't I say I both loved and hated him?' very fiercely. 

'Speak the truth, and say you hate him, and God forgive you your sin. Butit is a greater one than Robert has committed against you. '

'How dare you say such things to me, Miss Garston?' trying to free herhands; but still I held them fast. 'You will make me hate you next. I amnot a pleasant-tempered woman. '

'If you do, I will promise you forgiveness beforehand. Why, you poorcreature, do you think I could ever be hard on you?'

The fierce light in her eyes softened. 'Nay, I did not mean what I said;but you excite me with your talk. How can you know what I feel aboutthese things? You cannot put yourself in my place. '

'The heart knoweth its own bitterness, Phoebe; and it may be that in yourplace I should fail utterly in patience; but if we will not lie stillunder His hand, and learn the lesson He would fain teach us, it may bethat fresh trials may be sent to humble us. '

'Do you think things could be much worse with me?' becoming excitedagain; but I stroked her hand, and begged her gently to let me finishmy speech. 

'Phoebe, as you lie there on your cross, the whole Church throughout theworld is praying for you Sunday after Sunday when the prayer goes up forthose who are desolate and oppressed. And who so desolate and oppressedas you?'

'True, most true, ' she murmured. 

'You are cradled in the supplications of the faithful. A thousand heartsare hearing your sorrows, and yet you say impiously that you are on theborder-land of hell; but no, you will never go there. There are too manymarks of His love upon you. All this suffering has more meaning thanthat. '

It is impossible to describe the look she gave me; astonishment, incredulity, and something like dawning hope were blended in it; butshe remained silent. 

'You have missed your vocation, that is true. You were set apart hereto do most divine work; but you have failed over it. Still, you maybe forgiven. How many prayers you might have prayed for Robert! Youmight have been an invisible shield between him and temptation. Thereis so much power in the prayers of unselfish love. This room, whichyou describe as a tomb, or an antechamber of hell, might have been aninner sanctuary, from which blessings might flow out over the wholeneighbourhood. Silent lessons of patience might have been preached here. Your sister's weary hands might have been strengthened. You could havemutually consoled each other; and now--' I paused, for here consciencecompleted the sentence. I saw a tear steal under her eyelid, and thencourse slowly down her face. 

'I have made Susan miserable, I know that; and she is never impatientwith me if I am ever so cross with her. Ah, I deserve my punishment, forI have been a selfish, hateful creature all my life. I do think sometimesthat an evil spirit lives in me. '

'There is One who can cast it out; but you must ask Him, Phoebe. Such afew words will do: "Lord help me!" Now we have talked enough, and Susanwill be coming back from church. I mean to sing you the evening hymn, andthen I must go. ' And, almost before I had finished the last line, Phoebe, exhausted with emotion, had sunk into a refreshing sleep, and I creptsoftly out of the room to watch for Susan's return. 

I felt strangely weary as I walked home. It was almost as though I hadwitnessed a human soul struggling in the grasp of some evil spirit. Itwas the first time I had ever ministered to mental disease. Never beforehad I realised what self-will, unchastened by sorrow and untaught byreligion, can bring a woman to. Once or twice that evening I had doubtedwhether the brain were really unhinged; but I had come to the conclusionthat it was only excess of morbid excitement. 

My way home led me past the vicarage. Just as I was in sight of it, twofigures came out of the gate and waited to let me pass. One of them wasthe churchwarden, Mr. Townsend, and the other was Mr. Hamilton. It wasimpossible to avoid recognition in the bright moonlight; but I was ratheramazed when I heard Mr. Hamilton bid Mr. Townsend good-night, and amoment after he overtook me. 

'You are out late to-night, Miss Garston. Do you always mean to playtruant from evening service?'

I told him how I had spent my time, but I suppose my voice betrayedinward fatigue, for he said, rather kindly, --

'This sort of work does not suit you; you are looking quite pale thisevening. You must not let your feelings exhaust you. I am sorry forPhoebe myself, but she is a very tiresome patient. Do you think you havemade any impression on her?'

He seemed rather astonished when I briefly mentioned the subject of ourtalk. 

'Did she tell you about herself? Come, you have made great progress. Lether get rid of some of the poison that seems to choke her, and then therewill be some chance of doing her good. She has taken a great fancy toyou, that is evident; and, if you will allow me to say so, I think youare just the person to influence her. '

'It is a very difficult piece of work, ' I returned; but he changed thesubject so abruptly that I felt convinced that he knew how utterly jadedI was. He told me a humorous anecdote about a child that made me laugh, and when we reached the gate of the cottage he bade me, ratherperemptorily, put away all worrying thoughts and to go to bed, whichpiece of advice I followed as meekly as possible, after first readinga passage out of my favourite _Thomas à Kempis_; but I thought of Phoebeall the time I was reading it:

'The cross, therefore, is always ready, and everywhere waits for thee. Thou canst not escape it wheresoever thou runnest; for wheresoever thougoest, thou carriest thyself with thee and shalt ever find thyself. . . . Ifthou bear the cross cheerfully, it will bear thee, and lead thee to thedesired end, namely, where there shall be an end of suffering, thoughhere there shall not be. If thou bear it unwillingly, thou makest forthyself a (new) burden, and increasest thy load, and yet, notwithstanding, thou must bear it. '

CHAPTER XIII

LADY BETTY

The next evening I was refused admittance to Phoebe's room. Miss Lockemet me at the door, looking more depressed than usual, and asked me tofollow her into the kitchen, where we found Kitty in the rocking-chair bythe hearth, dressing her new doll. 

'It is just as she treated the vicar and Mr. Tudor, ' she observeddisconsolately. 'I don't quite know what ails her to-day; she had abeautiful night, and slept like a baby, and when I took her breakfast toher she put her arms round my neck and asked me to kiss her, --a thing shehas not done for a year or more; and she went on for a long time abouthow bad she had been to me, and wanting me to forgive her and make it upwith her. '

'Well?' I demanded, rather impatiently, as Susan wiped her patient eyesand took up her sewing. 

'Well, poor lamb! I told her I would forgive her anything and everythingif she would only let me go on with my work, for I had Mrs. Druce'smourning to finish; but she would not let me stir for a long time, andcried so bitterly--though she says she never can cry--that I thought ofsending for you or Dr. Hamilton. But she cried more when I mentioned you, and said, No, she would not see you; you had left her more miserable thanshe was before: and she made me promise to send you away if you came thisevening, which I am loath to do after all your kindness to her. '

'I have brought her some fresh flowers this evening, ' was my reply. 'Donot distress yourself, Miss Locke; we must expect Phoebe to be contrarysometimes. ' And the words came to my mind, "And ofttimes it casteth himinto the fire, and oft into the water. " 'You have discharged your duty, but I am not going just yet. Let me help you with that work. I am veryfond of sewing, and that is a nice easy piece. Shall you mind if I singto you and Kitty a little?'

I need not have asked the question when I saw the fretted look pass fromMiss Locke's face. 

'It is the greatest pleasure Kitty and I have, next to going to church, 'she said humbly. 'Your voice does sound so sweet; it soothes like alullaby. It is my belief, ' speaking under her breath so that the childshould not hear her, 'that she is just trying to punish herself bysending you away. '

I thought perhaps this might be the case, for who could understand allthe perversities of a diseased mind? But if Phoebe's will was strong forevil, mine was stronger still to overcome her for her own good. I wasdetermined on two things: first, that I would not leave the house withoutseeing her; and, secondly, that nothing should induce me to stay with herafter this reception. She must be disciplined to civility at all costs. Max had been wrong to yield to her sick whims. 

I must have sung for a long time, to judge by the amount of work Icontrived to do, and if I had sung like a whole nestful of skylarks Icould not have pleased my audience more. I was sorry to set Miss Locke'stears flowing, because it hindered her work; tears are such a simpleluxury, but poor folk cannot always afford to indulge in them. 

I had just commenced that beautiful song, 'Waft her, angels, through theair, ' when the impatient thumping of a stick on the floor arrested me; itcame from Phoebe's room. 

'I will go to her, ' I said, waving Miss Locke back and picking up myflowers. 'Do not look so scared: she means those knocks for me. ' And Iwas right in my surmise. I found her lying very quietly, with the tracesof tears still on her face; she addressed me quite gently. 

'Do not sing any more, please; I cannot bear it; it makes my heart achetoo much to-night. '

'Very well, ' I returned cheerfully. 'I will just mend your fire, for itis getting low, and put these flowers in water, and then I will bid yougood-night. '

'You are vexed with me for being rude, ' she said, almost timidly. 'I toldSusan to send you away, because I could not bear any more talk. You mademe so unhappy yesterday, Miss Garston. '

I was cruel enough to tell her that I was glad to hear it, and I musthave looked as though I meant it. 

'Oh, don't, ' she said, shrinking as though I had dealt her a blow. 'Iwant you to unsay those words: they pierce me like thorns. Please tell meyou did not mean them. '

'How can I know to what you are alluding?' I replied, in rather anunsympathetic tone; but I did not intend to be soft with her to-day: shehad treated me badly and must repent her ingratitude. 'I certainly meantevery word I said yesterday, '

To my great surprise, she burst into tears, and repeated word for worda fragment of a sentence that I had said. 

'It haunts me, Miss Garston, and frightens me somehow. I have been sayingit over and over in my dreams, --that is what upset me so to-day: "if wewill not lie still under His hand, "--yes, you said that, knowing I havenever lain still for a moment, --"and if we will not learn the lesson Hewould fain teach us, it may be that fresh trials may be sent to humbleus. "'

Pity kept me silent for a moment, but I knew that I must not shirk mywork. 

'I am sorry if the truth pains you, Phoebe, but it is no less the truth. How am I to look at you and think that God has finished His work?'

She put up both her hands and motioned me away with almost a face ofhorror, but I took no notice. I arranged the flowers and tended the fire, and then offered her some cooling drink, which she did not refuse, andthen I bade her good-night. 

'What!' she exclaimed, 'are you going to leave me like that, and not aword to soothe me, after making me so unhappy? Think of the long night Ihave to go through. '

'Never mind the length of the night, if only you can hear His voice inthe darkness. You wanted to send me away, Phoebe; well, and to-morrow Ishall not come; I shall stay at home and rest myself. You can send meaway, and little harm will happen; but take care you do not send Himaway. ' And I left the room. 

When I told Miss Locke that I was not coming the next evening she lookedfrightened. 'Has my poor Phoebe offended you so badly, then?' she askedtremulously. 

'I am not offended at all, ' I replied; 'but Phoebe has need to learnall sorts of painful lessons. I shall have all the warmer welcome onWednesday, after leaving her to herself a little. ' But Miss Locke onlyshook her head at this. 

The next day was so lovely that I promised myself the indulgence of along country walk; there was a pretty village about two miles fromHeathfield that I longed to see again. But my little plan was frustrated, for just as I was starting I heard Tinker bark furiously; a momentafterwards there was a rush and scuffle, followed by a shriek in agirlish treble; in another moment I had seized my umbrella and flown tothe door. There was a fight going on between Tinker and a large blackretriever, and a little lady in brown was wandering round them, helplessly wringing her hands, and crying, 'Oh, Nap! poor Nap!'

I took her for a child the first moment, she was so very small. 'Do notbe frightened, my dear, ' I said soothingly, 'I will make Tinker behavehimself. ' And a well-aimed blow from my umbrella made him draw offgrowling. In another moment I had him by the collar, and by dint ofthreats and coaxing contrived to shut him up in the kitchen. He was nota quarrelsome dog generally, but, as I heard afterwards, Nap was an oldantagonist; they had once fallen out about Peter, and had never beenfriends since. 

I found the little brown girl sitting in the porch with her arms roundthe retriever's neck; she was kissing his black face, and begging him toforget the insult he had received from that horrid Barton dog. 

'Poor old Tinker is not horrid at all, I assure you, ' I said, laughing;'he is a dear fellow, and I am already very fond of him. '

'But he nearly killed Nap, ' she returned, with a little frown; 'he isworse than a savage, for he has no notion of hospitality. Nap and I cameto call, ' rising with an air of great dignity. 'I suppose you are MissGarston. I am Lady Betty. '

I had never heard of such a person in Heathfield; but of course Uncle Maxwould enlighten me. As I looked at her more closely I saw my mistake inthinking she was a child; little brown thing as she was, she was fullygrown up, and, though not in the least pretty, had a bright piquant face, a _nest retroussé_, and a pair of mischievous eyes. 

She was dressed rather extravagantly in a brown velvet walking-dress, with an absurd little hat, that would have fitted a child, on the top ofher dark wavy hair; she only wanted a touch of red about her to look likea magnified robin-redbreast. 

'Well, ' she said impatiently, as I hesitated a moment in my surprise, 'I have told you we have come for a call, Nap and I; but if you are goingout--'

'Oh, that is not the least consequence, ' I returned, waking up to a senseof my duty. 'I am very pleased to see you and Nap; but you must not stopany longer in this cold porch; the wind is rather cutting. There is anice fire in my parlour. ' And I led the way in. 

I was rather puzzled about Nap, for I seemed to recognise his sleek headand mild brown eyes; and yet where could I have seen him? He trotted incontentedly after his mistress, and stretched himself out on the rugTinker's fashion; but Lady Betty, instead of seating herself, began towalk round the room and inspect my books and china, making remarks uponeverything in a brisk voice, and questioning me in rather an inquisitivemanner about sundry things that attracted her notice; but, to my greatsurprise and relief, she passed Charlie's picture without remark orcomment--only I saw her glancing at it now and then from under her longlashes. This mystified me a little; but I thought her whole behaviour alittle peculiar. I had never before seen callers on their first visitperambulating the room like polar bears, or throwing out curious feelerseverywhere. As a rule, they sat up stiffly enough and discussed theweather. 

Lady Betty was evidently a character; most likely she prided herself onbeing unlike other people. I was just beginning to wish that she wouldsit down and let me question her in my turn, when she suddenly put up hereye-glasses and burst into a most musical little laugh. 

'Oh, do come here, Miss Garston; this is too amusing! There goes hermajesty Gladys of Gladwyn, accompanied by her prime minister. Don't theylook as though they were walking in the Row?--heads up--everything inperfect trim! They are coming to call--yes!--no!--They are going to theCockaignes first. What an escape! my dear creature, if they come here Ishall fly to Mrs. Barton. The prime minister's airs will be too much formy gravity. '

I gave her a very divided attention, for I was watching Miss Hamilton andher companion with much interest. I could see that Miss Darrell waschatting volubly; but Miss Hamilton's face looked as grave and impassiveas it had looked on Sunday. When they had passed out of sight I turned toLady Betty rather eagerly; she had dropped her eye-glasses, but an amusedsmile still played round her lips. 

'_La belle cousine_ is improving the occasion as usual. Poor Gladys, howbored she looks! but there is no escape for her this afternoon, for theprime minister has her in tow. I wonder from what text she is preaching?Ezekiel's dry bones, I should think, from her majesty's face. '

'Do you know the Hamiltons of Gladwyn very intimately?' I askedinnocently; but I grew rather out of patience when Lady Bettyfirst lifted her eye-glass and stared at me, with the air of anon-comprehending kitten, and then buried her face in a very fluffylittle muff in a fit of uncontrolled merriment. 

I was provoked by this, and determined not to say a word. So presentlyshe came out of her muff and asked me, with mirthful eyes, for whom Itook her. 

'You are Lady Betty, I understood, ' was my stiff response. 

'Yes, of course; every one calls me that, except the vicar, who willaddress me as Miss Elizabeth. I never will answer to that name; I hate itso. The servants up at Gladwyn never dare to use it. I would get Etta todismiss them if they did. Is it not a shame that people should not have avoice in the matter of their name, --that helpless infants should beabandoned to the tender mercies of some old fogey of a sponsor? MissGarston, if I were ever to hear you address me by that name it would bethe death-warrant to our friendship. '

'Let me know who you really are first, and then I will promise not tooffend your peculiar prejudice. '

'Dear me!' she answered pettishly, 'you talk just like Giles. He oftenlaughs at me and makes himself very unpleasant. But then, as I often tellhim, philanthropists are not pleasant people with whom to live; a manwith a hobby is always odious. Well, Miss Garston, if you will be soprying, my name is Elizabeth Grant Hamilton; only from a baby I have beencalled Lady Betty. '

'I shall remember, ' I replied quietly, for really the little thing seemedquite ruffled. This was evidently more than a whim on her part. 'It wouldhave seemed to me a liberty to use a family pet name. But of course ifyou wish me to do so--'

'I do wish it, ' rather peremptorily. 'That is partly why Mr. Cunliffe andI are not good friends, --that, and other reasons. '

'Oh, I am sorry you do not like Uncle Max, ' I said, rather impulsively;but she drew herself up after the manner of an aggrieved pigeon. She wasrather like a bright-eyed bird, with her fluffy hair and quick movements. 

'Oh, I like him well enough, but I do not understand him. Men are noteasy to understand. He is quiet, but he is disappointing. We must notexpect perfection in this world, ' finished the little lady sententiously. 

'I have never met any one half as good as Uncle Max, ' was my warm retort. 'He is the most unselfish of men. '

'Unselfish men make mistakes sometimes, ' she returned drily. 'Giles andhe are great friends. He is up at Gladwyn a great deal; so is Mr. Tudor. Mr. Tudor is not a finished character, but he has good points, and onecan tolerate him. There, how vexing, we were just beginning to talkcomfortably, and I see the shadow of her majesty's gown at the gate. Come, Nap, we must fly to Mrs. Barton's for refuge. _Au revoir_, MissGarston. ' And, kissing her little gloved hand, this strangest of LadyBetties vanished, followed by the obedient Nap. 

My pulses quickened a little at the prospect of seeing the beautiful faceof Gladys Hamilton in my little room; but it was not she who enteredfirst, but Miss Darrell, whose sharp incisive glance had taken in everydetail of my surroundings before her faultlessly-gloved hand had releasedmine; and even when I turned to greet Miss Hamilton, her peculiar andsomewhat toneless voice claimed my attention. 

'How very fortunate, ' she began, seating herself with elaborate cautionwith her back to the light. 'We hardly hoped to find you at home, MissGarston. My cousin Giles informed us how much engaged you were. We havebeen so interested in what Mr. Cunliffe told us about it. It is such aromantic scheme, and, as I am a very romantic person, you may be sure ofmy sympathy. Gladys, dear, is this not a charming room? Positively youhave so altered and beautified it that I can hardly believe it is thesame room. I told a friend of ours, Mrs. Saunders, that it would neversuit her, as it was such a shabby little place. '

'It is very nice, ' returned Miss Hamilton quietly. 'I hope, ' fixing herlarge, beautiful eyes on me, 'that you are comfortable here? We thoughtperhaps you might be a little dull. '

'I have no time to be dull, ' I returned, smiling, but Miss Darrellinterrupted me. 

'No, of course not; busy people are never dull. I told you so, Gladys, aswe walked up the road. Depend upon it, I said, Miss Garston will hardlyhave a minute to give to our idle chatter. She will be wanting to get toher sick people, and wish us at Hanover. Still, as my cousin Giles said, we must do the right thing and call, though I am sure you are not aconventional person; neither am I. Oh, we are quite kindred souls here. '

I tried to receive this speech in good part, but I certainly protestedinwardly against the notion that Miss Darrell and I would ever be kindredsouls. I felt an instinctive repugnance to her voice; its want of tonejarred on me; and all the time she talked, her hard, bright eyes seemedto dart restlessly from Miss Hamilton to me. I felt sure that nothingcould escape their scrutiny; but now and then, when one looked at her inreturn, she seemed to veil them most curiously under the long curlinglashes. 

She was rather an elegant-looking woman, but her face was decidedlyplain. She had thin lips and rather a square jaw, and her sallowcomplexion lacked colour. One could not guess her age exactly, but shemight have been three-or four-and-thirty. I heard her spoken ofafterwards as a very interesting-looking person; certainly her figurewas fine, and she knew how to dress herself, --a very useful art whenwomen have no claim to beauty. 

Miss Darrell's voluble tongue seemed to touch on every subject. MissHamilton sat perfectly silent, and I had not a chance of addressing her. Once, when I looked at her, I could see her eyes were fixed on mydarling's picture. She was gazing at it with an air of absorbedmelancholy: her lips were firmly closed, and her hands lay folded inher lap. 

'That is the picture of my twin-brother, ' I said softly, to arouse her. 

To my surprise, she turned paler than ever, and her lips quivered. 

'Your twin brother, yes; and you have lost him?' But here Miss Darrellchimed in again:

'How very interesting! What a blessing photography is, to be sure? Do youtake well, Miss Garston? They make me a perfect fright. I tell my cousinsthat nothing on earth will induce me to try another sitting. Why should Iendure such a martyrdom, if it be not to give pleasure to my friends?'

To my surprise, Miss Hamilton's voice interrupted her: it was a littlelike her step-brother's voice, and had a slight hesitation that was notin the least unpleasant. She spoke rather slowly: at least it seemed soby comparison with Miss Darrell's quick sentences. 

'Etta, we have not done what Giles told us. We hope you will come anddine with us to-morrow. Miss Garston, without any ceremony. '

'Dear me, how careless of me!' broke in Miss Darrell, but her foreheadcontracted a little, as though her cousin's speech annoyed her. 'Gilesgave the message to me, but we were talking so fast that I quite forgotit. My cousin will have it that you are dull, and our society may cheeryou up. I do not hold with Giles. I think you are far too superior aperson to be afraid of a little solitude; strong-minded people like youare generally fond of their own society; but all the same I hope you donot mean to be quite a recluse. '

'We dine at seven, but I hope you will come as much earlier as you like, 'interposed Miss Hamilton. 'No one will be with us but Mr. Tudor. '

'You forget Mr. Cunliffe, Gladys, ' observed Miss Darrell, in rather asharp voice. 'I am sure I do not know what the poor man has done tooffend you; but ever since last summer--' But here Miss Hamilton rosewith a gesture that was almost queenly, and her impassive face lookedgraver than ever. 

'I did not know you had invited Mr. Cunliffe, Etta, or I should certainlyhave mentioned him. Good-bye, Miss Garston: we shall look for you soonafter six. '

There was something wistful in her expression; it seemed as though shewanted me to come, and yet I was a complete stranger to her. I felt veryreluctant to dine at Gladwyn, but that look overruled me. 

'I will try to come early, ' was my answer, and then I drew back to letthem pass. 

Miss Darrell bade me good-bye a little stiffly; something had evidentlyput her out. As they went down the narrow garden path I could see she wasspeaking to Miss Hamilton rather angrily, but Miss Hamilton seemed totake no notice. 

What did it all mean? I wondered; and then I suddenly bethought myself ofmy other visitor. I had wholly forgotten her existence in my interest inher beautiful sister. What could have become of Lady Betty?

CHAPTER XIV

LADY BETTY LEAVES HER MUFF

This question was speedily answered. 

The gate had scarcely closed behind my visitors when I heard a gay littlelaugh behind me, and Lady Betty tripped across the passage and tookpossession of the easy-chair in the friendliest way. 

'Now we can have a chat and be cosy all by ourselves, ' she said, withchildish glee; and then she stopped and looked at me, and her rosy littlemouth began to pout, and a sort of baby frown came to her forehead. 

'You don't seem pleased to see me again. Shall I go away? Are you busy, or tired, or is there anything the matter?' asked Lady Betty, in anextremely fractious voice. 

'There is nothing the matter, and I am delighted to see you, and'--with asudden inspiration--'if you will be good enough to stay and have tea withme I will ask Mrs. Barton to send in one of her excellent tea-cakes. '

This was evidently what Lady Betty wanted, for she nodded and took offher hat, and began to unbutton her long tan-coloured gloves in a cool, business-like way that amused me. I ran across to the kitchen, and gaveMrs. Barton a _carte blanche_ for a sumptuous tea, and when I returned Ifound Lady Betty quite divested of her walking-apparel, and patting herdark fluffy hair to reduce it to some degree of smoothness. She had apretty little head, and it was covered by a mass of short curly hair thatnothing would reduce to order. 

'This is just what I like, ' she said promptly. 'When Giles told us aboutyou, and I made up my mind to call, I hoped you would ask me to stay. Ido dislike stiffness and conventionality excessively. I hope you mean tobe friends with us, Miss Garston, for I have taken rather a fancy to you, in spite of your grave looks. Dear me! do you always look so grave?'

'Oh no, ' I returned, laughing. 

'That is right, ' with an approving nod; 'you look ever so much nicer andyounger when you smile. Well, what did the prime minister say? Was shevery gushing and sympathetic? Did she patronise you in a ladylike way, and pat you on the head metaphorically, until you felt ready to box herears? Ah! I know _la belle cousine's_ little ways. '

This was so exact a description of my conversation with Miss Darrell thatI laughed in a rather guilty fashion. Lady Betty clapped her handsdelightfully. 

'Oh, I have found you out. You are not a bit solemn, really, only you puton the airs of a sister of mercy. So you don't like Etta; you need not beafraid of telling me so; she is the greatest humbug in the world, onlyGiles is so foolish as to believe in her. I call her a humbug because shepretends to be what she is not; she is really a most prosaic sort ofperson, and she wants to make people believe that she is a soft romanticbody. '

'You are not very charitable in your estimate of your cousin, LadyBetty, '

'Then she should not lead Gladys such a life. Poor dear majesty, to beruled by her prime minister! I should like to see Etta try to dictate tome. Why, I should laugh in her face. She would not attempt it again. Ican't think how it is, ' looking a little grave, 'that she has Gladys socompletely under her thumb. Gladys is too proud to own that she is afraidof her, but all the same she never dares to act in opposition to Etta. '

Lady Betty's confidence was rather embarrassing, but I hardly knew how tocheck it. I began to think the household at Gladwyn must be a very queerone. Uncle Max had already hinted at a want of harmony between Mr. Hamilton and his step-sisters, and Miss Darrell seemed hardly a favouritewith him, although he was too kind-hearted to say so openly. 

'Has your cousin lived long with you?' I ventured to ask. 

'Oh yes; ever since Gladys and I were little things; before mamma died. Auntie lived with us too: poor auntie, we were very fond of her, but shewas a sad invalid; she died about three years ago. Etta has managedeverything ever since. '

'Do you mean that Miss Darrell is housekeeper? I should have thought thatwould have been your sister's place. '

'Oh, Gladys is called the mistress of her house, but none of the servantsgo to her for orders. If she gives any, Etta is sure to countermandthem, '

'It is partly Gladys's fault, ' went on Lady Betty, in her frank outspokenway. 'She tried for a little while to manage things; but either she was aterribly bad housekeeper, or Etta undermined her influence in the house;everything went wrong, and Giles got so angry, --men do, you know, whenthe dear creatures' comforts are invaded: so there was a great fuss, andGladys gave it up; and now the prime minister manages the finances, andgives out stores, and, though I hate to say it, things never went moresmoothly than they do now. Giles is scarcely ever vexed. '

I am ashamed to say how much I was interested in Lady Betty's childishtalk, and yet I knew it was wrong not to check her. What would MissHamilton say if she were to hear of our conversation? Jill was rathera reckless talker, but she was nothing compared with this daring littlecreature. Lady Betty told me afterwards, when we were better acquainted, that it had amused her so to see how widely I could open my eyes when Iwas surprised. I believe she did it out of pure mischief. 

Our talk was happily interrupted by the appearance of Mrs. Barton and thetea-tray, which at once turned Lady Betty's thoughts into a new channel. 

There was so much to do. First she must help to arrange the table, and, as no one else could cut such thin bread-and-butter, she must try herhand at that. Then Nap must have his tea before we touched ours; and whenat last we did sit down she was praising the cake, and jumping up for thekettle, and waiting upon me 'because I was a dear good thing, and waitedon poor people, ' and coaxing me to take this or that as though I were herguest, and every now and then she paused to say 'how nice and cosy itwas, ' and how she was enjoying herself, and how glad she felt to missthat stupid dinner at Gladwyn, where no one talked but Giles and Etta, and Gladys sat as though she were half asleep, until she, Lady Betty, felt inclined to pinch them all. 

We were approaching the dangerous subject again, but I warded it off byasking how she and her sister employed their time. 

She made a little face at me, as though the question bothered her. 'Oh, I do things, and Gladys--does things, ' rather lucidly. 

'Well, but what things, may I ask?'

'Why do you want to know?' was the unexpected retort. 'I don't questionyou, do I? Giles says women are dreadfully curious. '

'I think you are dreadfully mysterious; but, as you are evidently ashamedof your occupations, I will withdraw my question. '

'I do believe you are cross, Miss Garston: you are not a saint, afterall, though Giles says you sing like a cherub: I don't know where he everheard one, but that is his affair. Well, as you choose to get pettishover it, I will be amiable, and tell you what we do. Etta says we wasteour time dreadfully, but as it is our time and not hers, it is none ofher business. '

I thought it prudent to remain silent, so she wrinkled her brows andlooked perplexed. 

'Gladys--let me see what Gladys does: well, she used to teach in theschools, but she does not teach now; she says the infants make herhead ache; that is why she has dropped the Sunday-school. Now Ettahas her class. Then there was the mothers' meeting; well, I neverknew why she gave that up, --I wonder if she knows herself, --but Ettahas got it. And she has left off singing at the penny readings andvillage entertainments; Etta would have replaced her there, only she hasno voice. I think she works a little for the poor people at the East Endof London, but she does it in her own room, because Etta laughs at herand calls her 'Madam Charity. ' Gladys hates that. She takes long walks, and sketches a little, and reads a good deal; and--there, that is all Iknow of her majesty's doings. '

Poor Miss Hamilton! it certainly did not sound much of a life. 

'And about yourself, Lady Betty?'

'Oh, Lady Betty is here, there, and everywhere, ' mimicking me in a drollway. 'Lady Betty walks a little, talks a little, plays a little, anddances when she gets a chance. At present, lawn-tennis is a great objectin her life; last winter, swimming in Brill's bath and riding from Hoveto Kemp Town or across the Brighton Downs were her hobbies. In the summera gardening craze seized her, and just now she is in an idle mood. Whatdoes it matter? a short life and a merry one, --eh, Miss Garston?'

I would not expostulate with this civilised little heathen, for she wasevidently bent on provoking a lecture, and I determined to disappointher. We had sat so long over our tea that the room was quite dark, and Irose to kindle the lamp. Lady Betty, as usual, was anxious to assist me, and went to the window to lower the blind. The next moment I heard anexclamation of annoyance, and as she came back to the table her littlebrown face was all aglow with some suppressed irritation. 

'What is the matter, Lady Betty?' I asked, in some surprise. 

'It is that provoking Etta again, ' she began. 'She has guessed where Iam, and has sent for me, the meddlesome old--' But here a tap at our roomdoor stopped her outburst. 

As Lady Betty made no response, I said, 'Come in, ' and immediately arespectable-looking woman appeared in the doorway. 

She looked like a superior lady's-maid, and had a plain face much markedby the smallpox, and rather dull light-coloured eyes. 

'Well, Leah, ' demanded Lady Betty, rather sulkily, 'what is your businesswith Miss Garston?'

'My business is with you, Lady Betty, ' returned the womangood-humouredly. 'Master came in just now and asked where you were;I think he told Miss Darrell that it was too late for you to be outwalking: so Miss Darrell said she believed you were at the White Cottage, for she saw your muff lying on Miss Garston's table; so she told me tostep up here, as it was too dark for you to walk alone, and I was to tellyou that they would be waiting dinner. '

'It is just like her interference, ' muttered Lady Betty. 'But I supposethere would be a pretty fuss if I let the dinner spoil. Help me on withmy jacket, Leah; as you have come when no one wanted you, you had bettermake yourself useful. '

She spoke with the peremptoriness of a spoiled child, but the womansmiled pleasantly and did as she was bid. She seemed a civil sort ofperson, evidently an old family servant. Something had struck me in herspeech. Miss Darrell had seen Lady Betty's muff, and knew of her presencein the cottage, and yet she had made no remark on the subject; thisseemed strange, but would she not wonder still more at my silence?

'Lady Betty, ' I said hastily, as this occurred to me, 'your cousin willthink it odd that I never spoke of you this afternoon; but you ran out ofthe room so quickly, and then I forgot all about it. '

'Oh, Etta will know I was only playing at hide-and-seek. Most likely shewill think I bound you to secrecy. What a goose I was to leave my muffbehind me, --the very one Etta gave me, too! why, she would see a pin;nothing escapes her: does it, Leah?'

'Not much, Lady Betty: she has fine eyes for dust, I tell her. The newhousemaid had better be careful with her room. Now, ma'am, if you areready?'

'Good-bye, Miss Garston; we shall meet to-morrow, ' returned Lady Betty, standing on tiptoe to kiss me, and as they went out I heard her say inquite a friendly manner to Leah, as though she had already forgotten hergrievance, --

'Is not Miss Garston nice, Leah? She has got such a kind face. ' But I didnot hear Leah's reply. 

I had not seen the last of my visitors, for about an hour afterwards, asI was finishing a long chatty letter to Jill, there was the sharp clickof the gate again, and Uncle Max came in. 

'Are you busy, Ursula?' he said apologetically, as I looked up in somesurprise. 'I only called in as I was passing. I am going on to theMyers's: old Mr. Myers is ill and wants to see me. ' But for all thatMax drew his accustomed chair to the fire, and looked at the blazingpine-knot a little dreamily. 

'You keep good fires, ' was his next remark. 'It is very cold to-night:there is a touch of frost in the air; Tudor was saying so just now. Soyou have had the ladies from Gladwyn here this afternoon?'

'How do you know that?' I asked, in a sharp pouncing voice, for I waskeeping that bit of news for a tidbit. 

'Oh, I met them, ' he returned absently, 'and they told me that you wereto dine with them to-morrow. I call that nice and friendly, asking youwithout ceremony. What time shall you be ready, Ursula? for of course Ishall not let you go alone the first time. '

I was glad to hear this, for, though I was not a shy person, my firstvisit to Gladwyn would be a little formidable; so I told him briefly thatI would be ready by half-past six, as they wished me to go early, and itwould never do to be formal on my side. And then I gave him an account ofLady Betty's visit, but it did not seem to interest him much: in fact, Ido not believe that he listened very attentively. 

'She is an odd little being, ' he said, rather absently, 'and pridesherself on being as unconventional as possible. They have spoiled heramong them, Hamilton especially, but her droll ways amuse him. She hassulked with me lately because I will not give in to her absurd fad aboutLady Betty. I tell her that she ought not to be ashamed of her baptismalname; the angels will call her by it one day. '

'She is very amusing. I think I shall like her, Max; but Miss Darrelldoes not please me. She is far too gushing and talkative for my taste;she patronised and repressed me in the same breath. If there is anythingI dislike, it is to be patted on the head by a stranger. '

'Miss Hamilton did not pat you on the head, I suppose. '

'Miss Hamilton! Oh dear, no; she is of another calibre. I have quitefallen in love with her: her face is perfect, only rather too pale, andher manners are so gentle, and yet she has plenty of dignity; she remindsme of Clytie, only her expression is not so contented and restful: shelooks far too melancholy for a girl of her age. '

'Pshaw!' he said, rather impatiently, but I noticed he lookeduncomfortable. 'What can have put such ideas in your head?--you haveonly seen her twice: you could not expect her to smile in church. '

Max seemed so thoroughly put out by my remark that I thought it betterto qualify my speech. 'Most likely Miss Darrell had been nagging at her. '

His face cleared up directly. 'Depend upon it, that was the reason shelooked so grave, ' he said, with an air of relief. 'Miss Darrell can sayill-tempered things sometimes. Miss Hamilton is never as lively as MissElizabeth; she is always quiet and thoughtful; some girls are like that, they are not sparkling and frothy. '

I let him think that I accepted this statement as gospel, but in my heartI thought I had never seen a sadder face than that of Gladys Hamilton; tome it looked absolutely joyless, as though some strange blight had fallenon her youth. I kept these thoughts to myself, like a wise woman, andwhen Max looked at me rather searchingly, as though he expected a verbalassent, I said, 'Yes, you are right, some girls are like that, ' and lefthim to glean my meaning out of this parrot-like sentence. 

I could make nothing of Max this evening: he seemed restless and ill atease; now and then he fell into a brown study and roused himself withdifficulty. I was almost glad when he took his leave at last, for I hada feeling somehow--and a curious feeling it was--that we were talking atcross-purposes, and that our speeches seemed to be lost hopelessly in amental fog; the cipher to our meaning seemed missing. 

But he bade me good-night as affectionately as though I had done him aworld of good: and when he had gone I sat down to my piano and sang allmy old favourite songs, until the lateness of the hour warned me toextinguish my lamp and retire to bed. 

I was just sinking into a sweet sleep when I heard Nathaniel's voicebidding some one good-night, and in another moment I could hear firmquick footsteps down the gravel walk, followed by Nap's joyous bark. 

Mr. Hamilton had been in the house all the time I had been amusingmyself. I do not know why the idea annoyed me so. 'How I wish he wouldkeep away sometimes!' I thought fretfully. 'He will think I am practisingfor to-morrow: I will not sing if they press me to do so. ' And with thisill-natured resolve I fell asleep. 

My dinner-engagement obliged me to go to Phoebe quite early in theafternoon. Miss Locke looked surprised as she opened the door, but shegreeted me with a pleased smile. 

'Phoebe will hardly be looking for you yet, ' she said, leading the wayinto the kitchen in the evident expectation of a chat; 'she did finelyyesterday in spite of her missing you; when I went in to her in themorning she quite took my breath away by asking if there were not aneasier chair in the house for you to use. "'Deed and there is, Phoebe, woman, " said I, quite pleased, for the poor thing is far toouncomfortable herself to look after other people's comforts, and it wassuch a new thing to hear her speak like that: so I fetched father's bigelbow-chair with a cushion or two and his little wooden footstool, andthere it stands ready for you this afternoon. '

'That was very thoughtful of Phoebe, ' was my reply. 

'Well, now, I thought you would be pleased, though it is only a trifle. But that is not all. Widow Drayton was sitting with me last afternoon, when all at once she puts up her finger and says, "Hark! Is not that yourKitty's voice?" And so I stole out into the passage to listen. And there, to be sure, was Kitty singing most beautifully some of the hymns you sangto Phoebe; and if she could not make out all the words she just went onwith the tune, like a little bird, and Phoebe lay and listened to her, and all the time--as I could see through the crack of the door--her eyeswere fixed on the picture you gave her, and I said to myself, "Phoebe, woman, this is as it should be. You may yet learn wisdom out of the lipsof babes and sucklings. "'

'I am very glad to hear all this, Miss Locke, ' I returned cheerfully. 'Kitty will be able to take my place sometimes. She will be a valuablelittle ally. Now, as my time is limited, I will go to Phoebe. '

I was much struck by the changed expression on Phoebe's face as soonas I had entered the room. She certainly looked very ill, and when Iquestioned her avowed she had suffered a good deal of pain in the night;but the wild hard look had left her eyes. There was intense depression, but that was all. 

She evidently enjoyed the singing as much as ever: and I took care tosing my best. When I had finished I produced a story that I thoughtsuitable, and began to read to her. She listened for about half an hourbefore she showed a symptom of weariness. At the first sign I stopped. 

'Will you do something to please me in return?' I asked, when she hadthanked me very civilly. 'I want you to go on with this book by yourselfnow. I know what you are going to say--that you never read--that it makesyour head ache and tires you. But, if you care to please me, you willwaive all these objections, and we can talk over the story to-morrow. 'Then I told her about my invitation for this evening, and about thebeautiful Miss Hamilton, whose sweet face had interested me. And when wehad chatted quite comfortably for a little while I rose to take my leave. 

Of course she could not let me go without one sharp little word. 

'You have been kinder to me to-day, ' she said, pausing slightly. 'Isuppose that is because I let you take your own way with me. '

'Every one likes his own way, ' I said lightly. 'If I have been kinder toyou, as you say, possibly it is because you have deserved kindness more. 'And I smiled at her and patted the thin hand, as though she were a child, and so 'went on my way rejoicing, ' as they say in the good old Book. 

CHAPTER XV

UP AT GLADWYN

Uncle Max had never been famous for punctuality. He was slightly Bohemianin his habits, and rather given to desultory bachelor ways; but hisdomestic timekeeper, Mrs. Drabble, ruled him most despotically in thematter of meals, and it was amusing to see how she kept him and Mr. Tudorin order: neither of them ventured to keep the dinner waiting, for fearof the housekeeper's black looks; such an offence they knew would beexpiated by cold fish and burnt-up steaks. Uncle Max might invite thebishop to dine, but if his lordship chose to be late Mrs. Drabble wouldtake no pains to keep her dinner hot. 

'If gentlemen like to shilly-shally with their food, they must takethings as they find them, ' she would say; and if her master ever venturedto remonstrate with her, she took care that he should suffer for it for aweek. 

'We must humour Mother Drabble, ' Mr. Tudor would say good-humouredly. 'Every one has a crotchet, and, after all, she is a worthy little woman, and makes us very comfortable. I never knew what good cooking meant untilI came to the vicarage. ' And indeed Mrs. Drabble's custards and flakycrust were famed in the village. Miss Darrell had once begged very humblythat her cook Parker might take a lesson from her, but Mrs. Drabblerefused point-blank. 

'There were those who liked to teach others, and plenty of them, but shewas one who minded her own business and kept her own recipes. If MissDarrell wanted a custard made she was willing to do it for her andwelcome, but she wanted no gossiping prying cooks about her kitchen. '

As I knew Max's peculiarity, I was somewhat surprised when, long beforethe appointed time, Mrs. Barton came up and told me that Mr. Cunliffe wasin the parlour. I had commenced my toilet in rather a leisurely fashion, but now I made haste to join him, and ran downstairs as quickly aspossible, carrying my fur-lined cloak over my arm. 

'You look very nice, my dear, ' he said, in quite fatherly fashion. 'HaveI ever seen that gown before?'

The gown in point had been given to me by Lesbia, and had been made inParis: it was one of those thin black materials that make up into acharming demi-toilette, and was a favourite gown with me. 

I always remember the speech Lesbia made as she showed it to me. 'Whenyou put on this gown, Ursula, you must think of the poor little womanwho hoped to have been your sister. ' This was one of the pretty littlespeeches that she often made. Poor dear Lesbia! she always did things sogracefully. In Charlie's lifetime I had thought her cold and frivolous, for she had not then folded up her butterfly wings; but even then shewas always doing kind little things. 

It was a dark night, neither moon nor stars to be seen, and after we hadpassed the church the darkness seemed to envelop us, and I could barelydistinguish the path. Max seemed quite oblivious of this fact, for hewould persist in pointing out invisible objects of interest. I was toldof the wide stretch of country that lay on the right, and how freshly thesoft breezes blew over the downs. 

'There is the asylum, Ursula, ' he observed cheerfully, waving his handtowards the black outline. 'Now we are passing Colonel Maberley's house, and here is Gladwyn. I wish you could have seen it by daylight. '

I wished so too, for on entering the shrubbery the darkness seemed toswallow us up bodily, and the heavy oak door might have belonged to aprison. The sharp clang of the bell made me shiver, and Dante's linescame into my mind rather inopportunely, 'All ye who enter here, leavehope behind. ' But as soon as the door opened the scene was changed likemagic; the long hall was deliciously warm and light: it looked almostlike a corridor, with its dark marble figures holding sconces, and smallcarved tables between them. 

'I will wait for you here, Ursula, ' whispered Uncle Max; and I went offin charge of the same maid that I had seen before. Lady Betty had calledher Leah, and as I followed her upstairs I thought of that tender-eyedLeah who had been an unloved wife. 

Leah was very civil, but I thought her manner bordered on familiarity:perhaps she had lived long in the family, and was treated more as afriend than a servant. She was an exceedingly plain young woman, and herlight eyes had a curious lack of expression in them, and yet, like MissDarrell's, they seemed able to see everything. 

Seeing me glance round the room, --it was a large, handsomely furnishedbedroom, with a small dressing-room attached to it, --she said, 'This isMiss Darrell's room. Mrs. Darrell used to occupy it, and Miss Etta sleptin the dressing-room, but ever since her mother's death she has had bothrooms. '

'Indeed, ' was my brief reply: but I could not help thinking that MissDarrell had very pleasant and roomy quarters. There were evidences ofluxury everywhere, from the bevelled glass of the walnut-wood wardrobe tothe silver-mounted dressing-case and ivory brushes on the toilet-table. Apale embroidered tea-gown lay across the couch, and a book that lookedvery much like a French novel was thrown beside it. Miss Darrell wasevidently a Sybarite in her tastes. 

Uncle Max was waiting for me at the foot of the stairs, and took me intothe drawing-room at once. 

To our surprise, we found Miss Hamilton there alone. The room was onlydimly lighted, and she was sitting in a large carved chair beside thefire with an open book in her lap. 

I wonder if Max noticed how like a picture she looked. She was dressedvery simply in a soft creamy cashmere, and her fair hair was piled up onher head in regal fashion: the smooth plaits seemed to crown her; alittle knot of red berries that had been carelessly fastened against herthroat was the only colour about her; but she looked more like Clytiethan ever, and again I told myself that I had never seen a sweeter face. 

She greeted me with gentle warmth, but she hardly looked at Max; herwhite lids dropped over her eyes whenever he addressed her, and when sheanswered him she seemed to speak in a more measured voice than usual. Maxtoo appeared extremely nervous; instead of sitting down, he stood uponthe bear-skin rug and fidgeted with some tiny Chinese ornaments on themantelpiece. Neither of them appeared at ease: was it possible that theywere not friends?

'You are not often to be found in solitude, Miss Hamilton, ' observed Max;and it struck me his voice was a little peculiar. 'I do not think I haveever seen you sitting alone in this room before. '

'No, ' she answered quickly, and then she went on in rather a hesitatingmanner: 'Etta and Lady Betty have been shopping in Brighton, and theycame back by a late train, and now Etta is shut up with Giles in hisstudy. Some letters that came by this morning's post had to be answered. '

'Miss Darrell is Hamilton's secretary, is she not?'

'She writes a good many of his letters. Giles is rather idle aboutcorrespondence, and she helps him with his business and accounts. Ettais an extremely busy person. '

'Miss Hamilton used to be busy too, ' returned Max quietly. 'I alwaysconsidered you an example to our ladies. I lost one of my best workerswhen I lost you. '

A painful colour came into Miss Hamilton's face. 

'Oh no, ' she protested, rather feebly. 'Etta is far cleverer than I atparish work. Teaching does not make her head ache. '

'Yours used not to ache last summer, ' persisted Uncle Max, but she didnot seem to hear him. She had turned to me, and there was almost anappealing look in her beautiful eyes, as though she were begging me totalk. 

'Oh, do you know, Miss Garston, ' she said nervously, 'that Giles was verynearly sending for you last night? He was with Mrs. Blagrove's littlegirl until five this morning; the poor little creature died at half-pastfour, and he told us that he thought half a dozen times of sending foryou. '

'I wish he had done so. I should have been so glad to help. '

'Yes, he knew that, but he said it would have been such a shame rousingyou out of your warm bed; and he had not the heart to do it. So hestopped on himself; there was really nothing to be done, but the parentswere in such a miserable state that he did not like to leave them. He wasso tired this afternoon that he dropped asleep instead of writing hisletters: that is why Etta has to do them. '

'Who is talking about Etta?' observed Miss Darrell, coming in at thatmoment, with a quick rustle of her silk skirt, looking as well-dressed, self-possessed, and full of assurance as ever. 'Why are you good peoplesitting in the dark? Thornton would have lighted the candles if you hadrung, Gladys; but I suppose you forgot, and were dreaming over the fireas usual. Miss Garston, I suppose I ought to apologise for being late, but we are such busy people here; every moment is of value; and thoughGladys asked you to come early, I never thought you would be so good asto do so. Friendly people are scarce, are they not, Mr. Cunliffe? By thebye, ' holding up a taper finger loaded with sparkling rings, 'I have ascolding in store for you. Why did you not examine my class as usual lastSunday?--the children tell me you never came near them. '

'I had so little time that I asked Tudor to take the classes for me, ' hereturned quickly, but he was looking at Miss Hamilton as he spoke. 'I amalways sure of the children in that class: they have been so thoroughlywell taught that there is very little need for me to interfere. '

'It would encourage their teachers if you were to do so, ' returned MissDarrell, smiling graciously. She evidently appropriated the praise toherself, but I am sure Uncle Max was not thinking of her when he spoke. Just then Lady Betty came into the room, followed by Mr. Tudor. 

Lady Betty looked almost pretty to-night. She wore a dark ruby velveteenthat exactly suited her brown skin; her fluffy hair was tolerably smooth, and she had a bright colour. She came and sat down beside me at once. 

'Oh, I am so vexed that we are so late! but it was all Etta's fault: shewould look in at every shop-window, and so of course we lost the propertrain. '

'What does the child say?' asked Miss Darrell good-humouredly. She seemedin excellent spirits this evening; but how silent Miss Hamilton hadbecome since her entrance! 'Of course poor Etta is blamed; she always isif anything goes wrong in the house; Etta is the family scapegoat. Butwho was it, I wonder, who wanted another turn on the pier? Not Etta, certainly. '

'Just as though those few minutes would have mattered; and I did wantanother look at the sea, ' returned Lady Betty pettishly; 'but no, youpreferred those stupid shops. That is why I hate to go into Brighton withyou. ' But Miss Darrell only laughed at this flimsy display of wrath. 

Just then Mr. Tudor had taken the other vacant chair beside me. 'How isthe village nurse?' he asked, in his bright way. I certainly liked Mr. Tudor, he had such a pleasant, friendly way with him, and on his part heseemed always glad to see me. If I had ever talked slang, I might havesaid that we chummed together famously. He was a year younger thanmyself, and I took advantage of this to give him advice in anelder-sisterly fashion. 

'You must take care that the clergy do not spoil the village nurse, 'observed Miss Darrell, who had overheard him, and this time the taperfinger was uplifted against Mr. Tudor. 

'Oh, there is no fear of that, ' he returned manfully; 'Miss Garston istoo sensible to allow herself to be spoiled; but it is quite right thatwe all should make much of her. '

'We will ask Giles if he agrees with this, ' replied Miss Darrell, ina funny voice, and at that moment Mr. Hamilton entered the room. 

I do not know why I thought he looked nicer that evening: one thing, Ihad never seen him in evening dress, and it suited him better than hisrough tweed; he was quieter and less abrupt in manner, more dignified andless peremptory, but he certainly looked very tired. 

He accosted me rather gravely, I thought, though he said that he was gladto see me at Gladwyn. His first remark after this was to complain of thelateness of the dinner. 

'Parker is not very punctual this evening, Etta, ' he observed, lookingat his watch. 

'I think it was our fault, Giles, ' returned his cousin plaintively. 'Wekept Thornton such a long time in the study, and no doubt that is thecause of the delay. Parker is seldom a minute behindhand; punctuality isher chief point, as Mrs. Edmonstone told me when I engaged her. You see, 'turning to Uncle Max, 'we are such a regular household that the leastdeviation in our nature quite throws us into confusion. I am so sorry, Giles, I am, indeed; but will you ring for Thornton, and that will remindhim of his duty?'

Miss Darrell's submissive speech evidently disarmed Mr. Hamilton, anddeprived him of his Englishman's right to grumble to his womankind: so hesaid, quite amiably, that they would wait for Parker's pleasure a littlelonger, and then relapsed into silence. 

The next moment I saw him looking at me with rather an odd expression;it was as though he were regarding a stranger whom he had not seenbefore; I suppose the term 'taking stock' would explain my meaning. Just then dinner was announced, and he gave me his arm. 

The dining-room was very large and lofty, and was furnished in dark oak. A circular seat with velvet cushions ran round the deep bay-window. Asmall oval table stood before it. Dark ruby curtains closed in the bay. 

My first speech to Mr. Hamilton was to regret that he had not sent for methe previous night. 

'Oh no, ' he said pleasantly. 'I am quite glad now that your rest wasnot disturbed. ' And then he went on looking at me with the same queerexpression that his face had worn before. 

'Do you know, Miss Garston, your remark quite startled me? SomehowI do not seem to recognise my nurse to-night. When I came into thedrawing-room just now I thought there was a strange young lady sittingby Tudor. '

Of course I was curious to know what he meant; but he positively refusedto enlighten me, and went on speaking about his poor little patient. 

'She was an only child; but nothing could have saved her. The Blagrovesare well-to-do people, --Brighton shopkeepers, --so they hardly come underthe category of your patients. Miss Garston, you call yourself a servantof the poor, do you not?'

'I should not refuse to help any one who really needed it, ' was my reply. 'But, of course, if people can afford to hire service I should think mylabour thrown away on them. '

'Ah! just so. But now and then we meet with a case where hirelings cangive no comfort. With the Blagroves, for example, there was nothing to bedone but just to watch the child's feeble life ebb away. A miracle onlycould have saved her; but all the same it was impossible to go away andleave them. They were young people, and had never seen death before. '

I was surprised to hear him speak with so much feeling. And I liked thatexpression 'servant of the poor. ' It sounded to me as though he had atlast grasped my meaning, and that I had nothing more to fear from hissarcasm. 

I wondered what had wrought such a sudden change in him, for I had onlyworked such a few days. Certainly it would make things far easier if Icould secure him as an ally; and I began to hope that we should go onmore smoothly in the future. 

Mr. Hamilton was evidently a man whom it would take long to know. His wasby no means a character easy to read. One would be sure to be startled bynew developments and curious contradictions. I had known him only for tendays; but then we had met constantly in that short time. I had seen himhard in manner and soft in speech, cool, critical, and disparaging, atone moment satirical and provoking, the next full of thoughtfulness andreadiness to help. No wonder I found it difficult to comprehend him. 

When we had finished discussing the Blagroves, Mr. Hamilton turnedhis attention to his other guests, and tried to promote the generalconversation: this left me at liberty to make my own observations. 

Miss Hamilton sat at the top of the table facing her brother, and UncleMax and Mr. Tudor were beside her; but she did not speak to either ofthem unless they addressed her, and her replies seemed to be very brief. If I had been less interested in her I might have accused her of want ofanimation, for it is hardly playing the _rôle_ of a hostess to lookbeautiful and be chary of words and smiles. 

It was impossible to attribute her silence to absence of mind, for shefollowed with grave attention every word that was spoken; but for someinexplicable reason she had withdrawn into herself. Uncle Max left herto herself after a time, and began to talk politics with Mr. Hamilton, and Mr. Tudor was soon compelled to follow his example. 

Poor Mr. Tudor! I rather pitied him, for his other neighbour, Lady Betty, had turned suddenly very sulky, and I had my surmises that Miss Darrellhad said something to affront her; for she made snapping little answerswhen any one spoke to her, and, though they laughed at her, and nobodyseemed to mind, most likely they thought it prudent to give her time torecover herself. 

Miss Darrell's radiant good-humour was a strange contrast to her twocousins' silence. She threw herself gallantly into the breach, and talkedfast and well on every topic broached by the gentlemen. She was evidentlyclever and well read, and had dabbled in literature and politics. 

Her energy and vivacity were almost fatiguing. She seemed able to keep uptwo or three conversations at once. The lowest whisper did not escape herear; if Mr. Hamilton spoke to me, I saw her watchful eye on us, and shejoined in at once with a sprightly word or two; the next moment she wasanswering Uncle Max, who had at last hazarded a remark to his silentneighbour. Miss Hamilton had no time to reply; her cousin's laugh andready word were before her. 

I found the same thing happen when Mr. Tudor addressed me: before he hadfinished his sentence she had challenged the attention of the table. 

'Giles, ' she said good-humouredly, 'do you know what Mr. Tudor said inthe drawing-room just now, that it was the bounden duty of the Heathfieldfolk to spoil and make much of Miss Garston?'

Both Mr. Tudor and I looked confused at this audacious speech, but hetried to defend himself as well as he could. 

'No, no, Miss Darrell, that was not quite what I said; the whole styleof the sentence is too laboured to belong to me: "bounden duty, "--no, itdoes not sound like me at all. '

'We need not quarrel about terms, ' she persisted; 'your meaning was justthe same. Come, Mr. Tudor, you cannot unsay your own words, that it wasright for you all to make much of Miss Garston. '

I thought this was spoken in the worst possible taste, and I am sure Mr. Hamilton thought so too, for he smiled slightly and said, 'Nonsense, Etta! you let your tongue run away with you. I daresay that was notTudor's meaning at all; he is the most matter-of-fact fellow I know, andcould not coin a compliment to save his life. Besides which, I expect hehas found out by this time that it would be rather difficult to spoilMiss Garston. That cuts both ways, eh!' looking at me rathermischievously. 

'Oh, if all the gentlemen are in conspiracy to defend Miss Garston, Iwill say no more, ' returned Miss Darrell, with a shrug, but she did notsay it quite pleasantly. 'Gladys dear, I think we had better retirebefore I am quite crushed: Giles's frown has quite flattened me out. MissGarston, if you are ready, ' making me a mocking little courtesy; but MissHamilton waited for me at the door and linked her arm in mine, takingpossession of me in a graceful way that evidently pleased Max, for helooked at us smiling. 

'Come into the conservatory, Gladys, ' whispered Lady Betty in hersister's ear. 'Etta has a cold coming on, and will be afraid of followingus. '

The conservatory led out of the drawing-room, and was lighted by colouredlamps that gave a pretty effect; it was full of choice flowers, and twoor three cane chairs filled up the centre. It was not so warm as thedrawing-room, certainly, but it was pleasant to sit there in the dimperfumed atmosphere and peep through the open window at the firelight. Miss Darrell followed us to the window with a discontented air. 

'I hope you are not going to stay there many minutes, Gladys: you willcertainly give yourself and Miss Garston a bad cold if you do. There issomething wrong with the warming-apparatus, and Giles says it will besome days before it will be properly warmed. I thought I told you so thismorning. '

'I do not think Miss Garston will take cold, Etta, and it is verypleasant here'; but, though Miss Darrell retreated from the window, Ithink we all felt as much constrained as though she had joined us, fornot a word could escape her ears if she chose to listen. 

But this fact did not seem to daunt Lady Betty for long, for she soonbegan chattering volubly to us both. 

'I am not so cross now as I was, ' she said frankly. 'I am afraid I wasvery rude to Mr. Tudor at dinner; but what could I do when Etta was soimpertinent? No, she is not there, Gladys; she has gone out of the room, looking as cross as possible. But what do you think she said to me?'

'Never mind telling us what she said, dear, ' returned Miss Hamiltonsoothingly. 

'Oh, but I want to tell Miss Garston: she looks dreadfully curious, andI do not like her to think me cross for nothing. I am not like that, amI, Gladys? Well, just before we went in to dinner, she begged me in awhisper not to talk quite so much to Mr. Tudor as I had done last time. Now, what do you want, Leah?' pulling herself up rather abruptly. 

'I have only brought you some shawls, Lady Betty, as Miss Darrell saysthe conservatory is so cold. She has told Thornton to mention to hismaster when he takes in the coffee that Miss Gladys is sitting here, andshe hopes he will forbid it. '

'You can take away the shawls, Leah, ' returned Miss Hamilton quietly, butthere was a scornful look on her pale face as she spoke. 'We are notgoing to remain here, since Miss Darrell is so anxious about our health. Shall we come in, Miss Garston? Perhaps it is a trifle chilly here. ' And, seeing how the wind blew, and that Miss Darrell was determined to haveher way in the matter, I acquiesced silently; but I was not a bitsurprised to see Lady Betty stamp her little foot as she followed us. 

Miss Darrell was lying back on a velvet lounge, and welcomed us witha provoking smile. 

'I thought the threat of telling Giles would bring you in, Gladys, ' shesaid, laughing. 'What a foolish child you are to be so reckless of yourhealth! Every one knows Gladys is delicate, ' she went on, turning to me;'everything gives her cold. Giles has been obliged to forbid herattending evening service this winter: you were terribly rebellious aboutit, were you not, my dear? but of course Giles had his way. No one inthis house ventures to disobey him. '

Miss Hamilton did not answer: she was standing looking into the fire, andher lips were set firmly as though nothing would make her unclose them. 

'Oh, do sit down, ' continued her cousin pettishly; 'it gives one such anuncomfortable feeling when a tall person stands like a statue beforeone. ' And as Miss Hamilton quietly seated herself, she went on, 'Don'tyou think religious people are far more self-willed than worldly ones, Miss Garston? I daresay you are self-willed yourself. Gladys made as muchfuss about giving up evening service as though her salvation depended onher going twice or three times a day. "What is to prevent you reading theservice in your own room?" I used to say to her. "It cannot be your dutyto disobey your brother and make yourself ill. "'

'The illness lay in your own imagination, Etta, ' observed Miss Hamiltoncoldly. 'Giles would never have found out my chest was delicate if youhad not told him so. '

Miss Darrell gave her favourite little shrug, and inspected her rings. 

'See what thanks I get for my cousinly care, ' she said good-humouredly. 'I suppose, Gladys, you were vexed with me for telling him that you wereworking yourself to death, --that the close air of the schoolroom madeyour head ache, and that so much singing was too much for your strength. '

'If you please, Etta, we will talk about some other subject; my health, or want of health, will not interest Miss Garston. ' She spoke withdignity, and then, turning to me with a winning smile, 'Giles has told meabout your singing. Will you be good enough to sing something to us? Itwould be a great pleasure: both Lady Betty and I are so fond of music. '

'Miss Garston looks very tired, Gladys; it is almost selfish to ask her, 'observed Miss Darrell softly; and then I knew that Miss Hamilton'srequest did not please her. 

I had vowed to myself that no amount of pressing should induce me to singthat evening, but I could not have refused that gentle solicitation. As Iunbuttoned my gloves and took my place at the grand piano, I determinedthat I would sing anything and everything that Miss Hamilton wished; MissDarrell should not silence me; and with this resolve hot on me Icommenced the opening bars of 'The Lost Chord, ' and before I had finishedthe song Miss Hamilton had crept into the corner beside me, and remainedthere as motionless as though my singing had turned her into stone. 

CHAPTER XVI

GLADYS

I do not know how the majority of people feel when they sing, but with methe love of music was almost a passion. I could forget my audience in amoment, and would be scarcely aware if the room were empty or crowded. 

For example, on this evening I had no idea that the gentlemen had enteredthe room, and the first intimation of the fact was conveyed to me byhearing a 'Bravo!' uttered by Mr. Hamilton under his breath. 

'But you must not leave off, ' he went on, quite earnestly. 'I want you totreat us as you treat poor Phoebe Locke, and sing one song after anotheruntil you are tired. '

I was about to refuse this request very civilly but decidedly, for Ihad no notion of obeying such an arbitrary command, when Miss Hamiltontouched my arm. 

'Oh, do please go on singing as Giles says: it is such a pleasure to hearyou. ' And after this I could no longer refuse. 

So I sang one song after another, chiefly from memory, and sometimes Icould hear a soft clapping of hands, and sometimes there was breathlesssilence, and a curious feeling came over me as I sang. I thought that theonly person to whom I was singing was Miss Hamilton, and that I waspleading with her to tell me the reason of her sadness, and why there wassuch a weary, hopeless look in her eyes, when the world was so young withher and the God-given gift of beauty was hers. 

I was singing as though she and I were alone in the room, when Maxsuddenly whispered in my ear, 'That will do, Ursula, ' and as soon as theverse concluded I left off. But before I could rise Miss Darrell wasbeside us. 

'Oh, thank you so much, Miss Garston; you are very amiable to sing solong. Giles was certainly loud in your praises, but I was hardly preparedfor such a treat. Why, Gladys dear, have you been crying? What animpressionable child you are! Miss Garston has not contrived to drawtears from my eyes. '

But, without making any reply, Miss Hamilton quietly left the room. Wereher eyes wet, I wonder? Was that why Max stopped me? Did he want toshield her from her cousin's sharp scrutiny? If so, he failed. 

'It is such a pity Gladys is so foolishly sensitive, ' she went on, addressing Uncle Max: 'natures of this sort are quite unfit for the sternduties of life. I am quite uneasy about her sometimes, am I not, Giles?Her spirits are so uneven, and she has so little strength. Parochial worknearly killed her, Mr. Cunliffe. You said yourself how ill she looked inthe summer. '

'True; but I never thought the work hurt her, ' replied Max, ratherbluntly. 'I think it was a mistake for Miss Hamilton to give up all herduties; occupation is good for every one. '

'That is my opinion, ' observed Mr. Hamilton. 'Etta is always making afuss about Gladys's health, but I tell her there is not the least reasonfor alarm; many people not otherwise delicate take cold easily. It istrue I advised her to give up evening service for a few weeks until shegot stronger. '

'Indeed!' And here Max looked a little perplexed. 'I thought you told me, Miss Darrell, that your cousin found our service too long and wearisome, and this was the reason she stayed away. '

'Oh no; you must have misunderstood me, ' returned Miss Darrell, flushinga little. 'Gladys may have said she liked a shorter sermon in theevening, but that was hardly her reason for staying away; at least--'

'Of course not. What nonsense you talk, Etta!' observed Mr. Hamiltonimpatiently. 'You know what a trouble I had to coax Gladys to stay athome; she was rather obstinate about it, --as girls are, --but I asked heras a special favour to myself to remain. '

Max's face cleared up surprisingly, and as Miss Hamilton at that momentre-entered the room, he accosted her almost eagerly. 

'Miss Hamilton, we have been talking about you in your absence; yourbrother and I have been agreeing that it is really a great pity that youshould have given up all your parish duties; it is a little hard on usall, is it not, Tudor? Your brother declares occupation will do you good. Now, I am sure your cousin will not have the slightest objection to giveup your old class, and she can take Miss Matthews's, and then I shallhave two good workers instead of one. '

For an instant Miss Hamilton hesitated; her face relaxed, and she lookedat Max a little wistfully; but Miss Darrell interposed in her sprightlyway:

'Do as you like, Gladys dear. Mr. Cunliffe will be too glad of your help, I am sure, as he sees how much you wish it. We all think you are frettingafter your old scholars; home duties are not exciting enough, and evenGiles notices how dull you are. Oh, you shall have my class withpleasure; anything to see you happy, love. Shall we make the exchangeto-morrow?'

'No, thank you, Etta; I think things had better be as they are. ' AndMiss Hamilton walked away proudly, and spoke to Mr. Tudor; the suddenbrightness in her face had dimmed, and I was near enough to see that herhand trembled. 

'There, you see, ' observed Miss Darrell complacently. 'I have done mybest to persuade her in public and private to amuse herself and not giveway to her feelings of lassitude. "Do a little, but not much, " I haveoften said to her; but with Gladys it must be all or none. '

'Ursula, do you know how late it is?' asked Max, coming up to me. Helooked suddenly very tired, and I saw at once that he wished me to go: soI made my adieux as quickly as possible, and in a few minutes we had leftthe house, accompanied by Mr. Tudor. 

Uncle Max was very quiet all the way home. I had expected him to be fullof questions as to how I had enjoyed my evening, but his only remark wasto ask if I were very tired, and then he left me to Mr. Tudor. 

'Well, how do you like the folks up at Gladwyn?' demanded Mr. Tudor. 'Lady Betty was not in the best of humours to-night, and hardly deignedto speak to me; but I am sure you must have admired Miss Hamilton. '

'I like both of them, ' was my temperate reply: 'you must not be hard onpoor little Lady Betty. Miss Darrell had been lecturing her, and thatmade her cross. '

'So I supposed, ' was the prompt answer. 'Well, what did you think of theDare-all, --as the vicar calls her sometimes? is she not like a pleasantedition of Tupper's _Proverbial Philosophy_, --verbose and full of longsentences? How many words did she coin to-night, do you think?'

There was a little scorn in the young man's voice. Miss Darrell wasevidently not a favourite in the vicarage, yet most people would havecalled her elegant and well-mannered, and, if she had no beauty, she wasnot bad-looking. She was so exceedingly well made up, and her style ofdress was so suitable to her face, that I was not surprised to hearafterwards from Lady Betty that many people thought her cousin Ettahandsome. Now when Mr. Tudor made this spiteful little speech I feltrather pleased, for my dislike to Miss Darrell had increased ratherthan diminished by the evening's experiences; under her smooth speechesthere lurked an antagonistic spirit; something had prejudiced her againstme even at our first meeting; I was convinced that she did not like me, and would not encourage my visit to Gladwyn. Mr. Tudor and I talked agood deal about Lady Betty; he described her as most whimsical andsound-hearted, half-child and half-woman, with a touch of the brownie;her brother often called her Brownie, or little Nix, to tease her. Shewas very fond of her sister, he went on to say, but there was not muchcompanionship between them. Miss Hamilton was very intellectual, and reada good deal, and Lady Betty never read anything but novels; they all madea pet of her, --even Mr. Hamilton, who was not much given to pets, --butshe was hardly an influence in the house. 

'She has not backbone enough, ' he finished, 'and the Dare-all rules themall with a rod of iron--"cased in velvet. "'

Uncle Max listened to all this in silence, and as they parted with me atthe gate of the White Cottage he only said 'Good-night, Ursula, ' in adepressed voice. He was evidently rather cast down about something;perhaps Miss Hamilton's decision had disappointed him; she had beenhis favourite worker, and had helped him greatly; he seemed to feel ithard that she should withdraw her services so suddenly. How wistfully shehad looked at him as he pleaded with her! it was the first time I hadseen her look at him of her own accord, and yet she had denied hisrequest, --very firmly and gently. 

'I must be friends with her, and then perhaps she will tell me all aboutit some day, ' I thought; for I was convinced that there was more than metthe eye; but it was some time before I could banish these perplexingthoughts. 

I saw a good deal of Lady Betty during the next week or two. I met herfrequently on my way to the Lockes', and she would walk with me to thegate, and two or three times she made her appearance at the Marshall's';'for it's no use calling at the White Cottage of an afternoon, ' she wouldsay disconsolately, 'for you are never at home, you inhospitablecreature. '

'Why, do you think I live here, Lady Betty!' I returned, smiling. 'Do youknow I am becoming a most punctual person? I am always back at the WhiteCottage by five, and sometimes a little earlier, and I shall always bepleased if you will come in and have tea with me. '

'I should like it of all things, ' replied Lady Betty, with a sigh; 'and Iwill come sometimes, you will see if I don't. But I know Etta will make afuss; she always does if I stay out after dark; and it is dark at fournow. That is why I pop in here to see you, because Etta is always busy inthe mornings and never takes any notice of what we do. '

'But surely Miss Darrell will not object to your coming to see me?' Iasked, somewhat piqued at this. 

'Oh dear, no, ' returned Lady Betty, jumbling her words as though shefound my question embarrassing. 'Etta never objects openly to anything wedo, only she throws stumbling-blocks in our way. I do not know why I havegot it into my head that she would not like Gladys or me to come herewithout her, but it is there all the same, --the idea, I mean; it wassomething she said the other night to Mrs. Maberley that gave me thisimpression. Mrs. Maberley wanted to call on you, because she said youwere Mr. Cunliffe's niece, and people ought to take notice of you. AndEtta said, "Oh dear, yes; and it was a very kind thought on Mrs. Maberley's part, and Mr. Cunliffe would think it so. That was why Gileshad invited you to Gladwyn. But there was no hurry, and you evidentlywere not prepared to enter into society. You had rather strong-mindedviews on this subject, and she was not quite sure whether Giles was wiseto encourage the intimacy with his sisters. "'

'Miss Darrell said this to Mrs. Maberley?'

'Yes. Was it not horrid of Etta? I felt so cross. And Mrs. Maberley issuch an old dear: only rather old-fashioned in her notions about girls. So Etta's speech rather frightened her, I could see. Of course she hasnot called yet? I am almost inclined to tell Giles about it. '

'Indeed, I hope you will do nothing of the kind, Lady Betty. I am sorryMiss Darrell does not like me; but I do not see that it matters so verymuch what people think of us. '

'Yes; but when Etta takes a dislike to people she tries to prevent usfrom knowing them: that is the provoking part of it. She is so dreadfullyjealous, and I expect it was your singing that gave umbrage. Etta is notat all accomplished; she never cared much for Gladys to sing, because shehad such a sweet voice, and it put her in the background. Ah! I know howmean it sounds, but it is just the truth about Etta. And if I were todrop in for five-o'clock tea, as you say, Leah would be sure to make herappearance and say I was wanted at Gladwyn. '

I found Lady Betty's confidential speeches rather embarrassing, and whenI knew her a little better I took her to task rather seriously for herwant of reticence. But she only pouted, and said, 'When one looks at you, Miss Garston, one cannot help telling you things: they all tumble outwithout one's will. That is what Gladys means when she says you have asympathetic face. I wish you would get her to talk to you. '

As Lady Betty persisted in haunting the Marshalls' cottage, Idetermined to make her useful. So I set her to read to Elspeth, or togive sewing-lessons to Peggy, or to amuse the younger children, whileI was engaged with my patient; and I soon found that she was a mosthelpful little body. 

Mr. Hamilton found her sitting in the kitchen one day surrounded by thechildren. She was telling them a story. The baby was sucking her thumbcontentedly on her lap. Poor Mary was worse that day, and I had beggedLady Betty to keep the little ones quiet. 

Mr. Hamilton came into the sick-room looking very much pleased. 'I onlywish you could make Lady Betty a useful member of society, Miss Garston, 'he said, with one of the rare smiles that always lit up his dark face sopleasantly. 'She is a good little thing, but she wants ballast. As arule, young ladies are terribly idle. '

I had called up at Gladwyn a few days after we had dined there, but, tomy great disappointment, I did not see Miss Hamilton. Miss Darrell wasalone, so my visit was as brief as possible. 

She told me at once that her cousins had gone over to Brighton for anafternoon's shopping, and that Mr. Hamilton had run up to London for afew hours. And then she commenced plying me with questions in a ladylikeway about my work and my past life, but in such a skilful manner that itwas almost impossible to avoid answering. She was so sure that I must bedull, living all alone. Oh, of course I was too good and unselfish to sayso, but all the same I must be miserably dull. What could have put such asingular idea in my head, she wondered. When young ladies did this sortof thing there was generally some painful reason: they were unhappy athome, or they had had some disastrous love-affair. Of course--laughinga little affectedly--she had no intention of hinting at such a reason inmy case; any one could see at a glance that I was not that sort ofperson; I was far too sensible and matter-of-fact: gentlemen would bequite afraid of me, I was so strong-minded. But all the same she pleadedguilty to a feeling of natural curiosity why such an idea had come intomy head. 

When I had warded off this successfully, --for I declined to enlightenMiss Darrell on this subject, --she flew off at a tangent to AuntPhilippa. 

'It was such a pity when relations did not entirely harmonise. An auntcould never replace a mother. Ah! she knew that too well: and when therewere daughters--and she had heard from Mr. Cunliffe that my cousin Sarawas excessively pretty and charming--no doubt there would be naturalmisunderstandings and jealousies. In spite of all my goodness, I was onlyhuman. Of course she understood perfectly how it all happened, and shefelt very sorry for me. '

I disclaimed the notion of any family disagreement with some warmth, butI do not think she believed me. She had evidently got it into her headthat I was a strong-minded young woman with an uncertain temper, whocould not live peaceably at home. No doubt she had hinted this to Mrs. Maberley and other ladies. She would make this the excuse fordiscouraging any degree of intimacy with her cousins. I should not beasked very often to Gladwyn if it depended on Miss Darrell; but Mr. Hamilton had a will of his own, and if he chose me as a companion forhis sisters, Miss Darrell would find it difficult to exclude me. 

One could see at a glance that Mr. Hamilton was master in his own house. Miss Darrell seemed perfectly submissive to him. There was somethingalmost obsequious in her manner to him. She watched his looks anxiously, and, though she coaxed and flattered him, she did not seem quite certainhow he would take her speeches. 

'We are a strange household; don't you think so, Miss Garston?' sheobserved presently. 'Giles is our lord and master. None of us poor womendare to contradict him. When dear mamma was alive, she had a great dealof influence over him. He was very fond of her. Her death made a greatdifference in the house. '

'It must have been a great trouble to you, Miss Darrell. '

'Yes, indeed. I was almost broken-hearted. She had been the dearest andmost indulgent of mothers; but Giles was very good to me. Gladys and LadyBetty were very devoted to her; perhaps you have heard them speak of AuntMargaret. Ah! I forgot, you have only seen Gladys twice. ' And here shelooked at me rather sharply, but I nodded acquiescence. 'Gladys wasalways a favourite with her. '

'Miss Hamilton must be a general favourite, ' I replied, a littleunguardedly. 

'Ah! I suppose you think her handsome, ' in rather a forced manner: 'manypeople say she is too pale, and rather too statuesque, for their taste. '

'In my opinion she is very beautiful, ' I replied quickly, 'I told UncleMax the other day that I thought her face almost perfect. '

'And what did he say?' she asked, rather eagerly. 'Did he agree withyou?' But I was obliged to confess that I had forgotten his answer. 

'I know Mr. Cunliffe thinks Gladys cold, ' she went on. 'He is tookind-hearted to say so; but I know he feels hurt at her desertion of herpost. It was a strange whim on her part to give up all her parish work. I am afraid it was a little bit of temper. Gladys has a temper, thoughyou may not think so. She is very firm, and does not brook the leastinterference on my part. Poor dear! if it were not wrong, I should sayshe was a little jealous of my influence with Giles, because he likesme to do things for him; but how am I to help doing what he asks me, when I owe the very bread I eat to his kindness?'

Miss Darrell was poor and dependent then. This piece of news surprisedme. I thought of the glittering rings and silver-mounted dressing-caseand all the luxurious appliances in her toilet, and wondered if Mr. Hamilton had paid for them. 

Miss Darrell seemed to read my thoughts in a most wonderful way. 

'Poor mother left very little except personal jewellery. Yes, I oweeverything to Giles's generosity. He is good enough to say that I earn myallowance, --and indeed I am never idle; but, ' interrupting herself, 'I donot want to talk of myself; I am a very insignificant person, --justGiles's housekeeper; Gladys is mistress of the house. I only wanted youto explain to Mr. Cunliffe that I am not to blame for Gladys's strangewhim. Let me explain a little. She was looking very ill and overworked, and I begged Giles to lecture her. I told him that there was no need forGladys to do quite so much; in fact, she was putting herself a little tooforward in the parish, considering how young she was, and the vicar anunmarried man. So Giles and I gave her a word. I am sure he spoke mostgently, and I was very careful indeed in only giving her a hint thatpeople, and even Mr. Cunliffe, might misconstrue such devotion. I neversaw Gladys in such a passion; and the next day she had flung everythingup. She told the vicar that the schoolroom made her head ache, and thather throat was delicate, and she could not sing. Poor Mr. Cunliffe wasin such despair that I was obliged to offer my services. It is far toomuch for me; but what can I do? the parish must not suffer for Gladys'swilfulness. Now if you could only explain things a little to Mr. Cunliffe; he looked so hurt the other night when Gladys refused to takeher old class. No wonder he misses her, for she used to teach thechildren splendidly; but if he knew it was only a little temper onGladys's part he would look over it and be friends with her again. Butyou must have noticed yourself, Miss Garston, how little he had to sayto her. '

I had found it impossible to check Miss Darrell's loquacity or to edge ina single word; but as soon as her breath failed I rose to take my leave, and she did not seek to detain me. 

'You will explain this to Mr. Cunliffe, for Gladys's sake, ' she said, holding my hand. 'I do want him to think well of her, and I can see hisgood opinion is shaken. '

But to this I made no audible reply; but, as I shook off the dust ofGladwyn, I told myself that Uncle Max should not hear Miss Darrell'sversion from my lips. She wished to make me a tool in her hands; but herbreach of confidence had a very different result from what she expected. Miss Darrell's words had cleared up a perplexity in my mind: I could readbetween the lines, and I fully exonerated Miss Hamilton. 

The following afternoon I had a most unexpected pleasure. When I cameback to the cottage after my day's work Mrs. Barton met me at the doorand told me that Miss Hamilton was in the parlour. 

I had thought she meant Lady Betty; but, to my surprise, I found MissHamilton seated by the fire. A pleased smile came to her face as Igreeted her most warmly. She must have seen how glad I was; but sheshrank back rather nervously when I begged her to take off her furredmantle and stay to tea. 

She was not sure that she could remain. Lady Betty was alone, as Gilesand Etta were dining at the Maberleys'. She had been asked, and hadrefused; but Etta had taken in her work, as Mrs. Maberley had wanted themto go early. Perhaps she had better not stay, as it would not be kind toLady Betty. But I soon overruled this objection. I told Miss Hamiltonthat I saw Lady Betty frequently, but that she herself had never calledsince her first visit, and that now I could not let her go. 

I think she wanted me to press her; she was arguing against her ownwishes, it was easy to see that. By and by she asked me in a low voice ifI were sure to be alone, or if I expected any visitors; and when I hadassured her decidedly that no one but Uncle Max ever came to see me, andthat I knew he was engaged this evening, her last scruple seemed tovanish, and she settled herself quite comfortably for a chat. We talkedfor a little while on indifferent subjects. She told me about theneighbourhood and the people who lived in the large houses by the church, and about her brother's work in the parish, and how if rich people sentfor him he always kept them waiting while he went to the poor ones. 

'Giles calls himself the poor people's doctor: he attends them fornothing. He cannot always refuse rich people if they will have him, buthe generally sends them to Dr. Ramsbotham. You see, he never takes moneyfor his services, and as people know this, they are ashamed to send forhim; and yet they want him because he is so clever. Giles is so fond ofhis profession; he is always regretting that he had a fortune left him, for he says it would have been far pleasanter to make one. Giles neverdid care for money; he is ready to fling it away to any one who askshim. '

Miss Hamilton kept up this desultory talk all tea-time. She spoke withgreat animation about her brother, and I could hardly believe it was thesame girl who had sat so silently at the head of the table that eveningat Gladwyn. The sad abstracted look had left her face. It seemed asthough for a little while she was determined to forget her troubles. 

When Mrs. Barton had taken away the tea-tray, she asked me, with the samewistful look in her eyes, to sing to her if I were not tired, and Icomplied at once. 

I sang for nearly half an hour, and then I returned to the fireside. Isaw that Miss Hamilton put up her hand to shield her face from the light;but I took no notice, and after a little while she began to talk. 

'I never heard any singing like yours, Miss Garston; it is a great gift. There is something different in your voice from any one else's: it seemsto touch one's heart. '

'If my singing always makes you sad, Miss Hamilton, it is a very dubiousgift. '

'Ah, but it is a pleasant sadness, ' she replied quickly. 'I feel asthough some kind friend were sympathising with me when you sing: it tellsme too that, like myself, you have known trouble. '

I sighed as I looked at Charlie's picture. Her eyes followed my glance, and I saw again that tremulous motion of her hands. 

'Yes, I know, ' she said hurriedly; but her beautiful eyes were full oftears. 'I have always been so sorry for you. You must feel so lonelywithout him. '

The intense sympathy with which she said these few words seemed to breakdown my reserve. In a moment I had forgotten that we were strangers, as Itold her about my love for Charlie, and the dear old life at the rectory. 

It was impossible to doubt the interest with which she listened to me. IfI paused for an instant, she begged me very gently to tell her more aboutmyself; she was so sorry for me; but it did her good to hear me. 

When I spoke of the life at Hyde Park Gate, and told her how little I wasfitted for that sort of existence, she put down her shielding hand, andlooked at me with strange wistfulness. 

'No, you are too real, too much in earnest, to be satisfied with thatsort of life. Mr. Cunliffe used to tell us so. And I seemed to understandit all before I saw you. I always felt as though I knew you, even beforewe met. I hope, ' hesitating a little, 'that we shall see a great deal ofyou. I know Giles wishes it. '

'You cannot come here too often, Miss Hamilton. It will always be such apleasure to me to see you. '

'Oh, I did not mean that, ' she returned nervously. 'I may not be ableto come here, --that is, not alone; there are reasons, and you must notexpect me; but I hope you will come to Gladwyn whenever you have an hourto spare. Giles said so the other day. I think he meant you to be friendswith us. You must not mind, ' getting still more nervous, 'if Etta is alittle odd sometimes. Her moods vary, and she does not always make peoplefeel as though they were welcome; but it is only her manner, so you mustnot mind it. '

'Oh no; I shall hope to come and see you and Lady Betty some time. '

'And, ' she went on hurriedly, 'if there is anything that I can do to helpyou, I hope you will tell me so. Perhaps I cannot visit the people; butthere are other things, --needlework, or a little money. Oh, I have somuch spare time, and it will be such a pleasure. '

'Oh yes; you shall help me, ' I returned cheerfully, for she was lookingso extremely nervous that I wanted to reassure her; but we were preventedfrom saying any more on this subject, for just then we heard the click ofthe little gate, and the next moment Uncle Max walked into the room. 

CHAPTER XVII

'WHY NOT TRUST ME, MAX?'

Max looked very discomposed when he saw Miss Hamilton; he shook handswith her gravely, and sat down without saying a word. I wondered if itwere my fancy, or if Miss Hamilton had really grown perceptibly palersince his entrance. 

'What does this mean, Uncle Max?' I asked gaily, for this sort ofoppressive silence did not suit me at all. 'I understood that you andMr. Tudor were dining at the Glynns' to-night. '

'Lawrence has gone without me, ' he replied. 'I had a headache, and so Isent an excuse; but, as it got better, I thought I would come up and seehow you were getting on. '

'A headache, Uncle Max!' looking at him rather anxiously, for I had neverheard him complain of any ailment before. I had been dissatisfied withhis appearance ever since I had come to Heathfield; he had looked wornand thin for some time, but to-night he looked wretched. 

'Oh, it is nothing, ' he returned quickly. 'Miss Hamilton, I hardlyexpected to find you here with Ursula. I thought you were all goingto the Maberleys'. '

'Etta and Giles have gone, ' she replied quietly. 'I ought not to be here, as Lady Betty is alone at Gladwyn; but Miss Garston persuaded me toremain; but it is getting late. I must be going, ' rising as she spoke. 

'There is not the slightest need for you to hurry, ' observed Max; 'it isnot so very late, and I will walk up with you to Gladwyn. '

'Indeed, I hope you will do nothing of the kind, ' she said hurriedly. 'Miss Garston, will you please tell him that there is no need, no needat all? indeed, I would much rather not. '

Miss Hamilton had lost all her repose of manner; she looked as nervousand shy as any school-girl when Max announced his intention of escortingher; and yet how could any gentleman have allowed her to go down thosedark roads alone?

Perhaps Max thought she was unreasonable, for there was a touch of satirein his voice as he answered her:

'I certainly owe it to my conscience to see you safe home. What wouldHamilton say if I allowed you to go alone?--Ursula, ' turning to me withan odd look, 'it is a fine starlight night; suppose you put on yourhat, --a run will do you good, --and relieve Miss Hamilton's mind. '

'Yes, do come, ' observed Miss Hamilton, in a relieved voice; but, as shespoke, her lovely eyes seemed appealing to him, and begging him not to beangry with her; but he frowned slightly, and turned aside and took up abook. How was it those two contrived to misunderstand each other sooften? Max looked even more hurt than he had done at Gladwyn. 

I was not surprised to find that when I left the room Miss Hamiltonfollowed me, but I was hardly prepared to hear her say in a troubledvoice, --

'Oh, how unfortunate I am! I would not have had this happen for worlds. Etta will--oh, what am I saying?--I am afraid Mr. Cunliffe is offendedwith me because I did not wish him to go home with me--but, ' a littleproudly and resentfully, 'he is too old a friend to misunderstand me, sohe need not have said that. '

'I think Uncle Max is not well to-night, ' I replied soothingly. 'I neverheard him speak in that tone before; he is always so careful not to hurtpeople's feelings. '

'Yes, I know, ' stifling a sigh; 'it is more my fault than his; he islooking wretchedly ill; and--and I think he is a little offended with meabout other things; it is impossible to explain, and so he misjudges me. '

'Why do you not try to make things a little clearer?' I asked. 'Could younot say a word to him as we walk home? Uncle Max is so good that I cannotbear him to be vexed about anything, and I know he is disappointed thatyou will not work in the school. '

'Yes, I know; but you do not understand, ' she returned gently. 'I shouldlike to speak to him, if I dared, but I think my courage will fail; it isnot so easy as you think. ' And then as we went downstairs she took myarm, and I could feel that her hand was very cold. 'I wish he had notasked you to come: it shows he is hurt with me; but all the same I shouldhave asked you myself. '

Uncle Max took up his felt hat directly he saw us, and followed ussilently into the entry; he did not speak as we went down the littlegarden together; and as we turned into the road leading to the vicarageit was Miss Hamilton who spoke first. She was still holding my arm, perhaps that gave her courage, and she looked across at Max, who waswalking on my other side. 

'Mr. Cunliffe, I am so sorry you were hurt with me the other night, when Etta spoke about the schools. I am not giving up work for my ownpleasure; I loved it far too much; but there are reasons, '

I heard Max give a quick, impatient sigh in the darkness. 

'So you always say, Miss Hamilton; you remember we have talked of thisbefore. I have thought it my duty more than once to remonstrate with youabout giving up your work, but one seems to talk in the dark; somehow youhave never given me any very definite reasons, --headaches, --well, asthough I did not know you well enough to be sure you are the last personto think of ailments. '

'Yes, but one's friends are over-careful; but still you are right; it isnot only that. Mr. Cunliffe, I wish you would believe that I have goodand sufficient reasons for what I do, even if I cannot explain them. Itmakes one unhappy to be misunderstood by one's clergyman, and, 'hesitating a moment, 'and one's friends, '

'Friends are not left so completely in the dark, ' was the pointed answer. 'It is no use, Miss Hamilton. I find it impossible to understand you. Ihave no right to be hurt. No, of course not, no right at all, '--and hereMax laughed unsteadily, --'but still, as a clergyman, I thought it couldnot be wrong to remonstrate when my best worker deserted her post. '

There was no response to this, only Miss Hamilton's hand lay a littleheavily on my arm, as though she were tired. I though it best to besilent. No word of mine was needed. I could tell from Max's voice andmanner how bitterly he was hurt. 

But when he next spoke it was on a different subject. 

'I must beg your pardon, Miss Hamilton, for having wronged you in mythoughts about something else. I find your brother has forbidden you toattend evening service for the present. And no doubt he is right; butyour cousin gave me to understand that you stayed away for a verydifferent reason. '

'What did Etta tell you?' she asked quickly. But before he could answera dark figure seemed to emerge rather suddenly from the roadside. MissHamilton dropped my arm at once. 'Is that you, Leah? Have my brother andMiss Darrell returned from Maplehurst?' And I detected an anxious notein her voice. 

'Yes, ma'am, ' returned Leah civilly; 'and Miss Darrell seemed anxious atyour being out so late, because you would take cold, and master beggedyou would wrap up and walk very fast. '

'Oh, I shall take no harm, ' returned Miss Hamilton impatiently. 'Good-night, Miss Garston, and thank you for a very happy evening. Good-night, Mr. Cunliffe, and thank you, too. There is no need to comeany farther: Leah will take care of me. ' And she waved her hand and movedaway in the darkness. 

'What a bugbear that woman is!' I observed, rather irritably, as weretraced our steps in the direction of the Man and Plough, the little innthat stood at the junction of the four roads. Everything looked dark andeerie in the faint starlight. Our footsteps seemed to strike sharplyagainst the hard, white road; there was a suspicion of frost in the air. When Max spoke, which was not for some minutes, he merely remarked thatwe should have a cold Christmas, and then he asked me if I would dinewith him at the vicarage on Christmas Day. He and Mr. Tudor would bealone. 

'Christmas will be here in less than a fortnight, Ursula, ' he went on, rather absently, but I knew he was not thinking of what he was saying. And when we reached the White Cottage he followed me into the parlour, sat down before the fire, and stretched out his hands to the blaze, asthough he were very cold. 

I stood and watched him for a moment, and then I could bear it no longer. 

'Oh, Max!' I exclaimed, 'I wish you would tell me what makes you look sowretchedly ill to-night. Even Miss Hamilton noticed it. I am sure thereis something the matter. '

'Nonsense, child! What should be the matter?' But Max turned his faceaway as he spoke. 'I told you that I had a headache; but that is nothingto make a fuss about. Mrs. Drabble shall make me a good strong cup of teawhen I get home. '

Max's manner was just a trifle testy, but I was not going to be repelledafter this fashion. On the contrary, I put my hand on his shoulder andobliged him to look at me. 

'It is not only a headache. You are unhappy about something; as thoughI do not see that. Max, you know we have always been like brother andsister, and I want you to tell me what has grieved you. '

That touched him, as I knew it would, for he had dearly loved his sister. 

'I wish your mother were here now, ' he returned, in a moved voice. 'Iwish poor Emmie were here: there were not many women like her. One couldhave trusted her with anything. '

'I think I am to be trusted too, Max. '

'Yes, yes, you are like her, Ursula. You have got just the same quietway. Your voice always reminds me of hers. She was a dear, good sisterto me, more like a mother than a sister. I think if she had lived shewould have been a great comfort to me now, Ursula. '

'I know I am not so good as my mother, but I should like to be a comfortto you in her place. '

I suppose Max's ear detected the suppressed pain in my voice, for as helooked at me his manner changed; the old affectionate smile came to hislips, and he put his hands lightly on me, as though to keep me near him. 'You have been a comfort to me, my dear. You and I have always understoodeach other. I think you are as good as gold, Ursula. '

'Then why not trust me, Max? Why not tell me what makes you so unhappy?'

'Little she-bear, ' he said, still smiling, 'you must not begin to growlat me after this fashion, because I am somewhat hipped and want a change. There is no need to be anxious about me. A man in my position must havehis own and other people's difficulties to bear. No, no, my dear, youhave a wise head, but you are too young to take my burdens on yourshoulders. What should you know about an old bachelor's worries?'

'An old bachelor, ' I returned indignantly, 'when you know you are youngand handsome, Max! How can you talk such nonsense?'

I could see he was amused at this. 

'You must not expect me to believe that; a man is no judge of his ownlooks: but I never thought much about such things myself. I detest thenotion of a handsome parson. There, we will dismiss the subject of yourhumble servant. I want to ask you a favour, Ursula. ' And then I knew thatall my coaxing had been in vain, and that he did not mean to tell me whattroubled him and made him look so pinched and worn. 

But, in spite of this preface, he kept me waiting for a long time, whilehe sat silently looking into the fire and stroking his brown beard. 

'Ursula, ' he began at last, still gazing into the red cavern of coals, asthough he saw visions there, 'I want you and Miss Hamilton to be greatfriends. I am sure that she has taken to you, and she likes few people, and it will be very good for her to be with you. '

Max's speech took me somewhat by surprise. I had not expected him tomention Miss Hamilton's name. 

'She is not happy, ' he went on, 'and she is more lonely than othergirls of her age. Miss Elizabeth is a nice bright little thing, but, as Lawrence says, she wants ballast; she is a child compared toGladys, --Miss Hamilton, I mean. ' And here Max stammered a littlenervously. 

'No, you are right, she is not happy, ' I returned quietly; 'she gives methe impression that she has known some great trouble. '

'Every one has his troubles, ' he replied evasively. 'Most people indulgein the luxury of a private skeleton. Now I have often thought that MissHamilton and her sister would have been far happier without Miss Darrell;she has rather a peculiar temper, and I have often fancied that she hasmisrepresented things. It is always difficult to understand women, eventhe best of them, ' with a smothered sigh, 'but I confess Miss Darrell israther a problem to me. '

'I am not surprised to hear you say that, ' I returned quickly: 'you arejust the sort of man, Max, to be hoodwinked by any designing person. I amless charitable than you, and women are sharper in these matters. I havealready found out that Miss Darrell makes Miss Hamilton miserable. '

'Gently, gently, Ursula, ' in quite a shocked voice; 'there is no need toput things quite so strongly: you are rather hasty, my dear. Miss Darrellmay be a little too managing, and perhaps jealous and exacting; but Ithink she is very fond of her cousins. '

'Indeed!' rather drily, for I did not agree with Max in the least; he wasalways ready to believe the best of every one. 

'Hamilton, too, is really devoted to his sisters, but they do notunderstand him. I believe Miss Hamilton is very proud of her brother, butshe does not confide in him. He has often told me, in quite a pained way, how reserved they are with him. I believe Miss Darrell is far more his_confidante_ than his sisters. '

'No doubt, ' I returned, quite convinced in my own mind that this was thecase. 

'So you must see yourself how much Miss Hamilton needs a friend, ' he wenton hurriedly. 'I want you to be very good to her, Ursula; perhaps you maythink it a little strange if I say that I think it will be as much yourduty to befriend Miss Hamilton as to minister to Phoebe Locke. '

'I wonder who is speaking strongly now, Max. '

'But if it be the truth, ' he pleaded, a little anxiously. 

'You need not fear, ' was my answer: 'if Miss Hamilton requires myfriendship, I am very willing to bestow it. I will be as good to her asI know how to be, Max. Is it likely I should refuse the first favour youhave ever asked me?' And, as he thanked me rather gravely, I felt that hewas very much in earnest about this. He went away after this, but I thinkI had succeeded in cheering him, for he looked more like himself as hebade me good-night; but after he had gone I sat for a long time, reflecting over our talk. 

I felt perplexed and a little saddened by what had passed. Max had notdenied that he was unhappy, but he had refused to confide in me. Was hisunhappiness connected in any way with Miss Hamilton? This questionbaffled me; it was impossible for me to answer it. 

I could not understand his manner to her. He was perfectly kind andgentle to her, as he was to all women, but he was also reserved anddistant; in spite of their long acquaintance, for he had visited atGladwyn for years, there was no familiarity between them. Miss Hamilton, on her part, seemed to avoid him, and yet I was sure she both respectedand liked him. There was some strange barrier between them that hinderedall free communication. Max was certainly not like himself when MissHamilton was present; and on her side she seemed to freeze and becomeunapproachable the moment he appeared. But this was not the only thingthat perplexed me. The whole atmosphere of Gladwyn was oppressive. I hada subtile feeling of discomfort whenever Miss Darrell was in the room;her voice seemed to have a curious magnetic effect on one; its tunelessvibrations seemed to irritate me; if she spoke loudly, her voice wasrather shrill and unpleasant. She knew this, and carefully modulated it. I used to wonder over its smoothness and fluency. 

And there was another thing that struck me. Mr. Hamilton seemed fond ofhis step-sisters, but he treated them with reserve; the frank jokes thatpass between brothers and sisters, the pleasant raillery, the bluntspeeches, the interchange of confidential looks, were missing in thefamily circle at Gladwyn. Mr. Hamilton behaved with old-fashionedcourtesy to his sisters; he was watchful over their comfort, but he wascertainly a little stiff and constrained in his manner to them: he seemedto unbend more freely to his cousin than to them; he had scolded hergood-humouredly once or twice, after quite a brotherly fashion, and shehad taken his rebukes in a way that showed they understood each other. I grew tired at last of trying to adjust my ideas on the subject of theHamilton family. I was rather provoked to find how they had begun toabsorb my interest. 'Never mind, I have promised Uncle Max to be good toher, ' was my last waking thought that night, 'and I am determined to keepmy word. ' And I fell asleep, and dreamt that I was trying to save MissHamilton from drowning, and that all the time Miss Darrell was standingon the shore, laughing and pelting us with stones, and when a larger onethan usual struck me, I awoke. 

I wondered if it were accident or design that brought Miss Darrell acrossmy path the next day. I had just left the Lockes' cottage, feelingsomewhat tired and depressed: Phoebe had been in one of her contrarymoods, and had given me a good deal of trouble, but the evil spirit hadbeen quieted at last, and I had taken my leave after reprimanding herseverely for her rudeness. I was just closing the garden gate, when MissDarrell came up to me in the dusk, holding out her hand with her tinglinglittle laugh. 

'How odd that we should have met just here! I hardly knew you, MissGarston, in that long cloak, you looked so like a Sister of Charity. I think you are very wise to adopt a uniform. '

'Thank you, but I have hardly adopted one, ' I returned, folding the furedges of my cloak closer to me, for it was a bitterly cold evening. 'Areyou going home, Miss Darrell? because you have passed the turning thatleads to Gladwyn. '

'Oh, I do not mind a longer round, ' was the careless answer. 'I am veryhardy, and a walk never hurts me. If it were Gladys, now--by the bye, have you seen my cousin Giles to-day?'

'No, ' I returned, wondering a little at her question. 

'You are lucky to have escaped him, ' with another laugh. 'Dear, dear, how angry Giles was last night, to be sure, when we came home and foundGladys out! he was far too angry to say much to her; he only asked her ifshe had taken leave of her senses, and that some people--I do not knowwhom he meant--ought to be ashamed of themselves. '

'Indeed!' somewhat sarcastically, for I confess this speech made me feelrather cross. I wondered if Mr. Hamilton could really have said it. Idetermined that I would ask him on the first opportunity. 

'It was a very injudicious proceeding, ' went on Miss Darrell smoothly. 'Gladys was to blame, of course; but still, if you remember, I told youhow delicate she was, and how we dreaded night air for her: young peopleare so careless of their health, but of course, as Giles said, we thoughtshe would be safe with you. You see, Giles looks upon you in thecharacter of nurse, Miss Garston, and forgets you are young too. "Dependupon it, they have forgotten the time, " I said to him: "when two girlsare chattering their secrets to each other, they are not likely toremember anything so sublunary. " You should have seen Giles's expressionof lordly disgust when I said that. '

'I should rather have heard Mr. Hamilton's answer. '

'Don't be too sure of that, ' returned Miss Darrell, in a mocking voicethat somehow recalled my dream. 'I am afraid it would not please you. Giles is no flatterer. He said he thought you would have been far toosensible for that sort of nonsense, but that one never knew, and that itwas not only young and pretty girls like Gladys who could be romantic, and for all your staid looks you were not Methuselah: rather a dubiousspeech, Miss Garston. '

'True!' far too dubious to be entirely palatable to my feminine pride;but I was careful not to hint this to Miss Darrell, and she went on inthe same light jesting way. 

'It is terribly hard to satisfy Giles, he is so critical; he setsimpossible standards for people, and then sneers if they do not reachthem. He had conceived rather a high opinion of you, Miss Garston. Hetold me one day that he would be glad for you to be intimate with hissisters, as they would only learn good from you, and that he hoped thatI would encourage your visits. I trust that he has not changed hisopinion since then; but Giles is so odd when people disappoint him. Isaid last night that we would invite you for to-morrow, and then youand Gladys could finish your talk; but he was as cross as possible, andbegged that I would invite no one for Thursday, as he was very busy, andGladys must find another opportunity for her talk. There, how I amchattering on!--and perhaps I ought not to have said all that; but Ithought you would wonder at our want of neighbourliness, and of course wecannot expect you to understand Giles's odd temper: it is a great pityhe has got this idea in his head. '

'What idea, Miss Darrell?'

'Dear, dear, how sharp you are! how you take me up! Of course it is onlyGiles's ill temper: he cannot really think you wanting in ballast. '

'Oh, I understand now. Please go on. '

'But I have no more to say, ' rather bewildered by my abruptness. 'Ofcourse we shall see you soon, when all this has blown over. If you like, I will tell Giles I have seen you. '

'Please tell Mr. Hamilton nothing. I will speak to him myself. Good-night, Miss Darrell; I am rather cold and tired after my day's work. I do not in the least expect that Miss Hamilton has taken any harm. ' AndI made my escape. I do not know what Miss Darrell thought of me, but shewalked on rather thoughtfully; as for me, I felt tingling all over withirritation. If Mr. Hamilton had dared to imply these things of me, Ishould hardly be able to keep my promise to Uncle Max, for I wouldcertainly decline to visit at Gladwyn. 

CHAPTER XVIII

MISS HAMILTON'S LITTLE SCHOLAR

Miss Darrell's innuendoes were not to be borne with any degree ofpatience. Mr. Hamilton's opinion might be nothing to me, --how often Irepeated that!--but all the same I owed it to my dignity to seek anexplanation with him. 

The opportunity came the very next day. 

He called to speak to me about a new patient, a little cripple boy whohad broken his arm; the father was a labourer, and there were tenchildren, and the mother took in washing. 'Poor Robin has not much chanceof good nursing, ' he went on; 'Mrs. Bell is not a bad mother, as mothersgo, but she is overworked and overburdened; she has a good bit ofdifficulty in keeping her husband out of the alehouse. Good heavens! whatlives these women lead! it is to be hoped that it will be made up to themin another world: no washing-tubs and ale-houses there, no bruised bodiesand souls, eh, Miss Garston?'

Mr. Hamilton was talking in his usual fashion; he had taken the arm-chairI had offered him, and seemed in no hurry to leave it, although hisdinner-hour was approaching. When he had given me full directions aboutRobin, and I had promised to go to him directly after my breakfast thenext morning, I said to him in quite a careless manner that I hoped MissHamilton was well and had sustained no ill effects from her visit to me. 

'Oh no: she is better than usual. I think you roused her and did hergood. Gladys mopes too much at home. All the same, ' in a tolerant tone, 'you ought not to have kept her so late; as Etta very wisely remarked, itwas no good for her to stay in on Sundays and remain out a couple ofhours later another night; you see, Gladys takes cold so easily. '

'I hear you were very much inclined to blame the village nurse, Mr. Hamilton. '

'Who?--I?' looking at me in a little surprise. 'I do not remember that Isaid anything very dreadful. Etta was in a fuss, as usual; you managingwomen like to make a fuss sometimes: she sent off Leah, and wanted me tolecture Gladys for her imprudence; but I was not inclined to be bothered, and said it was Gladys's affair if she chose to make herself ill, but allthe same she ought to be ashamed of such skittishness at her age. I don'tbelieve Gladys knew I was joking; that is the worst of her, she neversees a joke; Etta does, though, for she burst out laughing when my ladywalked off to bed in rather a dignified manner. I hope you are not easilyoffended too, Miss Garston?'

'Oh dear, no, ' I returned coolly, 'only I should be sorry if you had inany way changed your opinion of my steadiness. Miss Darrell hinted thatyou were vexed with me for keeping your sister, and thought that I wasto blame. '

Mr. Hamilton looked so bewildered at this that I exonerated him from thatmoment. 

'What nonsense has that girl been talking?' he said, rather irritated. 'I always tell her that tongue of hers will lead her into trouble; I knowshe talked plenty of rubbish that night. When she said it was a pity thatyou and Gladys were always chattering secrets, I told her that though youwere not a Methuselah, you were hardly the sort of person to indulge inthat sort of sentimentality, that I could answer for your good sense inthat, and that Etta need not be so hard on a pretty young girl likeGladys. That was not accusing you of want of steadiness. '

'No, thank you. I am so glad that I know what you really said. '

'Indeed, I was not aware that my good or bad opinion mattered to MissGarston: you have certainly never given me the impression that you mindvery much what I say or think. '

Was Mr. Hamilton cross? He looked quite moody all at once; his face worethat hard disagreeable look that I so disliked. He had been so pleasantin his manners ever since that evening at Gladwyn that I was rather sorrythat this agreeable state of things should be disturbed. He was evidentlynot to blame for Miss Darrell's misrepresentations, so I hastened withmuch policy to throw oil on the troubled waters. 

'I do not know why you should say that. It ought not to be a matter ofindifference what people think of us. '

'Ought it not? Would you like to know my opinion of you after nearlya month of acquaintance? Let me warn you, I have entirely changed myopinion since our stormy interview in Cunliffe's study. '

I do not know what there was in Mr. Hamilton's look and manner that mademe say hastily, --

'Oh no, I would rather not know, and I hope you will not tell me. I amquite sure you do not misconstrue my motives now. '

'You may be quite sure of that, ' rather grimly, as though my last speechdispleased him. 'It is difficult not to think you older than you are, youare so terribly sensible and matter-of-fact. How can Gladys get on withyou, I wonder? Do you put a moral extinguisher on all her romance?'

'I am not quite so matter-of-fact as you make out, Mr. Hamilton. '

He shot an odd sort of glance at me. 'When you sing, one can believethat; there is nothing prosaic in a nestful of larks. Poor Phoebe, I dobelieve you are doing her good: she looks far more human already. By thebye, when are you coming to sing to us again? I told Etta that I wasengaged on Thursday, and she declared it was our only free day untilChristmas. '

'I shall be too busy to come till after then, ' I replied quietly, for Idid not wish him to think that I was ready to jump at any invitation toGladwyn. He seemed rather disconcerted at my coldness. 

'Why, it is more than ten days to Christmas! I hope you do not mean tobe stiff and unneighbourly, Miss Garston. I am afraid, ' with a decidedlyquizzical look, 'that pride is a serious defect of yours. '

'Perhaps so; but, you see, I do not wish to be different from myneighbours, ' I replied quietly; but my speech was received by Mr. Hamilton with a hearty laugh. 

'Oh yes, you are right: we are a proud lot, ' he observed, as he rose totake leave. 'Well, Miss Garston, after Christmas is over, we shall hopeto see you for an evening; but any afternoon you are free they will beglad to see you. Etta makes excellent tea. What a craze five-o'clock teais with you women! I have protested against it in vain: the girls are inmajority against me. ' With this speech he took himself off. I was muchrelieved at this peaceable ending to our interview. Now he was gone Icould scarcely believe that I had ventured on a joke with the formidableMr. Hamilton, a joke which he had taken in excellent part. I began tofeel less in awe of him: he certainly knew how to shake hands heartily, and I could recapitulate Lady Betty's criticism on myself and apply itto him, for when Mr. Hamilton smiled he looked quite a differentman, --years younger, and much better looking. Well, I was glad thathe had such a good opinion of my common sense. 

My hands were likely to be full of business until after Christmas. Mrs. Marshall was growing gradually weaker, and Mr. Hamilton was doubtfulwhether she would last to see the New Year in. Her husband would be homeon Christmas Eve; his work at Lewes would be finished by then, and hehoped to find work nearer home. Poor Mary told me this with tears in hereyes; her one prayer was that she might be spared to see Andrew again. 'He has been a good husband to me, and has kept out of the public-housefor the sake of his wife and the children, and I cannot die easy until Ihave said good-bye to him, ' finished the poor woman; but when I repeatedthis to Mr. Hamilton he shook his head. 'A few hours may take her off anyday, ' he said; 'it is only a wonder that she has lasted so long. Ibelieve she is keeping herself alive by the sheer force of her longingto see her husband. Women are strange creatures, Miss Garston. '

My new patient was likely to give me plenty of occupation. I found thepoor little fellow, looking very forlorn and dull, lying in a dark cornerof a large chilly garret, which was evidently shared by two or threebrothers. 

Mrs. Bell, who had left her washing-tub to accompany me upstairs, stooddrying her arms on her apron, and talking in a high-pitched querulousvoice. 'No one can say I have not been unfortunate this year, ' shegrumbled. 'There's Bell, he gets worse and worse. I fetched him myselfout of the Man and Plough last Saturday night, where he was drinking themoney that was to buy the children bread. "Do you call yourself a man ora brute?" I says, but in my opinions it's wronging the poor bruteses tocompare them with such as him. "Work!" says he; "why don't you workyourself?" when I am at that wash-tub from morning till night. '

'And now poor Robin is adding to your trouble, Mrs. Bell, ' I observed, with a pitying look at the child's white face and large wistful eyes. 

'Ay, he has gone and done it now, ' she returned, with a touch of motherlyfeeling; 'it was a slide those bad boys had made, and Robbie came down onit with his crutch under him. He is always in trouble, is Robbie, has hadmore illnesses than all the children put together; there is nothing Robincan't take: whooping-cough, --why, he nearly whooped himself to death;measles and scarlet fever, --why, he was as nearly gone as possible, thedoctor said. He has always been puny and weakly from a baby. But there'sBell, now, makes more of a fuss over Rob than over the others; if thereis anything that will keep him away from the Man and Plough, it is Robasking him to take him out somewhere. '

'Ay, father's promised to sit with me this evening, ' observed Robin, ina faint little treble. 

'Then we must make the room comfortable for father, ' I said quickly. 'Mrs. Bell, I must not hinder you any more; but if you could spare oneof the girls to help me tidy up a little. '

'Ay, Sally can come, ' she returned; 'the place does look like a piggery. You see, Tom and Ned and Willie sleep here along of Robin, and boys knownaught about keeping a place tidy; Sally reds it up towards evening. Butthere, doctor said Robbie must have a fire, and I've clean forgotten it:I will send up Sally with some sticks and a lump or two of coal. '

Mrs. Bell was not a bad sort of woman, certainly, but, like many of herclass, she was not a good manager; and when a woman has ten children, anda husband rather too fond of the Man and Plough, and is obliged to standat her washing-tub for hours every day, one cannot expect to find thehouse in perfect order. 

We had soon a bright little fire burning, which gave quite a cheeryaspect to the large bare attic; the sloping roof and small window did notseem to matter so much. With Sally's help I moved Robin's little bed to alighter part of the room, where the roof did not slope so much, and wherethe wintry sunlight could reach him. Robin seemed much pleased with thischange of position, and when I had washed and made him comfortable hedeclared that he felt 'first-rate. '

I had so much to do for my patient that I was obliged to let Sally tidyup the room in her usual scrambling way. The child had been sadlyneglected by that time, and he was getting faint. I had to prepare somearrow-root for his dinner, and then hurry off to the Marshalls' before Ihad my own. I was obliged to omit my visit to Phoebe that day, and dividemy time between Mrs. Marshall and Robin. When I had given Robin his tea, and had put a chair by the fire for father, I went off, feeling that Icould leave him more comfortably. The eldest boy, Tom, a big, strappinglad of fourteen, who went to work, had promised to keep the other boysquiet, 'that the little chap might not be disturbed, ' and as Robin againdeclared that he felt first-rate, if it weren't for his arm, I hoped thathe might be able to sleep. 

'Father stopped with me ever so long, until the boys came to bed, ' wereRobin's first words the next morning; 'and doctor came, and said welooked quite snug, and he is going to send father some books to read, andsome papers, and father said he was more comfortable than downstairs, asI did not mind his pipe, and Tom has hung my linnet there, ' pointing tothe window, 'and if you open the cage, miss, you will see him hop allover the bedclothes, and chirp in the beautifullest way. '

We had a great deal of cleaning to do that day. I shall never forget LadyBetty's face when she came upstairs and saw me down on my knees at workin my corner of the room; for Sally was little, and the room was large, and I was obliged to go to her assistance. 

'Good gracious, Miss Garston!' she said, in quite a shocked voice, 'youdo not mean to tell me that you consider it your duty to scrub floors?'

'Well, no, ' I returned, laughing, for really her consternation wasludicrous, 'I should consider it a waste of strength, generally; butwe never know what comes in a day's work. Sally is so little that I amobliged to help her. '

'Why can't Mrs. Bell do it?' asked Lady Betty indignantly. 

'Mrs. Bell has hardly time to cook the children's dinner. Please don'tlook so shocked. I don't often scrub floors, and I have nearly finishednow. What have you brought in that basket, little Red Riding-Hood?' forin her little crimson hood-like bonnet she did not look so unlike RedRiding-Hood. 

'Oh, Giles asked Gladys to send some things for poor little Robin, andshe packed them herself. There is a jar of beef-tea, and some jelly, andsome new-laid eggs, and sponge-cakes, and a roll or two; and Gladys hopesyou will let her know what Robin wants, for he used to be her littlescholar, and she is so interested in him. '

Of course I knew Lady Betty would chatter about me when she returnedhome, but I was rather vexed when Mr. Hamilton took me to task the nextmorning and gave me quite a lecture on the subject; he made me promise atlast that I would never do anything of the kind again. I hardly know whatmade me so submissive. I think it was his threat of keeping any morepatients from me, and then he seemed so thoroughly put out. 

'It is such folly wearing yourself out like this, Miss Garston, ' he saidangrily. 'I wonder why women never will learn common sense. If you workunder me I will thank you to obey my directions, and I do not choose mynurse to waste her time and strength in scrubbing floors. Yes, Robin boy, I am very angry with nurse; but there is no occasion for you to cry aboutit; and--why, good heavens! if you are not crying too, Miss Garston! Ofcourse; there, I told you so; you have just knocked yourself up. '

His tone so aggravated me that I plucked up a little spirit. 

'I am not a bit knocked up, '--and, in rather a choky voice, 'I am notcrying; I never cry before people; only I am a little tired. I was up alllast night with Mrs. Marshall, and you talk so much. '

'Oh, very well, ' rather huffily; but he was in a bad humour that day. 'Iwon't talk any more to you. But I should like to know one thing: when areyou going home?'

'In another hour; my head aches, rather, and I think I shall lie down. '

'Of course your head aches; but there, you have given me a promise, so Iwill not say any more. Try what a good nap will do. I am going round bythe Lockes', and I shall tell Phoebe not to expect you this afternoon. Itwon't hurt her to miss you sometimes; it will teach her to value herblessings more, and people cannot sing when they have a headache. ' And hewalked off without waiting for me to thank him for his thoughtfulness. What did he mean by saying that I was crying, the ridiculous man, justbecause there were tears in my eyes? I certainly could not fancy myselfcrying because Mr. Hamilton scolded me!

I had a refreshing nap, and kept my dinner waiting, but I must own I wasa little touched when Mrs. Barton produced a bottle of champagne whichshe said Mr. Hamilton had brought in his pocket and had desired that Iwas to have some directly I woke. 'And I was to tell you, with hiscompliments, that his sister Gladys would sit with Robin all theafternoon, and that Lady Betty was at the Marshalls', and he was goingagain himself, and Phoebe Locke was better, and he hoped you would notstir out again to-day. '

How very kind and thoughtful of Mr. Hamilton! He had sent his sistersto look after my patients, that I might be able to enjoy my rest with aquiet conscience. I was sorry that he should think that I was so easilyknocked up; but it was not over-fatigue, nor yet his scolding, that hadbrought the tears to my eyes. To-day was the second anniversary ofCharlie's death, and through that long, wakeful night, as I sat besidepoor Mary's bed, I was recalling the bitter hours when my darling wentdown deeper into the place of shadows, --when he fought away his younglife, while Lesbia and I wept and prayed beside him. No wonder a wordunnerved me; but I could not tell Mr. Hamilton this. 

When we met the next day he asked me, rather curtly, if the headache hadgone; but when I thanked him, somewhat shyly, for the medicine he hadsent, he got rather red, and interrupted me with unusual abruptness. 

'You have nothing for which to thank me, ' he said, in quite a repellenttone. 'I am glad you obeyed orders and stopped at home; I was afraid youmight be contumacious, as usual, '--which was rather ungracious of him, after the promise he had extracted from me. 

I questioned Robin about Miss Hamilton's visit; she had remained with theboy some hours, reading to him and amusing him, and, in Robin's favouritelanguage, 'getting on first-rate; only, just as I was drinking my mugfulof tea, parson comes, and Miss Hamilton she says she will be late, andgets up in a hurry, and--'

'Wait a minute, Robin: do you mean Mr. Cunliffe or Mr. Tudor?'

'Oh, the vicar, to be sure; and he seemed finely surprised to see MissHamilton there. "So you've come to see your old scholar, " he says, smiling, and Miss Hamilton says, "Yes; but she must go now, " and shedrops her glove, and parson looks for it, but it was too dark, and forall his groping it could not be found. "I must just go without it, " saysMiss Hamilton; "but I have got my muff, and it does not matter, " and shesays good-bye, and goes away. Parson found it, though, ' went on Robingarrulously. 'When Sally lighted the candle he spies it at once, and putsit in his pocket. "Miss Hamilton will be fine and glad when you tell herit is found, " I says to parson; but he just looks at me in an odd sort ofway, and says, "Yes, Robin, certainly. "--'And you won't forget to give itto her, to-morrow, sir?' but he did not seem to hear me. "Good-night, my man, " he said. "So Miss Hamilton did not think you were too old to bekissed. " And he kissed me just in the same place as she did. What did yousay, miss?'

'I did not say anything, Robin. '

'Didn't you, miss? I thought I heard you say "poor man, " or somethinglike that. Is not Miss Hamilton beautiful? I think she is almost asbeautiful as my picture of the Virgin Mary. I asked parson if he did notthink so, and he said yes. Do you think she will come again soon?'

'We shall see, Robbie dear. ' But, as I spoke, something told me that weshould not see Miss Hamilton there again. 

CHAPTER XIX

THE PICTURE IN GLADYS'S ROOM

The days flew rapidly by, and I was almost too busy to heed them as theypassed. Each morning I woke with fresh energy to my day's work; the hourswere so full of interest and varied employment that my evening rest cameall too soon. I grew so fond of my patients, especially of poor littleRobin, that I never left them willingly; and the knowledge that I wasnecessary to them, that they looked to me for relief and comfort, seemedto fill my life with sweetness. 

As I said to myself daily, no one need complain that one's existence isobjectless, or altogether desolate, as long as there are sick bodies andsick souls to which one can minister. For 'Give, and it shall be givenunto you, ' is the Divine command, and sympathy and help bestowed on oursuffering fellow-creatures shall be repaid into our bosoms a hundredfold. I was right in my surmise: Miss Hamilton did not again visit her littlescholar; but Lady Betty came almost daily, and was a great help inamusing the child. I was with him for an hour in the morning, and againin the late afternoon; but Mrs. Marshall took up the greater part of mytime; she was growing more feeble every day, and needed my constant care. Unless it were absolutely necessary, I was unwilling to sacrifice mynight's rest, or to draw too largely on my stock of strength; but I hadfallen into the habit, during the last week or two, of going down to thecottage in the evening about eight or nine, and settling her comfortablyfor the night. I found these late visits were a great boon to her, andseemed to break the length of the long winter night, and so I did notregret my added trouble. Poor Phoebe had to be content with an hoursnatched from the busier portion of the day; but she was beginning tooccupy herself now. I kept her constantly supplied with books; and MissLocke assured me that she read them with avidity; her poor famished mind, deprived for so many years of its natural aliment, fastened almostgreedily on the nourishment provided for it. From the moment I inducedher to open a book her appetite for reading returned, and she occupiedherself in this manner for hours. 

She never spoke to her sister about what she read, but when Kitty and shewere alone she would keep the child entranced for an hour together by thestories she told her out of Miss Garston's books. 

'Sometimes Kitty sings to her, and sometimes they have a rare talk, ' MissLocke would say. 'I am often too busy to do more than look in for fiveminutes or so, to see how they are getting on. Phoebe grumbles far less;it is wonderful to hear her say, sometimes, that she did not know it wasbedtime, when I go in to fetch the lamp. Reading? ay, she is alwaysreading; but she sleeps a deal, too. '

I used to look round Phoebe's room with satisfaction now; it had quitelost its stiff, angular look. A dark crimson foot-quilt lay on the bed, a stand of green growing ferns was on the table, and two or three bookswere always placed beside her. 

Some gay china figures that I had hunted out of the glass cupboard in theparlour enlivened the mantelpiece, and a simple landscape, with sheepfeeding in a sunny field, hung opposite the bed. Some pretty cretonnecurtains had replaced the dingy dark ones. Phoebe herself had a softfleecy gray shawl drawn over her thin shoulders. Mr. Hamilton again andagain commented on her improved appearance, but I always listened rathersilently; the evil spirit that had taken possession of Phoebe had notfinally left her; 'and why could not we cast it out?' used to come tomy lips sometimes as I looked at her; but all the same I knew theMaster-hand was needed for that. 

Christmas Day fell this year on a Tuesday. On Sunday afternoon I hadfinished my rounds and was returning home to tea, when, as I was passingthe Marshalls' cottage, Peggy ran after me bareheaded to say her fatherhad just arrived, and would I come in for a moment, as mother seemed alittle faint, and granny was frightened. 

I hastened back with the child; for, of course, in poor Mary's state theleast shock might prove fatal. I found Marshall stooping over the bed andsupporting his wife with clumsy fondness, with the tears rolling clownhis weather-beaten face. 

'I'm 'most 'feard she's gone, missis, ' he said hoarsely. 'Poor lass, I took her too sudden, and she had not the strength of the little unthere. '

I bade him lay her down gently, and then applied the necessary remedies, and, to my great relief, my patient presently revived. It was touching tosee the weak hand trying to feel for her husband; as it came into contactwith the rough coat-sleeve, a smile came upon the death-like face. 

'It is Andrew himself, ' she whispered; 'I feared it was naught but adream, mother; it is Andrew's own self, and he is looking well andhearty. Ay, lad, ' with a loving look at him, 'I could not have died inpeace till I had seen you again; and now God's will be done, for He hasbeen good to me and granted me my heart's desire. '

Poor Marshall looked weary and travel-stained, so I beckoned Peggy outof the room, and with her help there was soon a comfortable meal on thetable, --part of the meat-pie that was left from the children's dinner, a round or two of hot toast, and a cup of smoking coffee. 

The poor man looked a little bewildered when he saw these preparationsfor his comfort, and he wiped his eyes again with his rough coat-sleeve. 

'I have been so long without wife or child that I can't make it out tosee them all flocking round me again. There is Tim a man almost. Well, I have been tramping it since five this morning, and I am nearly readyto drop; so thank you kindly, missis, and with your leave I will fallto. '

When I returned to Mary I found her looking wonderfully revived andcheerful. 

'Isn't it grand to think that the Lord has let me have my own way aboutseeing Andrew?' she said, with a smile: 'he will be here now, poor lad, to see the last of me and look after the children. Now, you must not letme keep you, Miss Garston, for Andrew is that handy he can nurse as wellas mother there before she lost her eyesight. I have been a deal oftrouble to you, and now you must go home and rest. '

I was glad to be set at liberty, for I hoped that I might be in time toattend evening service; but just as I had finished tea, and was trying tothink that I was not so very tired, and that it would not be wiser tostay at home, the outer door unlatched, and the next moment there was aquick tap at the parlour door, and Lady Betty bustled in, looking veryrosy from the cold. 

'Oh, I can't stop a moment, ' she said breathlessly; 'I have given Ettathe slip, and in five minutes she will be looking for me; but I took itin my head to ask you to go and see Gladys. She is in her room with acold, and looks dreadfully dull, and I know it will do her so much goodif you will go and talk to her. Giles is out, and every one else, so noone will disturb you: so do go, there's a good soul. ' And actually beforeI could answer, the impetuous little creature had shut the door in myface, and I could hear her running down the garden path. 

I had not seen Miss Hamilton since the evening Uncle Max discovered ustogether, and I could not resist the temptation of finding her alone. Lady Betty had said she was in her room, and looked dreadfully dull. Ihad promised Max to be good to her, so of course it was my duty to go andcheer her up. I made this so plain to my conscience that in five minutesmore I was on the road to Gladwyn, and before the church bells hadstopped ringing I had entered the dark shrubberies, and was looking atthe closed windows, wondering which of them belonged to Miss Hamilton'sroom. 

I was agreeably surprised when a pretty-looking maid admitted me. I hadtaken a strange dislike to Leah, and the man who had waited upon us atdinner that evening had a dark, unprepossessing face; but this girllooked bright and cheerful, and took my message to Miss Hamilton at oncewithout a moment's hesitation. She returned almost immediately. MissHamilton was in her room, but she would be very glad to see me, and thegirl looked glad too as she led the way to the turret-room. Miss Hamiltonwas standing on the threshold, and met me with outstretched hands; shelooked ill and worn, and had a soft white shawl drawn closely round heras though she were chilly, but her eyes brightened at the sight of me. 

'This is good of you, Miss Garston; I never expected such a pleasure. That will do, Chatty; you can close the door. ' And, still holding myhand, she drew me into the room. It was a pretty room, but furnishedfar more simply than Miss Darrell's. The deep bay-window formed a recesslarge enough to hold the dressing-table and a chair or two, and washalf-hidden by the blue cretonne curtains; besides this there were twomore windows. Miss Hamilton had been sitting in a low cushioned chairby the fire; a small table with a lamp and some books was beside her;a Persian kitten lay on the white rug. On a stand beside a chair was alarge, beautifully-painted photograph in a carved frame; the foldingdoors were open, and a vase of flowers stood before it. 

'What has put this benevolent idea into your head?' she asked, as shedrew forward a comfortable wicker chair with a soft padded seat. 'Ithought I had a long, dull evening before me, with no resource but my ownthoughts, for I was tired of reading. I could scarcely believe Chattywhen she said that you were in the drawing-room. '

I told Miss Hamilton of Lady Betty's visit, and she laughed quitemerrily. 

'Good little Betty! She is always trying to give me pleasure. She wantedto stay with me herself, only Etta said it was no use for two people tostop away from church. They have all gone, even Thornton and Leah. Ibelieve only Parker and Chatty are in the house. '

'Is Chatty the housemaid?'

'No, the under-housemaid; but Catherine's father is ill, so she has goneto nurse him--'

'And Leah--who is Leah? I mean what is her capacity in the household?'as Miss Hamilton looked rather surprised at my question. 

'She used to be Aunt Margaret's attendant, and now she is Etta'smaid, --at least, we call her so, --but she makes herself useful in manyways. She is rather a superior person, and well educated, but I likeChatty to wait on me best; she is such a simple, honest little soul. I know people say servants have not much feeling, but I am sure Chattywould do anything for me and Lady Betty. '

'And you think Leah would not?' I asked, rather stupidly. 

'I did not say so, did I?' she answered quickly. 'We always look uponLeah as Etta's servant. She was devoted to her old mistress, and ofcourse that makes Etta care for her so much. To me she is not a pleasantperson. Etta has spoiled her, and she gives herself airs, and takes toomuch upon herself. Do you know'--with an amused smile--'Lady Betty and Ithink that Etta is rather afraid of her? She never ventures to find faultwith her, and once or twice Lady Betty has heard Leah scolding Etta whensomething has put her out. I should not care to be scolded by my maid:should you, Miss Garston?'

'No, ' I returned, rather absently, for, unperceived by Miss Hamilton, myattention was arrested by the photograph. It was the portrait of a youngman, and something in the face seemed familiar to me. 

The next moment I was caught. A distressed look crossed Miss Hamilton'sface, and she made a sudden movement, as though she would close thephotograph; but on second thoughts she handed it to me. 

'Should you like to see it more closely? It is a photograph of mytwin-brother, Eric. They think--yes, they are afraid that he is dead. '

Her lips had turned quite white as she spoke, and in my surprise, forI never knew there had been another brother, I did not answer, but onlybent over the picture. 

It was the face of a young man about nineteen or twenty, --a beautifulface, that strangely resembled his sister's; the large blue-gray eyeswere like hers, but the fair budding moustache scarcely hid the weak, irresolute mouth. Here the resemblance stopped, for Miss Hamilton's firmlips and finely-curved chin showed no lack of power; but in her brother'sface--attractive as it was--there were clearly signs of vacillation. 

'Well, what do you think of it?' she asked, with a quick catch of herbreath. 

'It is a beautiful face, ' I returned, rather hesitating. 'Very striking, too. One could not easily forget it; and it is strangely like you: but--'

'Yes, I know, '--taking it out of my hand and closing the carvedpanels, --'but you think it weak. Oh yes, we cannot all be strong alike. Our Creator has ordained that, and it is for us to be merciful. PoorEric! He would be three-and-twenty now. He was just twenty when that wastaken. '

'And he is dead?'

'They say so. They think he is drowned; but we have no real proof, and we cannot be sure of it. He is alive in my dreams. That is the bestof not really knowing, ' she went on, in a sad voice: 'one can go onpraying for him, for, perhaps, after all, he may one day come back;not from the dead, --oh no, I do not believe that for a moment; but ifhe be alive--' her eyes dilating and her manner full of excitement. 

I pressed her to tell me about him, adding softly that I could feel forher more than any one else, as I had lost my own twin-brother. But shelooked kindly at me and shook her head. 

'Not to-night, I do not feel well enough, and it always makes me so illand excited to speak about it, and we should not have time. Perhaps someday, when I get more used to you. Oh yes, some day, perhaps. '

'Indeed, I do not wish to intrude upon your trouble, Miss Hamilton, 'I returned, colouring at this repulse. But she took my hand and pressedit gently. 

'You must not be hurt with me. I have never spoken to any one about Eric. Mr. Cunliffe knows. But he--he--is different, and he was very kind to me. I must always be grateful. ' The tears came into her eyes, and she hurriedon:

'I should like you to know, only I am such a coward. I am so sure ofyour sympathy, you seem already such a friend. Why do you call me MissHamilton? I am younger than you. I should like to hear you say Gladys. Miss Hamilton seems so stiff from you, and for years I have thought ofyou as Ursula. '

'You mean that Uncle Max has often talked of me?'

'Oh yes, ' with an involuntary sigh, 'of you and your brother. He wasalways so fond of you both. He used to say very often that he wished thatI knew you; that you were so good, so unlike other people; that you boreyour trouble so beautifully. '

'I bore my trouble well! Oh, Miss Hamilton, it is impossible that hecould have said that, when he knew how rebellious I was. ' But here Icould say no more. 

'Don't cry, Ursula, ' she said, very sweetly; 'you are not rebellious now. Oh, I used to be so sorry for you; you little thought at that dreadfultime, when you were so lonely and desolate, that a girl whom you hadnever seen, and perhaps of whom you had never heard, was praying for youwith all her heart. That is what I mean by saying that I have known youfor a long time. '

By mutual impulse we bent forward and kissed each other, --a quietlingering kiss that spoke of full understanding and sympathy. I hadpromised Uncle Max to be good to this girl, to do all I could to helpher, but I did not know as I gave that promise how my heart would cleaveto her, and that in time I should grow to love her with that rarefriendship that is described in Holy Writ as 'passing the love of women. 'We were silent for a little while, and then by some sudden impulse Ibegan to speak of Max; I told her that I felt a little anxious about him, that he did not seem quite well or quite happy. 

'I have thought so myself, ' she returned, very quietly. 

'Max is so good that I cannot bear to see him unhappy, --he is sounselfish, so full of thought for other people, so earnest in his work, so conscientious and self-denying. '

'True, ' she replied, taking up a little toy screen that lay in her lapand shielding her face from the flame: 'he is all that. If any onedeserves to be happy, it is your uncle. '

I was glad to hear her say this, but her voice was a little constrained. 

'He seems very far from happy just now, ' was my answer: 'he looks wornand thin, as though he were overworking himself. I asked him the othernight what ailed him. Are you cold, Miss Hamilton? I thought you shiveredjust now. '

'No, no, ' she returned, a little impatiently: 'you were speaking of youruncle. '

'Yes. I could not get him to tell me what was the matter; he began tojoke: you know his way; men are so tiresome sometimes. '

'It is not always easy to understand them, ' she said, turning away herface: 'perhaps they do not wish to be understood. It must be a greatcomfort to Mr. Cunliffe to have you so near him. I have thought latelythat he has seemed a little lonely. '

'But he comes here very often, ' I said, rather quickly; 'he need not bedull, with so many friends. '

To my surprise, Miss Hamilton's fair face flushed almost painfully. 

'He does not come so often as he used; perhaps he finds us a little tooquiet. I am sorry for Giles's sake--oh yes, I do not mean that, ' as Ilooked at her rather reproachfully. 'Of course we all like Mr. Cunliffe. '

I was about to reply to this, when Miss Hamilton suddenly grew a littlerestless, and the next moment the door-bell sounded. 

I rose at once. 'They have come back from church. I will bid you good-byenow. ' And, as I expected, she made no effort to keep me. 

'You will come again, ' she said, kissing me affectionately. 'I have soenjoyed our little talk; you have done me good, indeed you have, Ursula, 'watching me from the threshold. I knew I could not escape my fate, so Iwalked downstairs as coolly as I could, and encountered them all in thehall. Miss Darrell gave a little shriek when she saw me. 

'Dear me, Miss Garston, how you startled me! Who would have thought offinding you here on Sunday evening, when all good people are at church!'but here Mr. Hamilton put her aside with little ceremony: he reallyseemed as though he were glad to see me. 

'You came to sit with Gladys: it was very kind and thoughtful of you. Poor girl, she seemed rather dull, but now you have cheered her up. '

'Perhaps Miss Garston will extend her cheering influence, Giles, 'observed Miss Darrell in her most staccato manner, 'and remain to supper. Leah will see her home. '

'I am going to perform that office myself, Etta. Will you stay?' lookingat me in a friendly manner. 

'Not to-night, ' I returned hurriedly; 'and, indeed, I can very wellwalk alone. ' But Mr. Hamilton settled that question by putting on hisgreatcoat. 

'Oh, of course Giles will walk with you: how could he do less?' repliedMiss Darrell, with a scarcely perceptible sneer. 'You have timed yourvisit so well that he will be just back to supper. So you have beensitting with dear Gladys? I wonder how you knew she had a cold: privateinformation, I suppose. I should hardly have thought Gladys was wellenough to see visitors, she was so feverish when I left her; but thatstupid Chatty makes such mistakes. '

'Miss Hamilton was not at all feverish, I assure you. My visit has doneher no harm. ' And I turned to Lady Betty, who stood on tiptoe to kiss meand breathed a 'thank you' into my ear; but Miss Darrell could notforbear from a parting fling as she bade me good-night. 

'We shall wait supper for you, Giles, ' she said rather pointedly; but Mr. Hamilton took no notice; he only bade me be careful, as it was ratherslippery by the gate, and then he began telling me about the sermon, and, strangely enough, he endorsed my opinion of Max. 

'I tell him he must have a change after Christmas; he looks knocked up, and a trifle thin. It will not hurt Tudor to work a little harder; youmay tell Cunliffe I say so. Halloo! I think you had better take my arm, Miss Garston; it is confoundedly dark and slippery. ' But I declined this, as I was tolerably sure-footed. 

Mr. Hamilton seemed in excellent spirits, and talked well and with greatanimation, as though he were bent on amusing me; he was a clever man, and had a store of useful information which he did not always care toproduce. I never heard him talk better than on this occasion: there wereflashes of wit and brilliancy that surprised me: I was almost sorry whenI reached the cottage. 

'Good-night, Miss Garston, and thank you again for your deed of charity, 'he said quite heartily, and as though he meant it. Really, I never likedMr. Hamilton so much before; but then he had never shown himself sogenial. I saw Lady Betty the next morning, and asked her after MissHamilton, but I almost regretted my question when the naughty littlething treated me to one of her usual confidences: there was no inducingher to hold her tongue when she was in the humour for chatting. 

'Oh, it was such fun!' she said, her eyes dancing with mischief. 'Ettawas so cross when you were gone; she declared it was a conspiracy betweenus three, and that you only wanted Giles to walk home with you. No, I didnot mean to repeat that, so please don't look so angry. Etta did notreally think so, but she will say these things about people. I tellGladys Etta wants Giles herself. She scolded Chatty for being so stupid, and said if Leah had been at home she would have shown more sense; andthen she went up to Gladys's room in a nice temper, but Gladys would notlisten, said she was tired, and ordered Etta out of the room. When Gladysis like that Etta can do nothing with her, so she sulked until Giles camehome, and then began teasing him about his gallantry, and wondering howhe enjoyed his walk, and you know her way. '

'Lady Betty, I am busy; besides which, I do not wish to hear any more ofyour cousin's improving conversation. '

'Oh, there is nothing more to tell, ' she returned triumphantly. 'Gilessilenced her so completely that she did not dare to open her lips again. Oh, she is properly frightened of Giles when he is in one of his moods. He told her that he disliked observations of this sort, that in hisopinion they were both undignified and vulgar, especially when theyrelated to a person whom he so much respected as Miss Garston. "And allowme to remark, " he continued, looking at poor little me rather fiercely, as though I were in fault too, "that I shall consider it an honour ifMiss Garston bestows her friendship on any member of my household. I amvery glad she seems to like Gladys, and I only hope she will do the poorgirl good and come every day if she likes, and that is all I mean to sayon the subject. " But I think he said quite enough; don't you, MissGarston?' finished naughty Lady Betty, looking up at me with suchinnocent eyes that I could not have scolded her any more than I couldhave scolded a kitten. 

But if only Lady Betty could learn to hold her tongue--!

CHAPTER XX

ERIC

That afternoon I had rather an adventure. I was just walking up the hillon my way to the post-office, when a handsome carriage came round thecorner by the church rather sharply, and the same moment a little dogcrossing the road in the dusk seemed to be under the horses' feet. 

That was my first impression. My next was that the coachman was tryingto pull up his horses. There was a sudden howl, the horses kicked andplunged, some one in the carriage shrieked, and then the little dog wasin my arms, and even in the dim light I could feel one poor little legwas broken. 

The horses were quieted with difficulty, and the footman got down andwent to the carriage window. 

'It is poor little Flossie, ma'am, ' he said, touching his hat: 'she musthave got out into the road and recognised the carriage, for she was underthe horses' feet. This lady got her out somehow. ' And indeed I had noidea how I had managed it. One of the horses had reared, and his fronthoof almost touched me as I snatched up Flossie. I suppose it was a riskything to do, for I never liked the remembrance afterwards, and I do notbelieve I could have done it again. 

'Oh dear! oh dear!' observed a pleasant voice, 'do let me thank the lady. Stand aside, Williams. ' And a pretty old lady with white hair looked outat me. 

'I am afraid the poor dog's leg is broken, ' I observed, as the littleanimal lay in my arms uttering short barks of pain. 'Happily your manpulled up in time, or it must have been killed. '

'Oh dear! oh dear! what will the colonel say to such carelessness?'exclaimed the old lady. 'He's so fond of Flossie, and makes such a fusswith her. And Mr. Hamilton has gone to Brighton, or I would have sentFlossie in for him to attend to her. '

'Will you let me see what I can do, Mrs. Maberley?' I said, for I hadrecognised the pretty old lady at once. 'I am the village nurse, MissGarston, and I think I can bind up poor Flossie's leg. '

'Miss Garston!' in quite a different voice; it seemed to have grownrather formal. 'Oh, I am so much obliged to you, but I am ashamed to giveyou the trouble; only for poor Flossie's sake, ' hesitating, 'will youcome into the carriage and let me drive you to Maplehurst?' And to thisI readily consented. I could never bear to see an animal in pain, and thelittle creature, a beautiful brown-and-white spaniel, was already lickingmy hand confidingly. 

I could see Mrs. Maberley was embarrassed by my presence, for she talkedin rather a nervous manner about it being Christmas Eve, and how busy theyoung ladies were decorating the church. 

'I wanted to speak to Miss Darrell for a moment, ' she went on, 'and Ifound her and Lady Betty putting up wreaths in the chancel, and thatgood-looking Mr. Tudor was helping them. I was so sorry poor dear Gladyswas not there; but Miss Darrell says her cold is so much better that sheis downstairs again. I am afraid she is very delicate and takes afterher poor mother. '

'I saw Miss Hamilton yesterday, and I certainly thought she looked veryill. '

'So Miss Darrell told me. What a good, unselfish little creature she is, Miss Garston! I do not know what Mr. Hamilton and his sisters would dowithout her. Ah, here we are at Maplehurst, and Tracy is looking out forus. Tracy, is the colonel at home? No, I am thankful to hear it. Poorlittle Flossie has met with an accident, and this lady has saved herlife, but she tells me her leg is broken. Now, Miss Garston, will youbelieve it that I am such a coward that I could not be of the leastassistance? Tracy, take Miss Garston into the morning room, and do yourbest to help her. ' And Mrs. Maberley trotted away as fast as she could, while Tracy ushered me into a bright snug-looking room and asked me verycivilly what she could do for me. 

Tracy was a handy, sensible woman, and in a few minutes I had managed, with her help, to strap up poor Flossie's leg in the most successfulmanner. 

'I am sure, ma'am, Mr. Hamilton couldn't have done better himself, 'observed Tracy, looking at me with respectful admiration, while I pettedFlossie, who was now lying comfortably in her basket, trying to lick herbandages. 'I must go and tell my mistress that it is done, for she willbe fretting herself ill over poor Flossie. '

I expect Tracy sounded my praises, for when Mrs. Maberley entered theroom in her pretty cap with gray ribbons there was not a trace offormality in her manner as she thanked me with tears in her eyes formy kindness to Flossie. 

'To think of a young creature being so clever!' she said, folding hersoft dimpled hands together. 'My dear, the colonel will be so grateful toyou: he dotes on Flossie. You must stay and have tea with me, and then hecan thank you himself. No, I shall take no refusal. Tracy, tell Marvel tobring up the tea-tray at once. My dear, ' turning to me, when Tracy hadleft the room, 'I am almost ashamed to look you in the face when Iremember how long you have been in Heathfield and that I have nevercalled on you; but Etta told me that you did not care to have visitors. '

'Yes, I know, Mrs. Maberley; but that is quite a mistake, ' I returned, somewhat eagerly, for I had fallen in love with the pretty old lady, andher tall, aristocratic colonel with his white moustache and grandmilitary carriage, and had watched them with much interest from my placein church. She was such a dainty old lady, like a piece of Dresden china, with her pink cheeks and white curls and old-fashioned shoe-buckles; andshe had such beautiful little hands, plump and soft as a baby's, whichshe seemed to regard with innocent pride, for she was always settling thelace ruffles round her wrists and pinching them up with careful fingers. 

'Dear, dear! I thought Etta told me, ' she began rather nervously. 

'Miss Darrell makes mistakes, like other people, ' I answered, smiling. 'I shall be very pleased to know my neighbours; it is quite true that Iam not often at home, and just now I am very busy, but all the same I donot mean to shut myself out from society. One owes a duty to one'sneighbours. '

'My dear Miss Garston, I am quite pleased to hear you talk so sensibly. I was afraid from what Etta said that you were a little eccentric andstrong-minded, and I have such a dislike to that in young people; youngladies are so terribly independent at the present day, in my opinion, andI know the colonel thinks the same. They are sadly deficient in goodmanners and reverence. That is why I am so fond of the Hamilton girls:they are perfect young gentlewomen; they never talk slang or slip-shodEnglish, and they know how to respect gray hairs. The colonel is devotedto Gladys: I tell him he is as fond of her as though she were his owndaughter. '

'I think every one must be fond of Miss Hamilton. '

'Yes, poor darling! and she is much to be pitied, ' returned Mrs. Maberley, with a sigh. 'Oh, here comes Marvel with the tea. Now, MissGarston, my dear, take off that bonnet and jacket: I like people to lookas though they were at home. Marvel, draw up that chair to the fire, andgive Miss Garston a table to herself, and put the muffins where she canreach them; there, now I think we look comfortable: young people alwayslook nicer without their bonnets; it was a pity to hide your prettysmooth hair. Now tell me a little about yourself. I am sure Etta iswrong: you do not look in the least strong-minded. Tracy said it waswonderful how such slender little fingers could ever do hospital work. She has fallen in love with you, my dear; and Tracy has plenty ofpenetration. I never can understand why she does not take to Etta; andEtta is so good to her; but there, we all have our prejudices. '

As soon as Mrs. Maberley's ripple of talk had died away, I told her alittle about my work, and how much I liked my life at Heathfield, andthen I spoke of my great interest in Gladys Hamilton. 

It was really very pleasant sitting in this warm, softly-lighted room andtalking to this charming, kind-hearted old lady. Christmas Eve was not sodull, after all, as I had expected; it was nice to feel that I was makinga new friend, --that the little service I had rendered Mrs. Maberley hadbroken down the barrier between us and overcome her prejudice. I knewthat Miss Darrell had set her against me, and that for some reason ofher own she wished to prevent her calling upon me. 

Did Miss Darrell dislike my coming to Heathfield? Was she afraid offinding me in her way? Was she at all desirous of making my stay irksometo me? These were some of the questions I was continually asking myself. 

I noticed that Mrs. Maberley sighed and shook her head when I spoke ofMiss Hamilton. As I warmed to my subject, and praised her beauty andgentleness and intelligence, she sighed still more. 

'Yes, she is a dear girl, a dear good girl; but she has never been thesame since Eric went. Does she talk to you about Eric, Miss Garston? Ettasays she talks of nothing else to her. '

I opened my eyes rather widely at this statement, for I could not forgetwhat Miss Hamilton had said to me that night: 'I have never spoken to anyone about Eric. ' Was it likely that she would choose Miss Darrell for a_confidante_? But I kept my incredulity to myself, and simply related toMrs. Maberley the circumstance that I had seen the photograph by accidentthe previous evening, and only knew then that Miss Hamilton had had atwin-brother. 

'How very singular!' she observed, putting down her tea-cup in a hurry. 'I should have thought every one in the place would have spoken about theyoung man, he was such a favourite; and it was no use Mr. Hamilton tryingto keep it a secret. Why, the postmaster's wife told me before Eric hadbeen gone twenty-four hours, and then I went to Mr. Cunliffe. Why, child, do you mean your uncle has never told you about it?'

'Oh no, Uncle Max never repeats anything; he would be the last personfrom whom I should hear it. '

'And yet he was up at Gladwyn every day, --ay, twice a day; and peoplesaid--But what an old gossip I am! Well, about poor Eric, there can beno harm in your knowing what all the world knows, even Marvel and Tracy;it is a very sore subject with poor Mr. Hamilton, and no one dares tomention Eric's name to him; but, as Etta says, Gladys can never hold hertongue about him when they two are alone together. ' I certainly held mineat that moment. I began to wonder what Miss Darrell would say next. 

'So you have seen his picture, Miss Garston, my dear: well, now, is itnot a beautiful face?--not sufficiently manly, as the colonel says; butthen, poor fellow, he had not a strong character. Still, it was a lovelysight to see them together: our gardens join, you know, and often andoften, as I have sat under our beech, I have seen Gladys and Eric walkingup and down the little avenue, with his arm round her, and their twoheads shining like gold, and she would be talking to him and smilingin his face, until it made me quite young to see them. '

'Wait a moment, Mrs. Maberley, please. I am deeply interested; but wouldGladys--would Miss Hamilton like me to know all this?'

'To be sure she would, --though perhaps she would not care for the painof telling it herself; but it would be better for you to hear it from methan from Mrs. Barton, or Mrs. Drabble, or any other gossiping personthat takes it into her head to tell you, for you could not be much longerat Heathfield without hearing of it, when, as I say, every Jack and Tomin the village knows it, --though how it all got about is more than I cansay. I tell the colonel, Leah must have had a hand in it: I know it wasshe who told Tracy. '

I saw by this time that Mrs. Maberley had quite made up her mind to tellme the story herself; she was garrulous, like many other old ladies, andperhaps she enjoyed a little gossip about her neighbours, so I onlyessayed one other feeble protest. 

'I hope Mr. Hamilton will not mind--' but she answered me quitebriskly, --

'Well, poor fellow, he knows by this time people will talk; I daresayhe thinks Mr. Cunliffe has told you. Now, I do not want to blame Mr. Hamilton; he is a great favourite of mine ever since he cured thecolonel's gout, and I would not be hard on him for worlds; but I havealways been afraid that he did not rightly understand Eric; the brotherswere so different. Mr. Hamilton is very hard-working and rathermatter-of-fact, and Eric was quite different, more like a girl, dreamyand enthusiastic and terribly idle, and then he fancied himself anartist. Mr. Hamilton could not bear that. '

'Why not? An artist's is a very good profession. '

'Yes, but he did not believe in his talent; and then Eric was intendedfor the law; his brother had sent him to Oxford, but he would not work, and he was extravagant, and got into debt, --and, oh yes, there was no endof trouble. I do not know how it was, ' went on Mrs. Maberley, 'but Ericalways seemed in the wrong. Etta used to take his part, --which was verygood of her, as Eric could not bear her and treated her most rudely. Mr. Hamilton used to complain that Gladys encouraged him in his idleness; hesometimes came in here of an evening looking quite miserable, poorfellow, and would say that his sisters and Eric were leagued against him;that but for Etta he would be at his wits' end what to do. Eric would notobey him; he simply defied his authority; he was growing more idle everyday, and when he remonstrated with him, Gladys took his part. Oh dear, Iam afraid they were all very wretched. '

'You think Mr. Hamilton did not understand his young brother. '

'Well, perhaps not. You see, Mr. Hamilton had not the same temptations;he was always steady and hard-working from a boy, and never cared muchabout his own comfort. As for getting into debt, why, he would haveconsidered it wicked to do so. I know the colonel thought once or twicethat he was a little hard on Eric. I remember his saying once 'that boyswill be boys, and that all are not good alike, and that he must not usethe curb too much. ' It was a pity, certainly, that Mr. Hamilton was soangry about his painting. I daresay it was only a temporary craze. I amafraid, though, Eric must have behaved very badly. I know he struck hiselder brother once. Anyhow, things went on from bad to worse; and one daya dreadful thing happened. A cheque of some value, I have forgotten theparticulars, was stolen from Mr. Hamilton's desk, and the next day Ericdisappeared. '

'Was he accused of taking it?'

'To be sure. Leah saw him with her own eyes. You must ask Mr. Cunliffeabout all that; my memory is apt to be treacherous about details. I knowLeah saw him with his hand in his brother's desk, and though Eric vowedit was only to put a letter there, --a very impertinent letter that he hadwritten to his brother, --still the cheque was gone, and, as they heardafterwards, cashed by a very fair young man at some London Bank; and thenext morning, after some terrible quarrel, during which Gladys fainted, poor girl, Eric disappeared, and the very next thing they heard of him, about three weeks afterwards, was that his watch and a pocket-bookbelonging to him had been picked up on the Brighton beach close to Hove. '

'Do you mean that this is all they have ever heard of him?'

'Yes. I believe Mr. Hamilton employed every means of ascertaining hisfate. For some months he refused to believe that he was dead. I am notsure if Gladys believes it now. But Etta did from the first. "He was weakand reckless enough for anything, " she has often said to me. Of course itis very terrible, and one cannot bear to think of it, but when a youngman has lost his character he has not much pleasure in his life. '

'I do not think Miss Hamilton really believes that he is dead. '

'Perhaps not, poor darling. But Mr. Hamilton has no doubt on the subject, my dear Miss Garston. He is much to be pitied: he has never been the sameman since Eric went. I am afraid that he repents of his harshness to thepoor boy. He told the colonel once that he wished he had tried mildertreatment. '

'One can understand Mr. Hamilton's feelings so well. You are right, Mrs. Maberley: he is much to be pitied. '

'Yes, and, to make matters worse, Gladys was very ill, and refused to seeor speak to him in her illness. I believe the breach is healed betweenthem now; but she is not all that a sister ought to be to him. '

'Perhaps Miss Darrell usurps her place, ' I replied a little incautiously, but I saw my mistake at once. Mrs. Maberley was evidently a devoutbeliever in Miss Darrell's merits. 

'Oh, my dear, you must not say such things. Mr. Hamilton has told me overand over again that he does not know how he would have got through thatmiserable time but for his cousin Etta's kindness. She did everything forhim, and nursed Gladys in her illness. I am sure she would have died butfor Etta. Dear me! Flossie looks restless. I do believe she hears hermaster's step outside. --Yes, Flossie, that is his knock. --But I wonderwhom he is bringing in with him. ' And Mrs. Maberley straightened herselfand smoothed the folds of her satin gown, and tried to look as usual, though there were tears in her bright eyes and her hands were a littletremulous. I do not know why I felt so sure that it would be Mr. Hamilton, but I was not at all surprised when he followed the tall oldcolonel into the room. But he certainly looked astonished when he saw me. 

'Miss Garston!' he ejaculated, darting one of his keen looks at me. Butwhen he had shaken hands he sat down by Mrs. Maberley somewhat silently. 

I was rather sorry to see Mr. Hamilton, for our talk had unsettled meand made me feel nervous in his presence. I was afraid he would readsomething from our faces. And I certainly saw him look at me more thanonce, as though something had aroused his suspicion. For the first timeI was unwilling to encounter one of those straight glances. I feltguilty, as though I must avoid his eyes, but all the more I felt hewas watching me. 

I was anxious to put a stop to this uncomfortable state of things, butI could not silence Mrs. Maberley, who was relating to her husband thestory of poor Flossie's accident. My presence of mind and skill were somuch lauded, and the colonel said so many civil things, that I feltmyself getting hotter every moment. 

Mr. Hamilton came at last to my relief. 

'I think Miss Garston resembles me in one thing, colonel. She hates to bethanked for doing her duty. You will drive her away if you say any moreabout Flossie. Oh, I thought so, ' as I stretched out my hand for my hat:'I thought I interpreted that look aright. Well, I must be going too. Ionly brought him back safe to you, Mrs. Maberley. --By the bye, colonel, I shall tell Gladys that you have never asked after her. '

'My sweetheart, Gladys! To be sure I have not. Well, how is she, my dearfellow?'

'As obstinate as ever, colonel. Came downstairs to-day, and declares shewill go to early service to-morrow, because it will be Christmas Day, and she has never missed yet. Women are kittle cattle to manage. Now, Miss Garston, if you are ready, I will see you a little on your way. '

I knew it was no good to remonstrate, so I held my peace, Mrs. Maberleykissed me quite affectionately, and begged me to come whenever I had anhour to spare. 

'I wish I had known you before, my dear. But there, we all make mistakessometimes. ' And she patted me on the shoulder. 'Edbrooke, will you seethem out? He will be your friend for ever, after your goodness toFlossie: won't you, Edbrooke?'

I never felt so afraid of Mr. Hamilton before. I was wondering what Ishould say to him, and hoping that he had not noticed my nervousness, when he startled me excessively by saying, --

'What makes you look so odd this evening? You are not a bit yourself, Miss Garston. Come! I shall expect you to confess. Mrs. Maberley is anold friend of mine, and I am very much attached to her. I should like toknow what you and she have been talking about?'

It was too dark for Mr. Hamilton to see my face, so I answered a littleflippantly, --

'I daresay you would like to know. Women are certainly not much morecurious than men, after all. '

'Oh, as to that, I am not a bit curious, ' was the contradictory answer. 'But all the same I intend to know. So you may as well make a cleanbreast of it. '

'But--but you have no right to be so inquisitive, Mr. Hamilton. '

'Again I say I am not inquisitive, but I mean to know this. Mrs. Maberleyhad been crying. I could see the tears in her eyes. You looked inclinedto cry too, Miss Garston. Now, '--after a moment's hesitation, as thoughhe found speech rather difficult, --'I know the dear old lady has only onefault. She is rather too fond of gossiping about her neighbours, thoughshe does it in the kindest manner. May I ask if her talk this eveningat all related to a family not a hundred miles away from Maplehurst?'

His voice sounded hard and satirical in the darkness. 'I wish you wouldnot ask me such a question, Mr. Hamilton, ' I returned, much distressed. 'It was not my fault: I did not wish--' But he interrupted me. 

'Of course; I knew it. When am I ever deceived by a face or manner? Notby yours, certainly. So my good old friend told you about that miserableaffair. I wish she had held her tongue a little longer. I wish--'

But I burst out, full of remorse, --

'Oh, Mr. Hamilton, I am so sorry! I have no right to know, but indeedI was hardly to blame. '

'Who says you are to blame?' he returned, so harshly that I remainedsilent: 'it is no fault of yours if people will not be silent. But allthe same I am sorry that you know; your opinion of me is quite changednow, eh? You think me a hard-hearted taskmaster of a brother. Well, itdoes not matter: Gladys would have made you believe that in time. '

His voice was so full of concentrated bitterness that I longed to saysomething consoling; in his own fashion he had been kind to me, and Idid not wish to misjudge him. 

'I know your sister Gladys sufficiently to be sure that she will neveract ungenerously by her brother, ' I returned hotly. 'Mr. Hamilton, youneed not say such things: it is not for me to judge. '

'But all the same you will judge, ' he replied moodily. 'Oh, I know howyou good women cling together: you know nothing of a man's nature; youcannot estimate his difficulties; because he has not got your sweetnature, because he cannot bear insolence patiently--Oh, ' with anabruptness that was almost rude but for the concealed pain in his voice, 'I am not going to excuse myself to you: why should I? I have only toaccount to my Maker and my own conscience, ' And he was actually walkingoff in the darkness, for we were now in sight of the parlour window, butI called him back so earnestly that he could not refuse to obey. 

'Mr. Hamilton, pray do not leave me like this; it makes me unhappy. Doyou know it is Christmas Eve?'

'Well, what of that?' with a short laugh. 

'People ought not to quarrel and be disagreeable to each other onChristmas Eve. '

'I am afraid, Miss Garston, that I do feel intensely disagreeable thisevening. '

'Yes, but you must try and forgive me all the same. I could not quitehelp myself; but indeed I do not mean to judge you or any one, and Ishould like you to shake hands. '

'There, then, ' with a decidedly hearty grasp; and then, without releasingme, 'So you don't think so very badly of me, after all?'

'I am very sorry for you, ' was my prudent answer; 'I think you have hada great deal to bear. Good-night, Mr. Hamilton. '

'Wait a minute; you have not answered my question. You must not haveit all your own way. I repeat, has Mrs. Maberley given you a very badimpression of my character?'

'Certainly not; oh, she spoke most kindly; I should not have been afraidif you had heard the whole of our conversation. '

'I wish I had heard it. '

'She made me feel very sorry for you all. Oh, what trouble there is inthe world, Mr. Hamilton! It does seem so blind and foolish to sit injudgment on other people! how can we know their trials and temptations?'

'That is spoken like a sensible woman. Try to keep a good opinion of us, Miss Garston: we shall be the better for your friendship. Well, so we arefriends again, and this little misunderstanding is healed: so much thebetter; I should hate to quarrel with you. Now run in out of the cold. '

I hastened to obey him, but he stood at the gate until I had enteredthe house; his voice and manner had quite changed during the last fewminutes, and had become strangely gentle, reminding me of his sisterGladys's voice. What a singular man he was!--and yet I felt sorry forhim. 'I wonder if he is really to blame!' I thought, as I opened theparlour door. 

The lamp was alight; the fire burnt ruddily; Tinker was stretched on therug as usual, but something else was on the rug too. 

A girlish figure in a dark tweed gown was huddled up before the grate; ahead, with short thick locks of hair tossing roughly on her neck, turnedquickly at my entrance. 

'Jill!'

'Yes, it is I, Ursie dear! Oh, you darling bear, what a time you havebeen!' Two strong arms pulled me down in the usual fashion, and a hotcheek was pressed lovingly against mine. 

'Oh, Jill, Jill, what does this mean?' I exclaimed, in utter amazement;but for a long time Jill only laughed and hugged me, and there was nogetting an answer to my question. 

CHAPTER XXI

'I RAN AWAY, THEN!'

'Now, Jill, ' I demanded, at last, taking her by the shoulders, 'I insiston knowing what this means. ' And when I spoke in that tone Jill alwaysobeyed me at once. 

So she shook her untidy mane, and looked at me with eyes that werebrimful of fun and naughtiness. 

'Very well, Ursie dear, if you will know, you shall; but first sit downin that cosy-looking chair, and I will put my elbows in your lap, in thedear old fashion, and then we can talk nicely. What a snug little roomthis is! it looked just delicious when I came in, and Mrs. Barton made mesuch a nice cup of tea, and then I went upstairs to look at your bedroom, and there was a beautiful fire there, and Mrs. Barton says you alwayshave one: so you are not so poor and miserable, after all. '

'I am not at all poor, thank you; and I work so hard that I think Ideserve to be warm and comfortable. And when people live alone, a fireis a nice, cheerful companion. But this is not answering my question, Jocelyn. '

Now Jill hated me to call her Jocelyn, so she made a face at me, andsaid, in rather a grumpy voice, 'Well, I ran away, then!'

'Ran away from Hyde Park Gate! Were you mad, Jill?'

'Oh dear, no, --not from Hyde Park Gate. Did you not get my letter? Oh, I remember, I forgot to post it: it is in my blotting-case now. Then youdid not know that Sara has scarlatina?'

'No, indeed; but I am very sorry to hear it. '

'Oh, she is nearly well now; but no one knows how she caught it. Therewas a terrible fuss when Dr. Armstrong pronounced it scarlatina. Mammamade father take lodgings at Brighton at once, and Fräulein and I werepacked off there at a minute's notice. You can fancy what my life hasbeen for the last ten days, mewed up in a dull, ugly parlour with thatold cat. '

'My poor, dear Jill! But why did you not write to me, and I would havecome over at once?'

'So I did write, twice, and I do believe that horrid creature neverposted my letters, --I daresay they are in her pocket now, --and I couldnot get out by myself until to-day. Now just think, Ursula, what sort ofa Christmas Day I was likely to have; and then you never came to me, andI got desperate; so when Fräulein said she had one of her headaches, ' andhere Jill made a comical grimace, 'I just made up my mind to take Frenchleave, and spend Christmas Day with you, and here I am; and scold me ifyou dare, and I will hug you to death. ' And, indeed, Jill's powerfulyoung arms were quite capable of fulfilling her threat. 

'It is not for me to scold you, ' I replied quietly; 'but I am afraidyou will get into trouble for this piece of recklessness. Think howfrightened poor Fräulein will be when she misses you. '

'Poor Fräulein, indeed! a deceitful creature like that. Why, Ursula, whatdo you think? I just peeped into her room to be sure that she was safeand it was all dark: she was not there at all. Oh, oh, my lady, I said tomyself, so that is your little game, is it? And, just to be certain, Irang at the bell at 37 Brunswick Place, where the Schumackers live, andasked the servant if Fräulein Hennig was still there, and when I heardthat she was having tea I nearly laughed in his face. What do you thinkof that for an instructress of youth, --getting up the excuse of aheadache, and leaving me over those stupid lessons, while she paid avisit on her own account? Does she not deserve a thorough good frightas a punishment?'

'I think Aunt Philippa ought to be undeceived. I have never trustedFräulein Hennig since you told me she shut herself up in her bedroom toread novels. Jill, my dear, you have acted very wrongly, and I am afraidwe shall all get into trouble over this school-girl trick of yours. Imust think what is best to be done under the circumstances. '

'You may think as much as you like, ' returned Jill obstinately, 'but Ihave come to spend my Christmas Day with you, and nothing will induce meto go back to Fräulein: I shall murder her if I do. Now, Ursie darling, 'in a coaxing voice, 'do be nice, and make much of me. You can't think howdelicious it is to see your face again; it is such a dear face, and Ilike it ever so much better than Sara's and Lesbia's. '

I was unable to reply to this flattering speech, for Jill suddenly put upher hand--I noticed it was a little inky--and said, 'Hark, there is someone coming up to the door?' and for the moment we both believed that itwas Fräulein; but, to Jill's immense relief, it was only Mr. Tudor, witha great bough of holly in his hand. 

'We have just finished at the church, and I have brought you this, MissGarston, ' he began, and then he stopped, and said, 'Miss Jocelyn here!'in a tone of extreme surprise, and Jill got up rather awkwardly and shookhands with him. I could see that she felt shy and uncomfortable. I wasvery pleased to see Mr. Tudor, for I knew he would help us in thisemergency. Jill was such a child, in spite of her womanly proportions, that I was sure that her escapade would not seriously shock him; he wasyoung enough himself to have a fellow-feeling for her; and I was notwrong. Mr. Tudor looked decidedly amused when I told him Jill had takenFrench leave. He tried to look grave until I had finished, but the effortwas too much for him, and he burst out laughing. 

Jill, who was looking very sulky, was so charmed by his merriment thatshe began to laugh too, and we were all as cheerful as possible until Icalled them to order, and asked Mr. Tudor if he would send off a telegramat once. 

'A telegram! Oh, Ursula!' And Jill's dimples disappeared like magic. 

'My dear, Fräulein would not have a moment's sleep to-night if she did notknow you were safe. Do not be afraid, Jill: we will spend our ChristmasDay together, in spite of all the Fräuleins in the world. ' And then Iwrote off the telegram, and a short note, and gave them to Mr. Tudor. Thetelegram was necessarily brief:

'Jocelyn safe with me. Will not return until Thursday. Write to explain. '

The note was more explanatory. 

I apologised profusely to Fräulein for her pupil's naughtiness, butbegged her to say nothing to her mother, as I would communicate myselfwith Aunt Philippa and let her know what had happened. Under thecircumstances I thought it better to keep Jocelyn with me over ChristmasDay, until I heard from Aunt Philippa. But she might depend on mybringing her back myself. 

'It is far too polite, ' growled Jill, who had been reading the letterover my shoulder. 'How can you cringe so to that creature?'

'I consider it a masterpiece of diplomacy, ' observed Mr. Tudor, as Ihanded it for his inspection. 'Civil words pay best in the long-run; andyou know it was very naughty to run away, Miss Jocelyn. '

'It was nothing of the kind, ' returned Jill rebelliously. 'And I would doit again to-morrow. I am more than sixteen; I am not a child now, and Ihave a right to come and see Ursula if I like. ' And Jill threw back herhead, and the colour came into her face, and she looked so handsome thatI was not surprised to see Mr. Tudor regard her attentively. I never sawa face so capable of varying expression as Jill's. 

Jill declared she was glad when Mr. Tudor was gone. But I think she likedhim very well on the whole; and, indeed, no one could dislike such abright, kind-hearted fellow. As soon as he had left the house I had tocall a council. It was quite certain my bed would not hold Jill; so, atMrs. Barton's suggestion, some spare mattresses were dragged in my roomand a bed made up on the floor. Jill voted this delicious; nothing couldhave pleased her more, and she was so talkative and excited that I hadthe greatest trouble in coaxing her to be quiet and let me go to sleep:in fact, I had to feign sleep to make her hold her tongue. 

But I was much too restless to sleep, and once when I crept out of bed toreplenish the fire I stood still for a moment to look at Jill. 

She was sleeping as placidly as an infant in its cradle, her short blacklocks pushed back from her face, and one arm stretched on the coverlet. I was surprised to see how fine Jill's face really was. The uglyduckling, as Uncle Brian called her, was fast changing into a swan. Atpresent she was too big and undeveloped for grace; her awkward mannersand angularities made people think her rough and uncouth. 'I expect shewill eclipse Sara's commonplace prettiness some day; but, poor child, no one understands her, ' I sighed, and as I tucked her up more warmly, with a kiss, Jill's sleepy arms found their way to my neck and held methere. 'Is not it delicious, Ursie dear?' she murmured drowsily. 

I was glad to see that Miss Hamilton was at the early service. She lookedpale and delicate, but there was a brighter look upon her face when shenodded to me in the porch. Her brother was putting her into a fly, andMiss Darrell and Lady Betty followed. 

I was rather surprised to see him close the door after them and step backinto the porch. And the next moment he joined us. 

'Well, Miss Garston, ' holding out his hand, with a friendly smile, 'yousee Gladys contrived to have her way. A happy Christmas to you! But I seeyou are not alone, ' looking rather inquisitively at Jill, who looked verybig and shy as usual. 

'I think you have heard of my cousin Jocelyn?' I returned, withoutentering into any further particulars. I should have been sorry forJill's escapade to reach Mr. Hamilton's ears. But he shook hands withher at once, and said, very pleasantly, that he had heard of her fromMr. Cunliffe. And then, after a few more words, we parted. 

Mr. Hamilton was unusually genial this morning. There was nothing in hismanner to recall our stormy interview on the previous evening. Perhaps hewished to efface the recollection from my memory, for there was somethingsignificant in his smile, as though we perfectly understood each other. 

I had lain awake for a long time thinking over Mrs. Maberley's talk andthat uncomfortable walk from Maplehurst. Mr. Hamilton's voice and wordshaunted me; the suppressed irritation and pain that almost mastered him, and how he had flung away from me in the darkness. 

I was glad to remember that I had called him back and spoken aconciliatory word. No doubt he had been to blame. I could imagine himhard and bitter to a fault. But he had suffered; there were lines uponhis face that had been traced by no common experience. No, it was not forme to judge him. As he said, what could I know of a man's nature? And Iwas still more glad when I saw Mr. Hamilton in the church porch, and knewthat the day's harmony was not disturbed, and that there was peacebetween us. His bright, satisfied smile made me feel more cheerful. 

'What a strange-looking man!' observed Jill, in rather a grumbling voice, as we walked up the hill. 'Is that Mr. Hamilton? I thought he was young;but he is quite old, Ursula. '

'No, dear, not more than three-or four-and-thirty, Uncle Max says. '

'Well, I call that old, ' returned Jill, with the obstinacy of sixteen. 'He is an old bachelor, too, for of course nobody wants to marry him; heis too ugly. '

'Oh, Jill, how absurd you are! Mr. Hamilton is not ugly at all. You willsoon get used to his face. It is only rather peculiar. ' And I quite meantwhat I said, for I had got used to it myself. 

'Humph!' observed Jill significantly. But she did not explain the meaningof her satirical smile, and I proceeded to call her attention to thehoar-frost that lay on the cottage roof, and the beauty of the clearwinter sky. 'It is a glorious Christmas morning, ' I finished. 

We had a very merry breakfast, for Jill was almost wild with spirits, andthen we went to church again. Gladys was in her usual place, and lookedround at me with a smile as I entered. When the service was over, I wentto the Marshalls', accompanied by Jill, who announced her intention ofnot letting me out of her sight, for I had to preside over the children'sChristmas dinner, and to look after my patient. We visited Robin next, and then went on to the Lockes', and Jill sat open-eyed and breathlessin a corner of the room as I sang carols to Phoebe in the twilight. 

She rose reluctantly when I put my hand on her shoulder and told herthat we must hurry back to the cottage to make ourselves smart for theevening. Jill seldom troubled her head about such sublunary affairs asdress. 

'I shall be obliged to wear my old tweed, ' she said contentedly. 'I haveonly to smooth my hair, and then I shall be ready. ' And she grumbled nota little when I insisted on arranging a beautiful spray of holly as abreast-knot, and twisting some very handsome coral beads that Charlie hadgiven me round her neck. Jill always looked better for a touch of warmcolour: the dark-red berries just suited her brown skin. 'You will dobetter now, ' I said, pushing her away gently, 'so you need not pout andhunch your shoulders. Have I not told you that it is your duty to makethe best of yourself?--we cannot be all handsome, but we need not offendour neighbours' eyes. ' But, as usual, Jill turned a deaf ear to myphilosophy. 

The study looked very cosy when we entered it, and Uncle Max gave us awarm welcome. To be sure, he shook his head at Jill, and told her that hewas afraid she was a naughty girl, but both he and Mr. Tudor prudentlyrefrained from teasing her on the subject of her escapade. On thecontrary, they treated her with profound respect, as though she werea grown-up, sensible young lady, and this answered with Jill. She grewbright and animated, forgot her shyness, and talked in her quaint racymanner. I could see that Mr. Tudor was much taken with her. She was sodifferent from the stereotyped young lady; her cleverness and originalityamused him; and I am sure Uncle Max was equally surprised and pleased. 

I could see Max was making strenuous efforts to be cheerful, but everynow and then he relapsed into gravity. After dinner I drew him aside amoment to speak to him about Jill: to my relief, he promised to be thebearer of a letter to Aunt Philippa. 

'I want to go up to town for a day or two, ' he said, 'and I may as welldo this business for you. How happy the child looks, Ursula! I wish youcould keep her a little longer. She is very much improved. I had no ideathat there was so much in her; she will be far more attractive than Sarawhen she has developed a moderate amount of vanity. ' And I fully endorsedthis opinion. 

We went home early, for I could see Max was very tired, but both he andMr. Tudor insisted on escorting us. It was a beautiful starlight night, clear and frosty: our footsteps rang crisply on the ground: not a breathof wind stirred the skeleton branches that stretched above our heads: asolemn peacefulness seemed to close us round. Jill's mirthful laugh quitestartled the echoes. She and Mr. Tudor were following very slowly. Onceor twice we stood still and waited for them, but Mr. Tudor was in themiddle of some amusing story, and so they took no notice of us. 

I told Max about my visit to Mrs. Maberley, and of the conversationthat had taken place between us. I thought he started a little whenI mentioned Eric Hamilton's name. 

'What a pity!' he said quietly. 'I had hoped she would have told youherself. I was waiting for her to do so. '

'But, Max, surely you might have told me?'

'Who?--I? I should not have presumed. You must remember that I was inHamilton's confidence, and, ' after a moment's hesitation, 'in hers too. Ursula, ' with a sudden passionate inflexion in his voice, 'you have noidea how she loved that poor boy, and how she suffered: it nearly killedher. Now you know why I say that she is lonely and wants a friend. ' 'Butshe has you, Max, ' I exclaimed involuntarily, for I knew what he musthave been to them in their trouble; Max could be as tender as a woman;but he started aside as though I had struck him; and his voice was quitechanged as he answered me. 

'You mistake, Ursula. I was only her clergyman: if she confided in me itwas because she could not do otherwise; she is naturally reserved. Shewould find it easier to be open with you. '

'I do not think so, Max. I--But what does it matter what I think? Thereis one question I want to ask: do you think Mr. Hamilton was at all toblame?'

'I am Hamilton's friend, ' he returned, in a tone that made me regret thatI had asked the question, and then he stood still and waited for theothers to join us. Indeed, he did not speak again, except to wish usgood-night. 

'It is the loveliest Christmas Day I have ever spent, ' cried Jill, flinging herself on me, and she was no light weight. 'I do like Mr. Tudorso; he is nicer than any one I know, more like a nice funny boy than aman, only he tells me he can be grave sometimes. What was the matter withMr. Cunliffe?--he looks tired and worried and not inclined to laugh. ' Andso Jill chattered on without waiting for my answers, talking in the veryfulness of her young heart, until I pretended again to be asleep, andthen she consented to be quiet. 

I saw Max for a few minutes the next day when he came to fetch my letter. He looked more like himself, only there was still a tired expressionabout his eyes; but he talked very cheerfully of what he should do duringthe few days he intended to remain in town. 

I made him promise to be very diplomatic with Aunt Philippa, and he mostcertainly kept his word, for the next morning I received a letter thatsurprised us both, and that drove Jill nearly frantic with joy. 

Aunt Philippa's letter was very long and rambling. She began byexpressing herself as deeply shocked and grieved at Jocelyn's behaviour, which was both dishonourable and unlady-like, and had given her fathergreat pain. 'Dear old dad! I don't believe it, ' observed Jill, pursingher lips at this. 

Aunt Philippa regretted that she could no longer trust her youngdaughter, --she was sure Sara would never have behaved so at her age, --andshe felt much wounded by Jocelyn's defiant action. At the same time, shewas equally deceived in Fräulein Hennig, she was certainly more to blamethan Jocelyn. Mr. Cunliffe had told her things that greatly surprisedher. Uncle Brian was very angry, and insisted that she should bedismissed. Under these distressing circumstances, and as it would not besafe for Jocelyn to come back to Hyde Park Gate until the rooms had beenproperly disinfected, she must beg me as a favour to herself and UncleBrian to keep Jocelyn with me until they went to Hastings. Mr. Cunliffeknew of a finishing governess, a Miss Gillespie, who was most highlyrecommended as a well-principled and thoroughly cultured person, only shewould not be at liberty for three or four weeks. As I reached this pointof Aunt Philippa's letter, I was obliged to lay it down to prevent myselffrom being strangled. 

'Well, Jill, there is no need to hug me to death: it is Uncle Max thatyou have to thank, and not me. '

'Yes, but you see it would never do to hug him, for he is not a bit myuncle, so I am doing it by deputy, ' observed Jill recklessly. 'Oh, Ursula, what a darling you are! and what a dear fellow he is! To thinkof my staying here three or four weeks! You will let me help you nursepeople, won't you?' very coaxingly. 

'We will see about that presently; but, Jill, you have never opened yourmother's letter. Now, as it is perfectly impossible that you can sleep onthe floor for weeks, and as I do not intend to keep such a chatterbox inmy room, I am going to see what Mrs. Barton advises. ' And leaving Jill todigest Aunt Philippa's scolding as well as she could, I went in search ofthe little widow. 

I found, to my relief, that there was another room in the cottage, thoughit could not boast of much furniture beyond a bed and wash-stand: so, after a little consideration, I started off to the vicarage to hold aconsultation with Mrs. Drabble. 

The upshot of our talk was so satisfactory, and Mrs. Barton and Nathanielworked so well in my service, that when bedtime came Jill found herselfthe possessor of quite a snug room. There were curtains up at the window, and strips of carpet on the floor. A dressing-table had been improvisedout of a deal packing-case, and covered with clean dimity. Jill'stravelling-box stood in one corner, and on the wall there was a row ofneat pegs for Jill's dresses. Jill exclaimed at the clean trim look ofthe room, but I am sure she regretted her bed on the floor. She came downpresently in her scarlet dressing-gown to give me a final hug andreiterate her petition for work. 

'Mamma has talked a lot of rubbish about my keeping up my studies andpractising two hours a day, and she means to disinfect my books and sendthem down, but I have made up my mind that I will not open one. I amgoing to enjoy myself, and nurse sick people, and do real work, insteadof grinding away at that stupid German. ' And Jill set her little whiteteeth, and looked determined, so I thought it best not to contradicther. 

'I am so glad Uncle Max thought of Miss Gillespie, dear. '

'Who is she? I hate her already. I expect she is only an AnglicisedFräulein, ' observed Jill, with a vixenish look. 

'You are quite wrong. Miss Gillespie is Scotch, and she is very nice andgood, and pretty too, for I have often heard Uncle Max talk of her. Herfather was Max's great friend, and at his death the daughters wereobliged to go out in the world. Miss Gillespie is the eldest. No, she isnot very young, --nearly forty, I believe, --but she is so nice-looking;she was engaged to a clergyman, but he died, and they had been engagedso many years, and so now she will not marry. She is very cheerful, however, and all her pupils love her, and I am sure you will be happywith her, Jill. '

Jill would not quite allow this, but the next day she recurred to thesubject, and asked me a good many questions about Miss Gillespie, andwhen I told her that it was settled that Miss Gillespie should join themat Hastings she really looked quite pleased; but nothing would induce herto open the case of books Aunt Philippa had sent down, and when I toldUncle Max he only laughed. 

'Let her be as idle as she likes. She is over-educated now, and knows farmore than most girls of her age. Take her about with you, and make heruseful. ' And I followed this advice implicitly, but for a differentreason, --there was no keeping Mr. Tudor out of the house; so when I wasengaged, and Jill could not be with me, I took advantage of a generalinvitation that Miss Hamilton had given me, and sent her up to Gladwyn. 

They were all very kind to her, and she seemed to amuse Miss Darrell, butafter a time Mr. Tudor began going there too, and then indeed I shouldhave been at my wits' end, only Mrs. Maberley came to my rescue. She tooka fancy to Jill, and Jill reciprocated it, and presently she and LadyBetty began to spend most of their idle hours at Maplehurst. 

CHAPTER XXII

'THEY HAVE BLACKENED HIS MEMORY FALSELY'

I loved having Jill with me, but I could not deny to myself or otherpeople that I found her a great responsibility. In the first place, Ihad so little leisure to devote to her, for just after Christmas I wasunusually busy. Poor Mrs. Marshall died on the eve of the New Year, andboth Mr. Hamilton and I feared that Elspeth would soon follow her. 

A hard frost had set in, and granny's feeble strength seemed to succumbunder the pressure of the severe cold; she had taken to her bed, and laythere growing weaker every day. Poor Mary had died very peacefully, withher hand in her husband's. I had been with her all day, and I did notleave until it was all over. 

Jill was as good as gold, and helped me with Elspeth and the children, and she always spent an hour or two with Robin; but by and by she beganasking to go up to Gladwyn of her own accord, or proposing to have teawith Mrs. Maberley. 

'Of course I would prefer to stop with you, Ursie dear, ' she saidaffectionately; 'I would rather talk to you than to any one else; butthen, you see, you are never at home, and when you do come in, poordarling, you are so tired that you are only fit for a nap. ' And I couldnot deny that this was the truth. After my hard day's work I was notalways disposed for Jill's lively chatter, and yet her bright face wasa very pleasant sight for tired eyes. 

I used to question her sometimes about her visits to Gladwyn, and shewas always ready to talk of what had passed in the day. She and LadyBetty had struck up quite a friendship: this rather surprised me, asthey were utterly dissimilar, and had different tastes and pursuits. Jillwas far superior in intelligence and intellectual power; she had widersympathies, too; and though Lady Betty had a fund of originality, and wasfresh and _naïve_; I could hardly understand Jill's fancy for her, untilJill said one day, 'I do like that dear Lady Betty, she is such a crisp little piece ofhuman goods; no one has properly unfolded her, or tested her goodqualities; she is quite new and fresh, a novelty in girls. One neverknows what she will say or do next: it is that that fascinates me, Ibelieve; because, ' went on Jill, and her great eyes grew bright andpuzzled, 'it is not that she is clever; one gets to the bottom of herat once; there is not enough depth to drown you. '

Jill did not take so readily to Gladys; she admired her, even liked her, but frankly owned that she found her depressing. 'If I talk to her long, I get a sort of ache over me, ' she observed, in her graphic way. 'It isnot that she looks dreadfully unhappy, but that there is no happiness inher face. Do you know what I mean? for I am apt to be vague. It rests meto look at you, Ursula; there is something quiet and comfortable in yourexpression; now, Miss Hamilton looks as though she had lost something shevalues, or never had it, and must go on looking for it, like that poorghost lady who wanted to find her lost pearl. '

Jill never could be induced to say much in Mr. Hamilton's favour, thoughhe was very civil to her and paid her a great deal of attention. 'Oh, him!' she would say contemptuously, if I ever hazarded an observation: 'Inever take much notice of odd-looking, ugly men: they may be clever, butthey are not in my line. Mr. Hamilton stares too much for my taste, andI don't believe he is kind to his sisters; they are half afraid of him. 'And nothing would induce her to alter her opinion. 

But Miss Darrell thoroughly amused her. Jill's shrewd, honest eyes werehardly in fault there: she used to narrate with glee any little fact shecould glean about 'the lady with two faces, ' as she used to call her. 

'Oh, she is a deep one, ' Jill would say. 'I could not understand her atfirst. I thought she was just bright and talkative and good-natured, andI thought it nice to sit and listen to her, and she was very kind, andpetted me a good deal, and I did not find her out at first. '

'Find her out! what do you mean, Jill?' I asked innocently. 

'Why, that she is not good-natured a bit, really, ' with a sagacious nodof her head. 'She keeps a stock of smiles for Cousin Giles and any chancevisitor. She is not half so nice and charming when Miss Hamilton and LadyBetty are alone with her. Oh, I heard her one day, when I was in theconservatory with Lady Betty. Lady Betty held up her finger and said, 'Hush!' and there she was talking in such a disagreeable, sneering voiceto Miss Hamilton, only I stopped my ears and would not listen. And nowshe has got used to me she says unpleasant little things before my face, and then when "dear Cousin Giles" comes in'--and here Jill lookedwicked--'she is all sweetness and amiability, quite charming, in fact. Now, that is what I hate, for a person to wear two faces, and havedifferent voices: it shows they are not true. '

'Well, perhaps you are right, dear'; for, without being uncharitableto Miss Darrell, I wished to put Jill on her guard a little. 

'I don't like the way she talks about you, ' went on Jill indignantly. 'She always begins when we are alone; not exactly saying things so muchas implying them. '

'Indeed! What sort of things?' I asked carelessly. 

'Oh, she is always hinting that it is rather odd for you to be livingalone; she calls you deliciously unconventional and strong-minded, but I know what she means by that. Then she is so curious: she is alwaystrying to find out how often Mr. Cunliffe or Mr. Tudor comes to see you, or if you go to the vicarage; and she said one day that she thought youpreferred gentlemen's society to ladies', as they could never induce youto come up to Gladwyn, but of course you saw plenty of her cousin Gilesin the village. '

I felt my cheeks burn at this unwarrantable accusation, but Jill beggedme not to disturb myself. 

'She won't make those sort of speeches to me again, ' she said calmly. 'She had a piece of my mind then that will last her for a long time. '

'I hope you were not rude, Jill?'

'Oh no! I only flew into a passion, and asked her how she dared to implysuch a thing?--that my cousin Ursula was the best and the dearest womanin the world, and that no one else could hold a candle to her. "Ursulacare for gentlemen's society!" I exclaimed: "why, at Hyde Park Gate wenever could get her to remain in the drawing-room when those stupidofficers were there: she never would talk to any of them, except oldColonel Trevanion, who is nearly blind! You do not understand Ursula: sheis a perfect saint: she is the simplest, most unselfish, grandest-heartedcreature; and you make out that she is a silly flirt like Sara. " And thenI had to hold my tongue, though I was as red as a turkey-cock, for therewas Mr. Hamilton staring at us both, and asking if I were in my senses, and why I was quarrelling about my cousin, for of course my voice was asgruff and cross as possible. '

'Oh, Jill!' I exclaimed, much distressed, 'how could you say such absurdthings?--you know I never like you to talk in this exaggerated fashion. Asaint, indeed! A pretty sort of saint Mr. Hamilton must think me!' for itnettled me to think that he had ever heard Jill's ridiculous nonsense. 

'Wait a moment, till I have finished: you are not too saintly to be crosssometimes. I will tell him that, if you like. Well, when he said thisabout quarrelling, Miss Darrell gave him one of her sweet smiles. 

'"Nonsense, Giles, as though I mind what this dear foolish child says;she is indulging in a panegyric on her cousin's virtues, because I saidshe was a little masculine and strong-minded and rather looked down uponus poor women. I have pressed her over and over again to spend an eveningwith us, but she always puts us off. I am afraid we Gladwyn ladies arenot to her taste. "

'"Don't be silly, Etta. Have I not told you poor old Elspeth isdying?--Miss Garston will not leave her, you may be sure of that. " Andthen Mr. Hamilton said to me in quite a nice way, --oh, I did not dislikehim so much that evening, --"I daresay you misunderstand Etta. I assureyou we all think most highly of your cousin, and she will always be awelcome guest here, and I hope you will induce her to come soon. "Wasn't it nice of him? Dear Etta did not dare to say another word. '

'Very nice, Jill; but indeed I do not want to hear any more of MissDarrell's speeches. ' And I got up hastily and opened the piano to puta stop to the conversation. Jill was always pleased when I would singto her, but somehow my voice was not quite in order that evening. 

The next day Jill surprised me very much by asking me if I knew that MissHamilton was going to Bournemouth for the rest of the winter. 

'Mrs. Maberley has invited her, and Mr. Hamilton thinks it will do her somuch good: they are going early next week. She wants to see you, Ursula;she says you have not met since Christmas. Could you go this afternoon?Miss Darrell will be out. '

I considered for a moment, and then said yes, I would certainly go up toGladwyn. It made me feel a little dull to think Miss Hamilton was goingaway; we had not exchanged a word since that Sunday evening, but I hadthought of her so much since then. My patients had engrossed my time, buthardly my thoughts. Poor Elspeth was slowly dying, and I had to beconstantly with her. Marshall had not yet resumed work, but he was inpoor spirits from the loss of his wife, and could hardly be a comfort tothe poor creature. I put off my visit to Phoebe until the evening, andwalked up to Gladwyn with Jill; she and Lady Betty were going for a walk, and were to have tea with the Maberleys. I learned afterwards that Mr. Tudor met them quite accidentally about three miles from Heathfield, andhad accompanied them to Maplehurst, where he made himself so pleasant tothe old lady that he was pressed to remain. Oh, Mr. Tudor, I am afraidyou are not quite so artless as you look! I began to wish Aunt Philippawould soon recall Jill. 

I found Miss Hamilton alone, and she seemed very glad to see me; her fairface quite flushed with pleasure when she saw me enter the drawing-room. 

'I was afraid it was some stupid visitor, ' she said frankly, 'when Iheard the door-bell ring. Did it trouble you to come? How tired you look!there, you shall take Giles's chair, ' putting me with gentle force in abig blue-velvet chair that always stood by the fire; and then she tookoff my wraps and unfastened my gloves, and made me feel how glad she wasto wait on me. 

'You are going away, ' I said, rather lugubriously, for I felt all atonce how I should miss her. She looked a little better and brighter, Ithought, or was it only temporary excitement?

'Yes, ' she returned seriously, but not sadly, 'I think it will be better. I am almost glad to go away, except that I shall not see you, ' looking atme affectionately. 

'Oh, if you wish to go, ' for I was so relieved to hear her say this. 

'It is not that I wish it, exactly, but that I feel it will be better:things are so uncomfortable just now, more than usual, I think. Ettaseems always worrying herself and me; sometimes I fancy that she wantsto get rid of me, that I am too troublesome, ' with a faint smile. 'Sheworries about my health and want of spirits. I suppose I am rather adepressing element in the house, and, as I get rather tired of all thisfuss, I think it will be better to leave it behind for a little. '

'That sounds as though you were driven away from home, Miss Hamilton. '

'Miss Hamilton!' reproachfully; 'that is naughty, Ursula. I do not callyou Miss Garston. '

'Gladys, then. '

'Perhaps my restlessness is driving me away, ' she returned sadly. 'I dofeel so restless without my work. I never minded Etta's fussiness somuch. I daresay she means it kindly, but it harasses me. I am one ofthose reserved people who do not find it easy to talk of their feelings, bodily or mental, except to a chosen few. You are one, --perhaps not theonly one. '

'Of course not, ' for she hesitated. 'You do not suppose that I laid suchflattering unction to my soul?'

'Oh, but I could tell you anything, ' she returned seriously. 'You seem todraw out one's thoughts while one is thinking them. Yes, I am sorry toleave you even for a few weeks; but, for many reasons, Giles is right, and the change will be good for me. '

'If you will only come back looking better and brighter I will gladly letyou go. '

'I do not promise you that, ' she answered quickly, 'unless you removethe pressure of a very heavy burden; but I shall be quieter and more atpeace, and I am very fond of Colonel and Mrs. Maberley: they are dearpeople, and they spoil me dreadfully. '

'I am thankful some one spoils you, Gladys. '

She smiled at that. 

'Uncle Max is still away, ' I observed, after a brief silence. 'He went toTorquay to see an invalid friend, and he is still there. Mr. Tudor doesnot expect him back until the end of next week. '

'Yes, I know, ' she returned, in a low voice; 'but we shall be atBournemouth before then. Will you bid him good-bye for me, Ursula, andsay that I hope his visit has rested and refreshed him? He was not verywell, you told me. '

'No, but he is better now: he writes very cheerfully. Gladys, when youcome back you will be stronger, I hope. I really do hope you will resumeyour work then; it will be far better for you to do so. '

'You cannot judge, ' she said gently. 'I am afraid that I shall be unableto do that. ' And somehow her manner closed the subject; but I wasdetermined to make her speak on another subject. 

'I want to tell you something that I think you ought to know, ' I began, rather abruptly. 'Mrs. Maberley spoke to me about your brother Eric. '

'Ursula!'

'I could not let you go away and not know this: it did not seem honest. It has troubled me a great deal. Mrs. Maberley would tell me, and shetold it so nicely; and Mr. Hamilton is aware that I know, and I am afraidhe is not pleased about it. '

She put up her hands to her face for a moment, with a gesture full ofdistress. 

'I meant to tell you myself, ' she said, in a stifled voice, 'but not now;not until I felt stronger. '

'And now you will not have that pain, Gladys. I think you ought to berelieved that some one else has told me. ' But she shook her head. 

'How do I know what they said? And Giles is aware of it, you say. Oh, Ursula, for pity's sake, tell me, has he talked to you about Eric?'

'No, no, not in the way you mean: he only said that we must not judge ormisjudge other people. He seemed afraid that I should misjudge him. '

'Oh, I am thankful to know that. I could not bear to have the poor boydiscussed between you two. Giles would have made you believe everything, he has such a way with him, and you would not know any better. Oh, Ursula, ' in a piteous voice, 'you must not listen to them; they are allso hard on my poor darling. Faulty as he was, he was innocent of thecrime laid to his charge; they have accused him falsely. Eric nevertook that cheque. '

I could see she was strongly agitated. Her delicate throat swelled withemotion, and she took hold of my hands and held them tightly, and herlarge blue-gray eyes were fixed on my face with such a beseechingexpression that I could have promised to believe anything. And yet shewas right. Mr. Hamilton had a way with him that influenced peoplestrongly; he could speak with a power and authority that seemed todominate one in spite of one's self. It has always appeared to me that wepoor women are easily silenced and subjugated by a strong masculine will. It is difficult to assert a timid individuality in the presence of aregnant force. 

I answered her as gently as I could. 'Dear Gladys, you will make yourselfill. Will it give you any relief to speak out? I will listen to anythingyou have to say. '

She drew a deep breath, and the colour ebbed back into her face. 

'Perhaps it may be a relief: I am weary of silence, --of trying to bearit alone; and other things are wearing me out. Etta is not so far wrong, after all. ' And then she stopped, and looked at me wistfully, and herlips trembled. 'Ursula, you are a nurse; you go about comforting sickbodies and sick minds. If I am ill, --one must be ill sometimes, --will youpromise to come and take care of me, in spite of all Etta may do or say?'

I hesitated for a moment, for it seemed to me impossible to give anunconditional promise, but she continued reproachfully, 'You cannot havethe heart to refuse! I wanted to ask you this before. You would not, surely, leave me to eat out my heart in this loneliness! If you knew whatit is to have Etta with one at such times! an east wind would be moremerciful and comforting. I know I am expressing myself far too strongly, but all this excites me. Do promise me this, Ursula. Giles will nothinder you coming: he appreciates you thoroughly: it will only be Ettawho may try to oppose you. '

Gladys was right; I had not the heart to refuse: so I gave her therequired promise, and she grew calmed at once. 

'Now that is settled, I can breathe more freely, ' she said presently. 'I am afraid I am growing fanciful, but lately I have had such a horrorof being ill. Giles would be kind, I know, --he is always kind inillness, --but he lets Etta influence him. Ursula, she influenced him andturned him against my poor boy; with all Giles's faults, --and he can bevery hard and stern and unforgiving, --I am sure that of his own accord hewould never have been so harsh to Eric. '

'But Mrs. Maberley told me that Miss Darrell took your brother Eric'spart. '

'Yes, I know, she believes in Etta, and so does Giles; but she is nottrue; she has a dangerous way of implying blame when she is apparentlypraising a person: have you never noticed this? Giles was always moreangry with Eric after Etta had been into the study to intercede for him. If she would only have let him alone; but that is not Etta's way: shemust make or mar people's lives. '

There was a concentrated bitterness in Gladys's voice, and her face grewstern. 

'There was no love between them. Eric detested Etta, and on her side Iknow she disliked him. Eric never would tell me the reason; he was alwayshinting that he had found her out, and that she knew it, and that inconsequence she wanted to get rid of him; but I thought it was all fancyon the poor boy's part, and I used to laugh at him. I wish I had notlaughed now, for there was doubtless truth in what he said. '

'You were very fond of him, Gladys?' I asked softly, and as I spoke herface changed, and its expression grew soft and loving in a moment. 

'Love him? he was everything to me: he was my twin, you know, --and sobeautiful. Oh, I never saw a man's face so beautiful as his; he had suchbright ways, too, and such a ringing laugh, --I wake up sometimes andfancy I hear it; and then came his whistle and light footstep springingup the stairs; but it is only a part of my dream. ' She sighed, and wenton: 'He was so fond of me, and used to tell me everything, and he wasnever cross to me, however put out and miserable he was; and I know theymade him very miserable. Giles was so strict with him, and would not givehim any liberty, and when Eric rebelled he was cruel to him. '

'Oh, not cruel, surely!' I could not help the involuntary exclamation. I thought Gladys looked at me a little strangely before she answered:

'It seemed cruel to us; he was very harsh, --oh, terribly harsh; but Ithink--nay, I am sure--he has repented of his hardness. I was slow toforgive him: perhaps it would be more true to say I have not whollyforgiven him yet; but I know now that he has suffered, that he would undoa great deal of the past if he could, and this makes me more merciful. Sometimes in my heart I feel quite sorry for Giles. '

CHAPTER XXIII

THE MYSTERY AT GLADWYN

Just then Leah entered the room to replenish the fire, and Gladys droppedmy hand hastily and took up a screen. 

'When my brother comes in we will have tea, Leah, ' she said quickly. 'Where is Thornton, that he does not come in to do this?'

'I was passing through the hall, and I thought I would have a look at thefire, ma'am, ' observed Leah, as she stooped to throw on a log. As she didso, I saw her take a furtive look at us both, --it gave me an unpleasantfeeling, --and a moment afterwards she said in a soft, civil voice, --

'There is no reason why Thornton should not bring tea now, if you like, ma'am. Master never cares to be waited for, and most likely he will belate this afternoon. I can walk home with Miss Garston when she is ready. I am sure my mistress would spare me. '

'We will see about that presently, Leah; when I want Thornton I will ringfor him. ' Gladys spoke somewhat haughtily, and Leah left the room withoutanother word; but I was sorry and troubled in my very heart to see Gladysmotion me to be silent, and then go quickly to the door and open it andstand there for a moment. Her colour was a little heightened when shecame back to her seat. 

'She has gone now, but we must be careful and not speak loudly. I hatemyself for being so suspicious, but I have found out that some of ourconversations have been retailed to Etta. I am afraid Leah listens at thedoor. She came in just now to interrupt our talk: it is Thornton's placeto put coals on the drawing-room fire. '

I felt an uncomfortable sensation creeping over me. 

'Do you think she even heard us just now?'

'I fear so; and now Etta will know we have been talking about Eric. Oh, Iam glad I am going away! it gets too unbearable. Ursula, I shall write toyou, and you must answer me. Think what a comfort your letters will be tome; I shall be able to depend on what you say. Lady Betty is so careless, she knows what Etta is, and yet she will leave her letters about, andmore than once they have not reached me. I am afraid that Leah is alittle unscrupulous in such matters. '

I was aghast as I listened to her, but she changed the subject quickly. 

'What were we talking about? Oh, I said Giles was hard; and so he was;but Eric was faulty too. 

'He was very idle; he would not work, and he thought of nothing but hispainting. Giles always says I encouraged him in his idleness; but this ishardly the truth. I used to try and coax him to open his books, but hehad got this craze for painting, and he spent hours at his easel. Ithought it was a great pity that Giles forced him to take up law; if hehad talent it was surely better for him to be an artist; but Giles andEtta persisted in ignoring his talent. They called his pictures daubs, and ridiculed his artistic notions. '

'Do you really believe that he would have worked successfully as anartist?'

'It is difficult for me to judge. Eric was so young, and had had littletraining, and then he only painted in a desultory way: as I have toldyou, he was very idle. I think if Giles had been more fatherly with him, and had remonstrated with him more gently, and showed him the sense andfitness of things, Eric would have been reasonable; but Etta made so muchmischief between them that things only got worse and worse. Eric wasextravagant; he never managed money well, and he got into debt, and thatmade Giles furious, and when Eric lost his temper--for he was very hotand soon got into a passion--Giles's coolness and hard sneering speechesnearly drove Eric wild. He came to me one day in the garden looking aswhite as a sheet, --that was the day before the cheque was missed, --andtold me, in a conscience-stricken voice, that it was all up between himand Giles, he had got into a passion and struck Giles across the face. 

'"I don't know why he did not knock me down, " cried the poor lad. "Ideserved it, for I saw him wince with the pain; but he only took me bythe shoulder--you know how strong Giles is--and turned me out of the roomwithout saying a word, and there was the mark of my hand across hischeek. I feel like Cain, I do indeed, Gladys, 'For he that hateth hisbrother is a murderer'; and I hate Giles. " And the poor boy--he was onlytwenty, Ursula--put his head down on my shoulder and sobbed like a child. If only Giles could have seen him then!'

'Do you know what passed between them?'

'Yes; I heard a little from both of them. Some of Eric's bills had beenopened accidentally by Giles. Etta had told Giles that they were his, and he had called Eric to account. And then it seems that Eric's affairswere mixed up with another young man's, Edgar Brown, a very wild youngfellow, with whom Giles had forbidden Eric to associate. They had beenschool-fellows, and Giles knew his father, Dr. Brown, and disliked himmuch; and it seems that Eric had promised to break with him, and had notkept his promise; and when Giles called him mean and dishonourable, Erichad forgotten himself, and struck Giles. 

'"It is all over between us, I tell you, Gladys, " the poor boy keptsaying. "Giles says he shall take me away from Oxford, and I am to be putin an attorney's office: he declares I shall ruin him. I cannot stop hereto be tormented and bullied, and I will never go near old Armstrong: why, the life would be worse than a convict's. I shall just go and enlist, andthen there is a chance of getting rid of this miserable life. " But I didnot take much notice of this speech, for I knew Eric had no wish to enterthe army; and certainly he would never do such a rash thing as enlist: healways declared he would as soon be a shoeblack. What does that lookmean, Ursula?' for I was glancing uneasily at the door. Was it my fancy, or did I really hear the faint rustle of a dress on the tessellatedpavement of the hall? In another moment Gladys understood, and her voicedropped into a whisper. 

'Come closer to me. I mean to tell you all in spite of them. I will be asquick as I can, or Giles will be here. 

'I never saw Eric in such a state as he was that day. He seemed nearlybeside himself: nothing I could say seemed to give him any comfort. Heshut himself up in his room and refused to eat. He would not admit me fora long time, but when he at last opened the door I saw that his table wasstrewn with papers, and a letter directed to Giles lay beside them. 

'We sat down and had a long talk. He told me that he had got into moredifficulties than even Giles suspected. He had been led away by EdgarBrown. I brought him all the money I had, which was little enough, andpromised him my next quarter's allowance. I remember he spoke again ofenlisting, and said that any life, however hard, would be preferable tothe present one. He could not stay here and be slandered by Etta andbullied by Giles. He seemed very unhappy, and once he put down his headupon his arms and groaned. It was just then that I heard a slightmovement outside the door, and opened it just in time to see Leah glidinground the corner. Ursula, she had heard every word that my poor boy hadsaid, and it is Leah's evidence that has helped to criminate him. '

'Yes, I see. But did you not put your brother on his guard?'

'No, ' she returned sadly, 'I made the grievous mistake of keeping Leah'seavesdropping to myself. I thought Eric had enough to trouble him, without adding to his discomfort. I would give much now to have doneotherwise. 

'I stayed up late with him, and did not leave him until he had promisedto go to bed. Giles was still in the study when I went to my room, but hecame up shortly afterwards, for I could hear his footsteps distinctlypassing my door. He must have passed Leah in the passage, for I heard himsay, "You are up late to-night, Leah, " but her answer escaped me. 

'I can tell you no more on my own evidence; but Eric's account, which Ibelieve as surely as I am holding your hand now, is this:

'He heard Giles come up to bed, and a sudden impulse prompted him to godown to the study and place his letter on Giles's desk. It was a verywild, foolish letter, written under strong excitement. I saw itafterwards, and felt that it had better not have been written. Amongother things, he informed Giles that he would sooner destroy himself thango into Armstrong's office, and that he (Giles) had made his life sobitter to him that he thought he might as well do it: oh, Ursula, ofcourse it was wrong of him, but indeed he had had terrible provocation. He had made up his mind to put this letter on Giles's desk before heslept: so he slipped off his boots, that I might not hear him pass mydoor, and crept down to the study. He had his chamber candlestick, as hefeared that he might have some difficulty with the fastenings, for he hadheard Giles put up the chain and bell. All our doors on that floor havechains and bells; it is one of Giles's fads. To his great surprise, the door was ajar, and when he put down the candle on the table he hada passing fancy that the thick curtains that were drawn over one of thewindows moved slightly, as though from a draught of air. He blamedhimself afterwards that he had not gone up to the window and examinedit, but in his perturbed mood he did not take much notice; but he wascertainly startled when he turned round to see Leah, in her darkdressing-gown, standing in the threshold watching him with a queer lookin her eyes. There was something in her expression that made him feeluneasy. 

'"I thought it was thieves, " she said, and now she looked not at him, butacross at the curtain. "What are you doing with master's papers, Mr. Eric?"

'"Mind your own business, " returned Eric sulkily: "do you think I amgoing to account to you for my actions?" And he took up his candlestickand marched off. '

'And he left that woman in possession?'

'Yes, ' returned Gladys in a peculiar tone, and then she hurried on:'The next morning Giles missed a cheque for a large amount that he hadreceived the previous night and placed in one of the compartments ofhis desk, and in its place he found Eric's letter. Do you notice thediscrepancy here? Eric vowed to me that he had placed the letter on thedesk, that he never dreamt of opening it, that he always believed Gileskept it locked, that if Giles had been careless and left the key in ithe knew nothing about it. His business to the study was to put his letterwhere Giles would be likely to find it on entering the room. Ursula, howdid that letter get into the desk?

'We were all summoned to the study when the cheque was missed. Ettafetched me. She said very little, and looked unusually pale. Giles was ina terrible state of anger, she informed me, and Leah was speaking to him. 

'Alas! she had been speaking to some purpose. I found Eric almost dumbwith fury. Giles had refused to believe his assertion of innocence, andhe had no proof. Leah's statement had been overwhelming, and bore theoutward stamp of veracity. 

'She told her master that, thinking she heard a noise, and being fearfulof thieves, she had crept down in her dressing-gown to the study, and, toher horror, had seen Mr. Eric with his hand in his brother's desk, andshe could take her oath that he put some paper or other in his pocket. She had not liked to disturb her master, not knowing that there was moneyin the case. 

'Ursula, I cannot tell you any more that passed. That woman hadeffectually blackened my poor boy's honour. No one believed his word, though he swore that he was innocent. I heard high words pass betweenthe brothers. I know Giles called Eric a liar and a thief, and Ericrushed at him like a madman, and then I fainted. When I recovered Ifound Lady Betty crying over me and Leah rubbing my hands. No one elsewas there. Eric had dashed up to his room, and Giles and Etta were inthe drawing-room. I told Leah to go out of my sight, for I hated her; andI felt I did hate her. And when she left us alone I managed, with LadyBetty's help, to crawl up to Eric's room. But, though we heard him ragingabout it, he would not admit us. So I went and lay down on my bed andslept from sheer grief and exhaustion. 

'When I woke from that stupor, --for it was more stupor than sleep, --itwas late in the afternoon. I shall always believe the wine Leah gave mewas drugged. How I wish I had dashed the glass away from my lips! But Iwas weak, and she had compelled me to drink it. 

'Lady Betty was still sitting by me. She seemed half frightened by mylong sleep. She said Eric had come in and had kissed me, but verylightly, so as not to disturb me. And she thought there were tearsin his eyes as he went out. Ursula, I have never seen him since. Heleft the house almost immediately afterwards, but no one saw him go. Bysome strange oversight Giles's telegram to the London Bank to stop thecheque did not reach them in time. And yet Etta went herself to thetelegraph-office. As you may have perhaps heard, a tall fair young man, with a light moustache, cashed the cheque early in the afternoon. Yes, Iknow, Ursula, the circumstantial evidence is rather strong just here. Iam quite aware that it was possible for Eric after leaving our house tobe in London at the time mentioned, but no one can prove that it wasEric. 

'Edgar Brown is tall and fair, and there are plenty of young menanswering to that description; and I maintain, and shall maintain to mydying day, --and I am sure Mr. Cunliffe agrees with me, --that it was notEric who presented that cheque. The clerk told Giles that the young manhad a scar across his cheek and a slight cut, though he was decidedlygood-looking. But Giles refused to believe this. He says the clerk madea mistake about the last. 

'The next morning I received a letter from Eric, written at the ShipHotel, Brighton, containing the exact particulars that I have given, andreiterating in the most solemn way that he was perfectly innocent of theshameful crime laid to his charge. 

'"You will believe me, Gladys, I know, " he went on. "You will not let myenemies blacken my memory if you can help it. If I could only be on thespot to clear up the mystery; for there is a mystery about the cheque. But I have sworn never to cross the threshold of Gladwyn again until thisinsult is wiped out and Giles believes in my innocence. If we never meetagain, my sweet sister, you will know I loved you as well as I could loveanything; but I was never good and unselfish like you. And I fear--Igreatly fear--that I shall never weather through this. " That was all. The letter ended abruptly. 

'The following afternoon a messenger from the Ship asked to see Mr. Hamilton; and after Giles had been closeted with him for a few minutes hecame out, looking white and scared, with Eric's watch and scarf in hishands. The man had told him the young gentleman had gone out and had notreturned, and they had been found on the beach, at the extreme end ofHove, and they feared something had happened to him. He had ordereddinner at a certain time, but he had not made his appearance. The nextmorning they had heard reports in the town that caused them to instituteinquiries. A letter in the pocket of the coat, directed to Eric Hamilton, Gladwyn, Heathfield, enabled them to communicate with his relatives. Andthey had lost no time in doing so. I never saw Giles so terribly upset. He looked as though he had received a blow. He went to Brighton at once, and afterwards to London, and employed every means to set our fears atrest, for a horrible suspicion that he had really made away with himselfwas in all our minds. 

'I was far too ill to notice all that went on. A fever seemed about me, and I could not eat or sleep. I think I should have done neither, that mypoor brain must have given way under the shock of my apprehensions, butfor Mr. Cunliffe. 

'He was a true friend, --a good Samaritan. He bound up my wounds andpoured in oil and wine of divinest charity. He did not believe that Ericwas guilty of either dishonesty or self-destruction. In his own mind hewas inclined to believe that he wished us to think him dead. It was alla mystery; but we must wait and pray; and in time he managed to instila faint hope into my mind that this might be so. 

'Etta was rather kind to me just then. She looked ill and worried, andseemed taken up with Giles. It was well that he should have some one tolook after his comforts, for there was a breach between us that seemed asthough it would never be healed. I saw that he was irritable andmiserable, --that the thought of Eric robbed him of all peace. But I couldmake no effort to console him, for I felt as though my heart wasbreaking. I--' And here she hid her face in her hands, and I could seeshe was weeping, and I begged her earnestly to say no more, that I quiteunderstood, and she might be sure of my sympathy with her and Eric. Shekissed me gratefully, and said, 'Yes, I know. I am glad to have told youall this. Now you understand why I am so grateful to Mr. Cunliffe, why Iam so sorry'--and here her lips quivered--'if I disappoint him. I feel asthough he has given me back Eric from the dead. It is true I doubtsometimes, when I am ill or gloomy, but generally my faith is strongenough to withstand Etta's incredulity. '

'Does Miss Darrell believe that he is dead?'

'Yes; and she is so angry if any one doubts the fact. I don't know whyshe hates the poor boy so: even Mr. Cunliffe has reproved her for herwant of charity. I think she fears Mr. Cunliffe more than any one, evenGiles: she is always so careful what she says before him. '

'Gladys, I think I hear your brother's voice in the hall, and your cheeksare quite wet: he will wonder what we have been talking about. '

'I will ring for Thornton, and the tea: he shall find me clearing thetable. Don't offer to help me, Ursula. ' And I sat still obediently, watching her slow, graceful movements about the room in the firelight:her fair hair shone like a halo of gold, and the dark ruby gown she woregathered richer and deeper tints. That beautiful, sad face, how I shouldmiss it!

It was some little time before Mr. Hamilton entered the room. Thorntonhad lighted the candles and arranged the tea-tray, and Gladys had placedherself at the table. 

He testified no surprise at seeing me, but walked to the fire, aftergreeting me, and warmed himself. 

'They told me you were here, ' he said abruptly: 'I was at the cottagejust now. Have you not had your tea? Why, it is quite late, Gladys, andI want to take Miss Garston away. '

'Is there anything the matter, Mr. Hamilton?' for I was beginning tounderstand his manner better now. 

'Oh, I have some business for you, that is all, --another patient; but Iwill not tell you about it yet: you must have a good meal before you goout into the cold. I shall ring the bell for some more bread-and-butter;I know you dined early; and this hot cake will do you no good. ' And, asI saw he meant to be obeyed, I tried to do justice to the delicious brownbread and butter; but our conversation had taken away my appetite. 

He stood over me rather like a sentinel until I had finished. 

'Now, then, I may as well tell you. Susan Locke is ill, --acute pneumonia. I have just been down to see her, and I am afraid it is a sharp attack. Well, if you are ready, we may as well be going; the neighbour who iswith her seems a poor sort of body. They sent for you, but Mrs. Bartonsaid you were with Elspeth, and when Kitty went there you were nowhere tobe found. '

CHAPTER XXIV

WEEPING MAY ENDURE FOR A NIGHT

I could not suppress an exclamation when Mr. Hamilton mentioned the name. 

Susan Locke! Poor, simple, loving-hearted Susan! What would become ofPhoebe if she died?

Mr. Hamilton seemed to read my thoughts. 

'Yes, ' he said, looking at me attentively, 'I knew you would be sorry;Miss Locke was a great favourite of yours. Poor woman! it is a sadbusiness. I am afraid she is very ill: they ought to have sent for mebefore. Now, if you are ready, we will start at once. '

'I will not keep you another minute. Good-bye, Ursula. ' And Gladys kissedme, and quietly followed us to the door. It was snowing fast, and theground was already white with the fallen flakes. Mr. Hamilton put up hisumbrella, and stood waiting for me under the shrubs, but a sudden impulsemade me linger. 

Gladys was still standing in the porch; her fair hair shone like a haloin the soft lamplight, her eyes were fixed on the falling snow. I hadsaid good-bye to her so hastily: I ran back, and kissed her again. 

'I wish you were not going, Gladys; I shall miss you so. '

'It is nice to hear that, ' she returned gently. 'I shall remember thosewords, Ursula. Write to me often; your letters will be my only comfort. There, Giles is looking impatient; do not keep him waiting, dear. ' Andshe drew back, and a moment afterwards I heard the door shut behind us. 

Mr. Hamilton did not speak as I joined him, and I thought that our walkwould be a silent one, until he said presently, in rather a peculiartone, --

'Well, Miss Garston, I suppose I ought to congratulate you for succeedingwhere I have failed. ' Of course I knew what he meant, but I pretended tomisunderstand him, and he went on, --

'You have won my sister's heart. Gladys cares for few people, but sheseems very fond of you. '

'The feeling is reciprocated, I can assure you. '

'I am glad to know that, ' he returned heartily. 'I only wish youcould teach Gladys to be like other girls; she is too young and toopretty to take such grave views of life; it is unnatural at her age. Onedisappointment, however bitter, ought not to cloud her whole existence. Try to make her see things in a more reasonable light. Gladys is as goodas gold. Of course I know that she is a fine creature; but it is not likea Christian to mourn over the inevitable in this undisciplined way. '

He spoke with great feeling, and with a gentleness that surprised me. I felt sure then of his affection for his young sister; I wished Gladyscould have heard him speak in this fatherly manner. But, in spite of mysympathy, it was difficult for me to answer him. I felt that this was asubject that I could not discuss with Mr. Hamilton, and yet he seemed towish me to speak. 

'You must give her time to recover herself, ' I said, rather lamely. 'Gladys is very sensitive; she is more delicately organised than mostpeople; her feelings are unusually deep. She has had a severe shock; itwill not be easy to comfort her. '

'No, I suppose not, ' with a sigh; 'her faith has suffered shipwreck;but you must try to win her back to peace. Oh, you have much to do atGladwyn, as well as other places. I want you to feel at home with us, Miss Garston. Some of us have our faults, we want knowing; but you musttry and like us better, and then you will not find us ungrateful. '

He stopped rather abruptly, as though he expected an answer, but I onlystammered out that he was very kind, and that I hoped when Gladysreturned from Bournemouth that I should often see her. 

'Oh, to be sure, ' he returned hastily. 'I forgot that her absence wouldmake a difference. You do not like poor Etta: I have noticed that. Well, perhaps she is a little fussy and managing; but she is a kind-heartedcreature, and very good to us all. I do not know what I should have donewithout her; my sisters do not understand me, they are never at theirease with me. I feel this a trouble; I want to be good to them; but therealways seems a barrier that one cannot break down. I suppose, ' withintense bitterness, 'they lay the blame of that poor boy's death at mydoor, as though I would not give my right hand to have him back again. '

'Oh no, Mr. Hamilton, ' I exclaimed, shocked to hear him speak in thisway, 'things are not so bad as that. I know Gladys would be more to youif she could. ' But he turned upon me almost fiercely. 

'Do not tell me that, ' he said harshly, 'for I cannot believe you. Gladyscared more for Eric's little finger than the whole of us put together;she looks upon me as his destroyer, as a hard taskmaster who oppressedhim and drove him out of his home. Oh, you want to contradict me; youwould tell me how gentle Gladys is, and how submissive. No, she is neverangry, but her looks and words are cold as this frozen snow; she has notkissed me of her own accord since Eric left us. I sometimes think it ispainful for her to live under my roof. '

'Mr. Hamilton!'

'Well, what now?' in the same repellent tone. 

'You are wrong; you are unjust. Gladys does not feel like that; she hastried to forgive you in her heart for any past mistake; she sees youregret much that has passed, and she is no longer bitter against you. I wish you would believe this. I wish you could understand that she, too, longs to break down the barrier. Perhaps I ought not to say it, but Ithink Miss Darrell keeps you apart from your sisters. '

'What, Etta!' in an astonished tone. 'Why, she is always makingexcuses for Gladys's coldness. Come, Miss Garston, I cannot have youmisunderstand my poor little cousin in this way. You have no idea howfaithful and devoted she is. She has actually refused a most advantageousoffer of marriage to remain with us. She told me this in confidence; thegirls do not know it: perhaps I ought not to have repeated it; but youundervalue Etta. Few women would sacrifice themselves so entirely fortheir belongings. '

'No, indeed, ' was my reply to this; but I secretly marvelled at thispiece of intelligence, and there was no time to ask any questions, forwe had reached the cottage, and the next minute I was standing by SusanLocke's bedside. 

There was no need to tell me that poor Susan was in danger; theinflammation ran high; the flushed face, the difficult breathing, the strength and fulness of the rapid pulse, filled me with graveforebodings. Mr. Hamilton remained with me some time, and when he tookhis leave he promised to come again as early as possible in the morning. 

'I will stay altogether if you wish it, ' he said kindly, 'if you feelthe least uneasiness at being alone. ' But I disclaimed all fear on thisscore. I only begged him to remain with the patient a few minutes whileI spoke to Phoebe, and he agreed to this. 

It was late; but I knew she would not be asleep. How could she sleep, poor soul, with this fresh stroke threatening her? As I opened the doorI heard her calling to me in a voice broken with sobs. 

'Oh, Miss Garston, I have been longing for you to come to me; you havebeen here for hours. I have been lying listening to your footstepsoverhead. Do you know, the suspense is killing me?'

'Yes, I am so sorry for you, Phoebe: it is hard to bear, is it not?But I could not leave your sister. We are doing all we can to ease hersufferings, but she is very very ill. '

'Do you think that I do not know that? She is dying! My only sister isdying!' And here her tears burst out again. 'Ah, Miss Garston, thosedreadful words are coming true, after all. '

'What words, my poor Phoebe?' And I knelt down by her side and smoothedthe hair from her damp forehead. 

'Oh, you know what I mean. I have repeated them before; they haunt me dayand night, and you refused to take them back. "If we will not lie stillunder His hand, and learn the lesson He would teach us, fresh trials maybe sent to humble us, "--fresh trials; and, oh, my God, Susan is dying!'

'You must not say that to her nurse, Phoebe; you must try and strengthenmy hands: indeed, all hope is not lost: the inflammation is very high, but who knows if your prayers may not save her?'

'My prayers! my prayers!' covering her face while the tears trickledthrough her wasted fingers; 'as though God would listen to me who havebeen a rebel all my life. '

'Ah, but you are not rebellious now: you have fought against Him allthese years, but now all His waves and billows have gone over your head, and you cannot breast them alone. '

'No, and I have deserved it all. I do try to pray, Miss Garston, I doindeed, but the words will not come. I can only say over and over again, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee, " and then I stopand my heart seems breaking. '

'Well, and what can be better than that cry of your poor despairing heartto your Father! Do you think that He will not have pity on His sufferingchild? Be generous in your penitence, Phoebe, and trust yourself andSusan in His hands. '

'Ah, but you do not know all, ' she continued, fixing her miserable eyeson me. 'I have not been good to Susan: I have let her sacrifice her lifefor me, and have taken it all as a matter of course. I made her bear allmy bad tempers and never gave her a good word. She was too tired, --ah, she was often tired, --and then she took this chill, and I made her waiton me all the same. She told me she was ill and in great pain, and I kepther standing for a long time; and I would not bid her good-night when shewent away; and I heard her sigh as she closed the door, and I called herback and she did not hear me; and now--' But here hysterical sobs checkedher utterance. 

'Yes, but you are sorry now, and Susan has forgiven you. I think shewanted to send you a message, but she is in too great pain to speak. Iheard her say, "Poor Phoebe, " but I begged her not to make the effort;you see she is thinking of you still. '

'My poor Susan! But she must not miss you; I am wicked and selfish tokeep you like this. Go to her, Miss Garston!' And I was thankful to bedismissed. 

My heart was full when I re-entered the sick-room. Mr. Hamilton lookedrather scrutinising as he rose to give me his place. 

'Your thoughts must be here, ' he said meaningly. 'Forgive me, if I giveyou that hint: do not forget Providence is watching over that other room. One duty at a time, Miss Garston. ' And, though I coloured at thiswholesome rebuke, I knew he was correct. 

'Yes, he is right, ' I thought, as I stood listening to poor Susan'soppressed and difficult breathing: 'the Divine Teacher is beside Hischild. It is not for us to question this discipline or plead for aneasier lesson. ' But none the less did the fervent petition rise from myheart that the angel of death might not be suffered to enter this house. 

The night wore on, but, alas! there was no improvement. When Mr. Hamiltoncame through the snow the next morning he looked grave and dissatisfied, and then he asked me if I wanted any help; but I shook my head. 'Mrs. Martin is in the house: she will look after Phoebe and Kitty. '

When he had gone, I wrote a little note and gave it to Kitty:

'I cannot leave Susan for a minute, she is so very ill. Mr. Hamilton cansee no improvement. He is coming again at mid-day. She suffers very much;but we will not give up hope, you and I;' and I bade Kitty carry it toher aunt. 

When Mr. Hamilton returned, he brought a little covered basket with him, and bade me rather peremptorily take my luncheon while he watched besidethe patient. 

This act of thoughtfulness touched me. I wondered who had packed thebasket: there was the wing of a chicken, some delicate slices of tongue, a roll, and some jelly. A little note lay at the bottom:

'Giles has asked me to provide a tempting luncheon: he says you havehad a sad night with poor Miss Locke, and are looking very tired. PoorUrsula! you are spending all your strength on other people. 

'In another half-hour I shall leave Gladwyn. I think I am glad to go, things are so miserable here, and one loses patience sometimes. I wishI could know poor Susan Locke's fate before I go; but Giles seems to havelittle hope. Take care of yourself for my sake, Ursula. I have grown tolove you very dearly. 

'--Your affectionate friend, 'Gladys. '

Mr. Hamilton came again early in the evening, and I took the opportunityof paying Phoebe another visit. 

She was lying with her eyes closed, and looked very ill andexhausted, --alarmingly so, I thought: her emotion had nearly spentitself, and she was now passive and waiting for the worst. 

'Let me know when it happens, ' she whispered. 'I have no hope now, but Iwill try and bear it. ' And she drew my hands to her lips and kissed them:'they have touched Susan, they are doing my work, they are blessed handsto me. ' And then she seemed unable to bear more. 

When Mr. Hamilton paid his final visit he announced his intention ofremaining in the house. 'There will be a change one way or another beforelong, and I shall not leave you by yourself to-night, ' he said quietly;and in my heart I was not sorry to hear this. He told me that there was agood fire downstairs, and that he meant to take possession of a verycomfortable arm-chair, but that he wanted to remain in the sick-room forhalf an hour or so. 

I fancied that his professional eyes had already detected some change. Presently he walked away to the fireplace and stood looking down into theflames in rather an absent way. 

I could not help looking at him once or twice, he seemed so absorbed inthought; his dark face looked rigid, his lips firmly closed, and hisforehead slightly puckered. 

More than once I had puzzled myself over a fancied resemblance of Mr. Hamilton to some picture I had seen. All at once I remembered thesubject. It was the picture of a young Christian sleeping peacefully justbefore he was called to his combat with wild beasts in the amphitheatre:the keeper was even then opening the door: the lions were waiting fortheir prey. The face was boyish, but still Mr. Hamilton reminded me ofhim. And there was a picture of St. Augustine sitting with his motherMonica, that reminded me of Mr. Hamilton too. I had called him plain, andJill thought him positively ugly, but, after all, there was somethingnoble in his expression, a power that made itself felt. 

Just then the lines of his face relaxed and softened; he half smiled, looked up, and our eyes met. I was terribly abashed at the thought thathe should find me watching him; but, to my surprise, his face brightened, and he roused himself and crossed the room. 

'I was dreaming, I think, but you woke me. Are you very tired? Shall Itake your place?' But before I could reply his manner changed, and hestooped over the bed, and then looked at me with a smile. 

'I thought so. The breathing is certainly less difficult: theinflammation is diminishing. I see signs of improvement. '

'Thank God!' was my answer to this, and before long this hope wasverified: the pain and difficulty of breathing were certainly lessintense, the danger was subsiding. 

Mr. Hamilton went downstairs soon after this, and I settled to mysolitary night-watch, but it was no longer dreary: every hour I felt moreassured that Susan Locke would be restored to her sister. 

Once or twice during the night I crept into Phoebe's room to gladden herheart with the glad news, but she was sleeping heavily and I would notdisturb her. 'Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in themorning, ' I said to myself, as I sat down by Susan's bedside. I was veryweary, but a strange tumult of thoughts seemed surging through my brain, and I was unable to control them. Gladys's pale face and tear-filled eyesrose perpetually before me: her low, passionate tones vibrated in my ear. 'They have accused him falsely, ' I seemed to hear her say: 'Eric nevertook that cheque. '

What a mystery in that quiet household! No wonder there was somethingunrestful in the atmosphere of Gladwyn, --that one felt oppressed and illat ease in that house. 

Fragments of my conversation with Mr. Hamilton came unbidden to mymemory. How strange that that proud, reserved man should have spoken soto me, that he had suffered his heart's bitterness to overflow in wordsto me, who was almost a stranger: 'They lay the blame of that poor boy'sdeath at my door, as though I would not give my right hand to have himback again. ' Oh, if Gladys had only heard the tone in which he said this, she must have believed and have been sorry for him. 

'They are too hard upon him, ' I said to myself. 'If he has been sternand injudicious with his poor young brother, he has long ago repentedof his hardness. He is very good to them all, but they will not try tounderstand him: it is not right of Gladys to treat him as a stranger. I am sorry for them all, but I begin to feel that Mr. Hamilton is not theonly one to blame. '

I wished I could have told him this, but I knew the words would neverget themselves spoken. I might be sorry for him in my heart, but I couldnever tell him so, never assure him of my true sympathy. I was far toomuch in awe of him: there are some men one would never venture to pity. 

But all the same I longed to do him some secret service; he had been kindto me, and had helped me much in my work. If I could only succeed inbringing him and Gladys nearer together, if I could make them understandeach other, I felt I would have spared no pains or trouble to do so. 

If he were not so infatuated on the subject of his cousin's merits, Ithought scornfully, I should be no more sanguine about my success; butMiss Darrell had hoodwinked him completely. As long as he believed in allshe chose to tell him, Gladys would never be in her proper place. 

As soon as it was light I heard Mr. Hamilton stirring in the room below. He came up for a moment to tell me that he was going home to breakfast;he looked quite fresh and brisk, and declared that he had had a capitalnight's sleep. 

'I am going to find some one to take your place while you go home andhave a good seven hours' rest, ' he said, in his decided way. 'I supposeyou are aware that you have not slept for forty-eight hours? Kitty isgoing to make you some tea. ' And with this he took himself off. 

I went into Phoebe's room presently. Kitty told me that she was awake atlast. As soon as she saw me she put up her hands as though to ward off myapproach. 

'Wait a moment, ' she said huskily. 'You need not tell me; I know what youhave come to say; I have no longer a sister: Susan is a saint in heaven. '

For a moment I hesitated, afraid to speak. She had nerved herself to bearthe worst, and I feared the revulsion of feeling would be too great. As Istood there silently looking down at her drawn, haggard face, I felt shewould not have had strength to bear a fresh trial. If Susan had diedPhoebe would not have long survived her. 

'You are wrong, ' I said, very gently. 'I have no bad news for you thismorning. The inflammation has diminished. Susan breathes more easily:each breath is no longer acute agony. '

'Do you mean that she is better?' staring at me incredulously. 

'Most certainly she is better. The danger is over; but we must be verycareful, for she will be ill for some time yet. Yes, indeed, Phoebe, youmay believe me. Do you think I would deceive you? God has heard yourprayers, and Susan is spared to you. '

I never saw a human countenance so transformed as Phoebe's was thatmoment; every feature seemed to quiver with ecstasy; she could not speak, only she folded her hands as though in prayer. Presently she looked up, and said, as simply as a child, --

'Oh, I am so happy! I never thought I should be happy again. You mayleave me now, Miss Garston, for I want to thank God, for the first timein my life. I feel as though I must love Him now for giving Susan backto me. ' And then again she begged me to leave her. 

Mr. Hamilton did not forget me. I had just put the sick-room in orderwhen a respectable young woman made her appearance. She told me that hername was Carron, that she was a married woman and a friend of MissLocke's, and she would willingly take my place until evening. 

I was thankful to accept this timely offer of help, and went home andenjoyed a deep dreamless sleep for some hours. When I woke it wasevening. Jill was standing by my bedside with a tray in her hands. The room was bright with firelight. Jill's big eyes looked at meaffectionately. 

'How you have slept, Ursie dear! just like a baby! I have been in and outhalf-a-dozen times; but no, you never stirred. I told Mr. Hamilton so, when he inquired an hour ago. Now, you are to drink this coffee, and whenyou are quite awake I will give you his message. '

'I am quite awake now, ' I returned, rubbing my eyes vigorously. 

'Well, then, let me see. Oh, Miss Locke is going on well, and Mrs. Carronwill stop with her until eight o'clock. Phoebe has been ill, and theysent for him; but it was only faintness and palpitation, and she isbetter now. He has been to see Elspeth, and she is poorly; but there isno need for you to trouble about her. Miss Darrell is sending her brothand jelly, and Peggy waits on her very nicely. Lady Betty and I went tosee her to-day, and she was as comfortable and cheery as possible, andtold us that she felt like a lady in that big bed downstairs. Mr. Hamilton says she will not die just yet, but one of these days she willgo off as quietly as a baby. She asked after you, Ursie, and sent you apower of love, and I hope it will do you good. '

'And what have you been doing with yourself all day, Jill?' I asked, rather anxiously. 

'Oh, lots of things, ' tossing back her thick locks. 'Let me see. LadyBetty came to fetch me for a walk, and we met Mr. Tudor. He is all alone, poor man, and very dull without Mr. Cunliffe; he told us so: so LadyBetty brought him back to lunch. And Miss Darrell was so cross, and toldpoor Lady Betty that she was very forward to do such a thing; they hadsuch a quarrel in the drawing-room about it. Mr. Tudor came in andfound Lady Betty crying, so he made us come out in the garden, and weplayed a new sort of Aunt Sally. Mr. Tudor stuck up an old hat of Mr. Hamilton's, --at least we found out it was not an old one after all, --andwe snowballed it, and Mr. Hamilton came out and helped us. After tea, weall told ghost-stories round the fire. Miss Darrell does not like them, so she went up to her room. Mr. Tudor had to see a sick man, but he cameback to dinner; but I would not stay, for I thought you would be waking, Ursie, so Mr. Hamilton brought me home. '

'Jill!' I asked desperately, 'have they not written for you to join themat Hastings yet? I begin to think you have been idle long enough. '

'Had you not better go to sleep again, Ursie dear?' returned Jill, marching off with my tray. But she made a little face at me as she wentout of the door. 'I shall get into trouble over this, ' I thought. 'Ireally must write to Aunt Philippa. ' But I was spared the necessity, forthe very next day Jill came to me at Miss Locke's to tell me, with a verylong face, that her mother had written to say that Miss Gillespie wascoming the following week, and Jill was to pack up and join them atHastings the very next day. 

CHAPTER XXV

'THERE IS NO ONE LIKE DONALD'

Mrs. Carron very kindly took my place that I might be with Jill that lastevening, and we spent it in Jill's favourite fashion, talking in thefirelight. 

She was a little quiet and subdued, full of regret at leaving me, andmore affectionate than ever. 

'I have never been so happy in my life, ' she said, in rather a melancholyvoice. 'When I get to Hastings, my visit here will seem like a dream, ithas been so nice, somehow; you are such a dear old thing, Ursula, and Iam so fond of Lady Betty, I shall ask mother to invite her in theholidays. '

'And there is no one else you will regret, Jill?' I asked, anxious tosound her on one point. 

'Oh yes; I am sorry to bid good-bye to Mr. Tudor. He has been such funlately. I really do think he is quite the nicest young man I know. '

'Do you know many young men, my dear?' was my apparently innocent remark;but Jill was not deceived by this smooth speech. 

'Of course I do, ' in a scornful voice; 'they come to see Sara, and Ihate them so, flimsy stuck-up creatures, with their white ties and absurdlittle moustaches. Each one is more stupid and vapid than the other. AndSara must think so too; for she smiles on them all alike. '

'You are terribly hard on the young men of your generation, Jill; Idaresay I should think them very harmless and pleasant. ' But she shookher head vigorously. 

'Why cannot they be natural, and say good-natured things, like Mr. Tudor?He is real, and not make-believe, pretending that he is too bored to liveat all. One would think there was no truth anywhere, nothing but tinseland sham, to listen to them. That is why I like Mr. Tudor: he has thering of the true metal about him. Even Miss Darrell agrees with methere. '

'Do you discuss Mr. Tudor with Miss Darrell?'

'Why not?' opening her eyes widely. 'I like to talk about my friends, and I feel Mr. Tudor is a real friend. She was so interested, --reallyinterested, I mean, without any humbug, --at least, pretence, ' for here Iheld up my finger at Jill. 'She wanted to know if you liked him too, andI said, "Oh yes, so much; he was a great favourite of yours, " and sheseemed pleased to hear it. '

'You silly child! I wish you would leave me and my likes and dislikes outof your conversations with Miss Darrell. '

'Well, do you know, I try to do so, because I know how you hate her, --atleast, dislike her: that is a more ladylike term, --you are so horriblyparticular, Ursula; but somehow your name always gets in, and I neverknow how, and there is no keeping you out. Sometimes she makes medreadfully angry about you, and sometimes she says nice things; butthere, we will not talk about the double-faced lady to-night. Iunderstand her less than ever. '

We glided into more serious subjects after this. I made Jill promise tobe more patient with her life, and work from a greater sense of duty, andI begged her most earnestly to fight against discontent, and exorcisethis youthful demon of hers, and again she promised to do her best. 

'I feel better about things, somehow: you have done me good, Ursie; youalways do. I must make mother understand that I am nearly a woman, andthat I do not intend to waste my time any longer dreaming childishdreams. I suppose mother is really fond of me, though she does find faultwith me continually, and is always praising Sara. ' Jill went on talkingin this way for some time, and then we went upstairs together. 

I was rather provoked to find Mr. Tudor at the station the next morning. I suppose my steady look abashed him, for he muttered something aboutSmith's bookstall, as though I should be deceived by such a flimsyexcuse. After all, Mr. Tudor was not better than other young men; inspite of Jill's praises, he was capable of this mild subterfuge to gethis own way. 

Jill was so honestly and childishly pleased to see him that I ought tohave been disarmed. She went off with him to the bookstall, while Ilooked after her luggage, and they stood there chattering and laughinguntil I joined them, and then Mr. Tudor grew suddenly quiet. 

As the train came up, I heard him ask Jill how long they were to stay atHastings, and if they would be at Hyde Park Gate before Easter. 

'I shall be up in town then, ' he remarked carelessly, 'to see some of mypeople. '

'Oh yes, and you must come and see us, ' she returned cheerfully. 'Good-bye, Mr. Tudor. I am so sorry to leave Heathfield. '

But, after all, Jill's last look was for me: as she leaned out of thecarriage, waving her hand, she did not even glance at the young man whowas standing silent and gloomy beside me. I felt rather sorry for thepoor boy, as he turned away quite sadly. 

'I must go down to the schools: good-bye, Miss Garston, ' he saidhurriedly. One would have thought he had to make up for lost time, as hestrode through the station and up the long road. Had Jill really takenhis fancy, I wondered? had her big eyes and quaint speeches bewitchedhim? Mr. Tudor was a gentleman, and we all liked him; but what wouldUncle Brian and Aunt Philippa say if a needy, good-looking young curatewere suddenly to present himself as a lover for their daughter Jocelyn?Why, Jill would be rich some day, --poor Ralph was dead, and she and Sarawould be co-heiresses. Her parents would expect her to make a grandmatch. 

I shook my head gravely over poor Lawrence's prospects as I took my wayslowly up the hill. I was rather glad when his broad shoulders were outof sight; I should be sorry if any disappointment were to cloud hischeery nature. 

I missed Jill a great deal at first, but in my heart I was not sorryto get rid of the responsibility; a lively girl of sixteen, with strongindividuality and marked precocity, is likely to be a formidable charge;but Mrs. Barton lamented her absence in no measured terms. 

'It seems so dull without Miss Jocelyn, ' she said, the first evening. 'She was such a lively young lady, and made us all cheerful. Why, shewould run in and out the kitchen a dozen times a day, to feed thechickens, or pet the cat, or watch me knead the bread. She and Nathanielgot on famously together, and often I have found her helping him with thebooks, and laughing so merrily when he made a mistake. I used to thinkNathaniel did it on purpose sometimes, just for the fun of it. '

Yes, we all missed Jill, and I for one loved the girl dearly. It made mequite happy one day when she wrote a long letter, telling me that she wasdelighted with her new governess. 

'Miss Gillespie is as nice as possible, ' she wrote. 'I already feel quitefond of her; my lessons are as interesting now as they used to be dullwith Fräulein. She knows a great deal, and is not ashamed to confess whenshe is ignorant of anything; she says right out that she cannot answer myquestions, and proposes that we should study it together. I quite enjoyour walks and talks, for she takes so much interest in all I tell her. She is a little dull and sad sometimes, as though she were thinking ofpast troubles; but I like to feel that I can cheer her up and do hergood. Mother and Sara are delighted with her; she plays so beautifully, and they say that she is such a gentlewoman. When we come downstairs inthe evening she will not allow me to creep into a corner; she makes mejoin in the conversation, and coaxes me to play my pieces; and she triesto prevent mother making horrid little remarks on my awkwardness. 

'"It will all come right, Mrs. Garston, " I heard her say one day. "It isfar wiser not to notice it: young girls are so sensitive, and Jocelyn iskeenly alive to her shortcomings. " And mother actually nodded assent tothis, and the next moment she called me up, and said how much I hadimproved in my playing, and that Colonel Ferguson had told her that Ihad been exceedingly well taught. 

'By the bye, I am quite sure that Colonel Ferguson intends to be mybrother-in-law: he is always here in the evening, and yesterday he sentSara such a magnificent bouquet. '

Jill's chatty letters were always amusing. She had prepared mebeforehand, so I was not surprised at receiving a voluminous letter fromAunt Philippa a few days afterwards, informing me of Sara's engagement toColonel Ferguson. 

'Your uncle and I are delighted with the match, ' she wrote. 'ColonelFerguson belongs to a very good old family, and he has private property. Your uncle says that he is a very intelligent man, and is much respectedin the regiment. 

'Mrs. Fullerton thinks it is a pity for Sara to marry a widower; but Icall that nonsense; he is a young-looking man for his age, and every onethinks him so handsome. Sara, poor darling, is as happy as possible. Ibelieve that they are to be married soon after Easter, as he wants to getsome salmon fishing in Norway: so we shall come up to Hyde Park Gateearly next week, and see about the trousseau, for there is no time to belost. '

Sara added a few words in her pretty girlish handwriting. 

'I wonder if you will be very much surprised by mamma's letter, Ursuladear. We all thought he liked Lesbia, but no, he says that was entirely amistake on our part, he never really thought of her at all. 

'Of course I am very happy. I think there is no one like Donald in theworld. I cannot imagine why such a wise, clever man should fall in lovewith a silly little body like me. I suppose I must please him in someway, for, really, he seems dreadfully in love. 

'You must come to my wedding, Ursula, and I must choose your dressfor you; of course father will pay for it, but I promise you it shallbe pretty, and suitable to your complexion. I mean to have eightbridesmaids. Jocelyn will be one, of course, and I shall get that tall, fair Grace Underley to act as a foil to her bigness. I shall not askpoor Lesbia to be one; it would be too trying for her, and I know youwill not care about it; but you must come for a week, and see all mypretty things, and help poor mamma, for she has only Jocelyn: so rememberyou are to keep yourself disengaged the week after Easter. '

I wrote back that same evening warm congratulations to Sara and AuntPhilippa, and promised to come when Sara wanted me. A gay wedding was notto my taste, but I knew I owed this duty to them: they had been kind tome in their own fashion and according to their lights, and I would notfail them. Easter would fall late this year, --in the middle of April:there were still three months before Sara would be married, and mostlikely by that time I should need a few days' rest and change. 

The next morning I heard from Lesbia. It was a kind, sad little letter;she told me she was glad about Sara's engagement, and as they were stillat Hastings she and her mother had called at Warrior Square, and hadfound Sara and her _fiancé_ together. 

'I think it has improved Sara already, ' it went on; 'she was lookingexceedingly pretty, and in good spirits, and she seemed very proud ofher tall, grave-looking soldier. Mother and I always liked ColonelFerguson. He and Sara are complete contrasts; I think her brightnessand good-humour, as well as her beauty, have attracted him, for he ishonestly in love! I liked the quiet, deferential way in which he treatedher. I am sure he will make a kind husband. Mrs. Garston looked as happyas possible. I did not see Jocelyn; she was out riding with her father. 

'We are going down to dear Rutherford in March, but I have promised Sarato come up for the wedding. Don't sigh, Ursula: it is all in the day'swork, and one has to do trying things sometimes. 

'I have come to think that perhaps dear Charlie is better off where heis. He was so enthusiastic and so true that life must have disappointedhim. Perhaps I should have disappointed him too; but no, I should haveloved him too well to do that. 

'I shall love to be at Rutherford during the spring. Everything willremind me of those sweet spring days two years ago. Oh, those walks andrides, and the evening when we listened to the nightingale and he told methat he loved me! I remember the very patch of grass where I stood. Therewas a little clump of alders, and I can see how he looked then. Oh, Ursula, these memories are very sad, but they are sweet, too; for Charlieis our Charlie still, is he not?'

'Poor Lesbia!' I sighed, as I folded up her letter and prepared for myday's work. 'It must be hard for her to witness Sara's happiness, whenher own life is so clouded. Her heart is still true to Charlie; but sheis so young, and life is so long. I trust that better things are in storefor her. '

Miss Locke was recovering very slowly. Years of anxiety and hard workhad overtaxed her strength sorely. Mr. Hamilton used to shake his headover her tardy progress, and tell her that she was a very unsatisfactorypatient, and that he had expected to cure her long before this. 

'If it were not for you and my dear Miss Garston, I should never be lyinghere now, ' she returned gratefully. 'I must have died; you know that, doctor; and even now, in spite of all the good things you send me, I amso weary and fit for nothing I feel as though I should never sit upagain. '

'Oh, we shall have you up before long, ' he returned cheerfully. 'Youare only rather slow about it. You are not troubling about your work oranything else, I hope, because the rent is paid, and there is plenty inthe cupboard for Phoebe and Kitty. '

'I know you have paid the rent, and I shall never be grateful enough toyou, doctor; for what should I have done, with this long illness makingme behindhand with everything? I am afraid Miss Garston puts her hand inher pocket sometimes. I hope the Lord will bless you both for yourgoodness to two helpless women. Ay, and he will bless you, doctor!'

'I am sure I hope so, ' he returned, in a good-humoured tone, shaking herhand. 'There! mind what your nurse says, and keep yourself easy: you willfind Phoebe a different person when you see her next. '

I was afraid Phoebe would find her sister much changed when they met. Miss Locke had greatly aged since her illness; her hair was much grayer, and her face was sunken, and I doubted whether she would ever be the samewoman again. Mr. Hamilton and I had already discussed the sisters'future. 

'I am afraid they will be terribly pinched, ' he said once. 'Miss Lockeis suffering now from years of overwork. She will never be able to workas hard as she has done. And she has to provide for that child Kitty, aswell as for poor Phoebe. '

'We must think what is to be done, ' I replied. 'Miss Locke is a very goodmanager: she is careful and thrifty. A little will go a long way withher. '

Mr. Hamilton said no more on the subject just then, but a few daysafterwards he told me that he intended to buy the cottage. He had a gooddeal of house-property in Heathfield, and a cottage more or less did notmatter to him. 

'They shall live in it rent-free, and I will take care of the repairs. There will be no need for Miss Locke to work so hard then. She is a goodwoman, and I thoroughly respect her. Of course I know she is a favouriteof yours, Miss Garston, but you must not think that influences me. '

'As though I should imagine such a thing!' I returned, in quite anaffronted tone. But Mr. Hamilton only laughed. 

'You are such an insignificant person, you see, ' he went onmischievously. 'You are of so little use to your generation. People donot benefit by your example, or defer to your opinion. There is no St. Ursula in the calendar. ' Now what did he mean by all this rigmarole? Buthe only laughed again in a provoking way, and went out. 

I had had both the sisters on my hands. Those hours of fearful suspensehad told on Phoebe, and for a week or two we were very anxious about her. 

I kept the extent of her illness from Susan, and she never knew thatMr. Hamilton visited her daily. Strange to say, Phoebe gave us littletrouble. She bore her bodily sufferings with surprising patience, andeven made light of them; and she would thank me most gratefully when Iwaited on her. 

I was never long in her room. There was no reading or singing now. Nothing would induce her to keep me from Susan. She used to beg me togo back to Susan and leave her to Kitty. I never forgot Susan's look ofastonishment when I told her this. 

'Somehow, it doesn't sound like Phoebe, ' she said, looking at me alittle wistfully. 'Are you sure you understand her, Miss Garston?--thatsomething has not put her out? She has often sulked with me like that. '

'Oh, Phoebe never sulks now, ' I returned, smiling at this view of thecase. 'She is not like the same woman, Susan. She thinks of other peoplenow. ' Miss Locke heard me silently, but I saw that she was stillincredulous. She was not sanguine enough to hope for a miracle; andsurely only a miracle could change Phoebe's sullen and morbid nature. 

The sisters were longing to meet, but the helplessness of the one and thelong-protracted weakness of the other kept them long apart, though only ashort flight of stairs divided them. 

At last I thought we might venture to bring Susan into Phoebe's room. 

The weather was less severe, and Susan seemed a little stronger, so Kittyand I hurried ourselves in preparation for a festive tea in Phoebe'sroom. 

She watched us with unconcealed interest as we spread the tea-cloth, andarranged the best china, and then placed an easy-chair by her bedside. 

The room really looked very bright and cosy. A little gray kitten that Ihad brought Kitty was asleep on the quilt; Phoebe had taken a great fancyto the pretty, playful little creature, and it was always with her;Kitty's large wax doll was lying with its curly head on her pillow. 

Susan trembled very much as she entered the room, leaning heavily onmy arm. Phoebe lay quite motionless, watching her as she walked slowlytowards the bed, then her face suddenly grew pitiful, and she held outher arms. 

'Oh, how ill you look, my poor Susan, and so old and gray! but what doesit matter, so that I have got my Susan back? If you had died, I shouldhave died too; God never meant to punish me like that. ' And she strokedand kissed her face as though she were a child, and for a little whilethe two sisters mingled their tears together. 

Susan was too weak for much emotion, so I placed her comfortably in hereasy-chair, and bade her look at Phoebe without troubling to talk; buther heart was too full for silence. 

'Why, my woman, ' she burst out, 'you look real bonnie! I do believe yourface has got a bit of colour in it, and you remind me of the old Phoebe;nay, ' as Phoebe laughed at this, 'I never thought to hear you laughagain, my dearie. '

'It is with the pleasure of seeing you, ' returned Phoebe. 'If you onlyknew what I suffered while you lay ill! "there is no improvement, " theysaid, and Miss Garston looked at me so pityingly; and if you had died andnever spoken to me again, --and I had refused to bid you good-night, --youremember, Susan! oh, I think my heart would have broken if you had goneaway and left me like that. '

'Nay, I should have thought nothing about it, but that it was justPhoebe's way. Do you mean that you fretted about that, lass? Oh, ' turningto me, for Phoebe was crying bitterly over the recollection, 'I would notbelieve you, Miss Garston, when you said Phoebe was changed, for I saidto myself, "Surely she will be up to her old tricks again soon"; but nowI see you are right. Nay, never fret, my bonnie woman, for I loved youwhen you were as tiresome and cross-grained as possible. I think I cannothelp loving yon, ' finished Susan simply, as she took her sister's hand. 

That was a happy evening that we spent in Phoebe's room. When tea wasover we read a few chapters, Kitty and I, and then I sang some ofPhoebe's favourite songs. When I had finished, I looked at them: Phoebehad fallen asleep with Susan's hand still in hers: there was a look ofpeaceful rest on the worn gray face that made me whisper to Miss Locke, --

'The evil spirit is cast out at last, Susan. '

'Ay, ' returned Susan quietly. 'She is clothed and in her right mind, andI doubt not sitting at the feet of Him who has called her. I have got myPhoebe back again, thank God, as I have not seen her for many a longyear. '

CHAPTER XXVI

I HEAR ABOUT CAPTAIN HAMILTON

It was now more than five weeks since Gladys had left us, but during thattime I had heard from her frequently. 

Her letters were deeply interesting. She wrote freely, pouring out herthoughts on every subject without reserve. Somehow I felt, as I readthem, that those letters gave as much pleasure to the writer as to therecipient; and I found afterwards that this was the case. Herconsciousness of my sympathy with her made her open her heart more freelyto me than to any other person. She delighted in telling me of the booksshe read, in describing the various effects of nature. Her descriptionswere so powerful and graphic that they quite surprised me. She made mefeel as though I were walking through the fir woods beside her, orstanding on the sea-shore watching the white-crested waves rolling in andbreaking into foam at our feet. A sort of dewy freshness seemed to stampthe pages. Gladys loved nature with all her heart; she revelled in thesolemn grandeur of those woods, in the breadth and freedom of the ocean;it seemed to harmonise with her varying moods. 

'I feel a different creature already, ' she wrote when she had been awaya fortnight. 'Without owning myself happy (but happiness, active ornegative, will never come to me again), still I am calmer and more atpeace, --away from the oppressive influences that surrounded me at home. 

'I have made up my mind that the atmosphere of Gladwyn is fatal to mysoul's health. I seem to wither up like some sensitive plant in thatblighting air; half-truths, misunderstandings, and jealousies havecorroded our home peace. I am better away from it all, for here I can ownmyself ill and miserable, and no one blames or misapprehends my meaning:there are no harsh judgments under the guise of pity. 

'These dear people are so truly charitable, they think no evil of a poorgirl who is faithful to a brother's memory: they are patient with my sadmoods, they leave me free to follow out my wishes. I wander about as Iwill, I sketch or read, I sit idle; no one blames me; they are as good tome as you would be in their place. 

'I shall stay away as long as possible, until I feel strong enough totake up my life again. You will not be vexed with me, my dear Ursula: youknow how I have suffered; you of all others will sympathise with me. Think of the relief it is to wake up in the morning and feel that nojarring influences will be at work that day; that no eyes will pry intomy secret sorrow, or seek to penetrate my very thoughts; that I may lookand speak as I like; that my words will not be twisted to serve otherpeople's purposes. Forgive me if I speak harshly, but indeed you do notknow all yet. Your last letter made me a little sad, you speak so much ofGiles. Do you really think I am hard upon him? The idea is painful to me. 

'I like you to think well of him. He is a good man. I have alwaysthoroughly respected him, but there is no sympathy between us. Of courseit is more Etta's fault than his: she has usurped my place, and Giles nolonger needs me. Perhaps I am not kind to him, not sisterly or soft in mymanners; but he treats me too much as a child. He never asks my opinionon any subject. We live under his protection, and he never grudges usmoney; he is generous in that way; but he never enters into our thoughts. Lady Betty and I lead our own lives. 

'You ask me why I do not write to him, my dear Ursula. Such a thoughtwould never enter my head. Write to Giles! What should I say to him? Howwould such a letter ever get itself written? Do you suppose he would carefor me as a correspondent? I should like you to ask him that question, ifyou dared. Giles's face would be a study. I fancy I write that letter, --amarvellous composition of commonplace nothings. "My dear brother, I thinkyou will like to hear our Bournemouth news, " etc. I can imagine himtossing it aside as he opens his other letters: "Gladys has actuallywritten to me. I suppose she wants another cheque. See what she says, Etta. You may read it aloud, if you like, while I finish my breakfast. "Now do not look incredulous. I once saw Lady Betty's letter treated inthis way, and all her poor little sentences pulled to pieces in Etta'susual fashion. No, thank you, I will not write to Giles. I write to LadyBetty sometimes, but not often: that is why she comes to you for news. Weare a queer household, Ursula. I am very fond of my dear little LadyBetty, but somehow I have never enjoyed writing to her since Etta one dayhanded to her one of my letters opened by mistake. Lady Betty has fanciedthe mistake has occurred more than once. '

I put down this letter with a sigh; it was the only painful one I hadreceived from Gladys. My remark about her writing to her brother hadevidently upset her, but after this she did not speak much about Gladwyn, and by tacit consent we spoke little about any of her people except LadyBetty. When I mentioned Mr. Hamilton I did so casually, and only withreference to my own work. He was so mixed up with my daily life, I cameso continually into contact with him, that it was impossible to avoid hisname. 

Gladys understood this, for she once replied, --

'I am really and honestly glad that you and Giles work so well together. He will be a good friend to you, I know, for when he forms a favourableopinion of a person he is slow to change it, and Giles is one who, withall his faults, will go through fire and water for his friends. I like tohear of him in this way, for you always put him in the best light, andthough you may not believe it after all my hard speeches, I amsufficiently proud of my brother to wish him to be properly appreciated. 'And after this I mentioned him less reluctantly. 

Max came back about ten days after Jill had left us. I found him waitingfor me one evening when I got back to the cottage. As usual, he greetedme most affectionately, only he laughed when I made him turn to the lightthat I might see how he looked. 

'Well, what is your opinion, Ursula, my dear? I hope you have noticed thegray hairs in my beard. I saw them there this morning. '

'You are rather tanned by the cold winds. I suppose Torquay has done yougood; but your eyes have not lost their tired look, Max: you are not abit rested. '

'I believe I want more work: too much rest would kill me with ennui, 'stretching out his arms with a sort of weary gesture. 'I walked a greatdeal at Torquay; I was out in the air all day; but it did not seem to bewhat I wanted: I was terribly bored. Tudor is glad to get me back. Thefellow actually seems dull. Have you any idea what has gone wrong withhim, Ursula?' But I prudently turned a deaf ear to this question, and hedid not follow it up; and a moment afterwards he mentioned that he hadbeen at Gladwyn, and that Miss Darrell had given him a good account ofMiss Hamilton. 

'I had no idea that she was away until this afternoon. Her departure wasrather sudden, was it not?'

I think he was glad when I gave him Gladys's message; but he lookedrather grave when I told him how much she was enjoying her freedom. 

'She seems a different creature; those Maberleys are so good to her; theypet her, and yet leave her uncontrolled to follow her own wishes. I ammore at rest about her there. '

'A girl ought to be happy in her own home, ' he returned, somewhatmoodily. 'I think Miss Hamilton has indulged her sadness long enough. Perhaps there are other reasons for her being better. I suppose she hasnot heard--?' And here he stopped rather awkwardly. 

'Do you mean whether she has heard anything of Eric? Oh no, Max. '

'No, I was not meaning that, ' looking at me rather astonished. 'Of coursewe know the poor boy is dead. I was only wondering if she had had anIndian letter lately. Well, it is none of my affair, and I cannot wait tohear more now. Good-night, little she-bear; I am off. ' And he actuallywas off, in spite of my calling him quite loudly in the porch, for Iwanted him to tell me what he meant. Had Gladys any special correspondentin India? I wondered if I might venture to question Lady Betty. 

As it very often happens, she played quite innocently into my hands, forthe very next day she came to tell me that she had had a letter fromGladys. 

'It was a very short one, ' she grumbled. 'Only she had an Indian letterto answer, and that took up her time, so that was a pretty good excusefor once. '

'Has Gladys any special friend in India?'

'Only Claude!--I mean our cousin, Claude Hamilton. Have you not oftenheard us talk of him? How strange! Why, he used to stay with us formonths at a time, and he and Gladys were great friends: they correspond. He is Captain Hamilton now; his regiment was ordered to India just at thetime poor dear Eric disappeared; he was awfully shocked about that, Iremember. Etta wrote and told him all about it; he was a great favouriteof hers. We none of us thought him handsome except Etta; he was anice-looking fellow, but nothing else. '

'And you and Gladys are fond of him?'

'Oh yes. ' But here Lady Betty looked a little queer. 

'Gladys writes to him most: she has always been his correspondent. Now and then I get a letter written to me. You see, he has no one elsebelonging to him, now his mother is dead. Aunt Agnes died about two yearsago, and he never had brothers or sisters, so he adopted us. '

'Uncle Max knew him, of course?'

'To be sure. Mr. Cunliffe knew all our people. Claude was a favourite ofhis, too. I think every one liked him; he was so straightforward, andnever did anything mean. I think he will make a splendid officer; he hashad fever lately, and we rather expect he is coming home on sick-leave. Etta hopes so. '

'Gladys has never spoken of her cousin to me. '

'That is because you two are always talking about other things, --poorEric, for example. Gladys likes to talk about Claude, of course: he isher own cousin. ' And Lady Betty's manner was just a little defiant, asthough I had accused Gladys of some indiscretion. I heard her mutter, 'They find plenty of fault with her about that, ' but I took no notice. I had satisfied my curiosity, and I knew now why Max fancied an Indianletter would raise Gladys's spirits; but all the same he might havespoken out. Max had no business to be so mysterious with me. 

I heard Captain Hamilton's name again shortly afterwards. I was callingat Gladwyn one afternoon. I was loath to do so in Gladys's absence, butI dared not discontinue my visits entirely, for fear of Miss Darrell'sremarks. To my surprise, I found her _tête-à-tête_ with Uncle Max. Shewelcomed me with a great show of cordiality; but before I had been fiveminutes in the room I found out that my visit was inopportune, thoughMax seemed unfeignedly pleased to see me, and she had repeated his wordsin almost parrot-like fashion. 'Oh yes, I am so glad to see you, MissGarston! it is so good of you to call when dear Gladys is away! Of courseI know she is the attraction: we all know that, do we not?' smilingsweetly upon me. 'She has been away more than five weeks now, --dear, dear! how time flies!--really five weeks, and this is your first call. '

'You know how Miss Locke's illness has engrossed me, ' I remonstrated. 'I never pretend to mere conventional calls. '

'No, indeed. You have a code of your own, have you not? Your niece isfortunate, Mr. Cunliffe. She makes her own laws, while we poor inferiormortals are obliged to conform to the world's dictates. I wish I werestrong-minded like you. It must be such a pleasure to be free and despise_les convenances_. People are so artificial, are they not?'

'Ursula is not artificial, at any rate, ' returned Max, with a benevolentglance. It had struck me as I entered the room that he looked ratherbored and ill at ease, but Miss Darrell was in high spirits, and lookedalmost handsome. I never saw her better dressed. 

'No, indeed. Miss Garston is almost too frank; not that that is a fault. Oh yes, Miss Locke's illness has been a tedious affair: even Giles gotweary of it, and used to grumble at having to go every day. Of course, seeing Giles once or twice a day, you heard all our news, so we did notexpect you to toil up here: that would have been unnecessary troubleafter your hard work. '

Miss Darrell spoke quite civilly, and I do not know why her speechrankled and made me reply, rather quickly, --

'Nurses do not gossip with the doctor, Miss Darrell. Mr. Hamilton hastold me no news, I assure you. Gladys's letters tell me far more. '

I was angry with myself when I said this, for why need I have answeredher at all or taken notice of her remark? and, above all, why need I havementioned Gladys's name? Miss Darrell's colour rose in a moment. 

'Dear me! I am glad to hear dear Gladys writes to you. She does nothonour us. Lady Betty gets a note sometimes, but Giles and I are neverfavoured with a word. Giles feels terribly hurt about it sometimes, butI tell him it is only Gladys's way. Girls are careless sometimes. Ofcourse she does not mean to slight him. '

'Of course not, ' rather gravely from Max. 

'All the same it is very neglectful on Gladys's part. If you are a realfriend, Miss Garston, you will tell her what a mistake it is, --really afatal mistake, though I do not dare to tell her so. I see Giles's look ofdisappointment when the post brings him nothing but dry business letters. He is so anxious about her health. He let her go so willingly, and yetnot one word of recognition for her own, I may say her only, brother. '

Max was looking so exceedingly grave by this time that I longed to changethe subject. I would say a word in defence of Gladys when we were alone, he and I. It would be worse than useless to speak before Miss Darrell. She would twist my words before my face. I never said a word in Gladys'sbehalf that she did not make me repent it. 

The next moment, however, she had started on a different tack. 

'Oh, do you know, Mr. Cunliffe, ' she said carelessly, as she crossed thehearth-rug to ring the bell, 'we have heard again from Captain Hamilton?'

Max raised his head quickly. 'Indeed! I hope he is quite well. By thebye, I remember you told me he had a touch of fever; but I trust he hasgot the better of that. '

'We hope so, ' in a very impressive tone; 'but it was a sharp attack, andno doubt home-sickness and worry of mind accelerated the mischief. PoorClaude! I fear he has suffered much; not that he says so himself: he isfar too proud to complain. But he is likely to come home on sick-leave;next mail will settle the question, but I believe we may expect him aboutthe end of July. '

'Indeed! That is good news for all of you'; but the poker that Max hadtaken up fell with a little crash among the fire-irons. Miss Darrell gavea faint scream, and then laughed at her foolish nervousness. 

'It was very clumsy on my part, ' stammered Max. Could it be my fancy, orhad he turned suddenly pale, as though something had startled him too?

'Oh no, it was only my poor nerves, ' replied Miss Darrell, with herbrightest smile. 'What was I saying? Oh yes, I remember now, --aboutClaude: he wrote to Gladys to ask if he might come, and she said yes. Ah, here comes tea, and I believe I heard Giles's ring at the bell. '

I cannot tell which of the two revealed it to me, --whether it was thesudden pallor on Max's face, or the curious watchful look that I detectedin Miss Darrell's eyes: it was only there for a moment, but it remindedme of the look with which a cat eyes the mouse she has just drawn withinher claws. I saw it all then with a quick flash of intuition. I hadpartly guessed it before, but now I was sure of it. 

My poor Max, so brave and cheery and patient! But she should not tormenthim any longer in my presence. If he had to suffer, --and the cause ofthat suffering was still a mystery to me, --she should not spy out hisweakness. He had turned his face aside with a quick look of pain as hespoke, and the next moment I had mounted the breach and was begging MissDarrell to assist me in the case of a poor family, --old hospitalacquaintances of mine, who were emigrating to New Zealand. 

My importunity seemed to surprise her. My sudden loquacity was aninterruption; but I would not be repressed or silenced. I took the chairbeside her, and made her look at me. I fixed her wandering attention andpressed her until she grew irritable with impatience. I saw Max wasrecovering himself: by and by he gave a forced laugh. 

'You will have to give in, Miss Darrell. Ursula always gets her own way. How much do you want, child? You must be merciful to a poor vicar. Willthat satisfy you?' offering me a sovereign, and Miss Darrell, after amoment's hesitation, produced the same sum from her purse. 

I took her money coolly, but I would not resign the reins of theconversation any more into her hands. When Mr. Hamilton entered the roomhe stopped and looked at me with visible astonishment: he had never heardme so fluent before; but somehow my eloquence died a natural death afterhis entrance. I was still a little shy with Mr. Hamilton. 

His manner was unusually genial this afternoon. I was sure he wasdelighted to see us both there again. He spoke to Max in a jesting tone, and then looked benignly at his cousin, who was superintending thetea-table. She certainly looked uncommonly well that day; her dress ofdark maroon cashmere and velvet fitted her fine figure exquisitely; herwhite, well-shaped hands were, as usual, loaded with brilliant rings. Shewas a woman who needed ornaments: they would have looked lavish on anyone else, they suited her admirably. Once I caught her looking withmarked disfavour on my black serge dress: the pearl hoop that had been mymother's keeper was my sole adornment. I daresay she thought me extremelydowdy. I once heard her say, in a pointed manner, that 'her cousin Gilesliked to see his women-folk well dressed; he was very fastidious on thatpoint, and exceedingly hard to please. '

Mr. Hamilton seemed in the best of humours. I do not think that heremarked how very quiet Max was all tea-time. He pressed us to remain todinner, and wanted to send off a message to the vicarage; but we wereneither of us to be persuaded, though Miss Darrell joined her entreatiesto her cousin's. 

I was anxious to leave the house as quickly as possible, and I knew byinstinct what Max's feelings must be. I could not enjoy Mr. Hamilton'sconversation, amusing as it was. I wanted to be alone with Max; I feltI could keep silence with him no longer. But we could not get rid of Mr. Hamilton; as we rose to take our departure he coolly announced hisintention of walking with us. 

'The Tylcotes have sent for me again, ' he said casually. 'I may as wellwalk down with you now. ' He looked at me as he spoke, but I am afraid mymanner disappointed him. For once Mr. Hamilton was decidedly _de trop_. I am sure he must have noticed my hesitation, but it made no differenceto his purpose. I had found out by this time that when Mr. Hamilton hadmade up his mind to do a certain thing, other people's moods did notinfluence him in the least. He half smiled as he went out to put on hisgreatcoat, and, as though he intended to punish me for my want ofcourtesy, he talked to Max the whole time; not that I minded it in theleast, only it was just his lordly way. 

To my great relief, however, he left us as soon as we reached thevicarage, so I wished him good-night quite amiably, and of course Maxwalked on with me to the cottage. 

He was actually leaving me at the gate without a word except 'Good-night, Ursula, ' but I laid my hand on his arm. 

'You must come in, Max. I want to speak to you. '

'Not to-night, my dear, ' he returned hurriedly. 'I have business lettersto write before dinner. '

'They must wait, then, ' I replied decidedly, 'for I certainly do notintend to let you leave me just yet. Don't be stubborn, Max, for you knowI always get my own way. Come in. I want to tell you why Gladys neverwrites to her brother. ' And he followed me into the house without a word. 

CHAPTER XXVII

MAX OPENS HIS HEART

But I did not at once join Max in the parlour, though he was evidentlyexpecting me to do so: instead of that, I ran upstairs to take off mywalking-things. It would be better to leave him alone a few minutes. WhenI returned he was leaning back in the easy-chair, with his hands claspedbehind his head, evidently absorbed in thought. I was struck by hisexpression: it was that of a man who was nerving himself to bear somegreat trouble; there was a quiet, hopeless look on his face that touchedme exceedingly. I took the chair opposite him, and waited for him tospeak. He did not change his attitude when he saw me, but he looked at megravely, and said, 'Well, Ursula?' but there was no interest in his tone. 

Of course I knew what he meant, but I let that pass, and something seemedto choke my voice as I tried to answer him:

'Never mind that now: we will come to that presently. I want to tell youthat I know it now, Max. I guessed a little of it before, but now I amsure of it. '

I had roused him effectually. A sort of dusky red came to his faceas he sat up and looked at me. He did not ask me what I meant: weunderstood each other in a moment. He only sighed heavily, and said, 'Ihave never told you anything, Ursula, have I?' but his manner testifiedno displeasure. He would never have spoken a word to me of his ownaccord, and yet my sympathy would be a relief to him. I knew Max's natureso well: he was a shy, reticent man; he could not speak easily of his ownfeelings unless the ice were broken for him. 

'Max, ' I pleaded, and the tears came into my eyes, 'if my dear motherwere living you would have told her all without reserve. '

'I should not have needed to tell her: she would have guessed it, Ursula. Poor Emmie! I never could keep anything from her. I have often told youyou are like her: you reminded me of her this afternoon. '

'Then you must make me your _confidante_ in her stead. Do not refuseme again, Max: I have asked this before. In spite of our strangerelationship, we are still like brother and sister. You know how quicklyI guessed Charlie's secret: surely you can speak to me, who am herfriend, of your affection for Gladys. '

I saw him shrink a little at that, and his honest brown eyes were full ofpain. 

'My affection for Gladys, ' he repeated, in a low voice. 'You are veryfrank, Ursula; but somehow I do not seem to mind it. I never care forMiss Darrell to speak to me on the subject, although she has been sokind; in fact, no one could have been kinder. We can only act up to ourown natures: it is certainly not her fault, but only my misfortune, thather sympathy jars on me. '

Max's words gave me acute pain. 

'Surely you have not chosen Miss Darrell for your _confidante_, Max?'

'I have chosen no one, ' he returned, with gentle rebuke at my vehemence. 'Circumstances made Miss Darrell acquainted with my unlucky attachment. She did all she could to help me, and out of common gratitude I could notrefuse to listen to her well-meant efforts to comfort me. '

I remained silent from sheer dismay. Things were far worse than I hadimagined. I began to lose hope from the moment I heard Miss Darrell hadbeen mixed up in the affair; the thought sickened me. I could hardly bearto hear Max speak; and yet how was I to help him unless he made meacquainted with the real state of the case?

'I suppose I had better tell you all from the beginning, ' he said, ratherdejectedly; 'that is, as far as I know myself, for I can hardly tell youwhen I began to love Gladys. I call her Gladys to myself, ' with a faintsmile, 'and it comes naturally to me. I ought to have said MissHamilton. '

'But not to me, Max, ' I returned eagerly. 

'What does it matter what I call her? She will never take the only nameI want to give her!' was the melancholy reply to this. 'I only know onething, Ursula, that for three years--ay, and longer than that--she hasbeen the one woman in the world to me, and that as long as she and I liveno other woman shall ever cross the threshold of the vicarage as itsmistress. '

'Has it gone so deep as that, my poor Max?'

'Yes, ' he returned briefly. 'But we need not enter into that part of thesubject; a man had best keep his own counsel in such matters. I want totell you bare facts, Ursula; we may as well leave feelings alone. If youcan help me to understand one or two points that are still misty to mycomprehension, you will do me good service. '

'I will try my very best for you both. '

'Thank you, but we cannot both be helped in the same way; our paths donot lie together. Miss Hamilton has refused to become my wife. '

'Oh, Max! not refused, surely. ' This was another blow, --that heshould have tried and failed, --that Gladys with her own lips shouldhave refused him; but perhaps he had written to her, and there was somemisunderstanding; but when I hinted this to Max he shook his head. 

'We cannot misunderstand a person's words. Oh yes, I spoke to her, and she answered me; but I must not tell you things in this desultoryfashion, or you will never understand. I have told you that I do notknow when my attachment to Miss Hamilton commenced. It was gradual andimperceptible at first, --very real, no doubt, but it had not mastered myreason. I always admired her: how could I help it?' with some emotion. 'Even you, who are not her lover, have owned to me that she is abeautiful creature. I suppose her beauty attracted me first, until I sawthe sweetness and unselfishness of her nature, and from that moment Ilost my heart. 

'The full consciousness came to me at the time of their trouble aboutEric. I had been fond of the poor fellow, for his own sake as well ashers, but I never disguised his faults from her. I often told her that Ifeared for Eric's future; he had no ballast, it wanted a moral earthquaketo steady him, and it was no wonder that his caprices and extravagantmoods angered his brother. She used to be half offended with me for myplain speaking, but she was too gentle to resent it, and she would begme to use my influence with Hamilton to entreat him not to be so hardon Eric. 

'When the blow came, I was always up at Gladwyn once, sometimes twice, aday. They all wanted me; it was my duty to be their consoler. I am gladto remember now that I was some comfort to her. '

'Wait a moment, Max; I must ask you something. Do you believe that Ericwas guilty?'

'I am almost sorry that you have put that question, ' he returnedreluctantly. 'I never would tell her what I thought. It was all amystery. Eric might have been tempted; it was not for me to say. Shecould see I was doubtful. I told her that, whether he were sinned againstor sinning, our only thought should be to bring him back and reconcilehim to his brother. "God will prove his innocence if he be blackenedfalsely, " I said to her; and, strange to say, she forgave me my doubts. '

'Oh, Max, I see what you think. '

'How can I help it, ' he replied, 'knowing Eric's character so well? hewas so weak and impulsive, so easily led astray, and then he was underbad influences. You will have heard Edgar Brown's name. He was a wild, dissipated fellow, and Hamilton had a right to forbid the acquaintance;both he and I knew that Edgar had low propensities, and was alwayslounging about public-houses with a set of loafers like himself. He hasgot worse since then, and has nearly broken his mother's heart. Do youthink any man with a sense of responsibility would permit a youth ofEric's age to have such a friend? Yet this was a standing grievance withEric, and I am sorry to say his sister took Edgar's part. Of course sheknew no better: innocence is credulous, and Edgar was a sprightly, good-looking fellow, the sort that women never fail to pet. '

'Yes, I see. Eric was certainly to blame in this. '

'He was faulty on many more points. I am afraid, Ursula you have beensomewhat biassed by Miss Hamilton. You must remember that she idolisedEric, --that she was blind to many of his faults; she made excuses for himwhenever it was possible to do so, but with all her weak partiality shecould not deny that he was thriftless, idle, and extravagant, that hedefied his brother's authority, that he even forgot himself so far as touse bad language in his presence. I believe, once, he even struck him;only Hamilton declared he had been drinking, so he merely turned him outof the room. '

I looked at Max sadly. 'This may be all true; but I cannot believe thathe took that cheque. '

'The circumstantial evidence against him is very strong, ' he repliedquietly. 'You do not know what power a sudden temptation has over theseweak natures: he was hard pressed, remember that; he had gambling debts, thanks to Edgar. Fancy gambling debts at twenty! I have tried to takeMiss Hamilton's view of the case, but I cannot bring myself to believein his innocence. Most likely he repented the moment he had done it, poor boy. Eric was no hardened sinner. I sometimes fear--at least, theterrible thought has crossed my mind, and I know Hamilton has had ittoo--that in his despair he might have made away with himself. '

'Oh, Max, this is too horrible!' And I shuddered as I thought of thebeautiful young face so like Gladys's, with its bright frank look thatseemed to appeal to one's heart. 

'Well, well, we need not speak of it; but it was a sad time for all ofus; and yet in some ways it was a happy time to me. It was such a comfortto feel that I was necessary to them all; that they looked for me daily;that they could not do without me. I used to be with Hamilton everyevening; and when Gladys was very ill they sent for me, because theysaid no one knew how to soothe her so well. 

'Do you wonder, Ursula, that, seeing her in her weakness and sorrow, shegrew daily into my life, that my one thought was how I could help andcomfort her?

'She was very gentle and submissive, and followed my advice ineverything. When I told her that only work could cure her sore heart, she did not contradict me: in a little while I had to check her feverishactivity. She had overwhelmed herself with duties; she managed ourmothers' meetings with Miss Darrell's help, taught in our schools, andhelped train the choir. I had allotted her a district, and she worked itadmirably. She was my right hand in everything; all the poor peopleworshipped her. '

'Yes, Max, ' for he paused, as though overwhelmed with some bitter-sweetrecollection. 

'I loved her more each day, but I respected her sorrow, and tried to hidemy feelings from her. It was more than a year after Eric's disappearancebefore I ventured to speak, and then it was by Hamilton's advice that Idid so. He had set his heart on the match. He told me more than once thathe would rather have me as a brother-in-law than any other man. 

'I thought I had prepared her sufficiently, but it seems that she wasvery much, startled by my proposal. Her trouble had so engrossed her thatshe had been perfectly blind to my meaning. It was all in vain, Ursula, for she did not love me, --at least not in the right way. She told me sowith tears, accusing herself of unkindness. She liked, most certainly sheliked me, but perhaps she knew me too well. 

'She was so unhappy at the thought of giving me pain, so sweet and gentlein her efforts to console me and heal the wound she had inflicted, that Icould not lose hope. She told me that, though she had trusted me entirelyas her friend, she had never thought of me as her lover, and the idea wasstrange to her. This thought gave me courage, and I begged that I mightbe allowed to speak to her again at some future time. 

'She wanted to refuse, and said hurriedly that she never intended tomarry. But I took these words as meaning nothing. A girl will tell youthis and believe it as she says it. I suppose I pressed her hard to leaveme this margin of hope, for after reflecting a few minutes she looked atme gravely and said it should be as I wished. In a year's time I mightspeak to her again, and she would know her own mind. 

'I pleaded for a shorter ordeal, though secretly I was overjoyed at thiscrumb of consolation vouchsafed to me. But she was inexorable, thoughperfectly gentle in her manner. 

'"I wish you had set your heart on some one else, Mr. Cunliffe, "she said, with a melancholy smile, "for I can give you so littlesatisfaction. I feel so confused and weary, as though life afforded meno pleasure. But, indeed, I do all you tell me, and I mean to go on withmy work. "

'I was glad to hear her say this, for at least I should have thehappiness of seeing her every day. 

'"In a year's time, " she went on, "my heart may feel a little less heavy, and I shall have had opportunity to reflect over your words. I cannottell you what my answer may be, but if you are wise you will not hope. Ifyou do not come to me then, I shall know that you have changed, and shallnot blame you in the least. You are free to choose any one else. I haveso little encouragement to give you that I shall not expect you to submitto this ordeal. " But I think her firmness was a little shaken, and shelooked at me rather timidly when I thanked her very quietly and said thatat the time appointed I would speak to her again. I supposed she had notrealised the strength of my feelings. 

'Ursula, I was by no means hopeless. And as the months passed on my hopesgrew. 

'I saw her daily, and after the first awkwardness had passed we were goodfriends. But her manner changed insensibly. She was less frank with me;at times she was almost shy. I saw her change colour when I looked ather. She was quiet in my presence, and yet my coming pleased her. Ithought it would be well with me when the time came for renewing mysuit; but it seems that I was a blind fool. 

'I had put down the exact date, May 7. It was last year, Ursula. I meantto adhere to the very day and hour; but before February closed my hopeshad suffered eclipse. 

'All at once Miss Hamilton's manner became cold and constrained, asyou see it now. Her soft shyness, that had been so favourable a sign, disappeared entirely. She avoided me on every occasion. She seemed tofear to be alone with me a moment. Her nervousness was so visible and sodistressing that I often left her in anger. A barrier--vague, and yetsubstantial--seemed built up between us. 

'She began to neglect her work, and then to make excuses. She wasoverdone, and suffered from headache. The school-work tired her. Youhave heard it all, Ursula: I need not repeat it. 

'One by one she dropped her duties. The parish knew her no more. Shecertainly looked ill. Her melancholy increased. Something was evidentlypreying on her mind. 

'One day Miss Darrell spoke to me. She had been very kind, and had fed myhopes all this time. But now she was the bearer of bad news. 

'She came to me in the study, while I was waiting for Hamilton. Shelooked very pale and discomposed, and asked if she might speak to me. Shewas very unhappy about me, but she did not think it right to let it goon. Gladys wanted me to know. And then it all came out. 

'It could never be as I wished. Miss Hamilton had been trying all thistime to like me, and once or twice she thought she had succeeded, but thefeeling had never lasted for many days. I was not the right person. Thiswas the substance of Miss Darrell's explanation. 

'"You know Gladys, " she went on, "how sensitive and affectionate hernature is; how she hates to inflict pain. She is working herself up intoa fever at the thought that you will speak to her again. 

'"It was too terrible last time, Etta, " she said to me, bursting intotears. "I cannot endure it again. How am I to tell him about Claude?"

'"About Claude!" I almost shouted. Miss Darrell looked frightened at myviolence. She shrank back, and turned still paler. I noticed her handstrembled. 

'"Oh, have you not noticed?" she returned feebly. "Oh, what a cruel taskthis is! and you are so good, --so good. "

'"Tell me what you mean!" I replied angrily, for I felt so savage at thatmoment that a word of sympathy was more than I could bear. You would nothave known me at that moment, Ursula. I am not easily roused, as youknow, but the blow was too sudden. I must have forgotten myself to havespoken to Miss Darrell in that tone. When I looked at her, her mouth wasquivering like a frightened child's, and there were tears in her eyes. 

'"I scarcely know that it is you, " she faltered. "Are men all like thatwhen their wills are crossed? It is not my fault that you are hurt inthis way. And it is not Gladys's either. She has tried--I am sure she hastried her hardest--to bring herself to accede to your wishes. But a womancannot always regulate her own heart. "

'"You have mentioned Captain Hamilton's name, " I returned coldly, for herwords seemed only to aggravate and widen the sore. "Perhaps you willkindly explain what he has to do with the matter?"

'She hesitated, and looked at me in a pleading manner. I saw that she didnot wish to speak; but for once I was inexorable. 

'"I must rely upon your honour, then, not to repeat my words either toGiles or Gladys. Your doing so would bring Gladys into trouble; and, after all, there is nothing definitely settled. " I nodded assent to this, and she went on rather reluctantly:

"Claude was always fond of Gladys, but we never knew how much he admiredher until he went away. They are only half-cousins. Gladys's father wasstep-brother to Claude's. Giles has always been averse to cousinsmarrying, but we thought this would make a difference. "

'"They are engaged, then?" I asked, in a loud voice, that seemed tostartle Miss Darrell. 

'"Oh no, no, " she returned eagerly; "there is no engagement at all. Claude writes to her, and she answers him, and I think he is making waywith her: she has owned as much to me. Gladys is not one to talk of herfeelings, especially on this subject; but it is easy to see how absorbedshe is in those Indian letters; she is always brighter and more likeherself when she has heard from Claude. "

'"I am to deduce from all this that you believe Captain Hamilton has abetter chance of winning her affections than I?"

'Again she hesitated, then drew a foreign letter slowly from her pocket. "I think I must read you a sentence from his last letter: he often writesto me as well as to Gladys. Yes, here it is: 'Your last letter has been agreat comfort to me, my dear Etta: it was more than a poor fellow had aright to expect. I do believe that this long absence has served mypurpose, and the scratch I got at Singapore. Girls are curious creatures;one never can tell how to tackle them, and my special cousin knows how tokeep one at a distance, but I begin to feel I am making way at last. Shewrote to me very sweetly last mail. I carry that letter everywhere; therewas a sweetness about it that gave me hope. If I can get leave, --thoughheaven knows when that will be, --I mean to come home and carry the breachboldly. I shall first show her my wound and my medal, and then throwmyself at her pretty little feet. Gladys--' No, I must not read any more;you see how it is, Mr. Cunliffe?"

'"Yes, I see how it is, " I returned slowly. "Forgive me if I have beenimpatient or unmindful of your kindness. " And then I took up my hat andleft the room, and it was weeks before I set foot in Gladwyn again. '

'Oh, Max! my poor Max!' I returned, stroking his hand softly. He did nottake it away: he only looked at me with his kind smile. 

'That was Emmie's way, --her favourite little caress. Wait a moment, Ursula, my dear; I am going out for a breath of air, ' And he stood in theporch for a few minutes, looking up at the winter sky seamed with stars, and then came back to me quietly, and waited for me to speak. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

CROSSING THE RIVER

Max waited for me to speak, but I had no words ready for the occasion. Mysilence seemed to perplex him. 

'You have heard everything now, Ursula. '

'Yes, I suppose so. I am very sorry for you, Max; you have sufferedcruelly. And this only happened last year?'

'Last February. '

'It is very strange, --very mysterious. I do not seem to understand it. I cannot find the clue to all this. '

'There is no clue needed, ' he returned impatiently. 'Miss Hamilton is inlove with her cousin, and is sorry for my disappointment. '

'I do not believe it, ' I replied bluntly. And yet, as I said this, Gladys's conduct seemed to me perfectly inexplicable. It was justpossible that Max's statement, after all, might be correct, --that she didnot love him well enough to marry him: and this would account for hernervousness and constraint in his presence: a sensitive girl like Gladyswould never be at her ease under such circumstances. But she had promisednot to withdraw her friendship: why had she then given up her work andmade herself a stranger to his dearest interest? I had seen her strugglewith herself when he had begged her to resume her class. A brightness hadcome to her eyes, her manner had become warm and animated, as though thestirring of new life were in her veins, and then she had refused him verygently, and a certain dimness and blight had crept over her. I hadwondered then at her. 

No, I could not bring myself to believe that she was indifferent to Max. He was so good, so worthy of her. And yet--and yet, do we women alwayschoose the best? Perhaps, as Max said, she knew him too well for him toinfluence her fancy. Captain Hamilton's scars and medals might cast aglamour over her. Gladys was very impulsive and enthusiastic; perhaps Maxwas too quiet and gentle to take her heart by storm. 

I had plenty of time for these reflections, for Max sat moodily silentafter my blunt remark, but at last he said, --

'I am afraid I believe it, Ursula, and that is more to the purpose. MissDarrell has dispelled my last hope. '

'You mean that Captain Hamilton's return speaks badly for your chances?'

'I have no chances, ' very gloomily. 'I am out of the running. MissHamilton's message--for I suppose it was a message--was my final answer. She did not wish me to speak to her again. '

'Are you sure that she sent that message?'

'Am I sure that I am sitting here?' he answered, rather irritably. 'Whathave you got in your head, Ursula, my dear? You must not let personaldislike influence your better judgment. Perhaps Miss Darrell is not to mytaste; I think her sometimes officious and wanting in delicacy; but I donot doubt her for a moment. '

'That is a pity, ' I returned drily, 'for she is certainly not true; butall you men swear by her. ' For I felt--heaven forgive me!--almost ahatred of this woman, unreasonable as it seemed; but women have theseinstincts sometimes, and Max had warned me against Miss Darrell from thefirst. 

'I will be frank with you, ' I continued, more quietly. 'I do not readbetween the lines: in other words, I do not understand Gladys'sbehaviour. It may be as you say; I do not wish to delude you with falsehopes, my poor Max; Gladys may care more for Captain Hamilton than shedoes for you; but it seems to me that you acted wrongly on one point; youmeant it for the best; but you ought to have spoken to Gladys yourself. '

'I wonder that you should say that, Ursula, ' he returned, in rather ahurt voice. 'I may be weak about Miss Hamilton, but I am hardly as weakas that. Do you think me capable of persecuting the woman I love?'

'It would not be persecution, ' I replied firmly, for I was determinedto speak my mind on this point. 'Miss Darrell may have misconstruedher meaning: the truth loses by repetition: she may have added to ordiminished her words. A third person should never be mixed up in a loveaffair: trouble always comes of it. I think you were wrong, Max: you letyourself be managed by Miss Darrell. She has nothing to do with you orGladys. '

'I could not help it if she came to me. '

'True, she thrust herself in between you. Well, it is too late to speakof that now. If you will take my advice, Max, ' for the thought had comeupon me like a flash of inspiration, 'you will go down to Bournemouth andspeak to Gladys, keeping your own counsel and telling no one of yourintention. '

I saw Max stare at me as though he thought I had lost my senses, and thena sudden light came into his eyes. 

'You will go down to Bournemouth, ' I went on, 'and the Maberleys will beglad to see you; you are an old friend, and they will ask no questionsand think no ill. You will have no difficulty in seeing Gladys alone. Speak to her promptly and frankly; ask her what her behaviour has meant, and if she really prefers her cousin. If you must know the worst, it willbe better to know it now, and from her own lips. Do go, Max, like a braveman. ' But even before I finished speaking, the light had died out of hiseyes, and his manner had resumed its old sadness. 

'No, Ursula; you mean well, but it will not do. I cannot persecute herin this way. Captain Hamilton is coming home in July: she has given himpermission to come. I will wait for that. I shall very soon see howmatters stand between them. I shall only need to see her with him;probably I shall not speak to her at all. '

I could have wrung my hands over Max's obstinacy and quixotism: hecarried his generosity to a fault. Few men would be so patient andforbearing. 

How could he stand aside hopelessly and let another man win his prize?But perhaps he considered it was already won. I pleaded with him again. I even went so far as to contradict my theory about a third person, andoffered to sound Gladys about her cousin; but he silenced meperemptorily. 

'Promise me that you will do nothing of the kind; give me your word ofhonour, Ursula, that you will respect my confidence. Good heavens! if Ithought that you would betray me, and to her of all people, I shouldindeed bitterly repent my trust in you. '

Max was so agitated, he spoke so angrily, that I hastened to soothe him. Of course his confidence was sacred; how could he think such things ofme? I was not like Miss--. But here I pulled myself up. He might be asblind and foolish as he liked, he might commit suicide and I would nothinder him; he should enjoy his misery in his own way. And more to thateffect. 

'Now I have made you cross, little she-bear, ' he said, laying his handon mine, 'and you have been so patient and have given my woes such acomfortable hearing. You frightened me for a moment, for I know how quickand impulsive you can be. No, no, my dear. I hold you to your own words:a third person must not be mixed up in a love affair; it only bringstrouble. '

'You have proved the truth of my words, ' I remarked coolly. 'Very well, I suppose I must forgive you; only never do it again, on your peril: youknow I am to be trusted. '

'To be sure; you are as true as steel, Ursula. '

'Very well, then: in that case you have nothing to fear. I will be wiseand wary for your sake, and guard your honour sacredly as my own; if Ican give you a gleam of hope, I will. Anyhow, I shall watch. '

'Thank you, dear. And now we will not talk any more about it; now youknow why I wanted you to be her friend. I am glad to think she is so fondof you. ' But I would not let him change the subject just yet. 

'Max, ' I said, detaining him, for he rose to go, 'all this is dreadfullyhard for you. Shall you go away--if--if--this happens?'

'No, ' he returned quietly; 'it is they who will go away. Captain Hamiltoncannot leave his regiment: he is far too fond of an active life. It willbe dreary enough, God knows, but it will not be harder than the life Ihave led these twelve months, trying to win her back to her work and toput myself in the background. It has worn me out, Ursula. I could notstand that sort of thing much longer. It is a relief to me that she isaway. '

'Yes, I can understand this. '

'It makes one think, after all, that the extreme party have something intheir argument in favour of the celibacy of the clergy. Not that I holdwith them, for all that; but all this sort of thing takes the heart outof a man, and comes between him and his work. I should be a better priestif I were a happier man, Ursula. '

'I doubt that, Max. ' And the tears rose to my eyes, for I knew how goodhe was, and what a friend to his people. 

'My dear, I differ from you. I believe there is no work like happywork, --work done by a heart at leisure from itself; but of course weclergy and laity must take what heaven sends us. ' And then he held outhis hands to me, and I suppose he saw how unhappy I was for his sake. 

'Don't fret about me, my dear little Ursula, ' he said kindly. 'The backgets fitted for the burden, and by this time I have grown accustomed tomy pain; it will all be right some day: I shall not be blamed up therefor loving her. ' And he left me with a smile. 

I passed a miserable evening thinking of Max. Next to Charlie, he hadbeen my closest friend from girlhood; I had been accustomed to look tohim for advice in all my difficulties, to rely upon his counsel. I knewthat people who were comparatively strangers to him thought he was almosttoo easy-going, and a little weak from excess of good-nature. He was tootolerant of other folk's failings; they said he preached mercy whereseverity would be more bracing and wholesome; and no doubt they thoughtthat he judged himself as leniently; but they did not know Max. 

I never knew a man harder to himself. Charitable to others, he had noself-pity; selfish aims were impossible to him. He who could not endureto witness even a child or an animal suffer, would have plucked out hisright eye or parted with his right hand, in gospel phrase, if by doing sohe could witness to the truth or spare pain to a weaker human being. Itwas this knowledge of his inner life that made Max so priestly in myeyes. I knew he was pure enough and strong enough to meet even Gladys'sdemands. Nothing but a modern Bayard would ever satisfy her fastidioustaste; she would not look on a man's stature, or on his outward beauty;such things would seem paltry to her; but he who aspired to be her lordand master must be worthy of all reverence and must have won his spurs:so much had I learnt from my friendship with Gladys. 

I pondered over Max's words, and tried to piece the fragments of ourconversation with recollections of my talks with Gladys. I recalled muchthat had passed. I endeavoured to find the clue to her downcast, troubledlooks, her quenched and listless manner. I felt dimly that some strangemisunderstanding wrapped these two in a close fog. What had brought aboutthis chill, murky atmosphere, in which they failed to recognise eachother's meaning? This was the mystery: lives had often been shipwreckedfrom these miserable misunderstandings, for want of a word. I feltcompletely baffled, and before the evening was over I could have criedwith the sense of utter failure and bewilderment. If Max's chivalrousscruples had not tied my hands, I would have gone to Gladys boldly andasked her what it all meant; I would have challenged her truth; I wouldhave compelled her to answer me; but I dared not break my promise. Byletter and in the spirit I would respect Max's wishes. 

But I resolved to watch: no eyes should be so vigilant as mine. I wasdetermined, that nothing should escape my scrutiny; at least I was inpossession of certain facts that would help me in finding the clue Iwanted. I knew now that Max loved Gladys and had tried to win her: thathe had nearly done so was also evident. What had wrought that suddenchange? Had Captain Hamilton's brilliant successes really dazzled herfancy and blinded her to Max's quiet unobtrusive virtues? Did she reallyand truly prefer her cousin? This was what I had to find out, and hereMax could not help me. 

There was one thing I was glad to know, --that Mr. Hamilton favoured Max'ssuit. At least I should not be working against him. I do not know why, but the thought of doing so would have pained me: I no longer wished toarray myself for war against Mr. Hamilton; my enmity had died a naturaldeath for want of fuel. 

I felt grateful to him for his kindness to Max; no doubt he had afellow-feeling with him. That dear old gossip, Mrs. Maberley, had toldme something about Mr. Hamilton on my second visit that had made me feelvery sorry for him. Max knew about it, of course; he had said a word tome once on the subject, but it was not Max's way to gossip about hisneighbours; he once said, laughing, that he left all the choice bitsof scandal to his good old friend at Maplehurst. 

It was from Mrs. Maberley that I heard all about Mr. Hamilton'sdisappointment, and why he had not married. When he was abouteight-and-twenty he had been engaged to a young widow. 

'She was a beautiful creature, my dear, ' observed the old lady; 'thecolonel said he had never seen a handsomer woman. She was an Irishbeauty, and had those wonderful gray eyes and dark eyelashes that makeyou wonder what colour they are, and she had the sweetest smile possible;any man would have been bewitched by it. I never saw a young man more inlove than Giles: when he came here he could talk of nothing but Mrs. Carrick: her name was Ella, I remember. Well, it went on for some months, and he was preparing for the wedding, --there was to be a nursery gotready, for she had one little boy, and Giles already doted on thechild, --when all at once there came a letter from his lady-love; and avery pretty letter it was. Giles must forgive her, it said, she wasutterly wretched at the thought of the pain she was giving him, but shewas mistaken in the strength of her attachment. She had come to theconclusion that they would not be happy together, that in fact shepreferred some one else. 

'She did not mention that this other lover was richer than Giles and hada title, but of course he found out that this was the case. The fickleIrish beauty had caught the fancy of an elderly English nobleman with alarge family of grown-up sons and daughters. My dear, it was a veryheartless piece of work: it changed Giles completely. He never spokeabout it to any one, but if ever a man was heart-broken, Giles was: hewas never the same after that; it made him hard and bitter; he is alwaysrailing against women, or saying disagreeable home-truths about them. Andof course Mrs. Carrick, or rather Lady Howe, is to blame for that. Oh, mydear, she may deck herself with diamonds, as they say she does, and callherself happy, --which she is not, with a gouty, ill-tempered old husbandwho is jealous of her, --but I'll be bound she thinks of Giles sometimeswith regret, and scorns herself for her folly. '

Poor Mr. Hamilton! And this had all happened about six or seven yearsago. No wonder he looked stern and said bitter things. He was notnaturally sweet-tempered, like Max; such a misfortune would sour him. 

'All well, ' I said to myself, as I went up to bed, 'it is perfectly truewhat Longfellow says, "Into each life some rain must fall, some days mustbe dark and dreary"; but it is strange that they both have suffered. Itis a good thing, perhaps, that such an experience is never likely tohappen to me. There is some consolation to be deduced even from my wantof beauty: no man will fall in love with me and then play me false. ' Andwith that a curious feeling came over me, a sudden inexplicable sense ofwant and loneliness, something I could not define, that took no definiteshape and had no similitude, and yet haunted me with a sense of ill; butthe next moment I was struggling fiercely with the unknown and unwelcomeguest. 

'For shame!' I said to myself; 'this is weakness and pure selfishness, mere sentimental feverishness; this is not like the strong-minded youngperson Miss Darrell calls me. What if loneliness be appointed me?--wemust each have our cross. Perhaps, as life goes on and I grow older, itmay be a little hard to bear at times, but my loneliness would be betterthan the sort of pain Mr. Hamilton and Max have endured. ' And as Ithought this, a sudden conviction came to me that I could not have bornea like fate, a dim instinct that told me that I should suffer keenly andlong, --that it would be better, far better, that the deepest instincts ofmy woman's nature should never be roused than be kindled only to die awayinto ashes, as many women's affections have been suffered to die. 'Anything but that, ' I said to myself, with a sudden thrill of painthat surprised me with its intensity. 

All this time through the long cold weeks Elspeth had been slowly dying. Quietly and gradually the blind woman's strength had ebbed and lessened, until early in March we knew she could not last much longer. 

She suffered no pain, and uttered no complaint. She lay peacefullypropped up with pillows on the bed where Mary Marshall had breathed herlast, and her pale wrinkled face grew almost as white as the cap-borderthat encircled it. 

At the commencement of her illness I was unable to be much with her. Susan and Phoebe Locke had thoroughly engrossed me, and a hurried visitmorning and evening to give Peggy orders was all that was possible underthe circumstances; but I saw that she was well cared for and comfortable, and Peggy was very good to her and kept the children out of the room. 

'Ah, my bairn, I am dying like a lady, ' she said to me one day, 'and itis good to be here on poor Mary's bed. See the fine clean sheets thatPeggy has put me on, and the grand quilt that keeps my feet warm!Sometimes I could cry with the comfort of it all; and there is the brothand the jelly always ready; and what can a poor old body want more?'

When Susan was convalescent I spent more time with Elspeth. I knew sheloved to have me beside her, and to listen to the chapters and Psalms Iread to her. She would ask me to sing sometimes, and often we would sitand talk of the days that seemed so 'few and evil' in the light ofadvancing immortality. 

'Ay, dearie, ' she would say, 'it is not much to look back upon except inan angel's sight, --a poor old woman's life, who worked and struggled tokeep her master and children from clemming. I used to think it hardsometimes that I could not get to church on Sunday morning, --for I wasaye a woman for church, --but I had to stand at my wash-tub often untillate on Saturday night. "After a day's charing, rinsing out thechildren's bits of things, and ironing them too, how is a poor tiredbody like me to get religion?" I would say sometimes when I was fairlymoithered with it all. But, Miss Garston, my dear, I'm glad, as I liehere, to know that I never neglected the children God had given me; andso He took care of all that; He knew when I was too tired to put up aprayer that it was not for the want of loving Him. '

'No, indeed, Elspeth. I often think we ought not to be too hard on poorpeople. '

'That's true, ' brightening up visibly. 'He is no severe taskmasterdemanding bricks out of stubble; He knows poor labouring people are oftentired, and out of heart. I used to say to my master sometimes, "Ah well, we must leave all that for heaven; we shall have a fine rest there, andplenty of time to sing our hymns and talk to the Lord Jesus. He was alabouring man too, and He will know all about it. " I often comforted mymaster like that. '

Elspeth's quaint talk interested me greatly. I grew to love her dearly, and I liked to feel that she was fond of me in return. I could have satby her contentedly for hours, holding her hard work-worn hand andlistening to her gentle flow of talk with its Scriptural phrases andsimple realistic thoughts. It was like washing some pilgrim's feet ata feast to listen to Elspeth. 

One evening she told me that she had been thinking of me. 

'I wanted to know what you were like, my bairn, ' she said, with herpretty Scotch accent; 'and the doctor came in as I was turning it overin my mind, so I made bold to ask him to describe you. I thought he wasa long time answering, and at last he said, "What put that into yourhead, granny?" as if he were a little bit taken aback by the question. 

'"Well, doctor, " I returned, "we all of us like to see the faces of thosewe love; and I am all in the dark. That dear young lady is doing theLord's work with all her might, and she has a voice that makes me thinkof heaven, and the choirs of angels, and the golden harps, and maybe herface is as beautiful as her voice. "

'"Oh no, " he says quite sharply to that, "she is not beautiful at all:indeed, I am not sure that most people would not think her plain. "

'I suppose I was an old ninny, but I did not like to hear him say this, my bairn, for I knew it could not be the truth; but he went on after aminute, --

'"It is not easy to describe the face of a person one knows so well. Ifind it difficult to answer your question. Miss Garston has such a trueface, one seems to trust it in a minute: it is the face of an honestkindly woman who will never do you any harm;" and then I saw what hemeant. Why, bairn, the angels have this sort of beauty, and it lasts thelongest; that is the sort of face they have there. '

I heard all this silently, and was thankful that Elspeth's blind eyescould not see the burning flush of mortification that rose to my face. The dear garrulous old body, how could she have put such a question toMr. Hamilton? and yet how kindly he had answered! A sudden recollectionof Irish dark-gray eyes with black lashes came to my mind; I knew Mr. Hamilton was a connoisseur of beauty. I had often heard him describepeople, and point out their physical defects with the keenest criticism;he was singularly fastidious on this point; but, in spite of myhumiliation, I was glad to know that he had spoken so gently. He had toldthe truth simply, that was all: at least he had owned I was true; I mustcontent myself with this tribute to my honesty. 

But it was some days before I could recall Elspeth's words without asensation of prickly heat: it is strange how painfully these littlepin-pricks to our vanity affect us. I was angry with myself forremembering them, and yet they rankled, in spite of Elspeth's quaintand homely consolation. Alas! I was not better than my fellows: UrsulaGarston was not the strong-minded woman that Miss Darrell called her. 

But when I next met Mr. Hamilton I had other thoughts to engross me, forElspeth was dying, and we were standing together by her bedside. I hadnot sent for Mr. Hamilton, for I knew that he could do nothing more forher; but he had met one of the children in the village, and on hearingthe end was approaching had come at once to render me any help in hispower. Perhaps he thought I should like to have him there. 

Elspeth's pinched wrinkled face brightened as she heard his voice. 'Ay, doctor, I am glad to know you are there; you have been naught but kindto me all these years, and now, thanks to this bairn, I am dying likea lady. The Lord bless you both! and He will, --He will!' with feebleearnestness. 

I bent down and kissed her cold cheek. 'Never mind us, Elspeth: only tellus that all is well with you. You are not afraid, dear granny?'

'What's to fear, my bairn, with the Lord holding my hand?--and He willnot let go; ah no, He will never let go! Ay, I have come to the darkriver, but it will not do more than wet my feet. I'll be carried over, for I am old and weak, --old and weak, my dearie. ' These were her lastwords, and half an hour afterwards the change came, and Elspeth'ssightless eyes were opened to the light of immortality. 

That night I took up a little worn copy of the _Pilgrim's Progress_ thatI had had from childhood, and opened it at a favourite passage, whereChristian and his companion are talking with the shining ones as theywent up towards the Celestial city, and I thought of Elspeth as I readit. 'You are going now, ' said they, 'to the paradise of God, wherein youshall see the Tree of Life, and eat of the never-failing fruit thereof;and when you come there you shall have white robes given you, and yourwalk and talk shall be every day with the King, even all the days ofeternity. There you shall not see again such things as you saw when youwere in the lower regions, upon the earth, to wit, sorrow, sickness, anddeath, for the former things are passed away. . . . 

'And the men asked, "What must we do in that holy place?" To whom it wasanswered, "You must then receive the comfort of your toil, and have joyfor all your sorrow. "' I thought of Elspeth's last words, 'Old andweak, --old and weak, my dearie. ' Surely they had come true: those agedfeet had barely touched the cold water. Gently and tenderly she had beencarried across to the green pastures and still waters in the paradise ofGod. 

CHAPTER XXIX

MISS DARRELL HAS A HEADACHE

I began to feel that Gladys had been away a long time, and to wish forher return. I was much disappointed, then, on receiving a letter from herabout a fortnight after Elspeth's death, telling me that Colonel Maberleyhad made up his mind to spend Easter in Paris, and that she had promisedto accompany them. 

'I shall be sorry to be so long without your companionship, ' she wrote. 'I miss you more than I can say; but I am sure that it is far better forme to remain away as long as possible: the change is certainly doing megood. I am quite strong and well: they spoil me dreadfully, but I thinkthis sort of treatment suits me best. '

It was a long letter, and seemed to be written in a more cheerful moodthan usual. There was a charming description of a trip they had taken, with little graceful touches of humour here and there. 

I handed the letter silently to Max when he called the next day. Ithought that it would be no harm to show it to him. He took it to thewindow, and was so busy reading it that I had half finished a letterI was writing to Jill before he at last laid it down on my desk. 

'Thank you for letting me see it, ' he said quietly: 'it has been a greatpleasure. Somehow, as I read it, it seemed as though the old GladysHamilton had written it, --not the one we know now. Indeed, she seems muchbetter. '

'Yes, and we must make up our minds to do without her, ' I answered, witha sigh. 

'And we shall do so most willingly, ' he returned, with a sort of tacitrebuke to my selfishness, 'if we know the change is benefiting her. ' Andthen, with a change of tone, 'What a beautiful handwriting hers is, Ursula!--so firm and clear, so characteristic of the writer. Does sheoften write you such long, interesting letters? You are much to beenvied, my dear. Well, well, the day's work is waiting for me. ' And withthat he went off, without saying another word. 

My next visitor was Mr. Hamilton. He came to tell me of an accident case. A young labourer had fallen off a scaffolding, and a compound fracture ofthe right arm had been the result. He was also badly shaken and bruised, and was altogether in a miserable plight. 

I promised, of course, to go to him at once; but he told me that therewas no immediate hurry; he had attended to the arm and left him verycomfortable, and he would do well for the next hour or two; and, as Mr. Hamilton seemed inclined to linger for a little chat, I could not refuseto oblige him. 

'It is just as well that this piece of work has come to me, ' I saidpresently, 'for I was feeling terribly idle. Since Elspeth's death I havenot had a single case, and have employed my leisure in writing longletters to my relations and taking country rambles with Tinker. '

'That is right, ' he returned heartily. 'I am sure we worked you far toohard at one time. '

'It did not hurt me, and I should not care to be idle for long. --Yes, Ihave heard from Gladys, ' for his eyes fell on the open letter that laybeside us. 'I am rather disappointed that I shall not see her before I goaway. '

'Are you going away, then?' he asked, very quickly, and I thought thenews did not seem to please him. 

'Not for three weeks. I hope my patient will be getting on by that time, and will be able to spare me: at any rate, I can give his mother a lessonor two. You know my cousin is to be married, and I have promised to helpAunt Philippa. '

'How long do you think you will be away?' he demanded, with a touch ofhis old abruptness. 

'For a fortnight. I could not arrange for less. Sara is making such apoint of it. '

'A whole fortnight! I am afraid you are terribly idle, after all, MissGarston. You are growing tired of this humdrum place. You are yearningfor "the leeks and cucumbers of Egypt, "' with a grim smile. 

'You are wrong, ' I returned, with more earnestness than the occasionwarranted. 'I feel a strange reluctance to re-enter Vanity Fair. Thesplendours of a gay wedding are not to my taste. Sara tells me that herreception after the ceremony will be attended by about two hundredguests. To me the idea is simply barbarous. I expect I shall be heartilyglad to get back to Heathfield. '

I was surprised to see how pleased Mr. Hamilton looked at this speech. Ihad been thinking of my work and my quiet little parlour, not of Gladwyn, when I spoke; but he seemed to accept it as a personal compliment. 

'I assure you that we shall welcome you back most gladly, ' he returned. 'The place will not seem like itself without our busy village nurse. Well, you have worked hard enough for six months: you deserve a holiday. I should like to see you in your butterfly garb, Miss Garston. I fancy, however, that I should not recognise you. '

With a sudden pang I remembered Elspeth's words. He does not think thatsuch home attire will become me. I thought he preferred me in my usualnun's garb of black serge. 

'Oh, ' I said, petulantly and foolishly, 'I must own that I shall lookrather like a crow dressed up in peacock's feathers in the grand gownSara has chosen for me'; but I was a little taken aback, and feltinclined to laugh, when he asked me, with an air of interest, what itwas like in colour and material. 

'Sara wished it to be red plush, ' I replied demurely; 'but I refused towear it; so she has waived that in favour of a dark green velvet. I thinkit is absolutely wicked to make Uncle Brian pay for such a dress; but itseems that Sara will get her own way, so I must put up with all theychoose to give me. '

'That is hardly spoken graciously. If your uncle be rich, why shouldhe not please himself in buying you a velvet gown? I think the fairbride-elect has good taste. You will look very well in dark-green velvet:light tints would not suit you at all; red would be too gay. '

He spoke with such gravity and decision that I thought it best not tocontradict him. I even repressed my inclination to laugh: if he liked tobe dogmatic on the subject of my dress, I would not hinder him. The nextmoment, however, he dismissed the matter. 

'I agree with you in disliking gay weddings. The idea is singularlyrepugnant to me. Because two people elect to join hands for the journeyof life, is there any adequate reason why all their idle acquaintancesshould accompany them with cymbals and prancings and all sorts offooleries just at the most solemn moment of their life?'

'I suppose they wish to express their sympathy, ' I returned. 

'Sympathy should wear a quieter garb. These folks come to church to showtheir fine feathers and make a fuss; they do not care a jot for thesolemnity of the service; and yet to me it is as awful in its way as theburial service. "Till death us do part, "--can any one, man or woman, saythese words lightly and not bring down a doom upon himself?' He spokewith suppressed excitement, walking up and down the room: one could seehow strongly he felt his words. Was he thinking of Mrs. Carrick? Iwondered. He gave a slight shudder, as though some unwelcome thoughtobtruded itself, and then he turned to me with a forced smile. 

'I am boring you, I am afraid. I get horribly excited over the shams ofconventionality. What were we talking about? Oh, I remember: Gladys'sletter. Yes, she has written to Lady Betty, but not such a volume asthat, ' glancing at the closely written sheets. 'You are her chiefcorrespondent, I believe; but she told us her plans. For my part, I amglad that she should enjoy this trip to Paris. Really, the Maberleys aremost kind. I sent her a cheque to add to her amusements, for of courseall girls like shopping. '

How generous he was to his sisters! with all his faults of manner, heseemed to grudge them nothing. But all the same I knew Gladys would havevalued a few kind words from him far more than the cheque; but perhaps hehad written to her as well. But he seemed rather surprised when I askedhim the question. 

'Oh no; I never write to my sisters: they would not care for a letterfrom me. Etta offered to enclose it in a letter she had just finished toGladys, so that saved all trouble. By the bye, Miss Garston, I hope youwill come up to Gladwyn one evening before you leave Heathfield. I do notsee why we are to be deserted in this fashion. '

Neither did I, if he put it in this way: reluctant as I was to spend anevening there in Gladys's absence, it certainly was not quite kind eitherto him or to Lady Betty to refuse. He seemed to anticipate a refusal, however, for he said hastily, --

'Never mind answering me now. Etta shall write to you in proper form, and you shall fix your own evening. Now I have hindered you sufficiently, so I will take my leave, '--which he did, but I heard him some timeafterwards talking to Nathaniel in the porch. 

A few days after this I received a civil little note from Miss Darrell, pressing me to spend a long evening with them, and begging me to bring myprettiest songs. 

I made the rather lame excuse that I was much engaged with my newpatient, and fixed the latest day that I could, --the very last eveningbefore I was to leave for London. Mr. Hamilton met me a few hoursafterwards, and asked me rather drily what my numerous engagementscould be. 

'You are the most unsociable of your sex, ' he added, when I had no answerto make to this. 'I shall take care that you are properly punished, forneither Cunliffe nor Tudor shall be asked to meet you. Etta was sure youwould like one or both to come, but I put my veto on it at once. '

'Then you were very disagreeable, ' I returned laughingly. 'I wanted UncleMax very much. ' But he only shook his head at me good-humouredly, andscolded me for my want of amiability. 

I determined, when the evening came, that he should not find fault withme in any way. I was rather in holiday mood; my patient was going onwell, and his mother was a neat, capable body, and might be trusted tolook after him. No other cases had come to me, and I might leaveHeathfield with a clear conscience. Uncle Max would miss me, but an oldcollege friend was coming to stay at the vicarage, so I could be betterspared. I had seen a great deal of Mr. Tudor lately. I often met him inthe village, and he always turned back and walked with me: he met me onthis occasion, and walked to the gates of Gladwyn. Indeed, he detained mefor some minutes in the road, trying to extract particulars about thewedding. 

'Miss Jocelyn is to be bridesmaid, then?' describing a circle with hisstick in the dust. 

'Yes. Poor Sara is afraid that she will be quite overshadowed by Jill'sbigness; she has made her promise not to stand quite close. They have gota match for her. Grace Underley is as tall as Jill, and very fair. Saracalls them her night and morning bridesmaids. '

'I think I shall be in London on the fourteenth. I thought, Miss Garston, that there was a prejudice to weddings in May. '

'Yes; but Sara laughs at the idea, and Colonel Ferguson says it is allnonsense. I did not know you were coming to town so soon. '

'Some of my people will be up then, ' he said absently. 'Perhaps I shallhave a peep at you all; but of course'--rather hastily--'I shall not callat Hyde Park Gate until the wedding is over. '

I wished he would not call then. What was the good of feeding his boyishfancy? it would soon die a natural death, if he would only be wise. PoorMr. Tudor! I began to be afraid that he was very much in earnest afterall: there was a grave expression on his face as he turned away. Perhapshe knew, as I did, that our big awkward Jill would develop into asplendid woman; that one of these days Jocelyn Garston would be far moreadmired than her sister; that the ugly duckling would soon change into aswan. There were times even now when Jill looked positively handsome, if only her short black locks would grow, and if she would leave offhunching her shoulders. 

'I should like Lawrence Tudor to have my Jill, if he were only rich; butthere is no hope for him now, poor fellow!' I said to myself, as I walkedup the gravel walk towards the house. 

Gladwyn looked its best this evening. The shady little lawns thatsurrounded the house looked cool and inviting; the birds were singingmerrily from the avenue of young oaks; the air was sweet with the scentof May-blossoms and wall-flowers: great bunches of them were placed inthe hall. 

Thornton, who admitted me, said that Leah would be waiting for me in theblue room, as Miss Darrell's room was called; so I went up at once. 

I was passing through the dressing-room, when I saw the bedroom door washalf opened, and a voice--I scarcely recognised it as Miss Darrell's, itwas so different from her usual low, toneless voice--exclaimed angrily, 'You forget yourself strangely, Leah! one would think you were themistress and I the maid, to hear you speaking to me. '

'I can't help that, Miss Etta, ' returned the woman insolently. 'If youare not more punctual in your payments I will go to the master myself andtell him. ' But here I knocked sharply at the door to warn them of mypresence, and Leah ceased abruptly, while Miss Darrell bade me enter. 

She tried to meet me as usual, but her face was flushed, and she lookedat me uneasily, as though she feared that I had overheard Leah's speech. I thought Leah looked sullen and stolid as she waited upon me. It was amost forbidding face. I was glad when Miss Darrell dismissed her on someslight pretext. 

'Leah is in a bad temper this evening, ' she observed, examining theclasp of a handsome bracelet as she spoke. I noticed then that she hadbeautiful arms, as well as finely-shaped hands, and the emerald-eyedsnake showed to advantage. 'She is a most invaluable person, but she cantake liberties sometimes. Perhaps you heard me scolding her; but Iconsider she was decidedly in the wrong. '

'She does not look very good-tempered, ' was my reply. 

Miss Darrell still looked flushed and perturbed; but she took up herfan and vinaigrette, and proposed that we should join Lady Betty in thedrawing-room. Leah was in the hall. As we passed her she addressed MissDarrell. 

'If you can spare me a moment, ma'am, I should like to speak to you, ' shesaid, quite civilly; but I thought her manner a little menacing. 

'Will not another time do, Leah?' returned her mistress in a worriedtone; but the next moment she begged me to go in without her. 

Lady Betty was sitting by the open window with Nap beside her. I thoughtthe poor little girl looked dull and lonely. She gave an exclamation ofpleasure at seeing me, and ran towards me with outstretched hands. Shelooked like a child in her little white gown and blue ribbons, with hershort curly hair. 

'I am so glad to see you, Miss Garston! I thought Etta would keep you, I have been alone all the afternoon: Etta never sits with me now. HowI wish Gladys would come back! I have no one to speak to, and I miss herhorribly. '

'Poor Lady Betty!'

'You would say so, if you knew how horrid it all was. Just now, as I wassitting alone, I felt like a poor little princess shut up in an enchantedtower. Giles is the magician, and Etta is the wicked witch. I was makingup quite a story about it. '

'Why have you not been to see me lately, Lady Betty?'

'Oh, how silly you are to ask me such a question!' she returnedpettishly. 'You had better ask Witch Etta. Now you pretend to looksurprised. She won't let me come--there!'

'My dear child, surely you need not consult your cousin. '

'Of course not, ' wrinkling her forehead; 'but then, you see, Witch Ettaconsults me: she makes a point of finding out all my little plans andnipping them in the bud. She says she really cannot allow me to go sooften to the White Cottage; Mr. Cunliffe and Mr. Tudor are always there, and it is not proper. She is always hinting that I want to meet Mr. Tudor, and it is no good telling her that I never think of such a thing. 'Lady Betty was half crying. A more innocent, harmless little soul neverbreathed; she had not a spice of coquetry in her nature. I felt indignantat such an accusation. 

'It is all nonsense, Lady Betty, ' I returned sharply. 'Mr. Tudor has notcalled at the cottage more than once since Jill left me, and then UncleMax sent him. When I first came to Heathfield he was very kind in doingme little services, and he dropped in two or three times when Jill waswith me; but indeed he has never been a constant visitor. When we meetit is at the vicarage or in the street. '

'You would never convince Etta of that, ' replied Lady Bettydisconsolately. 'She has even told Giles how often Mr. Tudor goes to thecottage, and she has got it into her head that I am always trying to meethim there. It is such an odious idea, only worthy of Etta herself!' wenton the little girl indignantly. 'If I could only make her hold her tongueto Giles!'

'I would not trouble about it if I were you, dear. No one who knows youwould believe it. Such an idea would never occur to Mr. Tudor; he is anhonest, simple young fellow, who is not ashamed to respect women in thegood old-fashioned way. '

'Oh yes, I like him, and so does Jill; but I wish he were a thousandmiles off, and then Etta would give me a little peace. How angry Gladyswould be if she knew it! But I don't mean to trouble her about my smallworries, poor darling. '

I had never heard Lady Betty speak with such womanly dignity. She was sooften childish and whimsical that one never expected her to be grave andresponsible like other people. She kissed me presently, and said I haddone her good, and would I always believe in her in spite of Etta, forshe was not the giddy little creature that Etta made her out to be; shewas sure Giles would think more of her but for Etta's mischief-making. 

Mr. Hamilton came in after this, and sat down by us, but Miss Darrell didnot make her appearance until the gong sounded, and then she hurried inwith a breathless apology. I do not know what made me watch her soclosely all dinner-time. She took very little part in the conversation, seemed absent and thoughtful, and started nervously when Mr. Hamiltonspoke to her. He told her once that she looked pale and tired, and shesaid then that the evening was close, and that her head ached. I wonderedthen if the headache had made her eyes so heavy, or if she had beencrying. 

Mr. Hamilton was a little quiet, too, through dinner, but listened withgreat interest when Lady Betty and I talked about the approachingwedding. I had to satisfy her curiosity on many points, --the bride's andbridesmaids' dresses, and the programme for the day. 

The details did not seem to bore Mr. Hamilton. His face never once woreits cynical expression; but when we returned to the drawing-room, andLady Betty wanted to continue the subject, he took her quietly by theshoulders and marched her off to Miss Darrell. 

'Make the child hold her tongue, Etta, ' he said good-humouredly. 'I wantto coax Miss Garston to sing to us. ' And then he came to me with thesmile I liked best to see on his face, and held out his hand. 

I was quite willing to oblige him, and he kept me hard at work for nearlyan hour, first asking me if I were tired, and then begging for one moresong; and sometimes I thought of Gladys as I sang, and sometimes of Max, and once of Mrs. Carrick, with her wonderful gray eyes, and her falsefair face. 

When I had finished I saw Mr. Hamilton looking at me rather strangely. 

'Why do you sing such sad songs?' he asked, in a low voice, as though hedid not wish to be overheard; but he need not have been afraid: MissDarrell was evidently taking no notice of any one just then. She waslying back in her chair with her eyes closed, and I noticed afterwardsthat her forehead was lined like an old woman's. 

'I like melancholy songs, ' was my reply, and I fingered the notes alittle nervously, for his look was rather too keen just then, and I hadbeen thinking of Mrs. Carrick. 

'But you are not melancholy, ' he persisted. 'There is no weaksentimentality in your nature. Just now there was a passion in your voicethat startled me, as though you were drawing from some secret well. ' Hepaused, and then went on, half playfully, --

'If I were like the Hebrew steward, and asked you to let down yourpitcher and give me a draught, I wonder what you would answer?'

'That would depend on circumstances. You would find it difficult topersuade me that you were thirsty, or needed anything that I could give. '

'Would it be so difficult as all that?' he returned thoughtfully. 'Ithought we were better friends; that you had penetrated beneath the uppercrust; that in spite of my faults you trusted me a little. '

His earnestness troubled me. I hardly knew what he meant. 

'Of course we are friends, ' I answered hastily. 'I can trust you morethan a little. ' And I would have risen from my seat, but he put his handgently on my sleeve. 

'Wait a moment. You are going away, and I may not have anotheropportunity. I want to tell you something. You have done me good; youhave taught me that women can be trusted, after all. I thank you mostheartily for that lesson. '

'I do not know what you mean, ' I faltered; but I felt a singular pleasureat these words. 'I have done nothing. It is you that have been good tome. '

'Pshaw!' impatiently. 'I thought you more sensible than to say that. Now, I want you, ' his voice softening again, 'to try and think better of me;not to judge by appearances, or to take other people's judgments, but tobe as true and charitable to me as you are to others. Promise me thisbefore you go, Miss Garston. '

I do not know why the tears started to my eyes. I could hardly answerhim. 

'Will you try to do this?' he persisted, stooping over me. 

'Yes, ' was my scarcely audible answer, but he was satisfied with thatmonosyllable. He walked away after that, and joined Lady Betty. MissDarrell had not moved; she still lay back on the cushions, and I thoughther face looked drawn and old. When I spoke to her, for it was gettinglate, she roused herself with difficulty. 

'My head is very bad, and I shall have to go to bed, after all, ' shesaid, giving me her hand. 'I am afraid your beautiful singing has beenthrown away on me, for I was half asleep. I thought I heard you and Gilestalking by the piano, but I was not sure. '

Mr. Hamilton walked home with me. He had resumed his usual manner; hetold me he had had a letter that day that would oblige him to go toEdinburgh for a week or so. 

'I think I shall take the night mail to-morrow evening, though it willgive me a busy day: so, after all, I shall not miss you, Miss Garston. 'And after a little more talk about the business that had summoned him, we reached the White Cottage and he bade me good-bye. 

'I hope you will have a pleasant holiday. Take care of yourself, for allour sakes. ' And with that he left me. 

It was long before I slept that night. I felt confused and feverish, asthough I were on the brink of some discovery that would overwhelm andalarm me. I could not understand myself or Mr. Hamilton. His wordspresented an enigma. I felt troubled by them, and yet not unhappy. 

Had Miss Darrell overheard him? I wondered. I felt, if she had done so, her manner would have been different. She seemed jealous of her cousin, and always monopolised his words and looks. He had never spoken to me adozen words in her presence that she had not tried to interrupt us. Hadshe really been asleep? These doubts kept recurring to me. Just beforeI fell asleep a remembrance of Leah's sullen face came between me and mydreams. Her insolent voice rang in my ears. What had she meant by herwords? Why had Miss Darrell submitted to her impertinence? Was she afraidof Leah, as Gladys said? I began to feel weary of all these mysteries. 

CHAPTER XXX

WITH TIMBRELS AND DANCES

Aunt Philippa and Sara came to meet me at Victoria. They both seemedunfeignedly glad to see me. 

Aunt Philippa was certainly a kind-hearted woman. Her faults were thosethat were engendered by too much prosperity. Overmuch ease and luxury hadmade her lymphatic and indolent. Except for Ralph's death, she had neverknown sorrow. Care had not yet traced a single line on her smoothforehead; it looked as open and unfurrowed as a child's. Contentment anda comfortable self-complacency were written on her comely face. Just nowit beamed with motherly welcome. Somehow, I never felt so fond of AuntPhilippa as I did at that moment when she leaned over the carriage withoutstretched hands. 

'My dear, how well you are looking! Five years younger. --Does she notlook well, Sara?'

Sara nodded and smiled, and made room for me to pass her, and then gaveorders that my luggage should be intrusted to the maid, who would conveyit in a cab to Hyde Park Gate. 

'If you do not mind, Ursula, we are going round the Park for a little, 'observed Sara, with a pretty blush. 

Her mother laughed: 'Colonel Ferguson is riding in the Row, and will belooking out for us. He is coming this evening, as usual, but Sara thinksfour-and-twenty hours too long to wait. '

'Oh, mother, how can you talk so?' returned Sara bashfully. 'You knowDonald asked us to meet him, and he would be so disappointed. And it issuch a lovely afternoon, --if Ursula does not mind. '

'On the contrary, I shall like it very much, ' I returned, moved bycuriosity to see Colonel Ferguson again. I had never seen him bydaylight, and, though we had often met at the evening receptions, wehad not exchanged a dozen words. 

I thought Sara was looking prettier than ever. A sort of radiance seemedto surround her. Youth and beauty, perfect health, a light heart, andsatisfied affections, --these were the gifts of the gods that had beenshowered upon her. Would those bright, smiling eyes ever shed tears? Iwondered. Would any sorrow drive away that light, careless gaiety? Ihoped not. It was pleasant to see any one so happy. And then I thoughtof Lesbia and Gladys, and sighed. 

'You do not look at all tired, Ursie, ' observed Sara affectionately, laying her little gloved hand on mine. 'She looks quite nice and fresh:does she not, mother?--I was so afraid that you would have come up inyour nurse's livery, as Jocelyn calls it, --black serge, and a horriddowdy bonnet. '

'Oh no; I knew better than that, ' I returned, with a complacent glanceat my handsome black silk, one of Uncle Brian's presents. I had thecomfortable conviction that even Sara could not find fault with my bonnetand mantle. I had made a careful toilet purposely, for I knew whatimportance they attached to such things. Sara's little speech rewardedme, as well as Aunt Philippa's approving look. 

'It has not done her any harm, ' I heard her observe, _sotto voce_. 'Shecertainly looks younger. '

I took advantage of a pause in Sara's chatter to ask after Jill. AuntPhilippa answered me, for Sara was bowing towards a passing carriage. 

'Oh, poor child, she wanted to come with us to meet you, but it wasProfessor Hugel's afternoon. He teaches her German literature, you know. I was anxious for her not to miss his lesson, and she was very good aboutit. She is coming down to afternoon tea, and of course we shall see herin the evening. '

'Poor dear Jocelyn! she was longing to come, I know. You and MissGillespie are terribly severe, ' observed Sara, with a light laugh. Shewas so free and gay herself that she rather pitied her young sister, condemned to the daily grind of lessons and hard work. 

'Nonsense, Sara!' returned her mother sharply. 'We are not severe at all. Jocelyn knows that it is all for her good if Miss Gillespie keeps her toher task. My dear Ursula, we are all charmed with Miss Gillespie, --evenSara, though she pretends to call her strict and old-fashioned. She is amost amiable, ladylike woman, and Jocelyn is perfectly happy with her. 

'I am very pleased with Jocelyn, ' she went on. 'You have done her good, Ursula, and both her father and I are very grateful to you. She is notnearly so wayward and self-willed. She takes great pains with herlessons, and is most industrious. She is not so awkward, either, and MissGillespie thinks it will be a good plan if I take her out with me drivingsometimes when Sara is married. I shall only have Jocelyn then, ' finishedAunt Philippa, with a regretful look at her daughter. I was muchinterested in all they had to tell me, but I was not sorry when weentered the Park and the stream of talk died away. 

I almost felt as though I were in a dream, as the moving kaleidoscopeof horses and carriages and foot-passengers passed before my eyes. 

Yesterday at this time I was sitting in poor Robert Lambert's whitewashedattic, listening to the sparrows that were twittering under the eaves. When I had left the cottage I had walked down country roads, meetingnothing but a donkey-cart and two tramps. 

Now the sunshine was playing on the rhododendrons and on the green leavesof the trees in Hyde Park. A brass band had struck up in the distance. The riders were cantering up and down the Row, to the admiration of thewell-dressed crowds that sauntered under the trees or lingered by therailings. Carriages were passing and repassing. A four-in-hand drove pastus, followed by a tandem. Beautiful young faces smiled out of thecarriages. A few of them looked weary and careworn. Now and then underthe smart bonnet one saw the pinched weazened face of old age, --dowagersin big fur capes looking out with their dim hungry eyes on the follies ofVanity Fair. One wondered at the set senile smile on these old faces;they had fed on husks all their lives, and the food had failed to nourishthem; their strength had failed over the battle of life, but they stillrefused to leave the field of their former triumphs. Everywhere in thesefashionable crowds one sees these pale meagre faces that belong to a pastage. They wear gorgeous velvets, jewels, feathers, paint: like Jezebel, they would look out of the window curiously to the last. How one longs totake them gently out of the crowd, to wash their poor cheeks, and leadthem to some quiet home, where they may shut their tired eyes in peace!'What is the world to you?' one would say to them. 'You have done allyour tasks, --well or badly; leave the arena to the young and the strong;it is no place for you; come home and rest, before the dark angel findsyou in your tinsel and gewgaws. ' Would they listen to me, I wonder?

Sara's soft dimples came into play presently. A pretty blush rose to herface. A tall man with a bronzed handsome face and iron-gray moustache haddetached himself from the other riders, and was cantering towards thecarriage that was now drawn up near the entrance: in another moment hehad checked his horse with some difficulty. 

'I have been looking out for you the last three-quarters of an hour, ' hesaid, addressing Sara. 'I could not see the carriage anywhere. --MissGarston, we have met before, but I think we hardly know each other, 'looking at me with some degree of interest. Sara's cousin was no longerindifferent to him. 

I answered him as civilly as I could, but I could see his attentionwandered to his young _fiancée_, and he soon rode round to her side ofthe carriage. It was evident, as Lesbia said, that the colonel washonestly in love with Sara. She looked very young beside him, but theremust have been something very winning in her sweet looks and words to theman who had known trouble and had laid a young wife and child to rest inan Indian grave. 

Before the evening was over I felt I liked Colonel Ferguson immensely, and thought far more of Sara for being his choice; there was an air offrankness and _bonhomie_ about him that won one's heart; he was sensibleand practical. In spite of his fondness for Sara, he would keep her inorder: one could see that. I heard him rebuke her very gently that firstevening for some extravagance she was planning. They were standing apartfrom the others on the balcony, but I was near the open window, and Iheard him say distinctly, in a grave voice, --

'I am very sorry to disappoint you, but I must ask you to give up thisidea, my darling; it would not be right in our position: surely you mustsee that. '

'No, Donald, I do not see it a bit, ' she answered quickly. 

'Then will you be satisfied with my seeing it, and give it up for mysake, dear?'

I knew when they came back into the room that he had got his way. Sarawas smiling as happily as usual: her disappointment had not gone verydeep. Her future husband would have very little trouble with her. She wasneither self-willed nor selfish. She wanted to be happy herself and makeother people happy; she would be easily guided. 

When we left the Park Colonel Ferguson rode off to his club, and we drovehome rather quickly. There were some visitors waiting for Sara in thedrawing-room, so I went up to my old room to take off my bonnet. Marthawould unpack my boxes, Aunt Philippa told me, as she gave me another kissin the hall. 

I had not been there for five minutes when I heard flying footsteps downthe passage, and the next moment Jill's strong arms had taken me by theshoulders and turned me round. 

'Now, Jill, I don't mean to be strangled as usual'; but she left me nobreath for more. 

'Oh, my dear, precious old bear, this is too good to be true! I nearlycried with joy this morning at the idea of seeing you in your old roomand knowing you will be here a whole fortnight. I declare, after all, Sara is very nice to get married. '

No, Jill was not changed; she was as real and big and demonstrative asusual, but somehow she looked nicer. 

'You must be quick, ' she continued, 'for father has come in, and Claytonhas taken in the tea. We must go down directly; but I want you to seeMiss Gillespie first. ' And Jill looked proud and eager as she led me downthe passage. 

The schoolroom was still the same dull back room that Aunt Philippathought so conducive to her young daughter's studies, but it certainlylooked more cheerful this evening. 

The window was opened. There was a window-box full of gay flowers. Agreat bowl of my favourite wall-flowers was on the table, and anothervase, with trails of laburnum and lilac, was on Jill's little table. Thefresh air and sunshine and the sweet scent of the flowers had quitetransformed the dingy room. There was new cretonne on the old sofa, ahandsome cloth on the centre-table, and a new easy-chair. 

Miss Gillespie was sitting by the window, reading. She had an interestingface and rather sad gray eyes, but her manner was decidedlyprepossessing. 

She looked at her pupil with affection. Evidently Jill's abruptness andawkwardness were not misunderstood by her. 

'I want you two to like each other, ' Jill had said, without a pretence ofintroduction; and we had both laughed and extended our hands. 

'I seem to know you already, Miss Garston, ' she said, in a pleasantvoice. 'Jocelyn talks about you so much that you cannot be a strangerto me. --Do you know your father has come in, dear?' turning to Jill. 

'Yes, and I must take my cousin downstairs. Good-bye for the present, Gypsy. '

Miss Gillespie smiled again when she saw my astonishment at Jill'sfamiliarity. 

'Jocelyn thinks my name too long, and has abbreviated it to Gypsy. Mrs. Garston was terribly shocked at first, but I told her that it did notmatter in the least: in fact, I like it. '

'She is such a dear old thing!' burst out Jill, as we left the schoolroomand proceeded downstairs arm in arm. 'I never think of her as mygoverness; she is just a kind friend who helps me with my lessons andwalks with me. We do have such cosy times together. Does not theschoolroom look nice, Ursie?'

'Very nice indeed, my dear. '

'So I think; but Sara says it is horrid: she has made mother promise togive me her room directly she is married. Sara has a beautiful pianothere, and a book-case, and all sorts of pretty things. It is a lovelyroom, you know, and looks out over the Park. Mother thinks it too niceand pretty for a schoolroom; but I am to call it my study and keep ittidy. And Gypsy is to have the old schoolroom for herself: so we are bothpleased. It is nice for her to have a room of her own, where she can bealone. '

'Your mother is very kind to you, Jill. '

'Awfully kind--I mean very kind: Gypsy does so dislike that expression. Do you know, I think you two are rather alike in that? Gypsy is veryunhappy sometimes, though. I have found her crying more than once when Ihave left her long alone; only mother does not know, and I don't mean totell her, because she thinks people ought always to be cheerful. It wasso sad that clergyman dying, --the one she was to marry; his name wasMaurice Compton. I saw the name in one of her books: "Lilian Gillespie, from her devoted friend, Maurice Compton. "'

'My dear Jill, how long are you going to keep me standing in the hall?Clayton will find us here directly. '

'Yes, I know'; but Jill showed no intention of moving; the prospect ofcold tea did not trouble her; 'but I want to tell you something beforeyou go in. Mother is certainly kinder to me than she ever has been; shesays I am to drive with her very often, and that she shall take me to seepicture-galleries. And father is going to buy a horse for me, because hesays I ride so well that I may go out with him, as a rule, instead ofwith a master; and--'

'You shall tell me all that presently, ' I returned, 'for I am too tiredto stand on this mat any longer. Are you coming, Jill? or shall I go inwithout you?' but of course I knew she would follow me. 

The room seemed full when we entered. Aunt Philippa was at the tea-table;Sara was flitting about the room from one guest to another. Uncle Brian, who was standing on the hearth-rug, put out his hand to me. 

'I am glad to see you back again, Ursula, ' looking at me with his cool, penetrating glance. Uncle Brian was never demonstrative. 'I think thework suits you, to judge by your looks. Take that chair by your aunt, child, and she will give you some tea. ' And accordingly I placed myselfunder Aunt Philippa's wing, while Jill and a boy-officer with a buddingmoustache waited on me. 

The rest of the evening passed very pleasantly. I had a long conversationwith Miss Gillespie in the inner drawing-room while Sara and Jill playedduets: of course our subject was Jill. Miss Gillespie spoke most warmlyof her excellent abilities and fine development of character. 'She willbe a very striking woman, ' she finished, when the last chords were playedand a soft clapping of hands succeeded. 'Whether she will be a happy oneis more doubtful: she must not be thwarted too much, and she must haveroom to expand. Jocelyn wants space and sunshine. '

I thought these remarks very sensible; they taught me that Miss Gillespiehad grasped the true idea of Jill's character. There was nothing littleabout Jill: she never did things by halves: she either loved or hated. She was truthful to a fault. There was a massive freedom and simplicityabout her that would guide her safely through the world's pitfalls. 'Space and sunshine, ' that was all Jill needed to bring her to maturityand fruition. Some girls may be trusted to educate themselves. Jill wasone of these. 

The next morning Sara took possession of me. A great honour was to bevouchsafed me: I was to be treated to a private view of the trousseauand wedding-presents. 

I had exhausted my vocabulary of admiring epithets, and sat in eloquentsilence, long before Sara had finished her display. It was like thepicture of Pandora opening her box, to see the pretty creature openingthe big, carved wardrobe to show me the layers of delicate embroideredraiment, muslin and laces and jewels, curious trinkets and wonderfulgifts worthy of the Arabian Nights. There were two rooms full oftreasures that had been laid at her feet, and no doubt, like Pandora, Sara had the rainbow-tinted hope lying amid the bridal gifts. 

'This is Donald's present, ' she said, smiling, showing me a diamondspray. 'I am to wear it on Thursday: it is the loveliest present ofall, --though mother has given me that beautiful pearl necklace. '

'Wait a moment, Sara, ' I said, detaining her as she closed the moroccocase: 'tell me, do you not feel like a princess in fairy-land, with allthis glitter round you? Does it all seem real, somehow?'

'Donald is real, anyhow, ' she returned, with a charming blush. 'Nothingwould be real without him. Oh, Ursula, it is nice to be so happy! Ialways have been happier than other girls. ' And something like a tearstole to her pretty eyes. 

'Now you must see your own dress, ' she continued, brushing off the tinytear-drop, with a laugh at her own sentimentality. 'What do you think ofthat? Is that not charming taste?'

'It is far too good for me, ' I returned seriously. 'How could Uncle Brainbuy that for me? It is beautiful; it is perfect, and just my taste. ' Andthen I could say no more, for Sara had placed her hands across my lips tosilence me. 

'Then you must wear it, dear. Father and mother wanted to give yousomething nice, because you were so good to Jocelyn, and I knew you had afancy for a velvet gown. Is not that yellowish lace charming, Ursula? andthe bonnet harmonises so well! Your bouquet is to be cream-coloured, too, with just a tea-rose or so. You will look quite pretty in it, Ursuladear. Do you know Donald liked the look of you so yesterday? he said youlooked so strong and sensible; he called you an interesting woman. '

I hastened to change the subject, for it recalled certain words that Ivainly tried to forget. It was a relief when visitors were announced andSara left me to go down to the drawing-room. I was glad to be alone fora few minutes. Aunt Philippa came up soon afterwards with a bevy offriends, and I escaped to my own room until luncheon-time. 

I grew a little weary of the bustle by and by, and yet I was pleased andinterested too; the excitement was infectious; one smiled to see so manyhappy faces; and then there was so much to do, every one was pressed intothe service. Jill shut up her books with a bang; her piano remainedclosed. She and Miss Gillespie were answering notes, unpacking presents, running to and fro with messages; people came all day long; they talkedin corners on the balcony, in Uncle Brian's study; no room was heldsacred. 

A cargo of flowers arrived presently; the hall and drawing-room were tobe transformed into bowers. It must rain roses as well as sunshine on theyoung princess. Sara's bright face appeared every now and then among theworkers; a little court surrounded her; sometimes Colonel Ferguson'sbronzed face looked over her shoulders. 

'That is very pretty, Ursula. I see you have caught the right idea. Jocelyn dear, you are overfilling that basket, and some of the stalks areshowing. Miss Gillespie will put it right for you. Come, Grace, shall wego upstairs?'

Sara nodded and smiled at us as she led the way to the upper regions. Pandora was for ever opening her box in those days: she was never wearyof fingering her silks and satins. 

'Now she has gone, let us rest a little, ' Jill exclaimed, letting herarms fall to her side. 'Are you not tired of it all, Ursie dear? I get sogiddy that I keep rubbing my eyes. I never knew weddings meant all thisfuss. Why cannot people do things more quietly? If I ever get married Ishall just put on my bonnet and walk to the nearest church with father. What is the use of all this nonsense? It is like decking the victim forthe sacrifice, to see all these roses and green leaves. Supposing we havea band of music to drown her groans while she is dressing, ' finished Jillrebelliously, as she contemplated her flower-basket with dissatisfiedeyes. 

Jill's speech recalled Mr. Hamilton's words most vividly: 'Because twopeople elect to join hands for the journey of life, is there any adequatereason why all their idle acquaintances should accompany them withcymbals and prancings, and all sorts of fooleries, just at the mostsolemn moment of life?' and again, '"Till death us do part, "--can anyone, man or woman, say those words lightly and not bring down a doom uponhimself?'

Could I ever forget how solemnly he had said this? After all, Mr. Hamilton was right, and I think Jill was right too. 

CHAPTER XXXI

WEDDING-CHIMES

When we had finished the flowers and brought in Aunt Philippa to see theeffect, I left the others and went up to my room. I had been busy sincethe early morning, and felt I had fairly earned a little rest. 

The room that was still called mine had a side-window looking over thePark. Down below carriages were passing and repassing; a detachment ofhussars trotted past; people were pouring out from the Albert Hall, --someafternoon concert was just over; the children were playing as usual onthe grass; the soft evening shadows were creeping up between the trees;the sky was blue and cloudless. May was wearing her choicest smiles onthe eve of Sara's wedding-day. 

Martha, the schoolroom maid, had brought me a cup of tea; the rest of thefamily were crowded in Uncle Brian's study; the dining-room was alreadyin the hands of Gunter's assistants; the long drawing-room and innerdrawing-room were sweet with roses and baskets of costly hot-houseflowers; a bank of rhododendrons was under the hall window; the house wasfull of sunshine, flowers, and the ripple of laughter. I could hear thelaughter through the closed door. Sara's musical tinkle rang out wheneverthe door opened. I had fallen into a sort of waking dream, when somethingwhite and golden passed between me and the sunlight; a light kiss wasdropped on my drowsy eyelids, and there was Lesbia smiling at me. 

She looked so cool and fair in her white gown, with a tiny bouquet ofdelicious tea-roses in her hand, her golden hair shining under her littlelace bonnet. I thought she looked more than ever like Charlie's whitelily, only now there was a touch of colour on her face. 

'Oh, Ursie dear, I am so pleased to see you!' she said gently, layingthe flowers on my lap. 'Clayton told me that every one else was in Mr. Garston's study, so I begged to run up here. We only came up fromRutherford this morning, and we have been so busy ever since. I wasafraid you were asleep, for I knocked at the door without getting anyanswer; but no, your eyes were wide open; so you were only dreaming. '

'I believe I was very tired, they have kept me running about all day. Take this low chair by the window, dear, and tell me all about yourself. Do you know it is six months since we met? There must be so much to sayon both sides. But, first, how is Mrs. Fullerton? and is it Rutherfordthat has given you those pretty roses, Lesbia?' But the roses I meantwere certainly not on my lap. 

She answered literally and seriously, in her usual way: 'Yes, they arefrom Rutherford: I cut them myself, in spite of Patrick's grumbling. Mother is very well, Ursula; I am sure the country agrees with her. Wehave been there since March, and these two months have been the happiestto me since dear Charlie died. '

'You need not tell me that, ' I returned, with a satisfied look at thesweet face. 'Health has returned to you; you are no longer languid andweary; your eyes are bright, your voice has a stronger tone in it. '

'Is it wrong?' she answered quickly. 'I do not forget, I shall neverforget, but the pain seems soothed somehow. When I wake up in the bedwhere I slept as a child, I hear the birds singing, and I do not say tomyself, "Here is another long weary day to get through. " On the contrary, I jump up and dress myself as quickly as I can, for I love to be outamong the dews; everything is so sweet and still in the early morning;there is such freshness in the air. '

'And these early walks are good for you. '

'Oh, I never leave the grounds. I just saunter about with Flo and Rover. When breakfast is ready I have a bouquet to lay beside mother's plate. Dear, good mother! do you know she cannot say enough in praise ofRutherford, now she sees the breakfasts I eat? I think she would bereconciled to any place if she saw me enjoy my food: at the Albert HallMansions I never felt hungry; I was always too tired to eat. '

'I knew Mrs. Fullerton would never repent her sacrifice. '

'No, indeed; mother and I have never been so cosy in our lives. She sitsin the verandah and laughs over my quarrels with Patrick: he is quite ascross-grained as ever, dear old fellow, but there is nothing that he willnot do for me. We are making a rose-garden now. Do you remember thatsunny corner by the terrace and sundial?--dear Charlie always wanted meto have a rose-garden there. We have trellis-work arches and a littlearbour. Patrick and Hawkins are doing the work, but I fancy they cannotget on without me. '

She stopped with a little laugh at her own conceit, and then went on:

'And I am so busy in other ways, Ursula. Every Monday I go to themothers' meeting with Mrs. Trevor, and I have some of the old women atthe almshouses besides, --I am so fond of those old women, --and I havejust begun afternoons for tennis; people like these, and they come fromsuch a distance. Mr. Manners declares the Rutherford Thursdays willsoon be known all over the country. '

'Bravo, Lesbia! you are taking your position nobly, my dear; this is justwhat Charlie wanted to see you, --a brave sweet woman who would not letsorrow and disappointment spoil her own and other people's lives. ' Then, as she blushed with pleasure at my words, I said carelessly, 'Do youoften see Mr. Manners?'

'Oh yes, ' she returned without hesitation, --'on my Thursdays, and atchurch, and at the vicarage: we are always meeting somewhere. He wasCharlie's friend, you know, and he is so nice and sympathising, and tellsme so much about their school life and college life together. He was sofond of Charlie, and the undergraduates used to call them Damon andPythias. '

'To be sure: Charlie was always talking about Harcourt. He has grown veryhandsome, I have heard. '

'Mother says so: he is certainly good-looking, ' she answered simply; 'andthen he is so kind. I feel almost ashamed at troubling him so much withour business and commissions, but he never seems to mind any amount oftrouble. I have never met any one so unselfish. '

I turned away my head to hide a smile. Lesbia was quite serious. She wastoo much absorbed in the memory of Charlie to read the secret of HarcourtManners's unselfishness: the kindly attentions of the young man, hissolicitude and sympathy, had not yet awakened a suspicion of the truth. 

One day Lesbia's eyes would be opened, and she would be shocked andsurprised to find the hold that Charlie's friend had got over her heart. Very likely she would dismiss him and lock herself up in her room and cryfor hours; probably she would persist for some weeks in making herselfand him exceedingly unhappy. But it would be all no use; the tie ofsympathy would be too strong; he would have made himself too necessary toher. One day she would have to yield, and find her life's happiness inthus yielding. Charlie's white lily was too fair to be left to witheralone, and I knew Harcourt Manners would be worthy to win the prize. 

I could see it all before it happened, while Lesbia talked in her seriousway of Mr. Manners's unselfishness. Presently, however, she changed thesubject, and began questioning me eagerly about my work; and just thenJill joined us, and placed herself on the floor at my feet, with the firmintention, evidently, of listening to our remarks. 

The conversation drifted round to Gladwyn presently. I could see Lesbiawas a little curious about these friends of mine that I had mentionedcasually in my letters. 

'I can't quite make out the relationship, ' she said, in a puzzled tone. 'You are always talking about this Gladys. Is she really so beautiful andfascinating? And who is Miss Darrell?'

'You had better ask me, ' interrupted Jill, quite rudely, 'for Ursula isso absurdly infatuated about the whole family; she thinks them all quiteperfect, with the exception of the double-faced lady, Miss Darrell; butthey are very ordinary, --quite ordinary people, I assure you. '

'Now, Jill, we do not want any of your impertinence. Lesbia would ratherhear my description of my friends. '

'On the contrary, she would prefer the opinion of an unprejudicedperson, ' persisted Jill, with a voluble eloquence that took away mybreath. 'Listen to me, Lesbia. This Mr. Hamilton that Ursula is alwaystalking about'--how I longed to box Jill's pretty little ears! she hadlovely ears, pink and shell-like, hidden under her black locks--'is anugly, disagreeable-looking man. '

'Oh!' from Lesbia, in rather a disappointed tone. 

'He is quite old, --about five-and-thirty, they say, --and he has a longsmooth-shaven face like a Jesuit. I don't recollect seeing a Jesuit, though; but he is very like one all the same. He has dark eyes that staresomehow and seem to put you down, and he has a way of laughing at youcivilly that makes you wild; and Ursula believes in him, and is quitemeek in his presence, just because he is a doctor and orders her about. '

'My dear Lesbia, I hope you are taking Jill's measure with a grain ofsalt. Mr. Hamilton is not disagreeable, and he never orders me about. '

Jill shook her head at me, and went on:

'Then there is the double-faced lady--but never mind her; we both hateher. '

'You mean Miss Darrell, Mr. Hamilton's cousin?'

'Yes, Witch Etta, as Lady Betty calls her. She is a dark-eyed, slim pieceof elegance, utterly dependent on her clothes for beauty; she dressesperfectly, and makes herself out a good-looking woman, but she is notreally good-looking; and she is always talking, and her talk is exciting, because there is always something behind her words, something mildlysuggestive of volcanoes, or something equally pleasant and enlivening. If she smiles, for instance, one seems to think one must find out themeaning of that. '

'Who has taught you all this, Jill?' asked Lesbia, bewildered by thissarcasm. 

'My mother-wit, ' returned Jill, utterly unabashed. 'Well, then there isGladys. Ah, now we are coming to the saddest part. Once upon a time therewas a beautiful maiden, really a lovely creature, --oh, I grant you that, Ursula, --but she fell under the power of some wicked magician, male orfemale, --some folks say Witch Etta, --who changed her into a snow-maidenor an ice-maiden. If she were only alive, this Gladys would be mostlovely and bewitching; but, you see, she is only a poor snow-maiden, verywhite and cold. If she gives you her hand, it quite freezes you; her kissturns you to ice too; her smile is congealing. Ursula tries to thaw hersometimes, but it does no good. She is only Gladys, the snow-maiden. '

I was too angry with Jill to say a word. Lesbia looked more mystifiedthan ever. 

'If she be so cold and sad, how can Ursula be so fond of her?' shedemanded, in her practical way. But Jill took no notice, but rattled on:

'Little brown Betsy--I beg her pardon--Lady Betty, is the best of all:she is really human. Gladys is only half alive. Lady Betty laughs andtalks and pouts; she wrinkles up like an old woman when she is cross, andhas lovely dimples when she smiles. She is not pretty, but she is quaint, and interesting, and childlike. I am very fond of Lady Betty, ' finishedJill, with a benevolent nod. 

I proceeded to annotate Jill's mischievous remarks with much severity. I left Mr. Hamilton alone, with the exception of a brief sentence; Iassured Lesbia that he was not ugly, but only peculiar-looking, and thathe was an intellectual, earnest-minded man who had known much trouble. Jill made a wry face, but did not dare to contradict me. 

'As for his sister Gladys, ' I went on, 'she is simply a most beautifulgirl, whose health has failed a little from a great shock'; here Jill andLesbia both looked curious, but I showed no intention of enlighteningthem. 'She is a little too sad and quiet for Jill's taste, ' I continued, 'and she is also somewhat reserved in manner, but when she likes a personthoroughly she is charming. '

I went on a little longer in this strain, until I had thoroughlyvindicated my favourite from Jill's aspersion. 

'You are very fond of her, Ursula: your eyes soften as you talk of her. I should like to see this wonderful Gladys. '

'You must see her one day, ' I rejoined; and then the gong sounded, andLesbia jumped up in a fright, because she said she would keep her motherwaiting, and Jill hurried off to her room to dress. 

We had what Jill called a picnic dinner in Uncle Brian's study. Every oneenjoyed it but Clayton, who seemed rather put out by the disorganisedstate of the house, and who was always getting helplessly wedged inbetween the escritoire and the table. We would have much rather waited onourselves, and we wished Mrs. Martin had forgone the usual number ofcourses. When it was over we all went into the long drawing-room, andJill played soft snatches of Chopin, while Sara and Colonel Fergusonwhispered together on the dark balcony. 

Mrs. Fullerton and Lesbia joined us later on, and then Colonel Fergusontook his leave. I thought Sara looked a little quiet and subdued when shejoined us; her gay chatter had died away, her eyes were a littleplaintive. When we had said good-night, and Jill and I were passing downthe corridor hand in hand, we could hear voices from Aunt Philippa'sroom. Through the half-opened door I caught a glimpse of Sara: she waskneeling by her mother's chair, with her head on Aunt Philippa'sshoulder. Was she bidding a tearful regret to her old happy life? Iwondered; was she looking forward with natural shrinking and a littlefear to the new responsibility that awaited her on the morrow? It was themother who was talking; one could imagine how her heart would yearn overher child to-night, --what fond prayers would be uttered for the girl. Aunt Philippa was a loving mother: worldliness had not touched theingrained warmth of her nature. 

I am glad to remember how brightly the sun shone on Sara's wedding-day. There was not a cloud in the sky. When I woke, the birds were singing inHyde Park, and Jill in her white wrapper was looking at me with bright, excited eyes. 

'It is such a lovely morning!' she exclaimed rapturously. 'Actually Sarais asleep! Fancy sleeping under such circumstances! She and mother aregoing to have breakfast together in the schoolroom. Do be quick anddress, Ursula; father is always so early, you know. '

Uncle Brian was reading his paper as usual when I entered the study. MissGillespie was pouring out coffee. Jill was fidgeting about the room, until her father called her to order, and then she sat down to the table. I do not think any of us enjoyed our breakfast. Uncle Brian certainlylooked dull; Jill was too excited to eat; poor Miss Gillespie had tearsin her eyes; she poured out tea and coffee with cold shaking hands. 'Lilian Gillespie, from her devoted friend Maurice Compton, ' came into myhead: no wonder the thought of marriage-bells and bridal finery made hersad. I am afraid I should have shut myself up in my own room, and refusedto mingle with the crowd, under these circumstances. I quite understoodthe feeling of sympathy that made Jill stoop down and kiss the smoothbrown hair as she passed the governess's chair: it was a sort ofaffectionate homage to misfortune patiently borne. 

I went up to the schoolroom when breakfast was over. Aunt Philippa lookedas though she had not slept: there was a jaded look about her eyes. Sara, on the contrary, looked fresh and smiling; she was just going to putherself in her maid's hands; but she tripped back in her pretty muslindressing-gown and rose-coloured ribbons to kiss me and ask me to lookafter Jill's toilet. 

'Every one is so busy, and mother and Draper will be attending to me. Do, please, Ursie dear, see that she puts on her bonnet straight. ' Andof course I promised to do my best. 

As it happened, Jill was very tractable and obedient. I think herbeautiful bridesmaid's dress rather impressed her. I saw a look of awe inher eyes as she regarded herself, and then she dropped a mocking courtesyto her own image. 

'I am Jocelyn to-day, remember that, Ursula. I don't look a bit likeJill. Jocelyn Adelaide Garston, bridesmaid. '

'You look charming, Jill--I mean Jocelyn. '

'Oh, how horrid it sounds from your lips, Ursie! I like my own funnylittle name best from you. Now come and let me finish you. ' And Jill, inspite of her fine dress, would persist in waiting on me. She was veryvoluble in her expression of admiration when I had finished, but I didnot seem to recognise 'Nurse Ursula' in the elegantly-dressed woman thatI saw reflected in the pier-glass. 'Fine feathers make fine birds, ' Isaid to myself. 

I think we all agreed that Sara looked lovely. Lesbia, who joined us inthe drawing-room, contemplated her with tears in her eyes. 

'You look like a picture, Sara, ' she whispered, --'like a fairy queen, --inall that whiteness. ' Sara dimpled and blushed. Of course she knew howpretty she was, and how people liked to look at her; but I am sure shewas thinking of Donald, as her eyes rested on her bridal bouquet. Dearlyas she loved all this finery and consequence, there was a soft, thoughtful expression in her eyes that was quite new to them, andthat I loved to see. 

We went to church presently, and Lesbia and I, standing side by side, heard the beautiful, awful service. 'Till death us do part. ' Oh, whatwords to say to any man! Surely false lips would grow paralysed overthem!

A most curious thing happened just then. I had raised my eyes, when theysuddenly encountered Mr. Hamilton's. A sort of shock crossed me. Why washe here? How had he come? How strange! how very strange! The next momenthe had disappeared from my view: probably he had withdrawn behind apillar that he might not attract my notice. I could almost have believedthat it was an illusion and fancied resemblance, only I had never seen aface like Mr. Hamilton's. 

The momentary glimpse had distracted me, and I heard the remainder of theservice rather absently; then the pealing notes of the wedding-marchresounded through the church; we all stood waiting until Sara had signedher name, and had come out of the vestry leaning on her husband's arm. 

I was under Major Egerton's care. The crowd round the door was so greatthat it was with the greatest difficulty that he could pilot me to thecarriage. Lesbia was following us with another officer, whose name I didnot know. As we took our seats I distinctly saw Mr. Hamilton cross theroad. He was walking quietly down Hyde Park. As we passed he turned andtook off his hat. I thought it was a strange thing that he should be inthe neighbourhood on Sara's wedding-day, and that he should have deignedto play the part of a spectator after his severe strictures on gayweddings. I supposed his business in Edinburgh was finished, and he hadan idle day or two on his hands. I half expected him to call the nextday, for I had given him my address; but he did not come, and I heardfrom Mr. Tudor afterwards that he had gone on to Folkestone. 

CHAPTER XXXII

A FIERY ORDEAL

It is a hackneyed truism, and, like other axioms, profoundly true, thatwedding-festivities are invariably followed by a sense of blank dulness. 

It is like the early morning after a ball, when the last guests have leftthe house: the lights flicker in the dawn, the empty rooms want sweepingand furnishing to be fit for habitation. Yawns, weariness, satiety, drivethe jaded entertainers to their resting-places. Every one knows howtawdry the ball-dress looks in the clear morning light. The diamondscease to flash, the flowers are withered, the game is played out. 

Something of this languor and vacuum is felt when the bride andbridegroom have driven away amid the typical shower of rice. The smilesseem quenched, somehow; mother and sisters shed tears; a sense of losspervades the house; the bridal finery is heaped up in the empty room; onelittle glove is on the table, another has fallen to the floor. All sortsof girlish trinkets that have been forgotten lie unheeded in corners. 

I know we all thought that evening would never end, and I quiteunderstood why Jill hovered near her mother's chair, listening to herconversation with Mrs. Fullerton. Every now and then Aunt Philippa brokedown and shed a few quiet tears. I heard her mention Ralph's name once. 'Poor boy! how proud he would have been of his sister!' Uncle Brian heardit too, for I saw him wince at the sound of his son's name; but Jillstroked her mother's hand, and said, quite naturally, 'Most likely Ralphknows all about it, mamma, and of course he is glad that Sara is sohappy. '

Our pretty light-hearted Sara. I had no idea that I should miss herso much! Indeed, we all missed her: it seemed to me now that I hadundervalued her. True, she had not been a congenial companion to me in mydark days; but even then I had wronged her. Why should I have expectedher to grope among the shadows with me, instead of following her into thesunshine? Sara could not act contrary to her nature. Sad things depressedher. She wanted to cause every one to be happy. 

Her feelings were far deeper than I had imagined them to be. I liked theway she spoke to Jill when she was bidding good-bye to us all. 

'Jocelyn dear, promise me that you will be good to mother. She has no onebut you now to study her little ways and make her comfortable, and she isnot as young as she was, and things tire her. ' Of course Jill promisedwith tears in her eyes, and Sara went away smiling and radiant. Jill wasalready trying to redeem her promise, as she hovered like a tall slimshadow behind her mother's chair in the twilight. 

'Come and sit down, Jocelyn, my dear, ' observed Aunt Philippa at last, inher motherly voice. When I looked again, Jill's black locks were bobbingon her mother's lap, and the three seemed all talking together. 

There was very little rest for any one during the next few days. Sara'smarriage had brought sundry relations from their country homes up totown, and there was open house kept for all. Jill went sight-seeing withthe young people. Aunt Philippa drove some of the elder ladies to theAcademy, to the Grosvenor Gallery, to the Park, and other places. 

Every day there were luncheon-parties, tea-parties, dinner-parties; thelong drawing-room seemed full every evening. Jill put on one or other ofher pretty new gowns, and played her pieces industriously; there was nostealing away in corners now. There were round games for the youngpeople; now and then they went to the theatre or opera: no wonder Jillwas too tired and excited to open her lesson-books. My fortnight's visitextended itself to three weeks. Aunt Philippa could not spare me; shesaid I was much too useful to her and Uncle Brian. I wrote to Mrs. Bartonand also to Lady Betty, and I begged the latter to inform her brotherthat I could not leave my relations just yet. 

Lady Betty wrote back at once. She had given my message, she said, butGiles had not seemed half pleased with it. She thought he was going awaysomewhere, she did not know where; but he had told her to say that therewere no fresh cases, and that Robert Lambert was going on all right, andthat as I seemed enjoying myself so much it was a pity not to take alonger holiday while I was about it, and he sent his kind regards; andthat was all. I suppose I ought to have been satisfied, but it struck methat there was a flavour of sarcasm about Mr. Hamilton's message. 

But he was right; I was enjoying myself. Lesbia was still in town, and Isaw her every day. My acquaintance with Miss Gillespie grew to intimacy, and I think we mutually enjoyed each other's society. Aunt Philippaseemed to turn to me naturally for help and comfort, and her constant'Ursula, my dear, will you do this for me?' gave me a real feeling ofpleasure; and then there was Jill to pet and praise at every odd moment. 

One day we were all called upon to admire Sara's new signature, 'SaraFerguson, ' written in bold, girlish characters. 'Donald is looking overmy shoulder as I write it, dear mamma, ' Sara wrote, in a long postscript. 'Are husbands always so impertinent? Donald pretends that it is part ofhis duty to see that I dot my _i_'s and cross my _t_'s: he will talk suchnonsense. There, he has gone off laughing, and I may end comfortably bytelling you that he spoils me dreadfully and is so good to me, and thatI am happier than I deserve to be, and your very loving child, Sara. '

'Poor darling! she always did make her own sunshine, ' murmured AuntPhilippa fondly. 

Now, that afternoon who should call upon us but Mr. Tudor? Jill was out, as usual, riding with two of her cousins and Uncle Brian; they had goneoff to Kew or Richmond for the afternoon; but Aunt Philippa, who had beendozing in her easy-chair by the window, welcomed the young man verykindly, and made him promise to stay to dinner. 

Mr. Tudor tried not to look too much pleased as he accepted theinvitation. A sort of blush crossed his honest face as he turned to me:he had two or three messages to deliver, he said. Mr. Cunliffe had givenhim one, and Mrs. Barton, and Lady Betty. She, Lady Betty, wanted me toknow that Miss Darrell was going to Brighton for a week or ten days, andthat she hoped I should come home before then. 

I heard, too, that Mr. Hamilton had gone to Folkestone, and that he hadtried to induce Uncle Max to go with him. 'But it is no use telling himhe wants a change, ' finished Mr. Tudor, with a sigh; 'he is bent onwearing himself out for other people. '

Mr. Tudor and I chatted on for the remainder of the afternoon. I hadtaken him out on the balcony: there were an awning and some chairs, andwe could sit there in comparative privacy looking down on the passers-by. Aunt Philippa was nodding again: we could hear her regular breathingbehind us: poor woman! she was worn out with bustle and gaiety. I wasthankful that a grand horticultural _fête_ kept all the aunts and cousinsaway, with the exception of the two who were riding with Jill. 

Clayton brought us out some tea presently, and we found plenty of topicsfor conversation. 

All at once I stopped in the middle of a conversation. 

'Mr. Tudor, have my eyes deceived me, or was that Leah?'

'Who?--what Leah? I do not know whom you mean!' he returned, ratherstupidly, staring in another direction. There was a cavalcade coming upthe road, --a tall slim girl, on a chestnut mare, riding on in front witha young man, another girl and an elderly man with a gray moustachefollowing them, a groom bringing up the rear. 

Of course it was Jill, smiling and waving towards the balcony; she couldnot see Mr. Tudor under the awning, but she had caught sight of my silkdress. Jill looked very well on horseback: people always turned round towatch her. She had a good seat, and rode gracefully; the dark habitsuited her; she braided her unmanageable locks into an invisible net thatkept them tidy. 

'Is that Miss Jocelyn?' asked Lawrence, almost in a voice of awe. Theyoung curate grew very red as Jill rode under the balcony and nodded tohim in a friendly manner. 

'There is Mr. Tudor, ' we heard her say. 'Be quick and lift me off myhorse, Clarence. ' But she had slipped to the ground before her cousincould touch her, and had run indoors. 

Mr. Tudor went into the room at once, but I sat still for a moment. Why had I asked him? Of course it was Leah. I could see her strangelight-coloured eyes glancing up in my direction. What was she doing inLondon? I wondered. She was dressed well, evidently in her mistress'scast-off clothes, for she wore a handsome silk dress and mantle. Had theyquarrelled and parted? I felt instinctively that it would be a good dayfor Gladwyn if Leah ever shook off its dust from her feet. Gladysregarded her as a spy and informer, and she had evidently an unwholesomeinfluence over her mistress. 

We separated soon after this to dress for dinner, and Mr. Tudor went tohis hotel. I was rather sorry when I came downstairs to find that Jillhad made rather a careless toilet. She wore the flimsy Indian muslin gownthat I thought so unbecoming to her style, with a string of gold beads ofcurious Florentine work round her neck. She looked so different from thegraceful young Amazon who had ridden up an hour ago that I felt provoked, and was not surprised to hear the old sharp tone in Aunt Philippa'svoice:

'My dear Jocelyn, why have you put on that old gown? Surely your newcream-coloured dress with coffee lace would have been more suitable. Whatwas Draper thinking about?'

'I was in too great a hurry; I did not wait for Draper, ' returned Jillcandidly. 'Draper was dreadfully cross about it, but I ran away from her. What does it matter, mamma? They have all seen my cream-coloured dress, except--' But here Jill laughed: the naughty child meant Mr. Tudor. 

'I am afraid there is not time to change it now; but I am very much vexedabout it, ' returned Aunt Philippa, in a loud whisper. 'You are reallylooking your worst to-night. ' But Jill only laughed again, and asked hercousin Clarence when he took her down to dinner if it were not a verypretty gown. 

'I don't know much about gowns, ' drawled the young man, --Mr. Tudor andI were following them: 'it looks rather flimsy and washed out. If I wereyou I would wear something more substantial. You see, you are so big, Jocelyn; your habit suits you better. '

We heard Jill laughing in a shrill fashion at this dubious compliment, and presently she and Mr. Tudor, who sat next to her, were talking ashappily as possible. I do not believe he noticed her unbecoming gown: hisface had lighted up, and he was full of animation. Poor Lawrence! he wasfive-and-twenty, and yet the presence of this girl of sixteen was more tohim than all the young-ladyhood of Heathfield. Even charming little LadyBetty was beaten out of the field by Jill's dark eyes and sprightlytongue. 

It was a very pleasant evening, and we were all enjoying ourselves: noone imagined anything could or would happen; life is just like that: weshould just take up our candlesticks, we thought, and march off to bedwhen Aunt Philippa gave the signal. No one could have imagined that therewould be a moment's deadly peril for one of the party, --an additionalthanksgiving for a life preserved that night. 

And then no one seemed to know how it happened; people never do see, somehow. 

There was music going on. Agatha Chudleigh--the Chudleighs were AuntPhilippa's belongings--was playing the piano, and her brother Clarencewas accompanying her on the violoncello. There was a little group roundthe piano. Jill was beating time, standing with her back to a smallinlaid table with a lamp on it. Mr. Tudor was beside her. Jill made abackward movement in her forgetfulness and enthusiasm. The next momentthe music stopped with a crash. There was a cry of horror, the lampseemed falling, glass smashed, liquid fire was pouring down Jill'sunfortunate dress. If Mr. Tudor had not caught it, they said afterwards, with all that lace drapery, the room must have been in flames; but he hadjerked it back in its place, and, snatching up a bear-skin rug that layunder the piano, had wrapped it round Jill. He was so strong and prompt, there was not a moment lost. 

We had all crowded round in a moment, but no one dared to interfere withMr. Tudor. We could hear Aunt Philippa sobbing with terror. ClarenceChudleigh extinguished the lamp, some one else flung an Indian blanketand a striped rug at Jill's feet. For one instant I could see the girl'sface, white and rigid as a statue, as the young man's powerful armsenveloped her. Then the danger was over, and Jill was standing among usunhurt, with her muslin gown hanging in blackened shreds, and withbruises on her round white arms from the rough grip that had saved herlife. 

One instant's delay, and the fiery fluid must have covered her from headto foot; if Lawrence had not caught the falling lamp, if he had lost onemoment in smothering the lighted gown, she must have perished in agonybefore our eyes; but he was strong as a young Hercules, and, halfsuffocated and bruised as she was, Jill knew from what he had saved her. 

As the scorched bear-skin dropped to the floor, Lawrence picked up theIndian blanket and flung it over Jill's tattered gown. 'Go up to yourroom, Miss Jocelyn, ' he whispered: 'you are all right now. ' And sheobeyed without a word. Miss Gillespie and I followed. I think AuntPhilippa was faint or had palpitations, for I heard Uncle Brian callingloudly to some one to open the windows. Jill was hysterical as soon asshe reached her room. She was quite unnerved, and clung to me, shakingwith sobs, while Miss Gillespie mixed some sal-volatile. I could not helpcrying a little with her from joy and thankfulness; but we got her quietafter a time, and took off the poor gown, and Jill showed us her bruises, and cheered up when we told her how brave and quiet she had been; andthen she sat for some minutes with her face hidden in my lap, while Istroked her hair silently and thanked God in my heart for sparing ourJill. 

Miss Gillespie had gone downstairs to carry a good report to AuntPhilippa. Directly she had gone, Jill jumped up, still shaking a little, and went to her wardrobe. 

'I must go downstairs, ' she said, a little feverishly. 'I have neverthanked Mr. Tudor for saving my life. Help me to be quick, Ursie dear, for I feel so queer and tottery. ' And nothing I could say would prevailon her to remain quietly in her room. While I was arguing with her, shehad dragged out her ruby velveteen and was trying to fasten it with hertrembling fingers. 

'Oh, you are obstinate, Jill: you ought to be good on this night of allnights. ' But she made no answer to this, and, seeing her bent on her ownway, I brought her a brooch, and would have smoothed her hair, but shepushed me away. 

'It does not matter how I look. I am only going down for a few minutes. He is going away, and I want to say good-night to him, and thank him. 'And Jill walked downstairs rather unsteadily. 

Mr. Tudor was just crossing the hall. When he saw Jill, he hurried up toher at once. 

'Miss Jocelyn, this is very imprudent. You ought to have gone to bed: youare not fit to be up after such a shock, ' looking at her pale face andswollen eyes with evident emotion. 

Jill looked at him gently and seriously, and held out her hands to himquite simply. 

'I could not go to bed without thanking you, I am not quite so selfishand thoughtless. You have saved my life: do you think I shall ever forgetthat?'

Poor Lawrence! the excitement, the terror, and the relief were too muchfor him; and there was Jill holding his hands and looking up in his face, with her great eyes full of tears. It was not very wonderful that for amoment he forgot himself. 

'I could not help doing it, ' he returned. 'What would have become of meif you had died? I could not have borne it. '

Jill drew her hands away, and her face looked a little paler in themoonlight. The young man's excited voice, his strange words, must havetold her the truth. No, she was not too young to understand; her headdrooped, and she turned away as she answered him, --

'I shall always be grateful. Good-night, Mr. Tudor: I must go to mymother. Come, Ursula. '

She did not look back as we walked across the hall, though poor Lawrencestood quite still watching us. Why had the foolish boy said that? Why hadhe forgotten his position and her youth? Why had he hinted that her lifewas necessary to his happiness? Would Jill ever forget those words, orthe look that accompanied them? I felt almost angry with Lawrence asI followed Jill into the room. 

Jill need never have doubted her mother's love. Aunt Philippa had beentoo faint and ill to follow her daughter to her room, but her face wasquite beautiful with maternal tenderness as she folded the girl in herarms. Not even her father, who especially petted Jill, showed moreaffection for her that night. 

'Oh, Jocelyn, my darling, are you quite sure that you are unhurt? MissGillespie says you were only frightened and a little bruised; but Iwanted to see for myself. Mr. Tudor will not let us thank him, but weshall be grateful to him all our lives, my pet. What would your poorfather and I have done without you?'

Jill hid her face like a baby on her mother's bosom: she was cryingquietly. Her interview with Mr. Tudor had certainly upset her. UncleBrian put his hand in her rough locks. 'Never mind, my little girl: it isnow over; you must go to bed and forget it, '--which was certainly verygood advice. I coaxed Aunt Philippa to let her go, and promised to remainwith her until she was asleep. She was very quiet, and hardly said a wordas I helped her to undress, but as I sat down by the bedside she drew myhead down beside hers on the pillow. 

'Don't think I am not grateful because I do not talk about it, Ursiedear, ' she whispered. 'I hope to be better all my life for what hashappened to-night. ' But as Jill lay, with wide, solemn eyes, in themoonlight, I wondered what thoughts were coursing through her mind. Wasshe looking upon her life preserved as a life dedicated, regardingherself as set apart for higher work and nobler uses? or was hergratitude to her young preserver mixed with deeper and more mysteriousfeelings? I could not tell, but from that night I noticed a regularchange in Jill: she became less girlish and fanciful, a new sort ofwomanliness developed itself, her high spirits were tempered withsoftness. Uncle Brian was right when he said a few days afterwards'that his little girl was growing a woman. '

CHAPTER XXXIII

JACK POYNTER

My conscience felt decidedly uneasy that night: in spite of all argumentto the contrary, I could not shake off the conviction that it was my dutyto speak to Aunt Philippa. I ought to warn her of the growing intimacybetween the young people. She and Uncle Brian ought to know that Mr. Tudor was not quite so harmless as he looked. 

It made me very unhappy to act the traitor to this honest, simple youngfellow. I would rather have taken his hand and bidden him God-speed withhis wooing. If I had been Uncle Brian I would have welcomed him heartilyas a suitor for Jill. True, she was absurdly young, --only sixteen, --but Iwould have said to him, 'If you are in earnest, if you really love thisgirl, and are willing to wait for her, go about your business for threeyears, and then come and try your chance with her. If she likes you sheshall have you. I am quite aware you are poor, --that you are a curate ona hundred and fifty a year; but you are well connected and a gentleman, and as guileless as a young Nathaniel. I could not desire a betterhusband for my daughter. '

But it was not likely that Uncle Brian would be so quixotic. And Iknew that Aunt Philippa was rather ambitious for her children, and ithad been a great disappointment to her that Sara had refused a youngbaronet. So it was with the guilty feelings of a culprit that I enteredthe morning-room the next morning and asked Aunt Philippa if I mighthave a few minutes' conversation with her. 

To my relief, she treated the whole matter very coolly, and with amixture of shrewdness and common sense that quite surprised me. 

She assured me that it was not of the least consequence. Young creatureslike Jocelyn must pass through this sort of experiences. She wascertainly rather young for such an experiment, but it would do her noharm. On the contrary, a little stimulus of gratified vanity might beextremely beneficial in its after-effects. She was somewhat backward andchildish for her age. She would have more self-respect at finding herselfthe object of masculine admiration. 

'Depend upon it, it will do her a great deal of good, ' went on AuntPhilippa placidly. 'She will try now in earnest to break herself off herlittle _gaucheries_. As for Mr. Tudor, do not distress yourself abouthim. He is young enough to have half-a-dozen butterfly fancies before hesettles down seriously. '

'I remember, ' she continued, 'that during Sara's first season we hadrather a trouble about a young barrister. He was a handsome fellow, butterribly poor, and your uncle told me privately that he must not beencouraged. Well, Sara got it into her head that she was in love withhim, and, in spite of all I could say to her by way of warning, shewould promise him dances, and, in fact, they did a good bit of flirtingtogether. So I told your uncle that we had better leave town earlier thatyear. We went into Yorkshire, paying visits, and then to Scotland. Sarahad never been there before, and we took care that she should have athoroughly enjoyable trip. My dear, before three months were overshe had forgotten Henry Brabazon's existence. It was just a girlishsentimentality; nothing more. When we got back to town we made Mr. Brabazon understand that his attentions were displeasing to your uncle, and before the next season he was engaged to a rich young widow. I donot believe Sara ever missed him. '

I listened to all this in silence. I was much relieved to find that AuntPhilippa was not disposed to blame me for Lawrence Tudor's infatuation. She told me that she was not the least afraid of his influence, andshould not discourage his visits. Jocelyn would never see him alone, andit was not likely that she would be staying at Heathfield again. Ithought it useless to say any more. I had satisfied my conscience, andmight now safely wash my hands of all responsibility. If the thoughtcrossed my mind that Jill was very different from Sara, --that her willwas stronger and her affections more tenacious, --there was no need togive it utterance. Sixteen was hardly the age for a serious love-affair, and I might well be content to leave Jill in her mother's care. 

Now and then a doubt of Aunt Philippa's wisdom came to me, --on the lastevening, for instance, when I was speaking to Jill about Heathfield, andwhen I rather incautiously mentioned Lawrence Tudor's name. 

I recollected then that Jill had never once spoken of him since the nightof the accident. It had dropped completely out of our conversation. Iforget what I said then, but it was something about my seeing him atHeathfield. 

We were standing together on the balcony, and as I spoke Jill stoopedsuddenly to look at a little flower-girl who was offering her wares onthe pavement below. For a moment she did not answer. But I could see hercheek and even her little ear was flushed. 

'Oh yes, you will see him, ' she returned presently. 'What a little miteof a child! Look, Ursula. Please remember us to him, and--and we hope heis quite well. ' And Jill walked away from me rather abruptly, saying shemust ask her mother for some pence. It was then that a doubt of AuntPhilippa's policy crossed my mind; Jill was so different from othergirls; and Lawrence Tudor had saved her life. 

I had other things to occupy my mind just then, --a fresh anxiety that Icould share with no one, and which effectually spoiled the last few daysof my London visit. 

The sight of Leah had somewhat disturbed me. It had brought back memoriesof the perplexities and mysteries of Gladwyn. Strange to say, I saw heragain the very next day. 

Mr. Tudor was calling at the door to inquire after Jill: he had his bagin his hand, and was on his way to the station. I was just going out tocall on Lesbia, and we walked a few yards together. Just as I was biddinghim good-bye, two women passed us: as I looked at them casually, I sawLeah's flickering light-coloured eyes; she was looking in my direction, but, though I nodded to her, she did not appear to recognise me. Theother woman was a stranger. 

I was sitting alone on the balcony that afternoon. Aunt Philippa and Jilland Miss Gillespie were driving. I took advantage of their absence andthe unusual quiet of the house to finish a book in which I was muchinterested. 

I was very fond of this balcony seat: the awning protected me from thehot June sun, and the flower-boxes at my feet were sweet with mignonette. I could see without being seen, and the cool glimpses of the green Parkwere pleasant on this hot afternoon. 

The adjoining house was unoccupied: it was therefore with feelings ofdiscomfort that I heard the sound of workmen moving about the premises, and by and by the smell of fresh paint made me put down my book withsuppressed annoyance. 

A house-painter was standing very near me, painting the outside sashes ofthe window: he had his back turned to me, and was whistling to himself inthe careless way peculiar to his class. It was a clear, sweet whistling, and I listened to it with pleasure. 

A sudden noise in the street caused him to look round, and then he sawme, and stopped whistling. 

Where had I seen that face? It seemed familiar to me. Of whom did thatyoung house-painter remind me? Could I have seen him at St. Thomas'sHospital? Was it some patient whose name I had forgotten during my year'snursing? I had had more than one house-painter on my list. 

I was tormented by the idea that I ought to recognise the face beforeme, and yet recognition eluded me. I felt baffled and perplexed by somesubtile fancied resemblance. As for the young painter himself, he lookedat me quietly for a moment, as though I were a stranger, touched his cap, and went on painting. When he had finished his job, he went inside, andI heard him whistling again as he moved about the empty room. 

It was a beautiful face: the features were very clearly cut and defined, like--Good heavens! I had it now: it reminded me of Gladys Hamilton's. The next moment I was holding the balcony railing as though I were giddy;it was like Gladys, but it was still more like the closed picture inGladys's room. I pressed my hands on my eyelids as with a strong effortI recalled her brother Eric's face, and the next moment the young painterhad come to the window again, and I was looking at him between myfingers. 

The resemblance could not be my fancy; those were Eric's eyes looking atme. It was the same face, only older and less boyish-looking. The fairmoustache was fully grown; the face was altogether more manly and full ofcharacter. It must be he; I must go and speak to him; but as I rose, mylimbs trembling with excitement, he moved away, and his whistle seemed todie in the distance. 

It was nearly six o'clock, and there was no time to be lost. I ranupstairs and put on my bonnet and mantle. I thought that Clayton lookedat me in some surprise, --I was leaving the house without gloves; but Idid not wait for any explanation: the men would be leaving off work. Thedoor was open, and I quickly found my way to the drawing-room, but, to mychagrin, it was empty, and an elderly man with gray hair came out of aback room with a basket of carpenter's tools and looked at meinquiringly. 

'There is a workman here that I want to find, ' I said breathlessly, --'theone that was painting the window-frames just now, --a tall, fair youngman. '

'Oh, you'll be meaning Jack Poynter, ' he returned civilly; 'he and hismate have just gone. '

'It cannot be the one I mean, ' I answered, somewhat perplexed at this. 'He was very young, not more than three-or four-and-twenty, good-looking, with a fair moustache, and he was whistling while he worked. '

'Ay, that's Jack Poynter, ' returned the man, taking off his paper cap andrubbing up his bristly gray hair. 'We call Jack "The Blackbird" among us;he is a famous whistler, is Jack. '

'Oh, but that is not his name, ' I persisted, in a distressed voice. 'Whydo you call him Jack Poynter?'

'That is what he calls himself, ' returned the man drily. Evidently hethought my remarks a little odd. 'Folks mostly calls themselves by theirown names; among his mates he is known as "The Whistler, " or "TheBlackbird, " or "Gentleman Jack. "'

'Well, never mind about his name, ' I replied impatiently. 'I want tospeak to him. Where does he live? Will you kindly give me his address?'

'You would be welcome to it if I knew it, but "Gentleman Jack" keepshimself dark. None of us know where he lives. I believe it used to bedown Holloway; but he has moved lately. '

'I wish you would tell me what you know about him, ' I pleaded. 'It isnot idle curiosity, believe me, but I think I shall be able to do hima service. '

'I suppose you know something of his belongings, ' returned the man with ashrewd glance. 'Now that is what me and my mates say. We would none of usbe surprised if "Gentleman Jack" has respectable folk belonging to him. He has not quite our ways. He is a cut above us, and clips his words likethe gentlefolk do. But he is an industrious young fellow, and does notgive himself airs. '

'Could you not find out for me where he lives?'

'Well, for the matter of that, you might ask him yourself, miss; he willbe here again to-morrow morning, and I am off to Watford on a job. Jackis not at work regularly in these parts. He is doing a turn for a mate ofhis who is down with a touch of colic. He is working at Bayswater mostly, and he will be here to-morrow morning. '

'You are sure of that?'

'Oh yes. Tom Handley won't be fit for work for a spell yet. He will behere sharp enough, and then you can question him yourself. ' And, biddingme a civil good-evening, the man took up his tools and went heavilydownstairs, evidently expecting me to follow him. I went back and stoleup quietly to my room. Aunt Philippa and Jill had returned from theirdrive. I could hear their voices as I passed the drawing-room; but Iwanted to be alone to think over this strange occurrence. 

My pulses were beating high with excitement. Not for one moment did Idoubt that I had really seen Eric in the flesh. Gladys's intuition wasright: her brother was not dead. I felt that this assurance alone wouldmake her happy. 

If she were only at Heathfield, or even at Bournemouth, I would telegraphfor her to come; I could word the message so that she would have hastenedto me at once; but Paris was too far; too much time would be lost. 

Uncle Max, too, had been called to Norwich to attend a cousin'sdeath-bed: I had had a note from him that very morning, so I could nothave the benefit of his advice and assistance. I knew that I dared notsummon Mr. Hamilton: the brothers had parted in ill blood, with bitterwords and looks. Eric looked on his step-brother as his worst enemy. Allthese years he had been hiding himself from him. I dared not run the riskof bringing them together. I could not make a _confidante_ of AuntPhilippa or Uncle Brian. They had old-fashioned views, and would have atonce stigmatised Eric as a worthless fellow. Circumstantial evidence wasso strong against him that few would have believed in his innocence. EvenUncle Max condemned him, and in my own heart there lurked a secret doubtwhether Gladys had not deceived herself. 

No, my only course would be to speak to him myself, to implore him forGladys's sake to listen to me. My best plan would be to rise as early aspossible the next morning, and to be on the balcony by six o'clock. Ishould see the men come in to their work, and should have no difficultyin making my way to them. The household was not an early one, especiallyin the season. I should have the house to myself for an hour or so. 

Of course my future movements were uncertain. I must speak to Eric first, and induce him to reopen communications with his family. I would tell himhow his brother grieved over his supposed death, how changed he was; andhe should hear, too, of Gladys's failing health and spirits. I should notbe wanting in eloquence on that subject. If he loved Gladys he would notrefuse to listen to me. 

After a time I tried to set aside these thoughts, and to occupy myselfwith dressing for the evening. We had a dinner-party that night. Mrs. Fullerton and Lesbia were to be of the party. They were going down toRutherford the next day, so I should have to bid them good-bye. 

The evening was very tedious and wearisome to me: my head ached, and theglitter of lights and the sound of many voices seemed to bewilder me. Lesbia came up after dinner to ask if I were not well, I was so pale andquiet. We sat out on the balcony together in the starlight for a littlewhile, until Mrs. Fullerton called Lesbia in. I would gladly haveremained there alone, drinking in the freshness of the night dews, butJill came out and began chattering to me, until I went back with her intothe room. 

There was very little sleep for me that night. When at last I fell intoa dose, I was tormented by a succession of miserable dreams. I wasfollowing a supposed Eric down long country roads in the darkness. Something seemed always to retard me: my feet were weighted with lead, invisible hands were pulling me back. I heard him whistling in thedistance, then I stumbled, and a black bog engulfed me, and I woke witha stifled cry. 

I woke to the knowledge that the sun was streaming in at my windows, and that some sound like a falling plank had roused me from my uneasyslumbers. It must be past six o'clock, I thought; surely the men must beat work. Yes, I could hear their voices; and the next moment I had jumpedout of bed, and was dressing myself with all possible haste. 

It was nearly seven when I crept down into the drawing-room toreconnoitre the adjoining house. As I unfastened the window I heard thesame sweet whistling that had arrested my attention yesterday. 

Without a moment's hesitation I walked out on the balcony. The youngpainter looked round in some surprise at the sound of my footsteps, andtouched his cap with a half-smile. 

'It is a beautiful morning, ' I began nervously, for I wanted to make himspeak. 'Have you been at work long?'

'Ever since six o'clock, ' he returned, and I think he was a littlesurprised at hearing himself addressed. 'We work early these lightmornings. ' And then he took up his brush and went on painting. 

I watched him for a minute or two without a word. How was I to proceed?My presence seemed to puzzle him. Perhaps he wondered why a lady shouldtake such interest in his work. I saw him glance at me uneasily. 

'Will you let me speak to you?' I said, in a very low voice, and as hecame towards me, rather unwillingly, I continued: 'I know the men callyou Jack Poynter, but that is not your name. You are Eric Hamilton; no, do not be frightened: I am Gladys's friend, and I will not injure you. '

I had broken off abruptly, for I was alarmed at the effect of my words. The young painter's face had become ashen pale, and the brush had fallenout of his shaking hand. The next moment a fierce, angry light had cometo his eyes. 

'What do you mean? who are you?' he demanded, in a trembling voice, buteven at the moment's agitation I noticed he spoke with the refinedintonation of a gentleman. 'I know nothing of what you say: you musttake me for another man. I am Jack Poynter. '

'Oh, Mr. Hamilton, ' I implored, stretching out my hands across thebalcony, 'do not treat me as an enemy. I am a friend, who only meanswell. For Gladys's sake listen to me a moment. '

'I will hear nothing!' he stammered angrily. 'I will not be hindered inmy work any longer. Excuse me if I am rude to a lady, but you take me foranother man. ' And before I could say another word he had stepped throughthe open window. 

I could have wrung my hands in despair. He had denied his own identity atthe very moment when his paleness and terror had proved it to me withoutdoubt. 'You take me for another man, ' he had said; and yet I could havesworn in a court of justice that he was Eric Hamilton; not only his face, but his voice; his manner, told me he was Gladys's brother. 

But he should not elude me like this, and I hurried downstairs, determined to find my way into the empty house and confront him again. The fastenings of the hall door gave me a little difficulty. I was afraidClayton would hear me, but I found myself outside at last, and in anotherminute I was in the deserted drawing-room. 

Alas! Eric was not there: only his paint-pot and brush lay on the balconyoutside. Surely he could not have escaped me in these few minutes; hemust be in one of the other rooms. At the top of the stairs I encountereda young workman, and began questioning him at once. 

'Well, this is a queer start, ' he observed, in some perplexity. 'I sawJack only this moment: he wanted his jacket, for he said he had a summonssomewhere. I noticed he was palish, and seemed all of a shake, but he didnot answer when I called out to him. '

'Do you mean he has gone?' I asked, feeling ready to cry withdisappointment. 

'Yes, he has gone right enough; but he'll be back presently, by the timethe governor comes round. I wonder what's up with Jack; he looked mightyqueer, as though the peelers were after him; in an awful funk, I shouldsay. '

'Will you do me a favour, my man?' and as I spoke a shining half-crownchanged hands rather quietly. 'I want to speak to your friend JackPoynter very particularly, but I am quite sure that he wishes to avoidme. If he comes back, will you write a word on a slip of paper and throwit on to the balcony of 64?--Just the words "At work now" will do, or anydirection that will find him. I am very much in earnest over this. '

The man looked at me and then at the half-crown. He had a good-humoured, stupid-looking face, but was young enough to like an unusual job. 

'It will be worth more than that to you to bring me face to face withJack Poynter, or to give me any news of him, ' I continued. 'You do notknow where he lives, for example?'

'No: we are none of us his mates, except Fowler and Dunn, and they don'tknow where he lodges: "Gentleman Jack" keeps himself close. But he'll behere sure enough by and by, and then I will let you know, ' and with thisI was obliged to be content. I was terribly vexed with myself. I felt Ihad managed badly. I ought to have confronted him in the empty house, where he could not have escaped me so easily. Would he come back again?As I recalled his terrified expression, his agitated words, I doubtedwhether he would put himself within my reach. I was so worried andmiserable that I was obliged to own myself ill and to beg that I might beleft in quiet. I had to endure a good deal of petting from Jill, whowould keep coming into my room to see how my poor head was. Happily, one of my windows commanded an uncovered corner of the balcony. I couldsee without going down if any scrap of paper lay there. It was not untilevening that I caught sight of an envelope lying on one of the seats. 

I rang my bell and begged Draper to bring it to me at once. She thoughtit had fluttered out of my window, and went down smilingly to fulfil mybehest. 

It was a blank envelope, closely fastened, and I waited until Draper wasout of the room to open it: the slip of paper was inside. 

'Jack has not been here all day, ' was scrawled on it, 'and the governoris precious angry. I doubt Jack has got into some trouble or other. --Yourobedient servant, Joe Muggins. '

CHAPTER XXXIV

I COMMUNICATE WITH JOE MUGGINS

Of course I knew it would be so; Eric had escaped me; but I could nothelp feeling very down-hearted over the disappointment of all my hopes. 

I longed so much to comfort Gladys, to bring back peace and unity to thattroubled household. I had nourished the secret hope, too, that I mightbenefit Mr. Hamilton without his knowledge, and so return some of hismany kindnesses to me. I knew--none better--how sincerely he had mournedover the supposed fate of his young brother, how truly he lamented hispast harshness. If I could have brought back their young wanderer, if Icould have said to them, 'If he has done wrong he is sorry for his fault;take him back to your hearts, ' would not Mr. Hamilton have been the firstto hold out his hand to the prodigal? Here there was no father; it mustbe the elder brother who would order the fatted calf to be killed. 

I had forgotten Miss Darrell. The sudden thought of her was like a dashof cold water to me. Would she have welcomed Eric? There again was themiserable complication!

All the next day I watched and fretted. The following evening Claytontold me, with rather a supercilious air, that a workman calling himselfJoe Muggins wanted to speak to me. 'He did not know your name, ma'am, buthe described the lady he wanted, so I knew it was you. He said you hadasked him a question about a man named Jack Poynter. '

'Oh, it is all right, thank you, Clayton, ' I returned quickly, and I wentout into the hall. 

Joe Muggins looked decidedly nervous. He was in his working dress, having, as he said, 'come straight to me, without waiting to cleanhimself. '

'I made so bold, miss, ' went on Joe, 'because you seemed anxious aboutJack, and I would not lose time. Well, Jack has been and given thegovernor the sack, --says he has colic too; but we know that is a sham. Mymate saw him in Lisson Grove last night. He was walking along, his handsin his pockets, when Ned pounces on him. "What are you up to, Jack?" hesays. "Why haven't you turned up at our place? The governor's in aprecious wax, I can tell you. They want him to put on more men, asthere's a press for time. "--"Well, I am not coming there any more, " saysJack, looking as black as possible. "The work doesn't suit my complaint, and I have written to tell Page so. " And he stuck to that, and Ned couldnot get another word out of him: but he says he is shamming, and is notill a bit. It is my belief, and Ned's too, that he has got into sometrouble with the governor. '

'No, I am sure you are wrong, ' I returned, with a sigh; 'but I am verymuch obliged to you for the trouble you have taken. If you hear anythingmore about Jack Poynter, or can find out where he lives, will youcommunicate with me at this address?' And I handed Joe my card and ahalf-sovereign. 

'Yes, I'll do it, sure and certain, ' he replied, with alacrity. 'Some ofus will come across him again, one of these days, and we will follow himfor a bit. You may trust me for that, miss. We will find him, sureenough. ' And then I thanked him, and bade him good-night. 

There was only one thing now that I could do before taking counsel withGladys, and that was to advertise in some of the London papers. I wroteout some of these advertisements that evening:

'Jack Poynter is earnestly requested to communicate with Ursula G. He maypossibly hear of something to his advantage. ' And I gave the address ofan old lawyer who managed my business, writing a note to Mr. Berkeley atthe same time, begging him to forward any answer to Ursula G. 

Another advertisement was of a different character:

'For Gladys's sake, please write to me, or give me a chance of speakingto you. An unknown but most sincere friend, U. G. '

The third advertisement was still more pressing:

'Jack Poynter's friends believe him dead, and are in great trouble: heis entreated to undeceive them. One word to the old address will be acomfort to his poor sister. '

As soon as I had despatched these advertisements to the paper offices, Isat down and wrote to Gladys. It was not my intention to tell her aboutEric, but I must say some word to her that would induce her to come home. I told her that I was going back to Heathfield the following afternoon, and that I was beginning to feel impatient for her return. 

'I cannot do without you any longer, my dear Gladys, ' I wrote. 'There isso much that I want to talk to you about, and that I cannot write. I haveheard something that has greatly excited me, and that makes me think thatyour view of the case is right, and that your brother Eric is alive. Ofcourse we must not be too sanguine, but I begin to have hopes that youmay see him again. '

More than this I did not venture to say, but I knew that these few wordswould make Gladys set her face homeward: she would not rest until sheasked me my meaning. As I gave Clayton the letter I felt convinced thatbefore a week was over Gladys would find her way to Heathfield. 

I had to give all my attention to Jill after this; but, though she hungabout me in her old affectionate way, I felt that I should leave her farhappier than she had ever been before, and she did not deny this, onlybegged me to come and see them sometimes. 

'You know I can't do without you, you darling bear, ' she finished, withone of her old hugs. 

I was still more touched by Aunt Philippa's regret at parting with me;she said so many kind things; and, to my surprise, Uncle Brian relaxedfrom his usual coldness, and quite warmed into demonstration. 

'Come to us as often as you can, Ursula, ' he said. 'Your aunt and Iwill be only too pleased to see you. ' And then he asked me, a littleanxiously, if I found my small income sufficient for my needs. 

I assured him that my wants were so few, and Mrs. Barton was soeconomical, that but for my poorer neighbours I could hardly use it all. 

'Well, well, ' he returned, putting a handsome cheque in my hands, 'youcan always draw on me when you feel disposed. I suppose you like prettythings as much as other girls. ' And he would not let me even thank himfor his generosity. 

Aunt Philippa only smiled when I showed her the cheque. 

'My dear, your uncle likes to do it, and you must not be too proud toaccept his gifts: you may need it some day. We have only two daughters:as it is, Jocelyn will be far too rich. I do not like the idea thatHarley's child should want anything. ' And she kissed me with tears in hereyes. 

Dear Aunt Philippa! she had grown quite motherly during those threeweeks. 

It was a lovely June afternoon: when I started from Victoria there was ascent of hay in the air. Jill had brought with her to the station a greatbasketful of roses and narcissus and heliotrope, and had put it on theseat beside me that its fragrance might refresh me. 

I felt a strange sort of excitement and pleasure at the thought ofreturning home. Mrs. Barton would be glad to get me back, I knew. UncleMax would not be at the station to meet me, for he had written to saythat he was still detained at Norwich. His cousin was dead, and had lefthim her little property, --some six or seven hundred a year. There weresome valuable books and antiquities, and some old silver besides. He wasthe only near relation, and business connected with the property wouldoblige him to remain for another week or ten days. I was rather sorry tohear this, for Heathfield was not the same without Uncle Max. 

But not even Uncle Max's absence could damp me, I felt so light-hearted. 'I hope I am not fey, ' I said to myself, with a little thrill ofexcitement and expectation as the familiar station came in view. Neversince Charlie's death had I felt so cheerful and full of life. 

Nathaniel was on the platform to look after my luggage, so I walked upthe hill quietly, with my basket of flowers. As I passed the vicarage, Mr. Tudor came out and walked with me to the gate of the White Cottage. I had a dim suspicion that he had been watching for me. 

Of course he asked after the family at Hyde Park Gate, and was mostparticular in his inquiries after Aunt Philippa. Just at the last hementioned Jill. 

'I hope your cousin Jocelyn is well, --I mean none the worse for heraccident, ' he said, turning very red. 

'Oh no, ' I returned carelessly; 'nothing hurts Jill. She was riding inthe Park the next morning as though nothing had happened. '

'I remember you told me so, when I called to inquire, ' was his answer. 'It was a nasty accident, and might have upset her nerves; but she isvery strong and courageous. '

'She has great reason to be grateful to you, ' I returned, for I felt verysorry for him. He was hoping that she had sent him some message; shewould surely desire to be remembered to him. When I repeated Jill'sabrupt little speech his face cleared, and he looked quite bright. 

'There is Mrs. Barton looking out for you: I must not keep you at thegate talking, ' he said cheerfully. 'Besides, I see Leah Bates coming downfrom Gladwyn, and I want to speak to her. ' And he ran off in his boyishfashion. 

I was glad to escape Leah, so I went quickly up the garden-path. Thelittle widow was waiting for me in the porch, her face beaming withwelcome. Tinker rushed out of the kitchen as soon as he heard my voice, and gambolled round us with awkward demonstrations of joy that nearlyupset us, and Joe the black cat came and rubbed himself against my gown, with tail erect and loud purring. 

The little parlour looked snug and inviting. The fireplace was decoratedwith fir cones and tiny boughs covered with silvery lichen. A great potof mignonette perfumed the room with its sweetness. Charlie's face seemedto greet me with grave sweet smiles. I seemed to hear his voice, 'Welcomehome, Ursula. '

'Oh, I am so glad to be home!' I said, as I went upstairs to my prettybedroom. 

When I had finished my unpacking, and had had tea, I sat down in myeasy-chair, with a book that Miss Gillespie had lent me. Tinker laid hishead in my lap, and we both disposed ourselves for an idle, luxuriousevening. The bees were still humming about the honeysuckles; one greatbrown fellow had buried himself in one of my crimson roses; the birdswere twittering in the acacia-tree, chirping their good-night to eachother; the sun was setting behind the limes in a glory of pink and goldenclouds, and a mingled scent of roses, mignonette, and hay seemed topervade the atmosphere. 

I laid down my book and fell into a waking dream; my thoughts seemed totake bird-flights into all sorts of strange places; the summer sounds andscents seemed to lull me into infinite content. Now I heard a drowsycluck-cluck from the poultry-yard, --Dame Partlet remonstrating with herlord; then a faint moo from the field where pretty brown-eyed Daisy waschewing the cud; down below they were singing in the little dissentingchapel; sweet shrill voices reached me every now and then. I could hearNathaniel chanting in a deep bass, as he worked in the back-yard, 'Allpeople that on earth do dwell, '--the dear homely Old Hundredth. It was nowonder that a light, very light, footstep on the gravel outside did notrouse me. The door behind me opened, and Tinker turned his head lazily, and his tail began to flop heavier against the floor. The next moment twosoft arms were round my neck. 

'Gladys, --oh, Gladys!' and for the moment I could say no more, in mydelight and surprise at seeing the dear beautiful face again. 

'I wanted to surprise you, Ursula dear, ' she said, laughing and kissingme. 'How still and quiet you and Tinker were! I believe you were bothasleep. When I heard you were coming home I planned with Lady Betty thatI would creep down to the cottage and take you unawares. I made Mrs. Barton promise not to betray me. '

'When did you come back?' I asked, bewildered. 'Why did you not write andtell me you were coming?'

'Oh, it was decided all in a hurry. The Maberleys heard that theirdaughter, Mrs. Egerton, would arrive in England this week, a whole monthbefore they expected her, so they have gone down to Southampton, and leftme to find my way home alone. I arrived last night, much to Giles'sastonishment. You know Dora is their only surviving child, and she hasbeen in India the last five years. She is bringing her two boys home. '

'Last night. Then you did not get my letter?'

'No; but it will follow me. How good you have been to write so often, Ursula! I have quite lived on your letters. '

'Let me see how you look, ' was my answer to this; and indeed I thoughtshe had never looked more beautiful. There was a lovely colour in herface, and she seemed bright and animated, though I could not deny thatshe was still very thin. 

'You have not grown fatter, ' I went on, pretending to grumble; 'you arestill too transparent, in my opinion; but Jill's snow-maiden has a littlelife in her. '

'Does Jill call me that?' she returned, in some surprise. 'Oh, I am quitewell: even Giles says so. He declares he is glad to have me back, andpoor little Lady Betty quite cried with joy. It was nice, after all, coming home. '

'I am so glad to hear you say that. '

'Etta is away, you know: that makes the difference. Gladwyn never seemedso homelike before. By the bye, Ursula, Giles has sent you a message;he--no, we all three, want you to spend a long evening with us to-morrow. He has been called away to Brighton, and will not be back until mid-day;but we all three agreed that it would be so nice if you came early in theafternoon, and we would have tea in the little oak avenue. Etta nevercares about these _al fresco_ meals, she is so afraid of spiders andcaterpillars; but Lady Betty and I delight in it. '

I wish Jill could have heard Gladys talk in this bright, natural way. Iam sure she would not have recognised her snow-maiden. There was no wearyconstraint in her manner to-night, no heavy pressure of unnatural care onher young brow: she seemed too happy to see me again to think of herselfat all. 

When we had talked a little more I began to approach the subject of Ericvery gradually. At my first word her cheek paled, and the old wistfulnesscame to her eyes. 

'What of Eric?' she asked quickly. 'You look a little strange, Ursula. Do not be afraid of speaking his name: he is never out of my thoughts, waking or sleeping. '

I told her that I knew this, but that I had something very singular tonarrate, which I feared might excite and disappoint her, but that I couldassure her of the certainty that he was alive and well. 

She clasped her hands almost convulsively together, and looked at meimploringly. 'Only tell me that, and I can bear everything else, ' sheexclaimed. 

But as she listened her face grew paler and paler, and presently sheburst into tears, and sobbed so violently that I was alarmed. 

'It is nothing, --nothing but joy, ' she gasped out at length. 'I couldnot hear you say that you had seen him, my own Eric, and not be overcome. Oh, Ursula, if I had only been with you!' And she hid her face on myshoulder, and for a little while I could say no more. 

When she was calmed I finished all that I had to tell, and read her theadvertisements, but they seemed to frighten her. 

'How dreadful if Etta or Giles should see them!' she said nervously. 'Etta is so clever, she finds out everything. I would not have her readone of them for worlds. Why did you put your name, Ursula?--it is souncommon. '

'No one will connect me with Jack Poynter. I did not think there would beany risk, ' I replied soothingly. 'I put "for Gladys's sake" in the _DailyTelegraph_. You see, we must try to attract his notice. '

'Giles never takes in the _Daily Telegraph_. We have the _Times_ and the_Standard_, and the _Morning Post_ for Etta. Which did you put in the_Standard_?'

I repeated the advertisement: 'Jack Poynter's friends believe him dead, and are in great trouble: he is entreated to undeceive them. One word tothe old address will be a comfort to his poor sister. '

'That will do, ' she answered, in a relieved tone. 'Etta cannot readbetween the lines there. Oh, Ursula, do you think that Eric will seethem?'

I assured her that there was no doubt on the subject. All the betterclass of workmen had access to some club or society, where they saw theleading papers. I thought the _Daily Telegraph_ the most likely to meethis eyes, and should continue to insert an advertisement from time totime. 'We must be patient and wait a little, ' I continued. 'Even if ourappeals do not reach him, there is every probability that Joe Mugginsor one of the other workmen will come across him. We want to find outwhere Jack Poynter lives. I mean to write to Joe in a few days, and offerhim a handsome sum if he can tell me his address. '

'That will be the best plan; but, oh, Ursula, how am I to be patient?To think of my dear boy becoming a common workman! he is poor, then; hewants money. I feel as though I cannot rest, as though I must go toLondon and look for him myself. '

Gladys looked so excited and feverish that I almost repented myconfidence. I did all I could to soothe her. 

'Surely, dear, it is not so difficult to wait a little, knowing him to bealive and well, as it was to bear that long suspense. '

'Oh, but I never believed him to be dead, ' she answered quickly. 'I wasvery anxious, very unhappy, about him, often miserable, but in my dreamshe was always full of life. When I woke up I said to myself, "They arewrong; Eric is in the world somewhere; I shall see him again. "'

'Just so; and now with my own eyes I have seen him, evidently in perfecthealth and in good spirits. '

'Ah, but that troubles me a little, ' she returned, and her beautifulmouth began to quiver like an unhappy child's. 'How can Eric, my Eric wholoved me so, be so light-hearted, knowing that all these years I havebeen mourning for him? I remember how he used, ' she went on plaintively, 'to whistle over his work, and how Giles used to listen to him. Sometimesthey kept up a duet together, but Eric's note was the sweeter. '

'We must be careful not to misjudge him even in this, ' was my answer:'how do you know, Gladys, that he has not assured himself that you areall well, and, as far as he knows, happy? Or perhaps his heart was veryheavy in spite of his whistling. A young man does not show his feelingslike a girl. '

'No doubt you are right, ' she replied, sighing, and then she turned herhead away, and I could see the old tremulous movement of her hands. 'Ursula, ' she said, in a very low voice, 'have you told Mr. Cunliffeabout this?'

'Uncle Max!' I exclaimed, concealing my astonishment at hearing hermention his name of her own accord. 'No; indeed, he is away from home:we have not met for the last three weeks. Would you wish me to tell him, Gladys?'

She pondered over my question, and I could see the curves of her throattrembling. Her voice was not so clear when she answered me:

'He might have helped us. He is kind and wise, and I trusted him once. But perhaps it will be hardly safe to tell him: he might insist on Gilesknowing, and then everything would be lost. '

'What do you mean?' I asked hastily. 'Surely Mr. Hamilton ought to knowthat his brother is alive. '

'Yes, but not now--not until I have seen him. Ursula, you are very good;you are my greatest comfort; but indeed you must be guided in this by me. You do not know Giles as I do. He is beginning to influence you in spiteof yourself. If Giles knows, Etta will know, and then we are lost. '

Her tone troubled me: it was the old keynote of suppressed hopelesspain: it somehow recalled to me the image of some helpless innocent birdstruggling in a fowler's net. Her eyes looked at me with almost agonisedentreaty. 

'If Etta knows, we should be lost, ' she repeated drearily. 

'She shall not know, then, ' I returned, pretending cheerfulness, thoughI was inwardly dismayed. 'You and I will watch and wait, Gladys. Do notbe so cast down, dear. Remember it is never so dark as just before thedawn. '

'No, ' she replied, with a faint smile, 'you are right there; but it isgrowing dark in earnest, Ursula, and I must go home, or Leah will becoming in search of me. '

'Very well; I will walk with you, ' I replied; and in five minutes more wehad left the cottage. 

We walked almost in silence, for who could tell if eaves-droppers mightnot lurk in the dark hedgerows? I know this feeling was strong in bothour minds. 

At the gate of Gladwyn we kissed each other and parted. 

'I am happier, Ursula, ' she whispered. 'You must not think I amungrateful for the news you have given me, only it has made me restless. '

'Hush! there is some one coming down the shrubbery, ' I returned, droppingher hand, and going quickly into the road. As I did so, I heard Leah'ssmooth voice address Gladys:

'You were so, late, ma'am, that I thought I had better step down to thecottage, for fear you might be waiting for me. '

'It is all right, Leah, ' was Gladys's answer. 'Miss Garston walked backwith me. Thank you for your thoughtfulness. ' And then I heard theirfootsteps dying away in the distance. 

CHAPTER XXXV

NIGHTINGALES AND ROSES

I was very busy the next morning. I went round to the Marshalls' cottageto see Peggy, and then I paid Phoebe a long visit, and afterwards I wentto Robert Stokes. 

They seemed all glad to welcome me back, especially Phoebe, who lay andlooked at me as though she never wished to lose sight of me again. 

When I had left her room I sat a little while with Susan. She stilllooked delicate, but at my first pitying word she stopped me. 

'Please don't say that, Miss Garston. If you knew how I thank God forthat illness! it has opened poor Phoebe's heart to me as nothing elsecould have opened it. '

'She does indeed seem a different creature, ' I returned, full ofthankfulness to hear this. 

'Different, --nay, that is not the word: the heart of a little child hascome back to her. It rests me now, if I am ever so tired, to go into herroom. It is always "Sit down, Susan, my woman, and talk to me a bit, " orshe will beg me to do something for her, just as though she were asking afavour. I read the Bible to her now morning and evening, and Kitty singsher sweet hymns to us. It is more like home now, with Phoebe to smilea welcome whenever she sees me. I do not miss father and mother half somuch now. '

'If you only knew how happy it makes me to hear you say all this, MissLocke!'

'Nay, but I am thinking we owe much of our comfort to you, ' she answeredsimply. 'You worked upon her feelings first, and then Providence sentthat sharp message to her. And we have to be grateful to the doctor, too. What do you think, Miss Garston? He is our landlord now, and he won'ttake a farthing of rent from us. He says we are doing him a kindness byliving in the house, and that he only wished his other tenants took asmuch care of his property; but of course I know what that means. ' Andhere Susan's thin hands shook a little. 'The doctor is just a man whoseright hand does not know what his left hand does; he is just heaping uswith benefits, and making us ashamed with his kindness. '

'You are a great favourite of his, ' I answered, smiling, as I took myleave; but Susan answered solemnly, --

'It won't be forgotten in his account, Miss Garston. The measure runningover will surely be returned to him, and not only to him. ' And here shelooked at me meaningly, and pressed my hand. Poor Susan! she had grownvery fond of her nurse. 

As I walked up to Gladwyn that afternoon I felt a pleasant sense ofexcitement, a sort of holiday feeling, that was novel to me. Miss Darrellwas away, and Gladys and Lady Betty would be at their ease. We might lookand talk as we liked, no one would find fault with us. 

I was pleased, too, at the thought of seeing Mr. Hamilton again. I was inthe mood to be gay: perhaps the summer sunshine infected me, for whocould be dull on such a day? There was not a cloud in the sky, the birdswere singing, the rooks were cawing among the elms, the very sparrows hada jaunty look and cheeped busily in the ivy. As I approached Gladwyn, Isaw Mr. Hamilton leaning on the gate: he looked as though he had beenstanding there some time. 

'Were you watching for me?' I asked, rather thoughtlessly, as he threwthe gate open with a smile and shook hands with me. I had asked thequestion quite innocently and casually; but the next moment I felt hotand ashamed. Why had I supposed such a thing? Why should Mr. Hamilton bewatching for me?

He did not seem to notice my confusion: he looked very glad to see me. I think he was in a gay mood too. 

'Yes, I was looking for you. You are a little late, do you know that? Iwas just meditating whether I should walk down the road to meet you. Comeand take a turn with me on this shady little lawn. Gladys and Lady Bettyare arranging the tea-table, and are not quite ready for us. '

He led the way to the little lawn in front of the house. Gladwyn wassurrounded with charming lawns: the avenue of young oaks was at the back. We could catch glimpses of Lady Betty's white gown as she flittedbackward and forward. The front window of Mr. Hamilton's study was beforeus. 

'Well, ' he said, looking at me brightly, 'we are all glad to welcomeNurse Ursula back: the three weeks have seemed very long somehow. '

'Have you any more cases ready for me?' I returned, trying to appear atmy usual ease with him. It seemed ridiculous, but I was certainly rathershy with Mr. Hamilton this afternoon. He looked different somehow. 

'If I have, you will not know them to-day. I am not going to talkbusiness to you this afternoon. Tell me about your visit: have youenjoyed yourself? But I need not ask: your looks answer for you. '

'I have most certainly enjoyed myself. Aunt Philippa was so kind: indeed, they were all good to me. Did you hear of Jill's accident, Mr. Hamilton?No. I must tell you about it, and of Mr. Tudor's presence of mind. ' And Inarrated the whole circumstance. 

'It was a marvellous escape, ' he returned thoughtfully. 'Poor child! shemight have fared badly. Well, Miss Garston, the green velvet gown wasvery becoming. '

I looked up quickly, but there was no mockery in Mr. Hamilton's smile. Hewas regarding me kindly, though his tone was a little teasing. 

'I saw you in the church, ' I returned quietly. 

'Yes, I suppose there is a kind of magnetism in a fixed glance. I was looking at you, trying to identify Nurse Ursula with theelegantly-dressed woman before me, and somehow failing, when youreyes encountered mine. Their serious disapproval most certainlyrecalled Nurse Ursula with a vengeance. '

He was laughing at me now, but I determined to satisfy my curiosity. 

'I was so surprised to see you there, ' I replied seriously: 'you were sostrong in your denunciations of gay weddings that your presence as aspectator at one quite startled me. Why were you there, Mr. Hamilton?'

'Do you want to know, really?' still in a teasing tone. 

'Of course one always likes an answer to a question. '

'You shall have it, Miss Garston. I came to see that velvet gown. '

'Nonsense!'

'May I ask why?'

'Well, it is nonsense; as though you came for such an absurd purpose!'But, though I answered Mr. Hamilton in this brusque fashion, I was awarethat my heart was beating rather more quickly than usual. Did he reallymean that he had come to see me? Could such a thing be possible? I beganto wish I had never put that question. 

'I either came to see the gown or the wearer: upon my honour I hardlyknow which. Perhaps you can tell me?' But if he expected an answer tothat he did not get it: I was only meditating how I could break off this_téte-à-téte_ without too much awkwardness. No, I did not recognise Mr. Hamilton a bit this afternoon: he had never talked to me after thisfashion before. I was not sure that I liked it. 

'After all, I am not certain that I do not like you best in that grayone, especially after I have picked you some roses to wear with it:something sober and quiet seems to suit Nurse Ursula better. '

'Mr. Hamilton, if you please, I do not want to talk any more about mygown. '

'What shall we talk about, then? Shall I--' And then he looked at my faceand checked himself. His teasing mood, or whatever it was, changed. Perhaps he saw my embarrassment, for his manner became all at once verygentle. He said we must go in search of the roses; and then he began totalk to me about Gladys, --how much brighter she looked, but still thin, oh, far too thin, --and was I not glad to have her back again? and all thetime he talked he was looking at me, as though he wanted to find out thereason of something that perplexed him. 

'He will think that I am not glad to be home again, that all this gaietyhas spoiled me for my work, ' I thought, with some vexation; but no effortof my part would overcome this sudden shyness, and I was much relievedwhen we turned the corner of the house and encountered Lady Betty comingin search of us. 

'Of course we saw you on the little lawn, ' she said eagerly, 'but we weretoo busy arranging the table. Tea is ready now. Where are you going, Giles? Oh, don't pick any more roses: we have plenty for Ursula. '

'But if I wish Miss Garston to wear some of my picking, what then, Elizabeth?' he asked, in a laughing tone, and Lady Betty tossed her headin reply and led me away; but a moment afterwards he followed us with theroses, and mollified the wilful little soul by asking Ladybird--his petname for her--to fasten them in my dress. Both the sisters wore whitegowns. I thought Gladys looked like a queen in hers, as she moved slowlyunder the oak-trees to meet us, the sun shining on her fair hair. As Ilooked at her lovely face and figure, I thought it was no wonder that shewas poor Max's Lady of Delight. Who could help admiring her?

She met me quite naturally, although her brother was beside us. 

'Have we kept you waiting too long? I thought you would not mind puttingup with Giles's society for a little while. Oh, Thornton was so stupid; Isuppose he did not approve of the trouble, for he would forget everythingwe asked him to bring. '

'This is quite a feast, Gladys, ' observed Mr. Hamilton gaily. And indeedit was a pretty picture when we were all seated: a pleasant breezestirred the leaves over our head, the rooks cawed and circled round us, Nap laid himself at his master's feet, and a little gray kitten camegingerly over the grass, followed by some tame pigeons. 

There was a basket of roses on the table, and great piles of strawberriesand cherries. Gladys poured out the tea in purple cups bordered withgold. Mr. Hamilton held out a beautiful china plate for my inspection. 'This belonged to Gladys's mother, ' he said: 'we are only allowed to useit on high days and holidays. Etta was unfortunate enough to break asaucer once: we have never seen the tea-set since. '

I saw Gladys colour, but she said nothing: only naughty Lady Bettywhispered in my ear, 'She did it on purpose. I saw her throw it downbecause she was angry with Gladys. ' But, happily, Mr. Hamilton was deafto this. 

I hardly know what we talked about, but we were all very happy. Gladys, as usual, was rather quiet, but I noticed that she spoke freely to herbrother, without any constraint of manner, and that he seemed pleasedand interested in all she said; and Lady Betty chatted as merrily aspossible. 

When tea was over we all strolled about the garden, down the longasphalt walk that skirted the meadow, where a little brown cow wasfeeding, down to the gardener's cottage and the kitchen-garden, and tothe poultry-yard, where Lady Betty reigned supreme. Then we sat down onthe terrace by the conservatory, and Mr. Hamilton threw himself down onthe grass and played with Nap, as he talked to us. 

I could see Leah sewing at her mistress's window, but the sight did notdisturb me in the least. Yes, I must be fey, I thought. I could find noreason for the sudden feeling of contentment and well-being thatpossessed me; in all my life I had never felt happier than I did thatevening; and yet I was more silent than usual. Mr. Hamilton talked moreto his sisters than to me, but his manner was strangely gentle when headdressed me. I was conscious all that evening that he was watching me, and that my reserve did not displease him. Once, when he had been calledaway on business, and Lady Betty had tripped after him, Gladys said, witha half-sigh, --

'How young and well Giles looks to-day! He seems so much happier. I wishwe could always be like this. I am sure if it were not for Etta we shouldunderstand each other better. '

I assented to this, and Gladys went on:

'I wonder if you have ever heard Mrs. Carrick's name, Ursula?'

What a strange question! I flushed a little as I told her that her oldfriend Mrs. Maberley had put me in possession of all the family secrets. 'Quite against my will, I assure you, ' I added; for I always had alurking consciousness that I had no right to know Mr. Hamilton's affairs. 

'Well, it does not matter. I daresay Giles will tell you all aboutit himself some day. You and he seem great friends, Ursula; andindeed--indeed I am glad to know it. Poor Giles! Why should you not bekind to him?'

What in the world could Gladys mean?

'I was only a child, ' she went on; 'but of course I remember Ella. Shewas very beautiful and fascinating, and she bewitched us all. She hadsuch lovely eyes, and such a sweet laugh; and she was so full of fun, andso high-spirited and charming altogether. Giles was very different inthose days; but he reminds me of his old self this evening. '

I made no answer. I seemed to have no words ready, and I was glad whenGladys rather abruptly changed the subject. Leah was crossing the fieldtowards the cottage with a basket of eggs on her arm. As we looked afterher, Gladys said quickly--

'Your talk last night seems like a dream. This morning I asked myself, could it be true--really true--that you saw Eric? I have hardly slept, Ursula. Indeed, I do not mean to be impatient; but how am I to bear thisrestlessness?'

'It is certainly very hard. '

'Oh, so hard! But for Eric's sake I must be patient. I saw theadvertisement this morning in the _Standard_. Lady Betty read it aloud tous at breakfast-time; but Giles took no notice. I wished that we dared totell Mr. Cunliffe about it; he might employ a detective: but I am soafraid of Etta. '

'I think we may safely wait a little, ' I returned. 'I have faith in JoeMuggins: a five-pound note may do our work without fear of publicity. '

'If you hear any news, if you can find out where he lives, remember thatI must be the first to see him: Giles shall be told, but not until I havespoken to Eric. '

'Do you think that you will be able to persuade him to come home?'

'I shall not try to persuade him, ' she returned proudly. 'I know Eric toowell for that. Nothing will induce him to cross the threshold of Gladwynuntil his innocence is established, until Giles has apologised for theslur he has thrown upon his character. '

'I am afraid Mr. Hamilton will never do that. '

'Then there will be no possibility of reconciliation with Eric, Ursula. If Eric does not come home, if things remain as they are, I have made upmy mind to leave Giles's roof. I cannot any longer be separated fromEric: if he be poor I will be poor too: it will not hurt me to work;nothing will hurt me after the life I have been leading these threeyears. ' And the old troubled look came back to Gladys's face. Lady Bettyjoined us, and our talk ceased, and soon afterwards we went up into theturret-room to prepare for dinner. 

After dinner Lady Betty proposed that we should go down the road a littleto hear the nightingales; but Mr. Hamilton informed her with a smile thathe had a nightingale on the premises, and, turning to me, he asked me ifI were in the mood to give them all pleasure, and if I would sing to themuntil they told me to stop. 

I was rather dubious on this latter point, for how could I know, I askedhim, laughing, that they might not keep me singing until midnight?

'You ought to have more faith in our humanity, ' he returned, with muchsolemnity, as he opened the piano. Gladys crept into her old seat by me, but Mr. Hamilton placed himself in an easy-chair at some little distance. As the room grew dusk, and the moonlight threw strange silvery gleamshere and there, I could see him leaning back with his arms crossed underhis head, and wondered if he were asleep, he was so still and motionless. 

How I thanked God in my heart for that gift of song, a more precious giftto me than even beauty would have been! As usual, I forgot everything, myself, Gladys, Mr. Hamilton; I seemed to sing with the joyousness of abird that is only conscious of life and freedom and sunshine. 

I would sing no melancholy songs that night, --no love-sick adieux, noeffusions of lachrymose sentimentality, --only sweet old Scotch andEnglish ballads, favourites of Charlie's; then grander melodies, 'Let thebright seraphim, ' and 'Waft her, angels, through the air. ' As I finishedthe last I was conscious that Mr. Hamilton was standing beside me; thenext moment he laid his hand on mine. 

'That will do. You must not tire yourself: even the nightingales mustleave off singing sometimes; thank you so much. No! that sounds cold andconventional. I will not thank you. You were very happy singing, were younot?'

I could not see his face, but he was so close, --so close to me in themoonlight, and there was something in his voice that brought the oldshyness back. 

I was trying to answer, when we heard the front door open and some onespeaking to Parker. Was that Miss Darrell's voice? Mr. Hamilton heard it, for he moved away, and Gladys gave a half-stifled exclamation as heopened the door and confronted his cousin. 

'Where are you all?' she asked, in a laughing voice. 'You look like batsor ghosts in the moonlight. No lights, and past ten o'clock! that isGladys's romantic idea, I suppose. What a dear fanciful child it is! LadyBetty, come and kiss me! Oh, I am so glad to be home again!'

'Good-evening, Miss Darrell. '

'Good gracious! is that you, Miss Garston? I never dreamt of seeing youhere to-night; and you were hiding behind that great piano. Giles, do, for pity's sake, light those candles, and let me see some of your faces. '

But Mr. Hamilton seemed to take no notice of her request. 

'What brought you back so soon, Etta?' he asked; and it struck me that hewas not so pleased to see his cousin as usual. 'I thought you intended toremain another week. '

'Oh, but I wanted to see Gladys, after these months of absence. I thoughtit would be unkind to remain away any longer. Besides, I was not enjoyingmyself, --not a bit. Mrs. Cameron grows deafer every day, and it was very_triste_ and miserable. '

'How did you know I was at home, Etta?' asked Gladys, in her clear voice. 

Miss Darrell hesitated a moment: 'A little bird informed me of the fact. You did not wish me to remain in ignorance of your return, did you? Itsounds rather like it, does it not, Giles? Well, if you must beinquisitive, Leah was writing to me about my dresses for the cleaner, and she mentioned casually that "master had gone to the station to meetMiss Gladys. "'

'I see; but you need not have hurried home on my account. '

'Dear me! what a cousinly speech! That is the return one gets forbeing a little more affectionate than usual. Giles, '--with decidedimpatience, --'why don't you light those candles? You know how I hatedarkness; and there is Miss Garston standing like a gray nun in themoonlight. '

'It is so late that I must put on my bonnet, ' I replied quickly; for Iwas bent on making my escape before the candles were lighted. Never hadI dreaded Miss Darrell's cold scrutiny as I did that night. 

Gladys followed me rather wearily. 

'Well it has been very pleasant, but our holiday has been brief, ' shesaid, with a sigh; and then she laid her cheek against mine, and it feltvery soft and cold. With a sudden rush of tenderness I drew it down andkissed it again and again. 

'Don't let the hope go out of your voice, Gladys: it will all come rightby and by. Only be strong and patient, my darling. '

'I am strong when I am near you, but not when I am alone, ' she answered, with a slight shiver; and then we heard Lady Betty's voice calling her, and she left me reluctantly. 

I thought she would come back, so I did not hurry myself; but presentlyI got tired of waiting, and walked to the head of the staircase. 

As I looked down on the lighted hall I saw Mr. Hamilton standing withfolded arms, as though he had been waiting there some time; at the soundof my footstep he looked up quickly and eagerly, and our eyes met, andthen I knew, --I knew!

'Come, Ursula, ' he said, with a sort of impatience, holding out his hand;and somehow, without delay or hesitation, just as though his strong willwas drawing me, I went down slowly and put my hand in his, and it seemedas though there was nothing more to be said. 

I saw his face light up; he was about to speak, when Miss Darrell sweptup to us noiselessly with a hard metallic smile on her face. 

'Do you know, Miss Garston, Lady Betty tells me that the nightingales aresinging so charmingly; she and I are just going down the road to listento them, if you can put up with our company for part of the way. '

Giles--I called him Giles in my heart that night, for something told mewe belonged to each other--said nothing, but his face clouded, and wewent out together. 

No one heard the nightingales, but only Lady Betty commented on thatfact. Miss Darrell was talking too volubly to hear her. She clung to myside pertinaciously, almost affectionately; she wanted to hear all aboutthe wedding; she plied me with questions about Sara, and Jill, and Mr. Tudor. All the way up the hill she talked until we passed the church andthe vicarage, until we were at the gate of the White Cottage, and thenshe stopped with an affected laugh. 

'Dear me, I have actually walked the whole way; how tired I am!--and nowonder, for there is eleven chiming from the church tower. For shame, tokeep us all up so late, Miss Garston!'

'I will not detain you, ' I returned, with secret exasperation. 

Mr. Hamilton had not spoken once the whole way, only walked silentlybeside me; but as he set open the gate and wished me good-night, hisclasp of my hand gave me the assurance that I needed. 

'Never mind: he will come to-morrow and tell me all about it, ' I said tomyself as I walked up the narrow garden-path between the rows of sleepingflowers. If I lingered in the porch to watch a certain tall figuredisappear into the darkness, no one knew it, for the stars tell no tales. 

CHAPTER XXXVI

BREAKERS AHEAD

It was well that the stars, those bright-eyed spectators of a sleepingworld, tell no tales of us poor humans, or they might have whispered thefact that the reasonable sober-minded Ursula Garston was holding foolishvigil that night until the gray dawn drove her away to seek a brief rest. 

But how could I sleep?--how could any woman sleep when such a revelationhad been vouchsafed her?--when a certain look, and those two words, 'Come, Ursula, ' still haunted me, --that strange brief wooing, that washardly wooing, and yet meant unutterable things, that silent acceptance, that simple yielding, when I put my hand in his, Giles's, and saw thequick look of joy in his eyes?

Ah, the veil had fallen from my eyes at last: for the first time Irealised how all these weeks he had been drawing me closer to himself, how his strong will had subjugated mine. My dislike of him had beenbrief; he had awakened my interest first, then attracted my sympathy, andfinally won my respect and friendship, until I had grown to love him inspite of myself. Strange to say, I had lost all fear of him; as I satholding communion with myself that night, I felt that I should never beafraid of him again. 'Perfect love casteth out fear': is not that whatthe apostle tells us? It was true, I thought, for now I did not seem tobe afraid either of Mr. Hamilton's strange stern nature, of the sadnessof his past life, or of the mysteries and misunderstandings of thattroubled household. It seemed to me I feared nothing, --not even my ownwant of beauty, that had once been a trial to me; for if Giles loved mehow could such minor evils affect me?

Yes, as I sat there under the solemn starlight, with the jasmine sprayscooling my hot cheek and the soft night breeze fanning me, I owned, andwas not ashamed to own, in my woman's heart, and with all the truth ofwhich I was capable, that this was the man whom my soul delighted tohonour; not faultless, not free from blame, full of flaws andimperfections, but still a strong grand man, intensely human in hissympathies, one who loved his fellows, and who did his life's work intrue knightly fashion, running full tilt against prejudices and theshams of conventionality. 

Often during the night I thought of my mother, and how she had told me, laughing, that my father had never really asked her to marry him. 

'I don't know how we were engaged, Ursula, ' she once said, when wewere talking about Charlie and Lesbia in the twilight; 'we were at aball, --Lady Fitzherbert's, --and of course being a clergyman he did notdance, but he took me into the conservatory and gave me a flower: I thinkit was a rose. There were people all round us, and neither he nor I couldtell how it was done, but when he put me into the carriage I knew we weresomehow promised to each other, and when he came the next day he calledme Amy, and kissed me in the most quite matter-of-fact way. I often laughand tell him that he took it all, for granted. '

'Giles will come to-morrow, ' I said to myself, as the first pale gleamcame over the eastern sky, 'and then I shall know all about it. ' And Ifell asleep happily, and dreamt of Charlie, and I thought he was peltingme with roses in the old vicarage garden. 

'"And the evening and the morning were the first day, "' were my wakingwords when I opened my eyes; for in the inward as well as the outwardcreation, in hearts as well as worlds, all things become new under thegrace of such miracle. I was not the same woman that I had beenyesterday, neither should I ever be the same again. I seemed as though Iwere in accord with all the harmonies of nature. 'And surely God saw thatit was good, ' ought to be written upon all true and faithful earthlyattachments. I was expecting Mr. Hamilton, and yet it gave me a sort ofshock when I saw him coming up the road: he was walking very fast, withhis head bent, but his face was set in the direction of the cottage. 

I sat down by the window and took out some work, but my hands trembled sothat I was compelled to lay it aside. It was not that I was afraid ofwhat he might say to me, for my heart had its welcome ready, but naturalwomanly timidity caused the slight fluttering of my pulses. 

The moments seemed long before I heard the click of the gate, before thefirm regular footsteps crunched the gravel walk; then came his knock atmy door, and I rose to greet him. But the moment I saw his face a suddenanxiety seized me. What had happened? What made him look so pale andembarrassed, so strangely unlike himself? This was not the greeting Iexpected. This was not how we ought to meet on this morning of allmornings. 

As he shook hands with me quickly and rather nervously, he seemed toavoid my eyes. He walked to the window, picked a spray of jasmine, andbegan pulling it to pieces, all the time he talked. As for me, I sat downagain and took up my work: he should not see that I felt his coldness, that he had disappointed me. 

'I have come very early, I am afraid, ' he began, 'but I thought I oughtto let you know. Mrs. Hanbury's little girl, the lame one, Jessie, hasgot badly burnt, --some carelessness or other; but they are an ignorantset, and the child will need your care. '

'I will go at once. Where do they live?' But somehow as I asked thequestion I felt as though my voice had lost all tone and sounded likeMiss Darrell's. 

He told me, and then gave me the necessary instructions. 'Janet Coombe, a servant at the Man and Plough, is ill too, and they sent up for me thismorning; it seems a touch of low fever, --nothing really infectious, though; but the men from the soap-works are having their bean-feast, andall the folks are too busy to pay Janet much attention. '

'I will see about her, ' I returned. 'Are those the only cases, Mr. Hamilton?' He looked round at me then, as though my quiet matter-of-factanswer had surprised him, and for a moment he surveyed me gravely andwistfully; then he seemed to rouse himself with an effort. 

'Yes, those are the only cases at present. Thank you, I shall be muchobliged if you will attend to them. Little Jessie is a very delicatechild: things may go hardly with her. ' Then he stopped, picked anotherspray of jasmine, and pulled off the little starry flowers remorselessly. 

'Miss Garston, I want to say something: I feel I owe you some sort ofexplanation. I wish to tell you that I have only myself to blame. I havethought it all over, and I have come to the conclusion that it is nofault of yours that I misunderstood you. It is your nature to be kind. You did not wish to mislead me. '

'I am not aware that I ever mislead people, ' I returned, rather proudly, for I could not help feeling a little indignant: Mr. Hamilton wascertainly not treating me well. 

'No, of course not, ' looking excessively pained. 'I know you too well toaccuse you of that. If I misunderstood you, if I imagined things, it wasmy own fault, --mine solely. I would not blame you for worlds. '

'I am glad of that, Mr. Hamilton, ' in rather an icy tone. 

'No, you could not have told me: I ought to have found it out for myself. Do you mind if I go away now? I do not feel quite myself, and I wouldrather talk of this again another time. Perhaps you will tell me allabout it then. ' And he actually took up his hat and shook hands with meagain. Somehow his touch made me shiver when I remembered the longhand-clasp of the previous night, --only ten or eleven hours ago; and yetthis strange change had been worked in him. 

I let him go, though it nearly broke my heart to see him look so carewornand miserable. My woman's pride was up in arms, though for very pity andlove I could have called him back and begged him to tell me in plainEnglish and without reservation what he meant by his vague words. Once Irose and went to the door, the latch was in my hand, but I sat down againand watched him quietly until he was out of sight. I would wait, I saidto myself; I would rather wait until he came to his senses; and then Ilaughed a little angrily, though the tears were in my eyes. It wasvexatious, it was bitterly disappointing, it was laying on my shoulders afresh burden of responsibility and anxiety. The happiness that a quarterof an hour ago seemed within my reach had vanished and left me worriedand perplexed. And yet, in spite of the pain Mr. Hamilton had inflicted, I did not for one moment lose hope or courage. 

Something had gone wrong, that was evident. The perfect understandingthat had been between us last night seemed ruthlessly disturbed andperhaps broken. Could this be Miss Darrell's work? Had she made mischiefbetween us? I wondered what part of my conduct or actions she hadmisrepresented to her cousin. It was this uncertainty that tormentedme: how could I refute mere intangible shadows?

Strange to say, I never doubted his love for a moment. If such a doubthad entered my mind I should have been miserable indeed; but no suchthought fretted me. I was only hurt that he could have brought himselfto believe anything against me, that he should have listened to her falsesophistry and not have asked for my explanation; but, as I rememberedthat love was prone to jealousy and not above suspicion, I soon forgavehim in my heart. 

Ah well, we must both suffer, I thought; for he certainly looked veryunhappy, fagged, and weary, as though he had not slept. If he had told mewhat was wrong I would have found some comfort for him; but under suchcircumstances any woman must be dumb. 

He had made me understand that he did not intend to ask me to marry him, at least just yet; that for some reason best known to himself he wishedfor no further explanation with me. Well, I could wait until he was readyto speak; he need not fear that I should embarrass him. 'Men are strangecreatures, ' I thought, as I rose, feeling tired in every limb, to put onmy bonnet; but, cast down and perplexed as I was, I would not own for aminute that I was really miserable. My faith in Mr. Hamilton was toostrong for that; one day things would be right between us; one day hewould see the truth and know it, and there would be no cloud before hiseyes. I went rather sadly about my duties that day, but I was determinedthat no one else should suffer for my unhappiness, so I exerted myself tobe cheerful with my patients, and the hard work did me good. 

I was tired when I reached home, and I spent rather a dreary evening: itwas impossible to settle to my book. I could not help remembering how Ihad called this a new day. As I prayed for Mr. Hamilton that night, Icould not help shedding a few tears; he was so strong, all the power wasin his hands; he might have saved me from this trouble. Then I rememberedthat we were both unhappy together, and this thought calmed me; for thesame cloud was covering us both, and I wondered which of us would see thesunshine first. 

I do not wish to speak much of my feelings at this time: the old adage, that 'the course of true love never runs smooth, ' was true, alas, in mycase; but I was too proud to complain, and I tried not to fret overmuch. Most women have known troubled days, when the current seems against themand the waves run high; their strength fails and they seem to sink indeep waters. Many a poor soul has suffered shipwreck in the very sightof the haven where it would fain be, for man and woman too are 'born totrouble as the sparks fly upward. '

Sometimes my pain was very great; but I would not succumb to it. I workedharder than ever to combat my restlessness. My worst time was in theevening, when I came home weary and dispirited. We seemed so near, andyet so strangely apart, and it was hard at such times to keep to my oldfaith in Mr. Hamilton and acquit him of unkindness. 

'Why does he not tell me what he means? Do I deserve this silence?' Iwould say to myself. Then I remembered his promise that he would speakto me again about these things, and I resolved to be brave and patient. 

I was longing to see Gladys, but she did not come for more than ten days. And, alas! I could not go up to Gladwyn to seek her. This was the firstbitter fruit of our estrangement, --that it separated me from Gladys. 

Lady Betty had gone away the very next day to pay a two months' visit toan old school-fellow in Cornwall: so Gladys would be utterly alone. UncleMax was still in Norwich, detained by most vexatious lawyer's business:so that I had not even the solace of his companionship. If it had notbeen for Mr. Tudor, I should have been quite desolate. But I was alwaysmeeting him in the village, and his cheery greeting was a cordial to me. He always walked back with me, talking in his eager, boyish way. And Ihad sometimes quite a trouble to get rid of him. He would stand for aquarter of an hour at a time leaning over the gate and chatting with me. By a sort of tacit consent, he never offered to come in, neither did Iinvite him. We were both too much afraid of Miss Darrell's comments. 

In all those ten days I only saw Mr. Hamilton once, for on Sunday hisseat in church had been vacant. 

I was dressing little Jessie's burns one morning, and talking to hercheerfully all the time, for she was a nervous little creature, when Iheard his footstep outside. And the next instant he was standing besideus. 

His curt 'Good-morning; how is the patient, nurse?' braced my falteringnerves in a moment, and enabled me to answer him without embarrassment. He had his grave professional air, and looked hard and impenetrable. Ihad reason afterwards to think that this sternness of manner was assumedfor my benefit, for once, when I was preparing some lint for him, Ilooked up inadvertently and saw that he was watching me with anexpression that was at once sad and wistful. 

He turned away at once, when he saw I noticed him, and I left the room asquickly as I could, for I felt the tears rising to my eyes. I had to sitdown a moment in the porch to recover myself. That look, so sad andyearning, had quite upset me. If I had not known before, past all doubt, that Mr. Hamilton loved me, I must have known it then. 

We met more frequently after this. Janet Coombe was dangerously ill, andMr. Hamilton saw her two or three times a day. And, of course, I wasoften there when he came. 

He dropped his sternness of manner after a time, but he was neverotherwise than grave with me. The long, unrestrained talks, the friendlylooks, the keen interest shown in my daily pursuits, were now things ofthe past. A few professional inquiries, directions about the treatment, now and then a brief order to me, too peremptory to be a compliment, not to over-tire myself, or to go home to rest, --this was all ourintercourse. And yet, in spite of his guarded looks and words, I wasoften triumphant, even happy. 

Outwardly, and to all appearance, I was left alone, but I knew that itwas far otherwise in reality. I was most strictly watched. Nothingescaped his scrutiny. At the first sign of fatigue he was ready to takemy place, or find help for me. Mrs. Saunders, the mistress of the Man andPlough, told me more than once that the doctor had been most particularin telling her to look after me. Nor was this all. 

Once or twice, when I had been singing in the summer twilight, I hadrisen suddenly to lower a blind or admit Tinker, and had seen a tall, dark figure moving away behind the laurel bushes, and knew that it wasMr. Hamilton returning from some late visit and lingering in the duskyroad to listen to me. 

After I had discovered this for the third time, I began to think he cameon purpose to hear me. My heart beat happily at the thought. In spite ofhis displeasure with me, he could not keep away from the cottage. 

After this I sang every evening regularly for an hour, and always inthe gloaming: it became my one pleasure, for I knew I was singing to him. Now and then I was rewarded by a sight of his shadow. More than once Isaw him clearly in the moonlight. When I closed my piano, I used towhisper 'Good-night, Giles, ' and go to bed almost happy. It was a littlehard to meet him the next morning in Janet's room and answer his drymatter-of-fact questions. Sometimes I had to turn away to hide a smile. 

Gladys's first visit was very disappointing. But everything wasdisappointing in those days. She had her old harassed look, and seemedworried and miserable, and for once I had no heart to cheer her, only Iheld her close, very close, feeling that she was dearer to me than ever. 

She looked in my face rather inquiringly as she disengaged herself, andthen smiled faintly. 

'I could not come before, Ursula; and you have never been to see me, ' alittle reproachfully, 'though I looked for you every afternoon. I have noLady Betty, you know, and things have been worse than ever. I cannotthink what has come to Etta. She is always spiteful and sneering whenGiles is not by. And as for Giles, I do not know what is the matter withhim. '

'How do you mean?' I faltered, hunting in my work basket for some silkthat was lying close to my hand. 

'That is more than I can say, ' she returned pointedly. 'Have you andGiles had a quarrel, Ursula? I thought that evening that you were thebest of friends, and that--' But here she hesitated, and her lovely eyesseemed to ask for my confidence; but I could not speak even to Gladys ofsuch things, so I only answered, in a business-like tone, --

'It is true that your brother does not seem as friendly with me just now;but I do not know how I have offended him. He has rather a peculiartemper, as you have often told me: most likely I have gone against someof his prejudices. ' I felt I was answering Gladys in rather a recklessfashion, but I could not bear even the touch of her sympathy on such awound. She looked much distressed at my reply. 

'Oh no, you never offend Giles. He thinks far too much of you to letany difference of opinion come between you. I see you do not wish meto ask you, Ursula; but I must say one thing. If you want Giles to tellyou why he is hurt or distant with you, --why his manner is different, Imean, --ask him plainly what Etta has been saying to him about you. '

I felt myself turning rather pale. 'Are you sure that Miss Darrell hasbeen talking about me, Gladys?'

'I have not heard her do so, ' was the somewhat disappointing reply, forI had hoped then that she had heard something. 'But I was quite as sureof the fact as though my ears convicted her. I have only circumstantialevidence again to offer you, but to my mind it is conclusive. You partedfriends that evening with Giles. Correct me if I am wrong. '

'Oh no; you are quite right. Your brother and I had no word ofdisagreement. '

'No; he left the house radiant. When he returned, which was not for anhour, --for he and Etta were out all that time in the garden, and theysent Lady Betty in to finish her packing, --he was looking worried andmiserable, and shut himself up in his study. Since then he has been inone of his taciturn, unsociable moods: nothing pleases him. He takes nonotice of us. Even Etta is scolded, but she bears it good-humouredlyand takes her revenge on me afterwards. A pleasant state of things, Ursula!'

'Very, ' I returned, sighing, for I thought this piece of evidenceconclusive enough. 

'Now you will be good, ' she went on, in a coaxing voice, 'and you willask Giles, like a reasonable woman, what Etta has been saying to him?'

'Indeed, I shall do no such thing, ' I answered. And my cheek began toflush. 'If your brother is ungenerous enough to condemn me unheard, Ishall certainly not interfere with his notions of justice. Do not troubleyourself about it, Gladys. It will come right some day. And indeed itdoes not matter so much to me, except it keeps us apart. '

Now why, when I spoke so haughtily and disagreeably, and told this littlefib, did Gladys suddenly take me in her arms and kiss me most sorrowfullyand tenderly?

'One after another!' she sighed. 'Oh, it is hard, Ursula!' But I wouldnot let her talk any more about it, for I was afraid I was breaking downand might make a goose of myself: so I spoke of Eric, and told her thatI had written to Joe Muggins without success, and soon turned herthoughts into another channel. 

CHAPTER XXXVII

'I CLAIM THAT PROMISE, URSULA'

It was soon after this that Uncle Max came home. 

I met Mr. Tudor in the village one morning, and he told me with greatglee that they had just received a telegram telling them that he was onhis way, and an hour after his arrival he came down to the cottage. 

Directly I heard his 'Well, little woman, how has the world treated youin my absence?' I felt quite cheered, and told my little fib withouteffort:

'Very well indeed, thank you, Max. '

It is really a psychological puzzle to me why women who are otherwisestrictly true and honourable in their dealings and abhor the very nameof falsehood are much addicted to this sort of fibbing under certaincircumstances; for instance, the number of white lies that I actuallytold at that time was something fabulous, yet the sin of hypocrisy didnot lie very heavily on my soul. 

When I assured Uncle Max with a smiling face that things were well withme, his only answer was to take my chin in his hand and turn my facequietly to the light. 

'Are you quite sure you are speaking the truth? You look rather thin; andwhy are your eyes so serious, little she bear?'

'It is such hot weather, ' I returned, wincing under his kindly scrutiny. 'And we--that is, I have had anxious work lately. I wrote to you aboutpoor Janet Coombe. It is a miracle that she has pulled through thisillness. '

'Yes, indeed: I met Hamilton just now on his way to her, and he declaredher recovery was owing to your nursing; but we will take that with agrain of salt, Ursula: we both know how devoted Hamilton is to hispatients. '

'He has saved her life, ' was my reply, and for a moment my eyes grew dimat the remembrance of the untiring patience with which he had watchedbeside the poor girl. It was in the sick-room that I first learned toknow him, --when metaphorically I sat at his feet, and he taught melessons of patience and tenderness that I should never forget untilmy life's end. 

When we had talked about this a little while, Max asked me ratherabruptly when Captain Hamilton was expected. The question startled me, for I had almost forgotten his existence. 

'I do not know, ' I returned uneasily, for I was afraid Max would thinkI had been remiss. 'Lady Betty is away, and I have only seen Gladys twicesince my return, and each time I forgot to ask her. '

'Only twice, and you have been at home more than three weeks, ' observedMax, in a dissatisfied voice. 

'I have been so engaged, ' I replied quickly, 'and you know how seldomGladys comes to the cottage. Max, do you know you have been here aquarter of an hour, and I have never congratulated you on your goodfortune! I was so glad to hear Mrs. Trevor left you that money. '

'I did not need it, ' he returned, rather gloomily. 'I had quitesufficient for my own wants. I do not think that I am particularlymercenary, Ursula: the books and antiquities were more to my taste. '

Max was certainly not in the best of spirits, but I did all I could tocheer him. I told him of Gladys's improved looks, and how much her changehad benefited her, but he listened rather silently. I saw he was bent onlearning Captain Hamilton's movements, and reproached myself that I hadnot questioned Gladys. I was determined that I would speak to her abouther cousin the next time we met. 

Max went away soon after this; he was rather tired with his journey, hesaid; but the next morning I received a note from him asking me to dinewith him the following evening, as he had seen so little of me lately, and he wanted to hear all about the wedding. 

Of course I was too glad to accept this invitation, --I always liked to goto the vicarage, --and this evening proved especially pleasant. 

Max roused himself for my benefit, and Mr. Tudor seemed in excellentspirits, and we joked Uncle Max a great deal about his fortune, and afterdinner we made a pilgrimage through the house, to see what new furniturewas needed. 

Max accompanied us, looking very bored, and entered a mild protest tomost of our remarks. He certainly agreed to a new carpet for the studyand a more comfortable chair, but he turned a perfectly deaf ear when Mr. Tudor proposed that the drawing-room should be refurnished. 

'It is such a pretty room, Mr. Cunliffe, ' he remonstrated; 'and itwill be ready by the time you want to get married. Mother Drabble'sarrangement of chairs and tables is simply hideous. I was quite ashamedwhen Mrs. Maberley and her daughter called the other day. '

'Nonsense, Lawrence!' returned Max, rather sharply. 'What do twobachelors want with a drawing-room at all? You and Ursula may talk asmuch as you like, but I do not mean to throw away good money on suchnonsense. We will have a new book-case and writing-table, and fit up thelittle gray room as your study--and, well, perhaps I may buy a newcarpet, but nothing more. ' And we were obliged to be content with this. 

Max brought out a couple of wicker chairs on the terrace presently, andproposed that we should have our coffee out of doors. Mr. Tudor grumbleda little, because he had a letter to write; but I was not sorry when heleft me alone with Max. I really liked Mr. Tudor, but we were neither ofus in the mood for his good-natured chatter. 

'I think old Lawrence is very much improved, ' observed Max, as we watchedhis retreating figure. 'His sermons have more ballast, and he isaltogether grown. I begin to have hopes of him now. '

'He is older, of course, ' I remarked oracularly, wondering what Max wouldsay if he knew the truth. 'Well, Max, did you go up to Gladwyn lastnight?'

'Yes, ' he returned, with a quick sigh, 'and Hamilton made me stay todinner. I have found out about Captain Hamilton. He cannot get leave justyet, and they do not expect him until the end of November. '

'I am sorry to hear that. Do you not wish that you had taken my advicenow, and gone down to Bournemouth?' But a most emphatic 'No' on Max'spart was my answer to this. 

'I am very thankful I did nothing of the kind, ' he returned, a littleirritably. 'You meant well, Ursula, but it would have been a mistake. '

'Hamilton told me about his cousin, ' he went on; 'but his sister was inthe room. She coloured very much and looked embarrassed directly Claude'sname was mentioned. '

'That was because Miss Darrell was there. ' But I should have been wiserand, held my tongue. 

'You are wrong again, ' he returned calmly. 'Miss Darrell was dining atthe Maberleys', and never came in until I was going. '

'How very strange!' was my comment to this. 

'Not stranger than Miss Hamilton's manner the whole evening, I never feltmore puzzled. When I came in she was alone. Hamilton did not follow mefor five minutes. She came across the room to meet me, with one of herold smiles, and I thought she really seemed glad to see me; butafterwards she was quite different. Her manner changed and grew listless. She did not try to entertain me; she left me to talk to her brother. Idon't think she looks well, Ursula. Hamilton asked her once if her headached, and if she felt tired, and she answered that her head was ratherbad. I thought she looked extremely delicate. '

'Oh, Gladys is never a robust woman. She is almost always pale. '

'It is not that, ' he returned decidedly. 'I consider she looked veryill. I don't believe the change has done her the least good. There issomething on her mind: no doubt she is longing for her cousin. '

I thought it well to remain silent, though Max's account made me anxious. If only I could have spoken to him about Eric! Most likely Gladys wasfretting because there was no news from Joe Muggins. She was certainlynot fit for any fresh anxiety. I felt my banishment from Gladwyn acutely. If Gladys were ill or dispirited, she would need me more than any one. 

I think both Max and I were sorry when Mr. Tudor came back andinterrupted our conversation. He carried me off presently to show mesome improvements in the kitchen-garden; but Max was too lazy to join us, and we had quite a confidential talk, walking up and down between theapple-trees. Mr. Tudor told me that, after all, he was becoming fond ofhis profession, and that the old women did not bore him quite so much. When we returned, Max was not on the lawn, but a few minutes afterwardshe appeared at the study window. 

'I was just speaking to Hamilton, ' he said. 'He came while you were inthe kitchen-garden, but he was in a hurry and could not wait. By the bye, he told me that I was not to let you sit out there any longer, as thedews are so heavy. So come in, my dear. '

I obeyed Max without a word. He had been here, and I had missed him!Everything was flat after that. 

I took my leave early, feeling as though all my merriment had suddenlydried up. How would he have met me? I wondered. Would Max have noticedanything different? 'How long will this state of things go on?' Ithought, as I bade Max good-bye in the porch. 

I waited for some days for Gladys to come to me, and then I wrote toher just a few lines, begging her to have tea with me the followingafternoon; but two or three hours afterwards Chatty brought me a note. 

'Do not think me unkind, Ursula, ' she wrote, 'if I say that it is betterfor us not to meet just now. I have twice been on my way to you, and Ettahas prevented my coming each time. My life just now is unendurable. Gilesnotices nothing. I sometimes think Etta must be possessed, to treat me asshe does: I can see no reason for it. I hope I am not getting ill, but Ido not seem as though I could rouse myself to contend with her. I do notsleep well, and my head pains me. If I get worse, I must speak to Giles:I cannot be ill in this place. '

Gladys's letter made me very anxious. There was a tone about it thatseemed as though her nerves were giving way. The heat was intense, andmost likely anxiety about Eric was disturbing her night's rest. Want ofsleep would be serious to Gladys's highly-strung organisation. I wasdetermined to speak to Mr. Hamilton, or go myself to Gladwyn. 

My fears were still further aroused when Sunday came and Gladys was notin her usual place. After service Miss Darrell was speaking to somefriends in the porch. As I passed Mr. Hamilton I paused for a moment, toquestion him: 'Why was Gladys not at church? Why did she never come tosee me now?'

'We might ask you that same question, I think, ' he returned, ratherpointedly. 'Gladys is not well: she spoke to me yesterday about herself, and I was obliged to give her a sleeping-draught. She was not awake whenwe left the house. '

'I will come and see her, ' I replied quickly, for Miss Darrell wasbearing down upon us, and I am sure she heard my last words; and as Iwalked home I determined to go up to Gladwyn that very evening while thefamily were at church. 

I thought I had timed my visit well, and was much exasperated when MissDarrell opened the door to me. 

'I saw you coming, ' she said, in her smooth voice, 'and so I thought Iwould save Leah the trouble. She is the only servant at home, and I senther upstairs to see if Gladys wanted anything. I hope you do not expectto see Gladys to-night, Miss Garston?'

'I most certainly expect it, ' was my reply. 'I have given up the eveningservice, hearing that she was ill. '

'It is too kind of you; but I am sorry that I could not allow it for amoment. Giles was telling me an hour ago that he could not think whatailed Gladys: he was afraid of some nervous illness for her unless shewere kept quiet. I could not take the responsibility of disobeyingGiles. '

'I will take the responsibility on myself, ' I returned coolly. 'Youforget that I am a nurse, Miss Darrell. I shall do Gladys no harm. '

'Excuse me if I must be the judge of that, ' she returned, and her thinlips closed in an inflexible curve: 'in my cousin's absence I could notallow any one to go near Gladys. Leah is with her now trying to induceher to take her sleeping-draught. '

I looked at Miss Darrell, and wondered if I could defy her to her face, or whether I had better wait until I could speak to Mr. Hamilton. IfGladys were really taking her sleeping-draught, my presence in her roommight excite her. If I could only know if she were telling me the truth!

My doubts were answered by Leah's entrance. Miss Darrell addressed hereagerly:

'Have you given Miss Gladys the draught, Leah?'

'Yes, ma'am, and she seems nicely inclined to sleep. She heard MissGarston's voice, and sent me down with her love, and she is sorry notto be able to see her to-night. '

I thought it better to take my leave after this, hoping for bettersuccess next time. I watched anxiously for Mr. Hamilton the next day, butunfortunately I missed him. When I arrived at Janet's he had just leftthe house, and I did not meet him in the village. I was growing desperateat hearing no news of Gladys, and had determined to go up boldly toGladwyn that very evening, when I saw Chatty coming in the direction ofthe cottage. She looked very nicely dressed, and her round face brokeinto dimples as she told me that Miss Darrell had sent her to thestation, and that she meant to call in and have a chat with Mrs. Hathawayon her way, as she need not hurry back. 

Jem Hathaway was pretty Chatty's sweetheart. I knew him well. He wasa blacksmith, and lived with his mother in the little stone-colouredcottage that faced the green. He was an honest, steady young fellow, a great friend of Nathaniel, and Mrs. Barton often told me that sheconsidered Chatty a lucky girl to have Jem for a sweetheart. 

'And if you please, ma'am, ' went on Chatty, looking round-eyed andserious, 'my mistress said that I was to give you this. ' And she produceda slip of paper with a pencilled message. I knew Chatty always calledGladys her mistress: so I opened the paper eagerly:

'Why did you go away on Sunday evening without seeing me? I implored Leahto bring you up when I heard your voice talking to Etta, and when thedoor closed I turned quite sick with disappointment. Ursula, I must seeyou; they shall not keep you from me. Come up this evening at half-pastseven, while they are at dinner. Chatty will let you in. '

'Very well: tell your mistress I will come, ' I observed; and Chattydropped a rustic courtesy, and said, 'Thank you, ma'am; that will do mymistress good, ' and tripped on her way. 

I went back into my parlour, feeling worried and excited. Gladys had sentfor me, and I must go; but the idea of slipping into the house in thissurreptitious way was singularly repugnant to me. I would rather havechosen a time when I knew Mr. Hamilton would be absent; but in that caseI might find it impossible to obtain admittance to Gladys's room. No, I must put my own feelings aside, and follow her directions. But, inspite of this resolve, I found it impossible to settle to anything untilthe time came for keeping my appointment. 

I arrived at Gladwyn just as the half-hour was chiming from the churchclock. As I walked quickly through the shrubbery I glanced nervously upat the windows. Happily, the dining-room was at the back of the house, but Leah might be sewing in her mistress's room and see me. As thisalarming thought occurred to my mind, I walked still more rapidly, butbefore I could raise my hand to the bell the door opened noiselessly, andChatty's smiling face welcomed me. 

'I was watching for you, ' she whispered. 'Leah is in the housekeeper'sroom, and master and Miss Darrell are at dinner. You can go up to mymistress at once. '

I needed no further invitation. As I passed the dining-room door I couldhear Miss Darrell's little tinkling laugh and Mr. Hamilton's deep voiceanswering her. The next moment Thornton came out of the room, and I hadonly time to whisk round the corner. I confess this narrow escape verymuch alarmed me, and my heart beat a little quickly as I tapped atGladys's door; then, as I heard her weak 'Come in, ' I entered. 

The room was full of some pungent scent, hot and unrefreshing. Some onehad moved the dressing-table, and Gladys lay on a couch in the circularwindow, within the curtained enclosure. I always thought it the prettiestwindow in the house. It looked full on the oak avenue, and on the elms, where the rooks had built their nests. There was a glimpse of the whiteroad, too, and the blue smoke from the chimneys of Maplehurst was plainlyvisible. 

The evening sunshine was streaming full on Gladys's pale face, and myfirst action after kissing her was to lower the blind. I was glad of theexcuse for turning away a moment, for her appearance gave me quite ashock. 

She looked as though she had been ill for weeks. Her face looked dark andsunken, and the blue lines were painfully visible round her temples. Herforehead was contracted, as though with severe pain, and her eyes wereheavy and feverish. When she raised her languid eyelids and looked at me, a sudden fear contracted my heart. 

'Ursula, thank God you have come!'

'We must always thank Him, dearest, whatever happens, ' I returned, asI knelt down by her and took her burning hand in mine. 'And now you musttell me what is wrong with you, and why I find you like this. '

'I do not know, ' she whispered, almost clinging to me. And it struck methen that she was frightened about herself. 'As I told Giles, I feel veryill. The heat tries me, and my head always aches, --such a dull, miserablepain; and, most of all, I cannot sleep, and all sorts of horrid thoughtscome to me. Sometimes in the night, when I am quite alone, I feel asthough I were light-headed and should lose my senses. Oh, Ursula, ifthis goes on, what will become of me?'

'We will talk about that presently. Tell me, have you ever been ill inthis way before?'

'Yes, last summer, only not so bad. But I had the pain and thesleeplessness then. Giles was so good to me. He said I wanted change, andhe took a little cottage at Westgate-on-Sea and sent me down with LadyBetty and Chatty, and I soon got all right. '

'So I thought. And now--'

'Oh, it is different this time, ' she replied nervously. 'I did not havedreadful thoughts then, or feel frightened, as I do now. Ursula, I knowI am very ill. If you leave me to Etta and Leah, I shall get worse. Ihave sent for you to-night to remind you of your promise. '

'What promise?' I faltered. But of course I knew what she meant. A senseof wretchedness had been slowly growing on me as she talked. If it shouldcome to that, --that I must remain under his roof! I felt a tingling senseof shame and humiliation at the bare idea. 

'Of your solemn promise, most solemnly uttered, ' she repeated, 'that if Iwere ill you would come and nurse me. I claim that promise, Ursula. '

'Is it absolutely necessary that I should come?' I asked, in a distressedvoice, for all at once life seemed too difficult to me. How had Ideserved this fresh pain!

In a moment her manner grew more excited. 

'Necessary! If you leave me to Etta's tender mercies I shall die. Butno--no! you could not be so cruel. They are making me take those horriddraughts now, and I know she gives me too much. I get so confused, but itis not sleep. My one terror is that I shall say things I do not mean, about--well, never mind that. And then she will say that my brain isqueer. She has hinted it already, when I was excited at your going away. There is nothing too cruel for her to say to me. She hates me, and I donot know why. '

'Hush! I cannot have you talk so much, ' for her excitement alarmed me. 'Remember, I am your nurse now, --a very strict one, too, as you willfind. Yes, I will keep my promise. I will not leave you, darling. '

'You promise that? You will not go away to-night?'

'I shall not leave you until you are well again, ' I returned, with forcedcheerfulness. But if she knew how keenly I felt my cruel position, howsick and trembling I was at heart! What would he think of me? No, I mustnot go into that. Gladys had asked this sacrifice of me. She had thrownherself on my compassion. I would not forsake her. 'God knows myintegrity and innocence of intention. I will not be afraid to do my dutyto this suffering human creature, ' I said to myself. And with this mycourage revived, and I felt that strength would be given me for all thatI had to do. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII

IN THE TURRET-ROOM

My promise to stay with Gladys soothed her at once, and she lay back onher pillows and closed her aching eyes contentedly, while I sat down andwrote a hasty note to Mrs. Barton. 

When I had finished it, I said quietly that I was going downstairs insearch of her brother; and when she looked a little frightened at this, Imade her understand, in as few words as possible, that it was necessaryfor me to obtain his sanction, both as doctor and master of the house, and then we should have nothing to fear from Miss Darrell. And when I hadsaid this she let me go more willingly. 

My errand was not a pleasant one, and I felt very sorry for myself as Iwalked slowly downstairs hoping that I should find Mr. Hamilton alone inhis study; but they must have lingered longer than usual over dessert, for before I reached the hall the dining-room door opened, and they cameout together; and Miss Darrell paused for a moment under the hall lamp. 

She was very much overdressed, as usual, in an _eau de Nile_ gown, trimmed with costly lace: her gold bangles jangled as she fanned herself. 

'Come out into the garden, Giles, ' she said, with a ladylike yawn; 'it isso hot indoors. I thought you said that you expected Mr. Cunliffe. '

'Perhaps he will be here by and by, ' returned Mr. Hamilton; and then helooked up and saw me. 

'Miss Garston!' he ejaculated, as though he could scarcely believe hiseyes, and Miss Darrell broke into an angry little laugh; but I took nonotice of her. I determined to speak out boldly what I had to say. 

'Mr. Hamilton, ' I said quickly, 'I have seen Gladys. I am quite shockedat her appearance: she certainly looks very ill. If you will allow me, I should like to remain and nurse her. '

'But you must allow no such thing, Giles, ' interfered his cousin sharply. 'I have always nursed poor dear Gladys myself, and no one understands heras I do. '

'Gladys sent for me just now, ' I went on firmly, without taking anynotice of this speech, 'to beg me to remain with her. She has set herheart on my nursing her, and she reminded me of my promise. '

'What promise?' he asked, rather harshly; but I noticed that he lookeddisturbed and ill at ease. 

'Some months ago, just before Gladys went to Bournemouth, she asked me tomake her a promise, that if she were ever ill in this house I would giveup my work and come and nurse her. She was perfectly well then, --atleast, in her ordinary health, --and I saw no harm in giving her thepromise. She claims from me now the fulfilment. '

'Very extraordinary, ' observed Miss Darrell, in a sneering voice. 'Butthen dear Gladys was always a little odd and romantic. You remember Iwarned you some time ago, Giles, that if we were not careful and firm--'

'Pshaw!' was the impatient answer, and I continued pleadingly, --

'Gladys seems to me in a weak, nervous state, and I do not think it wouldbe wise to thwart her in this. Sick people must be humoured sometimes. Ithink you could trust me to watch over her most carefully. '

'Giles, I will not answer for the consequences if Miss Garston nursesGladys, ' interposed Miss Darrell eagerly. 'You have no idea how sheexcites her. They talk, and have mysteries together, and Gladys is alwaysmore low-spirited when she has seen Miss Garston. You know I have onlydear Gladys's interest at heart, and in a serious nervous illness likethis--' But he interrupted her. 

'Etta, this is no affair of yours: you can leave me, if you please, tomake arrangements for my sister. I am very much obliged to you, MissGarston, for offering to nurse Gladys, but there was no need of all thisexplanation; you might have known, I think, that I was not likely torefuse. '

He spoke coldly, and his face looked dark and inflexible, but I could seehe was watching me. I am sure I perplexed and baffled him that night: asI thanked him warmly for his consent, he checked me almost irritably:

'Nonsense! the thanks are on our side, as we shall reap the benefit ofyour services. What shall you do about your other patients, may I ask?'

'I will tell you, ' I returned, not a bit daunted either by hisirritability or sternness. In my heart I knew that he was glad thatI had asked this favour of him. Oh, I understood him too well to beafraid of his moods now!

'I must ask you to help me, ' I went on. 'Will you kindly send that noteto Mrs. Barton. It is to beg her to furnish me with all I need. '

'Thornton shall take it at once, ' he returned promptly. 

'Thank you. Now about my poor people. Little Jessie still needs care, andJanet will be an invalid for some time. I do not wish them to miss me. '

His face softened; a half-smile came to his lips. 'There is only onevillage nurse, ' he said dubiously. 

'True, but I think I can find an excellent substitute. Do you remember myspeaking to you of a young nurse at St. Thomas's who was obliged to leavefrom ill health? She is better now, only not fit for hospital work. I amthinking of writing to her, and asking her to occupy my rooms at thecottage for a week or two until Gladys is better. Change of air will doMiss Watson good, and it will not hurt her to look after Janet and littleJessie. '

Mr. Hamilton looked pleased at this suggestion, --'an excellent idea, 'and, as though by an afterthought, 'a very kind one. I did not wish toadd to your burdens, but Janet Coombe is hardly out of the wood yet. '

Miss Darrell tittered scornfully. As I glanced at her, I saw she wasdragging her gold bangles over her arm until there was a red line on theflesh. Her eyes looked dark and glittering, but she was obliged tosuppress her anger. 

'Janet Coombe is only a poor servant. The work is not so attractive toMiss Garston, I should think, ' she said, in a tone so suggestive that theblood rushed to my face. Women know how to stab sometimes. Happily, Mr. Hamilton's common sense came to my aid. I quieted down directly at thefirst sound of his voice. 

'What makes you so uncharitable, Etta? We all know our village nurse toowell to believe that insinuation. If Gladys be only nursed with half thetenderness that was shown to Janet, I shall be quite content to leave herunder Miss Garston's care. ' Then, turning to me, with something of hisold cordial manner, 'Well, it is all settled, is it not, that you remainhere to-night? Is there anything else you wish to say to me?'

'Only one thing, ' I replied quietly. 'Will you kindly give orders thatGladys's little maid, Chatty, waits upon the sick-room? Leah seems tohave taken that office upon herself lately, and Gladys has a greatdislike to her. '

'Really, this passes everything!' exclaimed Miss Darrell angrily. 'Whathas my poor Leah done, to be set aside in this way?'

'She is your maid, is she not, Etta?'

'Yes; but, Giles--'

'And Chatty always waits on my sisters. It is certainly not Leah'sbusiness to wait on the turret-room. '

'Leah, ' raising his voice a little, as Leah came downstairs with a trayof linen, 'I want to speak to you a moment. Miss Garston has undertakento nurse my sister, and all her orders are to be carried out. Chatty isto attend to the sick-room for the future; there is no need for you toneglect your mistress. '

'Very well, sir, ' replied the woman civilly; but he did not see the lookshe gave me. I had made an enemy of Leah from that moment: neither shenor her mistress would ever forgive me that slight. 

'If Miss Garston has no more orders to give me, ' observed Miss Darrell, with ill-concealed temper, 'I may as well go, for I am rather tired ofthis, Giles. ' And she followed Leah, and we could hear them whisperingin the little passage leading to the housekeeper's room. 

'You must not mind Etta's little show of temper, ' remarked Mr. Hamiltonapologetically. 'She is rather put out because Gladys prefers yournursing. Between ourselves, she is a little too fussy to suit a nervousinvalid; but she is kind-hearted and means well. I was rather sorry forher just now, but I know how to bring her round. '

'I am no favourite with Miss Darrell, ' I returned, wondering secretly athis blind infatuation for his cousin. 

'No; it is easy to see that you do not understand each other. Etta wasnot quite fair to you just now. That is why I spoke so decidedly. I willhave no interference with the sick-room: you will have to account to me, but to no one else. '

I did not venture to raise my eyes. I was so afraid they might betray me. How could I repent my trust in such a man? I felt I could wait cheerfullyfor years, until he chose to break down the barrier between us. 

I bade him good-night, after this, and hurried back to Gladys. I had noidea that he was following me. As I closed the door, I said, in quite agay tone, --

'Well, darling, I always told you your brother was your best friend, andhe has proved the truth of my words. I knew we could trust him--' But aknock at the door interrupted me. I felt rather confused when he entered, for I knew I must have been overheard; but he took no notice, and wentstraight up to Gladys. 

'You see, it is to be as you wished, ' he said pleasantly, 'and MissGarston has installed herself here as your nurse. Is your mind easiernow, you foolish child?'

'Oh yes, Giles, and I am so much obliged to you; it is so good of you toallow it. '

'Humph! I don't see the goodness much; but never mind that now: you mustpromise me to do all Miss Garston tells you, and get well as soon as youcan. Make up your mind, my dear, that you will try and overcome all thesenervous fancies. '

'Yes, Giles, ' very faintly. 

'You have let yourself get rather too low, and so it will be hard work topull you up again; but we mean to do it between us, eh, Miss Garston?'

I told him that I hoped Gladys would soon be better. 

'Oh yes; but Rome was not built in a day, ' patting her hand: 'we want alittle time and patience, that is all. ' And he was leaving the room, whenher languid voice recalled him:

'I mean to be good, and give as little trouble as possible, --and--and--Ishould like you to kiss me, Giles. '

I saw a dusky flush come to his face as he stooped and kissed her. I knewit was the first time that she had ever voluntarily kissed him sinceEric's loss. 

'Good-night, my dear, ' he said, very gently; but he did not look at me ashe left the room. 

I put Gladys to bed after this, with Chatty's help. She was very faintand exhausted, and I sat down in the moonlight to watch her. My thoughtswere busy enough. There would be little sleep for me that night, I knew. It was so strange for me to be under that roof, --so strange and so sweetthat I should be serving him and his; and then I thought of Uncle Max, and how troubled he would be to hear of Gladys's illness, and Idetermined to write to him the next day. 

I was rather startled later on, when most of the household had retired torest, to hear a gentle tap at the door. 

Of course it was Mr. Hamilton, and I went into the passage, half closingthe door behind me. 

'Is she asleep?' he asked anxiously, as he noticed this action. 

'No, not asleep, but quite drowsy. I have given her the draught as youwished, but it is singular how she objects to it. She says it onlyconfuses her head, and gives her nightmare. '

'We must quiet her by some means, ' he returned; and I saw by the light ofthe lamp he carried that his face looked rather grave. 'Perhaps you didnot know that Etta and I were up with her last night. She was in acondition that bordered on delirium. '

'No; I certainly did not know that. '

'She may be better to-night, ' he returned quickly: 'her mind is more atrest. Poor child! I cannot understand what has brought on this state ofdisordered nerves. '

'Nor I. '

'It is very sad altogether. It is a great relief to me to know you arewith her. I must have had a professional nurse, for Etta's fussiness wasdriving her crazy. Now, Miss Garston, ' in a business-like tone, 'I wantto know how they have provided for your comfort. Where do you sleepto-night?'

I could not suppress a smile, for I knew that there had been no provisionmade for my accommodation: the whole household had metaphorically washedtheir hands of me. 

'I shall rest very well on the couch, ' I returned, unwilling to disturbhim. 

'Good heavens!' he exclaimed, looking excessively displeased. 'Do youmean that Lady Betty's room has not been got ready for you? I told Leahmyself, as Chatty was in the sick-room; and she certainly understood me. This shall be looked into to-morrow. Leah will find I am not to bedisobeyed with impunity. I thought Lady Betty's room would do so well foryou, as there is a door of communication, and if you left it open youcould hear Gladys in a moment. '

'Never mind to-night, ' I returned cheerfully. 'I am quite fresh, andshall not need much sleep. No doubt the room will be ready for meto-morrow. '

'Well, I suppose it is too late to disturb them now; but I feel very muchashamed of our inhospitality. ' Then, in rather an embarrassed voice, 'Iam afraid I must have seemed rather ungracious in my manner downstairs, but I am really very grateful to you. '

This was too much for me. 'Please don't talk of being grateful to me, Mr. Hamilton, ' I returned, rather too impulsively. 'You do not know how gladI am to do anything for you--all. ' The word 'all' was added as though byan afterthought, and came in a little awkwardly. 

There was a sudden gleam in Mr. Hamilton's eyes; he seemed about tospeak; impetuous words were on his tongue, then he checked himself. 

'Thank you. Good-night, Nurse Ursula, ' he said, very kindly, and I wentback to Gladys, feeling happier than I had felt since that afternoon whenhe had given me the roses. 

Gladys was quieter that night; she slept fitfully and uneasily, andmoaned a little as though she were conscious of pain, but there was noalarming excitement. 

Early the next morning I heard them preparing Lady Betty's room, and oncewhen I went into the passage in search of Chatty I met Leah coming outwith a dusting-brush: she looked very sullen, and took no notice of mygreeting. Chatty helped me arrange my goods and chattels: as we workedtogether she told me confidentially that master had been scolding Leah, and had told her she ought to be ashamed of herself, and when MissDarrell had taken her part he had been angry with her too. 'Thornton saysMiss Darrell has been crying, and has not eaten a mouthful of breakfast, 'went on Chatty; but I silenced these imprudent communications. It wasquite evident that I was a bone of contention in the household, and thatMr. Hamilton would have some difficulty in subduing Leah's contumacy. 

I wrote to Ellen Watson that morning, and soon received a rapturousacceptance of my invitation. She would be delighted to come to thecottage and to look after my poor people. 

'I am very much stronger, ' she wrote, 'but I must not go back to thehospital for two months: a breath of country air will be delicious, andit is so good of you, my dear Miss Garston, to think of me. I am sureMrs. Barton will make me comfortable, and I will do all I can for poorJanet Coombe and that dear little burnt child. '

I showed Mr. Hamilton the letter, and while he was reading it Chattybrought me word that Uncle Max was waiting to speak to me. 

'If you like to go down to him I will wait here until you come back, ' hesaid; and I was too glad to avail myself of this offer, for Gladys seemedmore suffering and restless than usual. I found Max walking up and downthe drawing-room. As he came forward to meet me his face looked quite oldand haggard. 

'I am glad you have not kept me waiting, Ursula. I sent up that messagein spite of Leah's telling me that you never left the sick-room. '

'Leah is wrong, ' I replied coolly. 'Mr. Hamilton insists on my going inthe garden for at least half an hour daily, while Chatty takes my place. I cannot stay long, Max, but all the same I am glad you sent for me. '

'I felt I must see you, ' he returned, rather huskily. 'Letters are sounsatisfactory; but it was good of you to write, always so kind andthoughtful, my dear. ' He paused for a moment as though to recoverhimself. 'She is very ill, Ursula?'

'Very ill. '

'How gravely you speak! Are things worse than you told me? You do notmean to tell me there is absolute danger?'

'Oh no; certainly not; but it is very sad to see her in such a state. Hernerves have quite broken down; all these three years have told on her, and there seems some fresh trouble on her mind!'

'God forbid!' he returned quickly. 

'Ay, God forbid, for He alone knows what is burdening the mind of thisyoung creature: she is too weak to throw off her nervous fancies. Sheblames herself for harbouring such gloomy thoughts, and it distresses hernot to be able to control them. The night is her worst time. If we couldonly conquer this sleeplessness! I have sad work with her sometimes. '

I spared Max further particulars: he was harassed and anxious enough. I would not harrow up his feelings by telling him how often that feeble, piteous voice roused me from my light slumbers; how, hurrying to herbedside, I would find Gladys bathed in tears, and cold and trembling inevery limb, and how she would cling to me, pouring out an incoherentaccount of some vague shadowy terror that was on her. 

There were other things I could have told him: how in that semi-deliriumhis name, as well as Etta's, was perpetually on her lips, uttered in atone sometimes tender, but more often reproachful, sometimes in a veryanguish of regret. Now I understood why she dreaded Etta's presence inher room: she feared betraying herself to those keen ears. Often afterone of these outbursts she would strive to collect her scatteredfaculties. 

'Have I been talking nonsense, Ursula?' she would ask, in a tremulousvoice. 'I have been dreaming, I think, and the pain in my head confusesme so: do not let me talk so much. ' But I always succeeded in soothingher. 

If I read her secret, it was safe with me. I must know more before Icould help either her or him. If she would only get well enough for me totalk to her, I knew what to say; and I did all I could to console Max. But I could not easily allay his anxiety or my own; it was impossible toconceal from him that she was in a precarious state, and that unless thepower of sleep returned to her there was danger of actual brain-fever; inher morbid condition one knew not what to fear. Perfect quiet, patience, and tenderness were the only means to be employed. As I moved about thecool, dark room, where no uneasy lights and shadows fretted her weakenedeyes, I could not help remembering the comfortless glare and the hot, pungent scents that Miss Darrell had left behind her. Most likely she hadrustled over the matting in her silk gown, and her hard, metallic voicehad rasped the invalid's nerves. Doubtless there was hope for her now inher brother's skilful treatment, and when I told Max so he went away alittle comforted. 

CHAPTER XXXIX

WHITEFOOT IS SADDLED

After the first day or so the strangeness and novelty of myposition wore off, and I settled down to my work in the sick-room. 

Chatty waited upon us very nicely; but Miss Darrell never came near us. Once a day a formal message was brought by Chatty asking after theinvalid. I used to think this somewhat unnecessary, as Mr. Hamilton couldreport his sister's progress at breakfast-time. 

When I encountered Miss Darrell on my way to the garden I always accostedher with marked civility; her manner would be a little repelling inreturn, and she would answer me very coldly. In spite of her outwardpoliteness, I think she was a little afraid of me at that time. I alwaysfelt that a concealed sneer lay under her words. She made it clearlyunderstood that she considered that I had forced myself into the housefor my own purposes. Under these conditions I thought it better to avoidthese encounters as much as possible. 

I saw Uncle Max two or three times. He had timed his visits purposelythat he might join me in my stroll in the garden. We had made thearrangement to meet in this way daily. Max's society and sympathy wouldhave been a refreshment to me, but we were obliged to discontinue thepractice. Max never appeared without Miss Darrell following a few minutesafterwards. She would come out of the house, brisk and smiling, in_grande toilette_, --to take a turn in the shrubberies, as she said. Max would look at me and very soon take his leave. At last he toldme dejectedly that we might as well give it up, as Miss Darrell wasdetermined that he should not speak to me alone: so after that Icontrived to send him daily notes by Chatty, who was always delightedto do an errand in the village. 

'I can't think what makes Miss Darrell so curious, ma'am, ' the girl oncesaid to me. 'She asks me every day if I have been down to the vicarage. She did it while master was by the other afternoon, and he told her quitesharply that it was no affair of hers. '

'Never mind that, Chatty. '

'Oh, but I am afraid she means mischief, ma'am, ' persisted Chatty, whohad a great dislike to Miss Darrell, which she showed by being somewhatpert to her, 'for she said in such a queer tone to master, "There, I toldyou so: now you will believe me, " and master looked as though he were notpleased. '

As I strolled round the garden in Nap's company I often saw Leahsitting sewing at her mistress's window: she would put down her work andwatch me until I was out of sight. I felt the woman hated me, and thissurveillance was very unpleasant to me. I never felt quite free untilI reached the kitchen-garden. 

Mr. Hamilton visited his sister's room regularly three times a day. Henever stayed long: he would satisfy himself about her condition, say afew cheerful words to her, and that was all. 

His manner to me was grave and professional. Now and then, when he hadgiven his directions, he would ask me if there were anything he could dofor me, and if I were comfortable: and yet, in spite of his reserve andguarded looks and words, I felt an atmosphere of protection and comfortsurrounding me that I had not known since Charlie's death. 

Every day I had proofs of his thought for me. The flowers and fruits thatwere sent into the sick-room were for me as well as Gladys. I was oftentouched to see how some taste of mine had been remembered and gratified:sometimes Chatty would tell me that master had given orders that such athing should be provided for Miss Garston; and in many other ways he mademe feel that I was not forgotten. 

For some days Gladys continued very ill; she slept fitfully and uneasily, waking in terror from some dream that escaped her memory. I used to hearher moaning, and be beside her before she opened her eyes. 'It is only anightmare, ' I would say to her as she clung to me like a frightenedchild; but it was not always easy to banish the grisly phantoms of adiseased and overwrought imagination. The morbid condition of her mindwas aggravated and increased by physical weakness; at the least exertionshe had fainting-fits that alarmed us. 

She told me more than once that a sense of sin oppressed her; she must bemore wicked than other people, or she thought Providence would not permither to be so unhappy. Sometimes she blamed herself with influencing Ericwrongly: she ought not to have taken his part against his brother. '"Hethat hateth his brother is a murderer. " Ursula, there were times, I amsure, when I hated Giles. ' And with this thought upon her she would beghim to forgive her when he next came into the room. 

He never seemed surprised at these exaggerated expressions of penitence:he treated it all as part of her malady. 

'Very well, I will forgive you, my dear, ' he would say, feeling herpulse. 'Have you taken your medicine, Gladys?'

'Oh, but, Giles, I do feel so wretched about it all! Are you sure thatyou really and truly forgive me?'

'Quite sure, ' he returned, smiling at her. 'Now you must shut your eyes, like a good child, and go to sleep. ' But, though she tried to obey him, Icould see she was not satisfied: tears rolled down her cheeks from underher closed eyelids. 

'What is it, my darling?' I asked, kissing her. 'Do you feel more illthan usual?'

'No, no; it is only this sense of sin. Oh, Ursula, how nice it would beto die, and never do anything wrong again!' And so she went on bemoaningherself. 

I had thought it better to move her into Lady Betty's room. It was alarge square room opening out of the turret-room, and very light andairy. I had a little bed put up for my use, so that I could hear herevery movement. I told Mr. Hamilton that I could not feel easy to haveher out of my sight; and he quite agreed with me. 

In the daytime we carried her into the turret-room. The little recessformed by the circular window made a charming sitting-room, and just heldGladys's couch and an easy-chair and a little round table with a basketof hot-house flowers on it. Mr. Hamilton declared that we looked verycosy when he first found us there. 

In the cool of the evening, when Gladys could bear the blind raised, itwas very pleasant to sit there looking down on the little oak avenue, where the girls had set their tea-table that afternoon: we could watchthe rooks cawing and circling about the elms. Sometimes Mr. Hamiltonwould pass with Nap at his heels and look up at us with a smile. Once agreat bunch of roses all wet with dew came flying through the open windowand fell on Gladys's muslin gown. 'Did Giles throw them? Will you thankhim, Ursula?' she said, raising them in her thin fingers. 'How cool anddelicious they are?' But when I looked out Mr. Hamilton was not to beseen. 

Lady Betty wrote very piteous letters begging to be recalled, which Mr. Hamilton answered very kindly but firmly. He told her that Gladysrequired perfect quiet, that if she came home she would not be allowed tobe with her; and when Lady Betty heard that I was nursing her she grew alittle more content. 

Gladys was always more restless and suffering towards evening; 'her badthoughts, ' as she called them, came out like bats in the darkness. Itried the experiment of singing to her one evening, and I found, to mydelight, that my voice had a soothing influence: after this I always sangto her after she was in bed: I used to take up my station by the windowand sing softly one song after another, until she was quiet and drowsy. 

As I sang I always saw a dark shadow, moving slowly under the oak-trees, pacing slowly up and down; sometimes it approached the house and stoodmotionless under the window, but I never took any notice. 

'Thank you, dear Ursula, ' Gladys would say when I at last ceased; 'Ifeel more comfortable now. ' And after a time I would hear her regularbreathing and know she was asleep. I shall never forget the relief withwhich I watched her first natural sleep: she had had a restless night, asusual, but towards morning she had fallen into a quiet, refreshing sleep, which had lasted for three hours. 

I had finished my breakfast when I heard her stirring, and hurried in toher; to my delight, she spoke to me quite naturally, without a trace ofnervousness:

'I have had such a lovely sleep, Ursula, and without any bad dreams. I feel so refreshed. '

'I am so glad to hear it, dear, ' I replied; and, overjoyed at this goodnews, I went out into the passage to find Chatty, for I wanted Mr. Hamilton to know at once of this improvement. He had been very anxiousthe previous night, and had talked of consulting with an old friend ofhis who knew Gladys's constitution. 

On the threshold I encountered Miss Darrell. 

'Were you looking for any one?' she asked coldly. 

'Yes, for Chatty. I want Mr. Hamilton to know that Gladys has had threehours' sleep, and has awakened refreshed and without any nervousfeelings. Will you be kind enough to tell him?'

'Oh, certainly: not that I attach much importance to such a transientimprovement. Gladys's case is far too serious for me to be so sanguine. I believe you have not nursed these nervous patients before. If Giles hadtaken my advice he would have had a person trained to this special work. '

'Gladys's case does not require that sort of nurse, ' I replied quickly. 'Excuse me, Miss Darrell, but I am anxious that Mr. Hamilton should knowof his sister's improvement before he goes out. Chatty told me that theyhad sent for him from Abbey Farm. '

'Yes, I believe so, ' she replied carelessly. 'Don't trouble yourself MissGarston: I am quite as anxious as yourself that Giles's mind should beput at rest. He has had worry enough, poor fellow. '

I was rather surprised and disappointed when, ten minutes afterwards, Iheard the hall door close, and, hurrying to a window, I saw Mr. Hamiltonwalking very quickly in the direction of Maplehurst. A moment afterwardsChatty brought me a message from him. He had been called off suddenly, and might not be back for hours. If I wanted him, Atkinson was to takeone of the horses. He would probably be at Abbey Farm or at Gunter'sCottages in the Croft. 

This message rather puzzled me. After turning it over in my mind, I wentin search of Miss Darrell. I found her in the conservatory gathering someflowers. 

'Did you give my message to Mr. Hamilton?' I asked, rather abruptly. Ithought she hesitated and seemed a little confused. 

'What message? Oh, I remember, --about Gladys. No, I just missed him: hehad gone out. But it is of no consequence, is it? I will tell him when hecomes home. '

I would not trust myself to reply. She must have purposely loitered onher way downstairs, hoping to annoy me. He would spend an anxious day, for I knew he was very uncomfortable about Gladys: perhaps he would writeto Dr. Townsend. It was no use speaking to Miss Darrell: she was only tooready to thwart me on all occasions. I would take the matter into my ownhands. I went down to the stables and found Atkinson, and asked him toride over to Abbey Farm and take a note to his master. 

'I hope Miss Gladys is not worse, ma'am, ' he said civilly, looking ratheralarmed at his errand; but when I had satisfied him on this point hepromised to find him as quickly as possible. 

'There is only Whitefoot in the stable, ' he said. 'Master has both thebrowns out: Norris was to pick him up in the village. But he is quitefresh, and will do the job easily. ' I wrote my note while Whitefoot wasbeing saddled, and then went back to the house. Miss Darrell looked at mesuspiciously. 

'I thought I heard voices in the stable-yard, ' she said; and I at oncetold her what I had done. 

For the first time she seemed utterly confounded. 

'You told Atkinson to saddle Whitefoot and go all these miles just tocarry that ridiculous message! I wonder what Giles will say, ' sheobserved indignantly. 'All these years that I have managed his houseI should never have thought of taking such a liberty. '

This was hard to bear, but I answered her with seeming coolness:

'If Mr. Hamilton thinks I am wrong, he will tell me so. In this houseI am only accountable to him. ' And I walked away with much dignity. 

But I knew I had been right when I saw Mr. Hamilton's face that evening, for he did not return until seven o'clock. He came up at once, andbeckoned me into Lady Betty's room. 

'Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Miss Garston, ' he said gratefully. 'You have spared me a wretchedly anxious day. A bad accident case atAbbey Farm called me off, and I had only time to get my things ready, andI was obliged to see the colonel first. If you had not sent me that noteI should have written to Dr. Townsend. But why did not Chatty bring me amessage before I went?'

I explained that I had given the message to Miss Darrell. 

'That is very strange, ' he observed thoughtfully. 'Thornton was helpingme in the hall when I saw Etta watering her flower-stand. Well, nevermind; she shall have her lecture presently. Now let us go to Gladys. '

Of course his first look at her told him she was better, and he wentdownstairs contentedly to eat his dinner. After this Gladys made slow butsteady progress: she gained a little more strength; the habit of sleepreturned to her; her nights were no longer seasons of terror, leaving herdejected and exhausted. Insensibly her thoughts became more hopeful; shespoke of other things besides her own feelings, and no longer refused toyield to my efforts to cheer her. 

I watched my opportunity, and one evening, as we were sitting by thewindow looking out at a crescent moon that hung like a silver bow behindthe oak-trees, I remarked, with assumed carelessness, that Uncle Max hadcalled earlier that day. There was a perceptible start on Gladys's part, and she caught her breath for an instant. 

'Do you mean that Mr. Cunliffe often comes?' she asked, in a low voice, and turning her long neck aside with a quick movement that concealed herface. 

'Oh yes, every day. I do not believe that he has missed more than once, and then he sent Mr. Tudor. You see your friends have been anxious aboutyou, Gladys. I wrote to Max often to tell him exactly what progress youwere making. '

'It was very kind of him to be so anxious, ' she answered slowly, andwith manifest effort. I thought it best to say no more just then, but toleave her to digest these few words. That night was the best she had yetpassed, and in the morning I was struck by the improvement in herappearance; she looked calmer and more cheerful. 

Towards mid-day I noticed that she grew a little abstracted, and whenUncle Max's bell rang, she looked at me, and a tinge of colour came toher face. 

'Should you not like to go down and speak to Mr. Cunliffe?' she saidtimidly. 'I must not keep you such a prisoner, Ursula. ' But when Ireturned indifferently that another day would do as well, and that I hadnothing special to say to him, I noticed that she looked disappointed. AsI never mentioned Miss Darrell's name to her, I could not explain my realreason for declining to go down. I was rather surprised when shecontinued in an embarrassed tone, as though speech had grown difficult toher, --she often hesitated in this fashion when anything disturbed her, --

'I am rather sorry that Etta always sees him alone: one never knows whatshe may say to him. I have begun to distrust her in most things. '

'I do not think that it matters much what she says to him, ' I returnedbriskly; for it would never do to leave her anxious on this point. 'Youknow I have provided an antidote in the shape of daily notes. '

'Surely you do not write every day, ' taking her fan from the table witha trembling hand. 'What can you have to say to Mr. Cunliffe about me?'And I could see she waited for my answer with suppressed eagerness. 

'Oh, he likes to know how you slept, ' I returned carelessly, 'and if youare quieter and more cheerful. Uncle Max has such sympathy with peoplewho are ill; he is very kind-hearted. '

'Oh yes; I never knew any one more so, ' she replied gently; but Idetected a yearning tone in her voice, as though she was longing for hissympathy then. We did not say any more, but I thought she was a triflerestless that afternoon, and yet she looked happier; she spoke once ortwice, as though she were tired of remaining upstairs. 

'I think I am stronger. Does Giles consider it necessary for me to stopup here?' she asked, once. 'If it were not for Etta I should like to bein the drawing-room. But no, that would be an end to our peace. ' And hereshe looked a little excited. 'But if Giles would let me have a drive. '

I promised to speak to him on the subject of the drive, for I was surethat he would hail the proposition most gladly as a sign of returninghealth; but I told her that in my opinion it would be better for her toremain quietly in these two pleasant rooms until she was stronger andmore fit to endure the little daily annoyances that are so trying to anervous invalid. 

'When that time comes you will have to part with your nurse, ' I went on, in a joking tone. But I was grieved to see that at the first hint of myleaving her she clung to me with the old alarm visible in her manner. 

'You must not say that! I cannot part with you, Ursula!' she exclaimedvehemently. 'If you go, you must take me with you. ' And it was some timebefore she would let herself be laughed out of her anxious thoughts. 

When I revolved all these things in my mind, --her prolonged delicacy andpainful sensitiveness, her aversion to her cousin, and her evident dreadof the future, --I felt that the time had come to seek a more completeunderstanding on a point that still perplexed me: I must come to thebottom of this singular change in her manner to Max. I must know withoutdoubt and reserve the real state of her feeling with regard to him andher cousin Claude. If, as I had grown to think during these weeks ofillness, one of these two men, and not Eric, was the chief cause of hermelancholy, I must know which of these two had so agitated her younglife. But in my own mind I never doubted which it was. 

This was the difficult task I had set myself, and I felt that it wouldnot be easy to approach the subject. Gladys was exceedingly reserved, even with me; it had cost her an effort to speak to me of Eric, and shehad never once mentioned her cousin Captain Hamilton's name. 

A woman like Gladys would be extremely reticent on the subject of lovers:the deeper her feelings, the more she would conceal them. Unlike othergirls, I never heard her speak in the light jesting way with which othersmention a love-affair. She once told me that she considered it far toosacred and serious to be used as a topic of general conversation. 'Peopledo not know what they are talking about when they say such things, ' shesaid, in a moved voice: 'there is no reverence, and little reticence, nowadays. Girls talk of falling in love, or men felling in love withthem, as lightly as they would speak of going to a ball. They do notconsider the responsibility, the awfulness, of such an election, beingchosen out of a whole worldful of women to be the light and life of aman's home. Oh, it hurts me to hear some girls talk!' she finished, witha slight shudder. 

Knowing the purity and uprightness of this girl's nature, I confess Ihesitated long in intruding myself into that inner sanctuary that sheguarded so carefully; but for Max's sake--poor Max, who grew moretired-looking and haggard every day--I felt it would be cruel to hesitatelonger. 

So one evening, when we were sitting quietly together enjoying the coolevening air, I took Gladys's thin hand in mine and asked her if she feltwell enough for me to talk to her about something that had long troubledme, and that I feared speaking to her about, dreading lest I shoulddisplease her. I thought she looked a little apprehensive at myseriousness, but she replied very sweetly, and the tears came into herbeautiful eyes as she spoke, that nothing I could say or do coulddisplease her; that I was so true a friend to her that it would beimpossible for her to take offence. 

'I am glad of that, Gladys dear, ' I returned quietly; 'for I have longwanted courage to ask you a question. What is the real reason of yourestrangement from Max?' and then, growing bolder, I whispered in her ear, as she shrank from me, 'I do not ask what are your feelings to him, for Ithink I have guessed them, --unless, indeed, I am wrong, and you preferyour cousin Captain Hamilton. ' I almost feared that I had been too abruptand awkward when I saw her sudden paleness: she began to tremble like aleaf until I mentioned Captain Hamilton's name, and then she turned to mewith a look of mingled astonishment and indignation. 

'Claude? Are you out of your senses, Ursula? Who has put such an ideainto your head?'

I remembered Uncle Max's injunctions to secrecy, and felt I must becareful. 

'I thought that it could not be Captain Hamilton, ' I returned, ratherlamely: 'you have never mentioned his name to me. ' But she interrupted mein a tone of poignant distress, and there was a sudden trouble in hereyes, brought there by my mention of Claude. 

'Oh, this is dreadful!' she exclaimed: 'you come to me and talk aboutClaude, knowing all the time that I have never breathed his name to you. Who has spoken it, then? How could such a thought arise in your mind? Itmust be Etta, and we are undone, --undone!'

'My darling, you must not excite yourself about a mere mistake, ' Ireturned, anxious to soothe her. 'I cannot tell you how it came into myhead; that is my little secret, Gladys, my dear: if you agitate yourselfat a word we shall never understand each other. I want you to trust me asyou would trust a dear sister, --we are sisters in heart, Gladys, '--buthere I blushed over my words and wished them unuttered, --'and to tell meexactly what has passed between you and Max. '

CHAPTER XL

THE TALK IN THE GLOAMING

I heard Gladys repeat my words softly under her breath, --she seemed tosay them in a sort of dream, --'what has passed between you and Max. ' Andthen she looked at me a little pitifully, and her lip quivered. 'Oh, if Idared to speak! but to you of all persons, --what would you think of me?Could it be right?--and I have never opened my lips to any one on thatsubject of my own accord; if Lady Betty knows, it is because Etta toldher. Oh, it was wrong--cruel of Giles to let her worm the truth out ofhim!'

'If Lady Betty and Miss Darrell know, you might surely trust me, --yourfriend, ' I returned. 'Gladys, you know how I honour reticence in suchmatters; I am the last person to force an unwilling confidence; but thereare reasons--no, I cannot explain myself; you must trust me implicitly ornot at all. I do not think you will ever repent that trust; and for yourown sake as well as mine I implore you to confide in me. ' For a momentshe looked at me with wide, troubled eyes, then she ceased to hesitate. 

'What is it you want to know?' she asked, in a low voice. 

'Everything, all that has passed between you and my poor Max, who alwaysseems so terribly unhappy. Is it not you who have to answer for thatunhappiness?'

A pained expression crossed her face. 

'It is true that I made him unhappy once, but that is long ago; and menare not like us: they get over things. Oh, I must explain it to you, oryou will not understand. Do not be hard upon me: I have been sorelypunished, ' she sighed; and for a few moments there was silence betweenus. I had no wish to hurry her. I knew her well: she was long in givingher confidence, but when once she gave it, it would be lavishly, generously, and without stint, just as she would give her love, forGladys was one of those rare creatures who could do nothing meanly orby halves. 

Presently she began to speak of her own accord:

'You know how good Mr. Cunliffe was to me in my trouble; at least you canguess, though you can never really know it. When I was most forlorn andmiserable I used to feel less wretched and hopeless when he was besideme; in every possible way he strengthened and braced me for my dailylife; he roused me from my state of selfish despondency, put work into myhands, and encouraged me to persevere. If it had not been for his helpand sympathy, I never could have lived through those bitter days when allaround me believed that my darling Eric had died a coward's death. '

'Do not speak of Eric to-night, dearest, ' I observed, alarmed at herexcessive paleness as she uttered his name. 

'No, ' with a faint smile at my anxious tone; 'we are talking about someone else this evening. Ursula, you may imagine how grateful I was, --how Igrew to look upon him as my best friend, how I learned to confide in himas though he were a wise elder brother. '

'A brother!--oh, Gladys!'

'It was the truth, ' she went on mournfully: 'no other thought entered mymind, and you may conceive the shock when one morning he came to me, paleand agitated, and asked me if I could love him well enough to marry him. 

'How I recall that morning! It was May, and I had just come in fromthe garden, laden with pink and white May blossoms, and long trails oflaburnum, and there he was waiting for me in the drawing-room. Every onewas out, and he was alone. 

'I fancied he looked different, --rather nervous and excited, --but I neverguessed the reason until he began to speak, and then I thought I shouldhave broken my heart to hear him, --that I must give him pain who had beenso good to me. Oh, Ursula! I had never had such cruel work to do as that. 

'But I must be true to him as well as myself: this was my one thought. Idid not love him well enough to be his wife; he had not touched my heartin that way; and, as I believed at that time that I could never caresufficiently for any man to wish to marry him, I felt that I dared notlet him deceive himself with any future hopes. '

'You were quite right, my darling. Do not look so miserable. Max wouldonly honour you the more for your truthfulness. '

'Yes, but he knew me better than I knew myself, ' she whispered. 'When hebegged to speak to me again I wanted to refuse, but he would not let me. He asked me--and there were tears in his eyes--not to be so hard on him, to let him judge for us both in this one thing. He pressed me so, and helooked so unhappy, that I gave way at last, and said that in a year'stime he might speak again. I remember telling him, as he thanked me verygratefully, that I should not consider him bound in any way; that I hadso little hope to give him that I had no right to hold him to anything;if he did not come to me when a year had expired, I should know that hehad changed. There was a gleam in his eyes as I said this that made mefeel for the first time the strength and purpose of a man's will. I grewtimid and embarrassed all at once, and a strange feeling came over me. Was I, after all, so certain that I should never love him? I could onlybreathe freely when he left me. '

'Yes, dear, I understand, ' I returned soothingly, for she had covered herface with her hands, as though overpowered with some recollection. 

'Ursula, ' she whispered, 'he was right. I had never thought of suchthings. I did not know my own feelings. Before three months were over, Iknew I could give him the answer he wanted. I regretted the year's delay;but for shame, I would have made him understand how it was with me. '

'Could you not have given a sign that your feelings were altered, Gladys?it would have been generous and kind of you to have ended his suspense. '

'I tried, but it was not easy; but he must have noticed the change in me. If I were shy and embarrassed with him it was because I cared for him somuch. It used to make me happy only to see him; if he did not speak tome, I was quite content to know he was in the room. I used to treasure uphis looks and words and hoard them in my memory; it did not seem to methat any other man could compare with him. You have often laughed at myhero-worship, but I made a hero of him. '

I was so glad to hear her say this of my dear Max that tears of joy cameto my eyes, but I would not interrupt her by a word: she should tell herstory in her own way. 

'Etta had spoken to me long before this. One day when we were sittingover our work together, and I was thinking happily about Max--Mr. Cunliffe, I mean. '

'Oh, call him Max to me, ' I burst out, but she drew herself up withgentle dignity. 

'It was a mistake: you should not have noticed it. I could never call himthat now. ' Poor dear! she had no idea how often she had called him Max inher feverish wanderings. 'Well, we were sitting together, --for Etta wasnice to me just then, and I did not avoid her company as I do now, --whenshe startled me by bursting into tears and reproaching me for not havingtold her about Mr. Cunliffe's offer, and leaving her to hear it fromGiles; and then she said how disappointed they all were at my refusal, and was I really sure that I could not marry him?

'I was not so much on my guard then as I am now, and, though I blamedEtta for much of the home unhappiness, I did not know all that I havelearned since. You have no idea, either, how fascinating and persuasiveshe can be: her influence over Giles proves that. Well, little by littleshe drew from me that I was not so indifferent to Mr. Cunliffe as shesupposed, and that in a few months' time he would speak to me again. 

'She seemed very kind about it, and said over and over again how glad shewas to hear this; and when I begged her not to hint at my changedfeelings to Giles, she agreed at once, and I will do her the justice toown that she has kept her word in this. Giles has not an idea of thetruth. '

'Nevertheless, I wish you had kept your own counsel, Gladys. '

'You could not wish it more than I do; but indeed I said very little. Ithink my manner told her more than my words, for I cannot remember reallysaying anything tangible. I knew she plied me with questions, and when Idid not answer them she laughed and said that she knew. 

'I have paid dearly for my want of caution, for I have been in bondageever since. My tacit admission that I cared for Mr. Cunliffe has givenEtta a cruel hold over me; my thoughts do not seem my own. She knows howto wound me: one word from her makes me shrink into myself. Sometimes Ithink she takes a pleasure in my secret misery, --that she was only actinga part when she pretended to sympathise with me. Oh, what a weak fool Ihave been, Ursula, to put myself in the power of such a woman!'

'Poor Gladys!' I said, kissing her; and she dashed away her indignanttear, and hurried on. 

'Oh, let me finish all the miserable story. There is not much to say, butthat little is humiliating. It was soon after this that I noticed achange in Mr. Cunliffe's manner. Scarcely perceptible at first, it becamedaily more marked. He came less often, and when he came he scarcely spoketo me. It was then that Etta began to torment me, and, under the garb ofkindness, to say things that I could not bear. She asked me if Mr. Cunliffe were not a little distant in his manners to me. She did not wishto distress me, but there certainly was a change in him. No, I must nottrouble myself, but people were talking. When a vicar was young andunmarried, and as fascinating as Mr. Cunliffe, people would talk. 

'What did they say? Ah, that was no matter, surely. Well, if I wouldpress her, two or three busybodies had hinted that a certain young lady, who should be nameless, was rather too eager in her pursuit of the vicar. 

'"Such nonsense, Gladys, my dear, " she went on, as I remained dumb andsick at heart at such an imputation. "Of course I told them it was onlyyour enthusiasm for good works. 'She meets him in her district and at themothers' meeting; and what can be the harm of that?' I said to them. 'Andof course she cannot refuse to sing at the penny readings and people'sentertainments when she knows that she gives such pleasure to the poorpeople, and it is rather hard that she should be accused of wanting todisplay her fine voice. ' Oh, you may be sure that I took your part. Ofcourse it is a pity folks should believe such things, but I hope I madethem properly ashamed of themselves. "

'You may imagine how uneasy these innuendoes made me. You know mysensitiveness, and how prone I am to exaggerate things. It seemed tome that more lay behind the margin of her words; and I was not wrong. 

'In a little while there were other things hinted to me, but very gently. Ah, she was kind enough to me in those days. Did I not think that I was alittle too imprudent and unreserved in my manner to Mr. Cunliffe? Shehated to make me uncomfortable, and of course I was so innocent that Imeant no harm; but men were peculiar, especially a man like Mr. Cunliffe:she was afraid he might notice my want of self-control. 

'"You do not see yourself, Gladys, " she said, once; "a child would findout that you are over head and ears in love with him. Perhaps it wouldnot matter so much under other circumstances, but I confess I am a littleuneasy. His manner was very cold and strange last night: he seemed afraidto trust himself alone with you. Do be careful, my dear. Suppose, afterall, his feelings are changed, and that he fears to tell you so?"

'Ursula, can you not understand the slow torture of these days and weeks, the first insidious doubts, the increasing fears, that seemed to becorroborated day by day? Yes, it was not my fancy; Etta was right; hewas certainly changed; he no longer loved me. 

'In desperation I acted upon her advice, and resigned my parish work. Itseemed to me that I was parting with the last shred of my happiness whenI did so. I made weak health my excuse, and indeed I was far from well;but I had the anguish of seeing the unspoken reproach in Mr. Cunliffe'seyes: he thought me cowardly, vacillating; he was disappointed in me. 

'It was the end of April by this time, and in a week or two the day wouldcome when he would have to speak to me again. Would you believe it?--butno, you could not dream that I was so utterly mad and foolish, --but inspite of all this wretchedness I still hoped. The day came and passed, and he never came near me, and the next day, and the next; and then Iknew that Etta was right, --his love for me was gone. '

'You believed this, Gladys?' but I dared not say more: my promise to Maxfettered me. 

'How could I doubt it?' she returned, looking at me with dry, miserableeyes; and I seemed to realise then all her pain and humiliation. 'His notcoming to me at the appointed time was to be a sign between us that hehad changed his mind. Did I not tell him so with my own lips? did I notsay to him that he was free as air, and that no possible blame couldattach itself to him if he failed to come? Do you suppose that I didnot mean those words?'

'Could you not have given him the benefit of a doubt?' I returned. 'Perhaps your manner too was changed and made him lose hope: theresignation of all your work in the parish must have discouraged him, surely. '

'Still, he would have come to me and told me so, ' she replied quickly. 'He is not weak or wanting in moral courage: if he had not changed to mehe would have come. 

'I have never had hope since that day, ' she went on mournfully. 'He isvery kind to me, --very; but it is only the kindness of a friend. He triesto hide from me how much he is disappointed in me, how I have failed tocome up to his standard; but of course I see it. But for Etta I shouldhave resumed my work. You were present when he nearly persuaded me to doso; I was longing then to please him; I think it would be a consolationto me if I could do something, however humble, to help him; but Ettaalways prevents me from doing so. She has taken all my work, and I do notthink she wants to give it up, and she makes me ready to sink through thefloor with the things she says. I dare not open my lips to Mr. Cunliffein her presence; she always says afterwards how anxious I looked, or howhe must have noticed my agitation: if I ever came down to see you, Ursula, she used to declare angrily that I only went in the hope ofmeeting him. She thinks nothing of telling me that I am so weak that shemust protect me in spite of myself, and sometimes she implies that hesees it all and pities me, and that he has hinted as much to her. Oh, Ursula, what is the matter?' for I had pushed away my chair and waswalking up and down the room, unable to endure my irritated feelings. She had suffered all this ignominy and prolonged torture under which hernerves had given way, and now Max's ridiculous scruples hindered me fromgiving her a word of comfort. Why could I not say to her, 'You are wrong:you have been deceived; Max has never swerved for one instant from hislove to you?' And yet I must not say it. 

'I cannot sit down! I cannot bear it!' I exclaimed recklessly, quiteforgetting how necessary it was to keep her quiet; but she put out herhand to me with such a beautiful sad smile. 

'Yes, you must sit down and listen to what I have to say: I will not haveyou so disturbed about this miserable affair, dear. The pain is betternow; one cannot suffer in that way forever. I do not regret that I havelearned to love Max, even though that love is to bring me unhappiness inthis world. He is worthy of all I can give him, and one day in the betterlife what is wrong will be put right; I always tell myself this when Ihear people's lives are disappointed: my illness has taught me this. '

I did not trust myself to reply, and then all at once a thought came tome: 'Gladys, when I mentioned Captain Hamilton's name just now--I mean atthe commencement of our conversation--why did you seem so troubled? He isnothing to you, and yet the very mention of his name excited you. Thisperplexes me. '

She hesitated for a moment, as though she feared to answer: 'I know I cantrust you, Ursula; but will it be right to do so? I mean, for otherpeople's sake. But, still, if Etta be talking about him--' She paused, and seemed absorbed in some puzzling problem. 

'You write to him very often, ' I hazarded at last, for she did not seemwilling to speak. 

'Who told you that?' she returned quickly. 'Claude is my cousin, --atleast step-cousin, --but we are very intimate; there can be no harm inwriting to him. '

'No, of course not: but if people misconstrue your correspondence?'

'I cannot help that, ' rather despondently; 'and I do not see that itmatters now; but still I will tell you, Ursula. Claude is in love withLady Betty. '

'With Lady Betty?'

'Yes, and Giles does not know. Etta did not for a long time, but shefound out about it, and since then poor Lady Betty has had no peace. Yousee the poor children consider themselves engaged, but Lady Betty willnot let Claude speak to Giles until he has promotion. She has got an ideathat he would not allow of the engagement; it sounds wrong, I feel that;but in our unhappy household things are wrong. '

'And Miss Darrell knows?'

'Yes; but we never could tell how she found it out: Claude correspondswith me, and Lady Betty only puts in an occasional letter; she is sodreadfully frightened, poor little thing! For fear her secret should bediscovered. We think that Etta must have opened one of my letters;anyhow, she knows all there is to know, and she holds her knowledge as arod over the poor child. She has promised to keep her counsel and nottell Giles; but when she is in one of her tempers she threatens to speakto him. Then she is always hinting things before him just to tease orpunish Lady Betty, but happily he takes no notice. When you said what youdid I was afraid she had made up her mind to keep silence no longer. '

'Why do you think your brother would object to Captain Hamilton?' Iasked, trying to conceal my relief at her words. 

'He would object to the long concealment, ' she returned gravely. 'Butfrom the first I wanted Lady Betty to be open about it; but nothing wouldinduce her to let Claude write to him. Our only plan now is to wait forClaude to speak to him when he arrives in November. Nothing need be saidabout the past: Claude has been wounded, and will get promotion, andGiles thinks well of him. '

She seemed a little weary by this time, and our talk had lasted longenough; but there was still one thing I must ask her. 

'Gladys, you said you trusted me just now. I am going to put that trustto the proof. All that has passed between us is sacred, and shall nevercross my lips. On my womanly honour I can promise you that; but I makeone reservation, --what you have just told me about Captain Hamilton. '

She looked at me with an expression of incredulous alarm. 

'What can you mean, Ursula? Surely not to repeat a single word aboutClaude?'

'I only mean to mention to one person, with whom the knowledge will be assafe as it will be with me, that Lady Betty is engaged to your cousinClaude. '

'You will tell Mr. Cunliffe, ' she replied, becoming very pale again. 'Iforbid it, Ursula!' But I hindered all further remonstrance on her part, by throwing my arms round her and begging her with tears in my eyes, andwith all the earnestness of which I was capable, to trust me as I wouldtrust her in such a case. 

'Listen to me, ' I continued imploringly. 'Have I ever failed ordisappointed you? have I ever been untrue to you in word or deed? Doyou think I am a woman who would betray the sacred confidence of anotherwoman?'

'No, of course not; but--' Here my hand resolutely closed her lips. 

'Then say to me, "I trust you, Ursula, as I would trust my own soul. Iknow no word would pass your lips that if I were standing by you I shouldwish unuttered. " Say this to me, Gladys, and I shall know you love me. '

She trembled, and turned still paler. 

'Why need he know it? What can he have to do with Lady Betty?' she saidirresolutely. 

'Leave that to me, ' was my firm answer: 'I am waiting for you to saythose words, Gladys. ' Then she put down her head on my shoulder, weepingbitterly. 

'Yes, yes, I will trust you. In the whole world I have only you, Ursula, and you have been good to me. ' And, as I soothed and comforted her, sheclung to me like a tired child. 

CHAPTER XLI

'AT FIVE O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING'

I passed a wakeful and anxious night, pondering over this strange recitalthat seemed to me to corroborate Max's account. I had no doubt in my ownmind as to the treachery that had alienated these two hearts. I knew toowell the subtle power of the smooth false tongue that had done thismischief; but the motive for all this evil-doing baffled me. 'What is herreason for trying to separate them?' I asked myself, but alwaysfruitlessly. 'Why does she dislike this poor girl, who has never harmedher? Why does she render her life miserable? It is she who has sowndiscord between Mr. Hamilton and myself. Ah, I know that well, but I ampowerless to free either him or myself at present. Still, one can detecta motive for that. She has always disliked me, and she is jealous of herposition. If Mr. Hamilton married she could not remain in his house; nowife could brook such interference. She knows this, and it is herinterest to prevent him from marrying. All this is clear enough; butin the case of poor Gladys?' But here again was the old tangle andperplexity. 

I was not surprised that Gladys slept little that night: no doubtagitating thoughts kept her restless. Towards morning she grew quieter, and sank into a heavy sleep that I knew would last for two or threehours. I had counted on this, and had laid my plan accordingly. 

I must see Uncle Max at once, and she must not know that I had seen him. In her weak state any suspense must be avoided. The few words that Imight permit myself to say to him must be spoken without her knowledge. 

I knew that in the summer Max was a very early riser. He would often beat work in his garden by six, and now and then he would start for a longcountry walk, --'just to see Dame Earth put the finishing-touches to hertoilet, ' he would say. But five had not struck when I slipped intoChatty's room half dressed. The girl looked at me with round sleepy eyesas I called her in a low voice. 

'Chatty, it is very early, not quite five, but I want you to get up anddress yourself as quietly as you can and come into the turret-room. I amgoing out, and I do not want to wake anybody, and you understand thefastenings of the front door. I am afraid I should only bungle at them. '

'You are going out, ma'am!' in an astonished voice. Chatty was thoroughlyawake now. 

'Yes, I am sorry to disturb you, but I do not want Miss Gladys to missme. I shall not be long, but it is some business that I must do. ' Andthen I crept back to the turret-room. 

Leah slept in a little room at the end of the passage, and I was veryunwilling that any unusual sound should reach her ears. Chatty seemedto share this feeling, for when she joined me presently she was carryingher shoes in her hands. 'I can't help making a noise, ' she saidapologetically; 'and so I crept down the passage in my stockings. Ifyou are ready, ma'am, I will come and let you out. '

I stood by, rather nervously, as Chatty manipulated the intricatefastenings. I asked her to replace them as soon as I had gone, and tocome down in about half an hour and open the door leading to the garden. 'I will return that way, and they will only think I have taken an earlystroll, ' I observed. I was rather sorry to resort to this smallsubterfuge before Chatty, but the girl had implicit trust in me, andevidently thought no harm; she only smiled and nodded; and as I lingeredfor a moment on the gravel path I heard the bolt shoot into its place. 

It was only half-past five, and I walked on leisurely. I had not beenfarther than the garden for three weeks, and the sudden sense of freedomand space was exhilarating. 

It was a lovely morning. A dewy freshness seemed on everything; the birdswere singing deliciously; the red curtains were drawn across the windowsof the Man and Plough; a few white geese waddled slowly across the green;some brown speckled hens were feeding under the horse-trough; a goatbrowsing by the roadside looked up, quite startled, as I passed him, and butted slowly at me in a reflective manner. There was a scent ofsweet-brier, of tall perfumy lilies and spicy carnations from thegardens. I looked at the windows of the houses I passed, but the blindswere drawn, and the bees and the flowers were the only waking thingsthere. The village seemed asleep, until I turned the corner, and there, coming out of the vicarage gate, was Uncle Max himself. He was walkingalong slowly, with his old felt hat in his hand, reading his littleGreek Testament as he walked, and the morning sun shining on hisuncovered head and his brown beard. 

He did not see me until I was close to him, and then he started, and anexpression of fear crossed his face. 

'Ursula, my dear, were you coming to the vicarage? Nothing is wrong, I hope?' looking at me anxiously. 

'Wrong! what should be wrong on such a morning?' I returned playfully. 'Is it not delicious? The air is like champagne; only champagne never hadthe scent of those flowers in it. The world is just a big dewy bouquet. It is good only to be alive on such a morning. '

Max put his Greek Testament in his pocket and regarded me dubiously. 

'Were you not coming to meet me, then? It is not a quarter to six yet. Rather early for an aimless stroll, is it not, my dear?'

'Oh yes, I was coming to meet you, ' I returned carelessly. 'I thought youwould be at work in the garden. Max, you are eying me suspiciously: youthink I have something important to tell you. Now you must not bedisappointed; I have very little to say, and I cannot answer questions;but there is one thing, I have found out all you wish to know aboutCaptain Hamilton. '

It was sad to see the quick change in his face, --the sudden cloud thatcrossed it at the mention of the man whom he regarded as his rival. Hedid not speak; not a question came from his lips; but he listened asthough my next word might be the death-warrant to his hopes. 

'Max, do not look like that: there is no cause for fear. It is a greatsecret, and you must never speak of it, even to me, --but Lady Betty isengaged to her cousin Claude. '

For a moment he stared at me incredulously. 'Impossible! you must havebeen deceived, ' I heard him mutter. 

'On the contrary, I leave other people to be duped, ' was my somewhat coolanswer. 'You need not doubt my news: Gladys is my informant: only, as Ihave just told you, it is a great secret. Mr. Hamilton is not to knowyet, and Gladys writes most of the letters. Poor little Lady Betty is inconstant terror that she will be found out, and they are waiting untilCaptain Hamilton has promotion and comes home in November. '

He had not lost one word that I said: as he stood there, bareheaded, inthe morning sunshine that was tingeing his beard with gold, I heard hislow, fervent 'Thank God! then it was not that;' but when he turned to mehis face was radiant, his eyes bright and vivid; there was renewed hopeand energy in his aspect. 

'Ursula, you have come like the dove with the olive-branch. Is thisreally true? It was good of you to come and tell me this. '

'I do not see the goodness, Max. '

'Well, perhaps not; but you have made me your debtor. I like to owe thisto you, --my first gleam of hope. Now, you must tell me one thing. DoesMiss Darrell know of this engagement?'

'She does. '

'Stop a moment: I feel myself getting confused here. I am to ask noquestions: you can tell me nothing more. But I must make this clear tomyself: How long has she known, Ursula? a day? a week?'

'Suppose you substitute the word months, ' I observed scornfully. 'I knowno dates, but Miss Darrell has most certainly been acquainted with hercousin's engagement for months. '

'Oh, this is worse than I thought, ' he returned, in a troubled tone. 'This is almost too terrible to believe. She has known all I suffered onthat man's account, and yet she never undeceived me. Can women be socruel? Why did she not come to me and say frankly, "I have made amistake; I have unintentionally misled you: it is Lady Betty, not Gladys, who is in love with her cousin"? Good heavens! to leave me in thisignorance, and never to say the word that would put me out of my misery!'

I was silent, though silence was a torture to me. Even, now the extent ofMiss Darrell's duplicity had not clearly dawned on him. He complainedthat she had left him to suffer through ignorance of the truth; but theidea had not yet entered his mind that possibly she had deceived him fromthe first. 'Oh, the stupidity and slowness of these honourable men wherea woman is concerned!' I groaned to myself; but my promise to Gladys keptme silent. 

'It was too bad of her, was it not?' he said, appealing to me forsympathy; but I turned a deaf ear to this. 

'Max, confess that you were wrong not to have taken my advice and gonedown to Bournemouth: you might have spared yourself months of suspense. '

'Do you mean--' And then he reddened and stroked his beard nervously; butI finished his sentence for him: he should not escape what I had to sayto him. 

'It is so much easier to come to an understanding face to face; but youwould not take my advice, and the opportunity is gone. Gladys is in theturret-room: you could not gain admittance to her without difficulty:what you have to say must be said by letter; but you might trust thatletter to me, Max. '

He understood me in a moment. I could see the quick look of joy in hiseyes. I had not betrayed Gladys, I had adhered strictly to my word that Iwould only speak of Lady Betty's engagement; and with his usual delicacyMax had put no awkward questions to me: he had respected my scruples, andkept his burning curiosity to himself. But he would not have been a manif he had not read some deeper meaning under my silence: he told meafterwards that the happy look in my eyes told him the truth. 

So he merely said very quietly, 'You were right, and I was wrong, Ursula:I own my fault. But I will write now: I owe Miss Hamilton someexplanation. When the letter is ready, how am I to put it into yourhands?'

'Oh, ' I answered in a matter-of-fact way, as though we were speaking ofsome ordinary note, and it was not an offer of marriage from a penitentlover, 'when you have finished talking to Miss Darrell, --you will enjoyher conversation, I am sure, Max; it will be both pleasant andprofitable, --you might mention casually that there was something youwanted to say to your niece Ursula, and would she kindly ask that youngperson to step down to you for a minute? and then, you see, that littlebit of business will be done. '

'Yes, I see; but--' but here Max hesitated--'but the answer, Ursula?'

'Oh, the answer!' in an off-hand manner; 'you must not be looking forthat yet. My patient must not be hurried or flurried: you must giveher plenty of time. In a day or two--well, perhaps, I might find anearly stroll conducive to my health; these mornings are so beautiful;and--Nonsense, Max! I would do more than this for you'; for quiet, undemonstrative Max had actually taken my hand and lifted it to his lipsin token of his gratitude. 

After this we walked back in the direction of Gladwyn, and nothing morewas said about the letter. We listened to the rooks cawing from the elms, and we stood and watched a lark rising from the long meadow beforeMaplehurst and singing as though its little throat would burst with itsconcentrated ecstasy of song; and when I asked Max if he did not thinkthe world more beautiful than usual that morning, he smiled, and suddenlyquoted Tennyson's lines, in a voice musical with happiness:

'All the land in flowery squares, Beneath a broad and equal-flowing wind, Smelt of the coming summer, as one large cloudDrew downward; but all else of heaven was pureUp to the sun, and May from verge to verge, And May with me from heel to heel. '

'Yes, but, Max, it is July now. The air is too mellow for spring. Yourquotation is not quite apt. '

'Oh, you are realistic; but it fits well enough. Do you not remember howthe poem goes on?

"The garden stretches southward. In the midstA cedar spread its dark-green layers of shrub. The garden-glasses shone, and momentlyThe twinkling laurel scattered silver lights. "

I always think of Gladwyn when I read that description. '

I laughed mischievously: 'I am sorry to leave you just as you are in apoetical vein; but I must positively go in. Good-bye, Max, ' I felt I hadlingered a little too long when I saw the blinds raised in Mr. Hamilton'sstudy. But apparently the room was empty. I sauntered past it leisurely, and walked down the asphalt path. On my return I picked one or two roses, wet with dew. As I raised my head from gathering them I saw Leah standingat the side door watching me. 

'Oh, it was you, ' she grumbled. 'I thought one of those girls had leftthe door unlocked. A pretty piece of carelessness that would have beento reach the master's ears! You are out early, ma'am. '

I was somewhat surprised at these remarks, for Leah had made a point ofalways passing me in sullen silence since I had refused her admittanceinto the sick-room. Her manner was hardly civil now, but I thought itbest to answer her pleasantly. 

'Yes, Leah, I have taken my stroll early. It was very warm last night, and I did not sleep well. There is nothing so refreshing as a morningwalk after a bad night. I am going to take these roses to Miss Gladys. 'But she tossed her head and muttered something about people being mightypleasant all of a sudden. And, seeing her in this mood, I walked away. She was a bad-tempered, coarse-natured woman, and I could not understandwhy Mr. Hamilton seemed so blind to her defects. 'I suppose he never seesher; that is one reason, ' I thought, as I carried up my roses. 

Gladys was still asleep. I had finished my breakfast, and had helpedChatty arrange the turret-room for the day, when I heard the long-drawnsigh that often preluded Gladys's waking. I hastened to her side, andfound her leaning on her elbow looking at my roses. 

'They used to grow in the vicarage garden, ' she said wistfully. 'Darkcrimson ones like these. I have been dreaming. ' And then she stopped andflung herself back wearily on her pillow. 'Why must one ever wake fromsuch dreams?' she finished, with the old hopeless ring in her voice. 

'What was the dream, dear?' I asked, smoothing her hair caressingly. Itwas fine, soft hair, like an infant's, and its pale gold tint, withoutmuch colour or gloss, always reminded me of baby hair. I have heardpeople find fault with it. But when it was unbound and streaming in wavymasses over her shoulders it was singularly beautiful. She used to laughsometimes at my admiration of her straw-coloured tresses, or lint-whitelocks, as she called them. But indeed there was no tint that quitedescribed the colour of Gladys's hair. 

'Oh, I was walking in some fool's paradise or other. There were roses init like these. Well, another blue day is dawning, Ursula, and has to belived through somehow. Will you help me to get up now?' But, though shetried after this to talk as usual, I could see the old restlessness wason her. A sort of feverish reaction had set in. She could settle tonothing, take pleasure in nothing; and I was not surprised that Mr. Hamilton grumbled a little when he paid his morning visit. 

'How is this? You are not quite so comfortable to-day, Gladys, ' he asked, in a dissatisfied tone. 'Is your head aching again?'

She reluctantly pleaded guilty to the headache. Not that it was much, sheassured him; but I interrupted her. 

'The fact is, she sat up too late last night, and I let her talk toomuch and over-exert herself. ' For I saw he was determined to come to thebottom of this. 

'I think the nurse was to blame there, ' he returned, darting a quick, uneasy look at me. I knew what he was thinking: Miss Darrell's speech, that Miss Garston always excited Gladys, must have come into his mind. 

'If the nurse deserves blame she will take it meekly, ' I replied. 'I knowI was wrong to let her talk so much. I must enforce extra quiet to-day. 'And then he said no more. I do not think he found it easy to give me thescolding that I deserved. And, after all, I had owned my fault. 

I had just gone out in the passage an hour later, to carry away a bowl ofcarnations that Gladys found too strong in the room, when I heard UncleMax's voice in the hall. The front door was open, and he had enteredwithout ringing. I was glad of this. The door of the turret-room wasclosed, and Gladys would not hear his voice. I should manage to slipdown without her noticing the fact. 

So I busied myself in Lady Betty's room until I heard the drawing-roomdoor open and close again, and I knew Miss Darrell was coming in searchof me. I went out to meet her, with Gladys's empty luncheon-tray in myhands. I thought she looked rather cross and put out, as though herinterview with Uncle Max had disappointed her. 

'Mr. Cunliffe is in the drawing-room, and he would like to speak to youfor a moment. ' she said, in a voice that showed me how unwilling she wasto bring me the message. 'I told him that you never cared to be disturbedin the morning, as you were so busy; but he was peremptory. '

'I am never too busy to see Uncle Max: he knows that, ' I returnedquickly. 'Will you kindly allow me a few moments alone with him?' for shewas actually preparing to follow me, but after this request she retiredsulkily into her own room. 

I found Max standing in the middle of the room, looking anxiously towardsthe door: the moment it closed behind me he put a thick white envelope inmy hand. 

'There it is, Ursula, ' he said nervously: 'will you give it to her assoon as possible? I have been literally on thorns the last quarter of anhour. Miss Darrell would not take any of my hints that I wished to seeyou: so I was obliged at last to say that I could not wait anothermoment, and that I must ask her to fetch you at once. '

'Poor Max! I can imagine your feelings; but I have it safe here, ' tappingmy apron pocket. 'But you must not go just yet. ' And I beckoned himacross the room to the window that overlooked a stiff prickly shrub. 

He looked at me in some surprise. 'We are alone, Ursula. '

'Yes, I know: but the walls have ears in this house: one is never safenear the conservatory: there are too many doors. Tell me, Max, how haveyou got on with Miss Darrell this morning?'

'I was praying hard for patience all the time, ' he replied, halflaughing. 'It was maddening to see her sitting there so cool and crispin her yellow tea-gown--well, what garment was it?' as I uttered adissenting ejaculation: 'something flimsy and aesthetic. I thought hersmooth sentences would never stop. '

'Did she notice any change in your manner to her?'

'I am afraid so, for I saw her look at me quite uneasily more than once. I could not conceal that I was terribly bored. I have no wish to bediscourteous to a lady, especially to one of my own church workers; butafter what has passed I find it very difficult to forgive her. '

This was strong language on Max's part. I could see that as a woman hecould hardly tolerate her, but he could not bring himself to condemn hereven to me. He hardly knew yet what he had to forgive: neither he norGladys had any real idea of the treachery that had separated them. 

Max would not stay many minutes, he was so afraid of Miss Darrell cominginto the room again. I did rather an imprudent thing after that. Max wasgoing to the Maberleys', for the colonel was seriously ill, so I beggedhim to go the garden way, and I kept him for a moment under the window ofthe turret-room. 

I saw him glance up eagerly, almost hungrily, but the blinds werepartially down, and there was only a white curtain flapping in the summerbreeze. 

But an unerring instinct told me that the sound of Max's voice would be astrong cordial to the invalid, it was so long since she had heard or seenhim. As we sauntered under the oak-trees I knew Gladys would be watchingus. 

On my return to the room I found her sitting bolt upright in herarm-chair, grasping the arms; there were two spots of colour on hercheeks; she looked nervous and excited. 

'I saw you walking with him, Ursula; he looked up, but I am glad he couldnot see me. Did--did he send me any message?' in a faltering voice. 

'Yes, he sent you this. ' And I placed the thick packet on her lap. 'MissHamilton, '--yes, it was her own name: he had written it. I saw her lookat it, first incredulously, then with dawning hope in her eyes; butbefore her trembling hands could break the old-fashioned seal with whichhe had sealed it I had noiselessly left the room. 

CHAPTER XLII

DOWN THE PEMBERLEY ROAD

Three-quarters of an hour had elapsed before I ventured into the roomagain; but at the first sound of my footsteps Gladys looked up, andcalled to me in a voice changed and broken with happiness. 

'Ursula, dear Ursula, come here. ' And as I knelt down beside her and putmy arms round her she laid her cheek against my shoulder: it was wet withtears. 

'Ursula, I am so happy. Do you know that he loves me, that he has lovedme all through these years? You must not see what he says; it is only formy eyes; it is too sweet and sacred to be repeated; but I never dreamtthat any one could care for me like that. '

I kissed her without speaking; there seemed a lump in my throat justthen. I did not often repine, but the yearning sense of pain was strongon me. When would this cruel silence between me and Giles be broken? ButGladys, wrapt in her own blissful thoughts, did not notice my emotion. 

'He says that there is much that he can only tell me by word of mouth, and that he dare not trust to a letter explanations for his silence, andmuch that I shall have to tell him in return; for we shall need eachother's help in making everything clear. 

'He seems to reproach himself bitterly, and asks my pardon over and overagain for misunderstanding me so. He says my giving up my work was thefirst blow to his hopes, and then he had been told that I cared for mycousin Claude. He believed until this morning that I was in love withhim; and it was your going to him--oh, my darling! how good you have beento me and him!--that gave him courage to write this letter, Ursula. 'And here she cried a little. 'Was it Etta who told him this falsehoodabout, Claude? How could she he so wicked and cruel?'

'Do not think about her to-day, my dearest, ' I returned soothingly. 'Herpunishment will be great some day. We will not sit in judgment on herjust now. She cannot touch your happiness again, thank heaven!'

'No, ' with a sigh; 'but, as Max says, it is difficult to forgive theperson who is the chief source of all our trouble. He did say that, andthen he reproached himself again for uncharitableness, and added that heought to have known me better. 

'He does not seem quite certain yet that I can care for him, and he begsfor just one word to put him out of his suspense, to tell him if I canever love him well enough to be his wife. I don't want him to wait longfor my answer, Ursula: he has suffered too much already. I think I couldwrite a few words that would satisfy him, if I could only trust Chatty totake them. '

'You had better wait until to-morrow morning and intrust your letter tothe "five-o'clock carrier. "' And as my meaning dawned on her her doubtfulexpression changed into a smile. 'Do wait, Gladys, ' I continuedcoaxingly. 'It is very selfish of me, perhaps, but I should like to givethat letter to Max. '

'You may have your wish, then, for I was half afraid of sending it byChatty. I have grown so nervous, Ursula, that I start at a shadow. I cantrust you better than myself. Well, I will write it, and then it will besafe in your hands. '

I went away again after this, and left her alone in the quiet shady room. I fought rather a battle with myself as I paced up and down Lady Betty'sspacious chamber. Why need I think of my own troubles? why could I notkeep down this pain? I would think only of Gladys's and of my dear Max'shappiness, and I dashed away hot tears that would keep blinding me as Iremembered the chilly greeting of the morning. And yet once--but no; Iwould not recall that bitter-sweet memory. I left Gladys alone for anhour: when I went back she was leaning wearily against the cushions ofher chair, the closely-written sheets still open on her lap, as thoughshe needed the evidence of sight and touch to remind her that it was notpart of her dream. 

'Have you written your letter, Gladys?'

'Yes, ' with a blush; 'but it is very short, only a few words. He willunderstand that I am weak and cannot exert myself much. Will you read it, Ursula, and tell me if it will do?'

I thought it better to set her mind at rest, so I took it without demur. The pretty, clear handwriting was rather tremulous: he would be sorry tosee that. 

'My dear Mr. Cunliffe, '--it said, --'Your letter has made me very happy. I wish I could answer it as it ought to be answered; but I know you willnot misunderstand the reason why I say so little. 

'I have been very ill, and am still very weak, and my hand trembles toomuch when I try to write; but I am not ungrateful for all the kind thingsyou say; it makes me very happy to know you feel like that, even though Ido not deserve it. 

'You must not blame yourself so much for misunderstanding me: we haveboth been deceived; I know that now. It was wrong of me to give up mywork; but Etta told me that people were saying unkind things of me, andI was a coward and listened to her: so you see I was to blame too. 

'I have not answered your question yet, but I think I will do so bysigning myself, 'Yours, always and for ever, 'Gladys. '

'Will he understand that, Ursula?'

'Surely, dear; the end is plain enough: you belong to Max now. '

'I like to know that, ' she returned simply. 'Oh, the rest of feeling thathe will take care of me now! it is too good to talk about. But I hope Iam sufficiently thankful. ' And Gladys's lovely eyes were full of solemnfeeling as she spoke. 

I thought she wanted to be quiet, --it was difficult for her to realiseher happiness at once, --so I told her that I had some letters to write, and carried my desk into the next room, but she followed me after a time, and we had a long talk about Max. 

When Mr. Hamilton came up in the evening he noticed the improvement inGladys's appearance. 

'You are better to-night, my dear. '

'Oh yes, so much better, ' looking up in his face with a smile. 'Giles, doyou think it would hurt me to have a drive to-morrow? I am so tired ofthese two rooms. A drive alone with Ursula would be delicious. We couldgo down the Redstone lanes towards Pemberley: one always has a whiff ofsea-air there over the downs. '

Gladys's request surprised me quite as much as it did Mr. Hamilton. Shehad proposed it in all innocence; no idea of encountering Max entered herhead for a moment; Gladys's simplicity would be incapable of laying plansof this sort. Her new-born happiness made her anxious to lay aside herinvalid habits; she wanted to be strong, to resume daily life, to breathethe fresh outer air. 

As for Mr. Hamilton, he did not try to conceal his pleasure. 

'I see we shall soon lose our patient, nurse, ' he said, with one of hisold droll looks. 'She is anxious to make herself independent of us. --Oh, you shall go, by all means. I will go round to the stable and tellAtkinson myself. It is an excellent idea, Gladys. '

'I am so glad you do not object. I am so much stronger this evening, and I have wanted to go out for days; but, Giles, '--touching his armgently, --'you will make Etta understand that I want to go alone withUrsula. '

'Certainly, my dear. ' He would not cross her whim; she might have her wayif she liked; but the slight frown on his face showed that he was notpleased at this allusion to Miss Darrell. He thought Gladys was almostmorbidly prejudiced against her cousin; but he prudently refrained fromtelling her so, and Gladys went to bed happy. 

I had taken the precaution of asking Chatty to wake me the next morning. I had slept little the previous night, and was afraid that I mightoversleep myself in consequence. It was rather a trial when her touchroused me out of a delicious dream; but one glance at Gladys's pale facemade me ashamed of my indolence. I dressed myself as quickly as I could, and then looked at my little clock. Chatty had been better than her word:it had not struck five yet. 

Max would not be out for another hour, I thought, but all the same Imight as well take advantage of the morning freshness: so I summonedChatty to let me out as noiselessly as possible, and then I stole throughthe shrubberies, breaking a silver-spangled cobweb or two and feeling thewet beads of dew on my face. 

I walked slowly down the road, drinking deep draughts of the pure morningair. I had some thoughts of sitting down in the churchyard until I sawsome sign of life in the vicarage; but as I turned the corner I heard agate swing back on its hinges, and there was Max standing bareheaded inthe road, as though he had come out to reconnoitre; but directly hecaught sight of me two or three strides seemed to bring him to my side. 

'Have you brought it?' he asked breathlessly. 

'Yes, Max. ' And I put the letter in his outstretched hand; and then, without looking at him, I turned quietly and retraced my steps. I wouldnot wait with him while he read it; he should be alone, with only thesunshine round him and the birds singing their joyous melodies in hisear. No doubt he would join his _Te Deum_ with theirs. Happy Max, who hadwon his Lady of Delight!

But I had not quite crossed the green when I heard his footsteps behindme, and turned to meet him. 

'Ursula, you naughty child! why have you run away without waiting tocongratulate me? And yet I'll be bound you knew the contents of thisletter. '

'Yes, Max, and from my heart I wish you and Gladys every happiness. '

'Good little Ursula! Oh yes, we shall be happy. ' And the satisfaction inMax's brown eyes was pleasant to see. 'She will need all the care andtenderness that I can give her. We must make her forget all these sadyears. Do you think that she will be content at the old vicarage, Ursula?' But as he asked the question there was no doubt--no doubt atall--on his face. 

'I think she will be content anywhere with you, Max. Gladys loves youdearly. '

'Ah, ' he said humbly, 'I know it now, I am sure of it; but I wish Ideserved my blessing. All these years I have known her goodness. She usedto show me all that was in her heart with the simplicity of a child. Suchsweet frankness! such noble unselfishness! was it a wonder that I lovedher? If I were only more worthy to be her husband!'

I liked Max to say this: there was nothing unmanly or strained in thishumility. The man who loves can never think himself worthy of the womanhe worships: his very affection casts a glamour over her. When I told Maxthat I thought his wife would be a happy woman, he only smiled and saidthat he hoped so too. He had not the faintest idea what a hero he wasin our eyes; he would not have believed me if I had told him. 

Max said very little to me after that: happiness made him reticent. Only, just as he was leaving me, I said carelessly, 'Max, do you ever go toPemberley?'

'Oh yes, sometimes, when the Calverleys are at the Hall, ' he returned, rather absently. 

'Pemberley is a very pretty place, ' I went on, stopping to pick a littlepiece of sweet-brier that attracted me by its sweetness: 'it is verypleasant to walk there through the Redstone lanes. There is a fine viewover the down, and at four o'clock, for example--'

'What about four o'clock?' he demanded: and now there was a littleexcitement in his manner. 

'Well, if you should by chance be in one of the Redstone lanes aboutthen, you might possibly see an open barouche with two ladies in it. '

'Ursula, you are a darling!' And Max seized my wrists so vigorously thathe hurt me. 'Four--did you say four o'clock?'

'It was very wrong of me to say anything about it. Gladys would beshocked at my making an appointment. I believe you are demoralising me, Max; but I do not mean to tell her. ' And then, after a few more eagerquestions on Max's part, he reluctantly let me go. 

I had plenty to tell Gladys when she woke that morning, but I prudentlykept part of our conversation to myself. She wanted to know how Maxlooked when he got her letter. Did he seem happy? had he sent her anymessage? And when I had satisfied her on these points she had a hundredother questions to ask. 'I am engaged to him, and yet we cannot speakto each other, ' she finished, a little mournfully. 

I turned her thoughts at last by speaking about the promised drive. Wedecided she should put on her pretty gray dress and bonnet to do honourto the day. 'It is a fête-day, Gladys, ' I said cheerfully, 'and we mustbe as gay as possible. ' And she agreed to this. 

At the appointed time we heard the horses coming round from the stables, and Mr. Hamilton came upstairs himself to fetch his sister. Chatty hadtold me privately that Miss Darrell had been very cross all day. She hadwanted the carriage for herself that afternoon, and had spoken quiteangrily to Mr. Hamilton about it; but he had told her rather coldly thatshe must give up her wishes for once. Thornton heard master say that hewas surprised at her selfishness: he had thought she would be glad thatMiss Gladys should have a drive. 'Miss Darrell looked as black aspossible, Thornton said, ma'am, ' continued Chatty; 'but she did not dareargue with master; he always has the best of it with her. '

As we drove off, I saw Miss Darrell watching us from the study window:evidently her bad temper had not evaporated, for she had not taken thetrouble to come out in the hall to speak to Gladys, and yet they had notmet for a month. Gladys did not see her: she was smiling at her brother, who was waving a good-bye from the open door. My heart smote me a littleas I looked at him. Would he think me very deceitful, I wondered, forgiving Max that clue? but after a moment I abandoned these thoughts andgave myself up to the afternoon's enjoyment. 

The air was delicious, the summer heat tempered by cool breezes thatseemed to come straight from the sea. Gladys lay back luxuriously amongthe cushions, watching the flicker of green leaves over our heads, or thesoft shadows that lurked in the distant meadows, or admiring thepicturesque groups of cattle under some wide-spreading tree. 

We had nearly reached Pemberley, the white roofs of the cottages weregleaming through a belt of firs, when I at last caught sight of Max. Hewas half hidden by some blackberry-bushes. I think he was sitting on astile resting himself; but when he heard the carriage-wheels he cameslowly towards us and put up his hand as a sign that Atkinson should pullup. 

I shall never forget the sudden illumination that lit up Gladys's facewhen she saw him: a lovely colour tinged her cheeks as their eyes met, and she put out her little gray-gloved hand to touch his. I opened thecarriage door and slipped down into the road. 

'The horses can stand in the shade a little while, Atkinson, ' I saidcarelessly: 'I want to get some of those poppies, if the stile be notvery high. ' I knew he would be watching me and looking after Whitefoot, who was often a little fidgety, and would take the vicar's appearance onthe Pemberley road as a matter of course. 

I was a long time gathering those poppies. Once I peeped through thehedge. I could see two heads very close together. Max's arms were on thecarriage; the little gray-gloved hands were not to be seen; the sunshinewas shining on Gladys's fair hair and Max's beard. Were they speaking atall? Could Atkinson have heard one of those low tones? And then I wenton with my poppies. 

It was more than a quarter of an hour when I climbed over the stileagain, laden with scarlet poppies and pale-coloured convolvuli. Gladyssaw me first. 'Here is Ursula, ' I heard her say; and Max moved awayreluctantly. 

'I do not see why we should not drive you back to Heathfield, Max, ' Iremarked coolly; and, as neither of them had any objection to raise, wesoon made room for Max. 

There was very little said by any of us during the drive home; onlyGladys pressed my hand in token of gratitude; her eyes were shining withhappiness. As Max looked at the pale, sweet face opposite to him hisheart must have swelled with pride and joy: nothing could come betweenthose two now; henceforth they would belong to each other for time andeternity. 

Max asked us to put him down at the Three Firs; he had to call at 'TheGowans, ' he said. 'In two or three days--I cannot wait longer, ' he said, in a meaning tone, as he bade good-bye to Gladys. She blushed and smiledin answer. 

'What does Max mean?' I asked, as we left him behind us in the road. 

'It is only that he wishes to speak to Giles, ' she returned shyly. 'Iasked him to wait a day or two until I felt better; but he does not wishto delay it; he says Giles has always wanted it so, but that he has longlost hope about it. '

'I don't see why Max need have waited an hour, ' was my reply; but therewas no time for Gladys to answer me, for we were turning in at the gate, and there were Mr. Hamilton and Miss Darrell walking up and down the lawnwatching for us. 

Mr. Hamilton came towards us at once, and gave his hand to Gladys. 

'I need not ask how you have enjoyed your drive, ' he said, looking at herbright face with evident satisfaction. 

'Oh, it has been lovely!' she returned, with such unwonted animation thatMiss Darrell stared at her. 'How do you do, Etta? It is long since wehave met. --Giles, if you will give me your arm, I think I will goupstairs at once, for I am certainly a little tired. --Come, Ursula. '

'We met Mr. Cunliffe in the Pemberley Road, and drove him back, ' Iobserved carelessly, when Miss Darrell was out of hearing. I thought itbetter to allude to Max in case Atkinson mentioned it to one of theservants. 

'You should have brought him in to dinner, ' was Mr. Hamilton's onlycomment. 'By the bye, Miss Garston, when do you intend to honour us withyour company downstairs? Your patient is convalescent now. '

'I have just awoke to that fact, ' was my reply, 'and I have told Mrs. Barton that she will soon see me back at the White Cottage. Miss Watsonleaves next Tuesday: I think Gladys could spare me by then. '

Gladys shook her head. 'I shall never willingly spare you, Ursula; but ofcourse I shall have no right to trespass on your time. '

'No, of course not, ' returned her brother sharply; 'Miss Garston has beentoo good to us already: we cannot expect her to sacrifice herself anylonger. We will say Tuesday, then. You will come downstairs on Sunday, Gladys?'

'Yes, ' with a faint sigh. 

'We need not talk about my going yet, when Gladys is tired, ' I returned, feeling inclined to scold Mr. Hamilton for his want of tact. Tuesday, andit was Wednesday now, --not quite a week more; but, looking up, I saw Mr. Hamilton regarding me so strangely, and yet so sorrowfully, that mybrief irritability vanished. He was sorry that I was going; he seemedabout to speak; his lips unclosed, then a sudden frown of recollectioncrossed his brow, and with a curt good-night he left us. 

'What is the matter with Giles?' asked Gladys, rather wearily: I couldsee she was very tired by this time. 'Have you and he quarrelled, Ursula?'

'Not to my knowledge, ' I replied quietly, turning away, that she shouldnot see my burning cheeks. 'There is Chatty bringing the tea: are you notglad, dear?' And I busied myself in clearing the table. 

CHAPTER XLIII

'CONSPIRACY CORNER'

Gladys went to bed very early that night: her long drive had disposed herfor sleep. The summer twilight was only creeping over the western skywhen I closed her door and went out into the passage: the evening wasonly half over, and a fit of restlessness induced me to seek the garden. 

The moon was just rising behind the little avenue, and the soft rush ofsummer air that met me as I stepped through the open door had the breathof a thousand flowers on it. Mr. Hamilton was shut safely in his study;I was aware of that fact, as I had heard him tell Gladys that nightthat he had a medical article to write that he was anxious to finish. Miss Darrell would be reading novels in the drawing-room; there was nofear of meeting any one; but some instinct--for we have no word in ourhuman language to express the divine impetus that sways our inwardpromptings--induced me to take refuge in the dark asphalt path thatskirted the meadow and led to Atkinson's cottage and the kitchen-garden. 

I was unhappy, --in a mood that savoured of misanthropy; my fate wasgrowing cross-grained, enigmatical. Mr. Hamilton's frown had struckcold to my heart; I was beginning to lose patience (to lose hope wasimpossible), --to ask myself why he remained silent. 

'If he has anything against me, --and his manner tells me that hehas, --why does he not treat me with frankness?' I thought. 'He callshimself my friend, and yet he reposes no trust in me. He breaks my heartwith his changed looks and coldness, and yet he gives me no reason forhis injustice. I would not treat my enemy so, and yet all the time I feelhe loves me. ' And as I paced under the dark hanging shrubs I felt therewas nothing morbid or untrue in those lines, that 'to be wroth with onethat we love does work like madness on the brain, ' and that I was growingangry with Mr. Hamilton. 

I had just reached a dark angle where the path dips a little, when I wasstartled by hearing voices close to me. There was a seat screened by somelaurel-bushes that went by the name of 'Conspiracy Corner, ' dating backfrom the time when Gladys and Eric were children and had once hidden somefireworks among the bushes. It was there that Claude Hamilton hadproposed to Lady Betty, when Gladys had found them, and the two youngcreatures had appealed to her to help them. The seat was so hidden andsecluded by shrubs that you could pass without seeing its occupants, unless a little bit of fluttering drapery or the gleam of some gold chainor locket caught one's eye. I remembered once being very much startledwhen Lady Betty popped out suddenly on me as I passed. 

I was just retracing my steps, with a sense of annoyance at finding myprivacy invaded, when a sentence in Leah's voice attracted my attention:

'I tell you he was driving with them this afternoon: I heard Miss Garstontell the master so. It is no good you fretting and worrying yourself, Miss Etta, to prevent those two coming together. I've always warned youthat the vicar cares more for her little finger than he does for all yourfine airs and graces. '

I stood as though rooted to the spot, incapable of moving a step. 

'You are a cruel, false woman!' returned another voice, which Irecognised as Miss Darrell's, though it was broken with angry sobs. 'Yousay that to vex me and make me wretched because you are in a bad temper. You are an ungrateful creature, Leah, after all my kindness; and it wasyou yourself who told me that he was getting tired of Gladys's whims andvagaries. '

'I can't remember what I told you, ' replied the woman sullenly. 'Thereare no fools like old ones, they say, and you need not believe everythingas though it is gospel truth. There is not a man in the world worth allthis worry. Why don't you give it up, Miss Etta? Do you think Mr. Cunliffe will ever give you a thought? I would be too proud, if I werea lady, to fling myself under a man's feet. Do you think he would likeyour crooked ways about Mr. Eric?'

'Hush, Leah! for pity's sake, hush! What makes you so cruel to meto-night?'

'Well now, look here, Miss Etta; I am not going to be hushed up when Ichoose to speak; and who is to hear us, I should like to know? only it isyour guilty conscience that is always starting at shadows. I mean tospeak to you pretty plainly, for I am getting sick of the whole business. You are playing fast and loose with me about that money. Are you going togive it me or not?'

I drew a step nearer. Leah had mentioned Eric's name. Was it not myduty, --my bounden duty, --for Gladys's sake, for all their sakes, to hearwhat this woman had to say? Would it be dishonourable to listen when somuch was at stake? Already I had been startled by a revelation thatturned me cold with horror. Miss Darrell was Gladys's rival, --her deadly, secret rival, --and not one of us, not even Max, guessed at this unhealthyand morbid passion. That such a woman should love my pure-minded, honourable Max! I recoiled at the mere idea. 

'You are so impatient, Leah, ' returned the other reproachfully. 'You knowit is not easy for me to get the money. Giles was complaining the otherday that so much was spent in the housekeeping; he never thought meextravagant before, but he seemed to say that my personal expenses wererather lavish. "You have twice as many gowns as Gladys, " he said: "and, though I do not grudge you things, I think you ought to keep within yourallowance. "'

'I can't help all that, Miss Etta, ' and I could tell by the voice thatthe woman meant to be insolent. 'A promise is a promise, and must bekept, and poor Bob must not suffer from your procrastinating ways. Youare far too slippery and shifty, Miss Etta; but I tell you that money Imust and will have before this week is over, if I have to go to mastermyself about it. '

'You had better go to him, then, ' with rising temper. 'I don't quite knowwhat Giles will say about retaining you in his service when he knows youhave a brother at Millbank. A servant with a convict-brother is notconsidered generally desirable in a house. ' But Leah broke in upon thissneering speech in sudden fury: even in my disgust at this scene I couldnot but marvel at Miss Darrell's recklessness in rousing the evil spiritin this woman. 

'You to talk of my poor Bob being in Millbank, who ought to be thereyourself!' she cried, in a voice hoarse and low with passion. 'Are youout of your senses, Miss Etta, to taunt me with poor Bob's troubles? Whatis to prevent me from going to master now and saying to him--'

'Oh, hush, Leah! please forgive me; but you made me so angry. '

'From saying to him, ' persisted Leah remorselessly, "'You are all of youwrong about Mr. Eric. You have hunted the poor boy out of the house, anddriven him crazy among you; and if he has drowned himself, as folkbelieve, his death lies at Miss Etta's door. It was she who stole thecheque. I saw her take it with my own eyes, only she begged me on herknees not to betray her; and just then Mr. Eric came in with his letter, and the devil entered into me to cast the suspicion on him. "'

'Leah, ' in a voice of deadly terror, 'for God's sake be silent! if anyone should hear us! There was a crackling just now in the bushes. Leah, you were good to my mother: how can you be so cruel to me?'

'It is no use your whining to me, Miss Etta, ' returned the same hard, dogged voice; 'Bob must have that money. When I promised to keep yourdisgraceful secret, --when I stood by and helped you ruin that poor boy, and Bob cashed your cheque, --I named my price. I wanted to keep Bob outof mischief, but his bad companions were too much for him. Now are yougoing to get that money for me or not?'

'I dare not ask Giles for more, ' replied Miss Darrell, and I could hearshe was crying. 'I gave you half the housekeeping money last week and theweek before. If Giles looks at my accounts I am undone. '

'And there was that cheque that you were to send Miss Gladys when she wasat Bournemouth, and for which she sent that pretty message of thanks, 'interposed Leah, with a sneer. 'Shall I tell master where that has gone, Miss Etta? And you to speak of my poor Bob because he is at Millbank!'

'Leah, you are killing me, ' renewed Miss Darrell. 'I might as well die asgo on living like this. You are always threatening to turn against me, and I give you money whenever you ask me. You shall have my gold braceletwith the emerald star. It was my mother's and it will fetch a good deal. I cannot get more from Giles now. He is not like himself just now, and Idare not make him angry. '

'Oh, you have tried your hand there, Miss Etta. No, I am not asking you, so you need not tell me any lies. I knew all about it when you sent me upto Hyde Park Gate to spy on my young lady. I have worked willingly foryou there. I've hated Miss Garston ever since I set eyes on her. She is asharp one, I tell you that, Miss Etta. She means to bring these twotogether, and she will do it in spite of you. '

'I wish I were dead!' moaned Miss Darrell. 

But I did not dare to linger another moment. My heart was beating soloudly that I feared it would betray me. The faint stir of the bushesturned me sick, for I thought they might be moving from their seat. Notfor worlds would I have confronted them alone in that dark asphalt walk. My fears were absurd, but I felt as though Leah were capable ofstrangling me. Granted that this terror was unreasonable and childish, I knew I could not breathe freely until I was within reach of Mr. Hamilton. As I crept down the path the sensation of a nightmare hauntedme. I felt as though my feet were weighted with lead. My face was coldand damp, and I drew my breath painfully. I almost felt as though I musthide myself in the shrubbery until the faintness passed off; but I shookoff my weakness as I remembered that I might be shut out of the house ifI allowed them to go in first. As I emerged from the dark overhangingtrees I grew calmer and walked on more quickly. I dared not cross theopen lawn, for fear I might be seen, but took the most secluded routethrough the oak avenue. If they should perceive me walking down theterrace towards the conservatory they would only think that I had justleft the house. I could see no signs of them, however, and gained theopen door safely. 

Even in my state of terror I had made my plan, and without giving myselfa moment to recover my self-possession I knocked at the study door, and, at Mr. Hamilton's rather impatient 'Come in, ' entered it with the samesort of feeling that one would enter an ark of refuge. 

He laid down his pen in some surprise when he saw me, and then rosequickly from his seat. 

'You are ill; you have come to tell me so, ' in an anxious voice. 'Don'ttry to speak this moment: sit down--my--Miss Garston'; but I caught hisarm nervously as he seemed about to leave me. 

'Don't go away: I must speak to you. I am not ill: only I have had aturn. You may give me some water'; for there was a bottle and glass onthe table. He obeyed me at once, and watched me as I tried to take it;but my hand trembled too much: the next moment he had put it to my lips, and had wiped the moisture gently from my forehead. 

'It is only faintness; it will pass off directly, ' he said quietly. 'Iwill not leave you; but I have some sal volatile in that cupboard, and Ithink you will be the better for it. ' And he mixed me some, and stood byme without speaking until the colour came back to my face. 'You arebetter now, Ursula--I mean, ' biting his lips--'well, never mind. Do youfeel a little less shaky?'

'Yes, thank you. I did not mean to be so foolish, but it was dark, andI got frightened and nervous; and oh, Mr. Hamilton, I must not lose time, or they will be coming in. '

'Who will be coming in?' he asked, rather bewildered at this. 'There isno one out, is there?'

'Yes, Miss Darrell and Leah. I heard them talking in "Conspiracy Corner";you know that seat in the asphalt walk?'

'Well?' regarding me with an astonished air. 

'Mr. Hamilton, I am better now. I am not frightened any longer now I amwith you. Will you please call Leah when she comes in from the garden? Iwant to speak to her in your presence. I have a most serious charge tomake against her and against your cousin Miss Darrell. It relates, ' andhere I felt my lips getting white again, --'it relates to your brotherEric. '

He started, and an expression of pain crossed his face, --a sudden lookof fear, as though he dreaded what I might have to tell him; but the nextmoment he was thinking only of me. 

'You shall speak to Leah to-morrow, ' he said gently; 'it is latenow, --nearly ten o'clock, --and you are ill, and had better go to bedand rest yourself. I can wait until to-morrow, ' taking my cold hand. 

But I would not be silenced. I implored him earnestly to do this forme, --to summon Leah into the study, but not to let Miss Darrell know. 

'I suppose you think you could not sleep until you had relieved yourmind, ' he said, looking at me attentively. 'Well, they are coming in now. Leah is fastening the door. Finish that sal volatile while I fetch her. '

I took it at a draught. But Mr. Hamilton's kindness had been my bestrestorative: I was no longer faint or miserable: he had cheered andcomforted me. 

I heard Leah's voice approaching the study door with perfect calmness. 

'Miss Etta has gone up to bed, sir, ' I heard her say; 'she has aheadache: that is what makes her eyes so weak. '

'I should have said myself that she was crying, ' returned Mr. Hamiltondrily. 'Come in here a moment, Leah; I want to speak to you. '

She did not see me until the door was closed behind her, and then I sawher glance at me uneasily. Mr. Hamilton had evidently not prepared herfor my presence in the study. 

'Did you or Miss Garston wish to speak to me, sir?' she asked, with aveiled insolence of manner that she had shown to me lately; but I couldsee that no suspicion of the truth had dawned on her. 

'It is I who wish to speak to you, Leah, ' I returned severely; 'andI have asked your master to send for you that I might speak in hispresence. Mr. Hamilton, I am going to repeat the conversation that I havejust overheard between Leah and her mistress when they were in the seatin the asphalt walk: you shall hear it from my lips word for word. '

I never saw a countenance change as Leah's did that moment: her ordinarysallow complexion became a sort of dead-white; from insolence, her mannergrew cringing, almost abject; the shock deprived her of all power ofspeech; only directly I began she caught hold of my gown with both hands, as though to implore me to stop; but Mr. Hamilton shook off her touchangrily, and asked her if it looked as though she were an honest woman tobe so afraid of her own words. And then the sullen look came back to herface and never left it again. 

I repeated every word. I do not believe I omitted a sentence, exceptthat part that referred to Uncle Max. I could see Leah shrink andcollapse as I mentioned her convict-brother, and such a gleam of fierceconcentrated hatred shot from beneath her drooping lids that Mr. Hamiltoninstinctively moved to my side; but a low groan escaped him when Irepeated Leah's words about the cheque. 'Good heavens! do you mean thatEric never took it?' he exclaimed, in a horror-stricken tone; but thewoman merely raised her eyes and looked at him, and he was silent againuntil I had finished. 

There was a moment's ominous silence after that: perhaps Mr. Hamilton waspraying for self-control; he had grown frightfully pale, and yet he was aman who rarely changed colour: the veins on his forehead were swollen, and when he spoke his voice was hoarse with repressed passion. 

'What have you to say for yourself, Leah? Do you know I could indict youfor conspiracy and conniving at theft?'

'I know that very well, ' returned the woman, trying to brave it out; butshe could not meet his indignant look. 'But it is your own flesh andblood that is in fault here. Miss Etta is more to blame than I. '

Mr. Hamilton crossed the room and locked the door, putting the key coollyin his pocket; then he made me sit down, --for I had been standing allthis time, --and, as though to enforce obedience, he kept his hand on myarm. I could see Leah looking about her as though she were caught in atrap: her light-coloured eyes had a scintillating look of fear in them. 

'Now, Leah, ' observed her master, in a terrible voice, 'if you are toexpect any mercy at my hand you will make a clean breast; but first youwill answer my question: Has Miss Garston repeated the conversationbetween you and Miss Etta correctly?'

'Yes, I believe so, ' very sullenly. 

'You saw Miss Etta take the cheque with your own eyes the night beforeMr. Eric left home?'

'Yes. ' Then, as though these questions tortured her, she said doggedly--

'Look here, sir; I am caught in a trap, and there is no gettingout of it. I have lost my place and my character, thanks to MissGarston, '--another vindictive look at me. 'If you will promise likea gentleman not to take advantage of my evidence, I will tell you allabout it. '

'I will make no promises, ' he returned, in the same stern voice; 'butif you do not speak I will send for the police at once, and have you upbefore a magistrate. You have connived at theft; that will be sufficientto criminate you. '

'I know all about that, ' was the unflinching answer; 'and I know for theold mistress's sake you will be glad to hush it all up: it would not bepleasant to bring your own cousin before a magistrate, especially afterpromising the old mistress on her death-bed to be as good to Miss Etta asthough she were your own sister. '

I saw the shadow of some sorrowful recollection cross his face as shesaid this. I had heard from Max how dearly he had loved his auntMargaret: though her daughter had wrought such evil in his life, he wouldstill seek to shield her. Leah knew this too, and took advantage of herknowledge in her crafty manner. 

'It would be best to tell you all, for Mr. Eric's sake. I know Miss Ettawill be safe with you. She has done a deal of mischief since she has beenunder your roof. Somehow crooked ways come natural to her: the oldmistress knew that, for she once said to me towards the last, "Leah, I amafraid my poor child has got some twist or warp in her nature; but I hopemy nephew will never find out her want of straightforwardness. " And shebegged me, with tears in her eyes, to watch over her and try to influenceher, although I was only a servant; and for a little while I tried, onlythe devil tempted me, for the sake of poor Bob. '

'Bob is the name of your brother who is at Millbank?' asked Mr. Hamilton, in the same hard voice. 

'Yes, sir; he got into a bit of trouble through mixing with badcompanions. But there, '--with a sudden fierce light in her eyes thatreminded me of a tigress protecting her young, --'I am not going totalk of Bob: lads will get into trouble sometimes. If Mr. Eric hadnot been so interfering at that time, ordering Bob off the premiseswhenever he caught sight of him, and calling him a good-for-nothingloafer and all sorts of hard names, --why, he gave Bob a black eye oneday when he was doing nothing but shying stones at the birds in thekitchen-garden, --if it had not been for Mr. Eric's treatment of BobI might have acted better by him. '

'Will you keep to the subject, Leah?' observed her master, in a warningvoice. 'I wish to hear how that cheque was taken from my study thatnight. '

'Well, sir, if you must know, ' returned Leah reluctantly, 'Miss Etta wasin a bit of a worry about money just then: she had got the accounts wrongsomehow, and there was a heavy butcher's bill to be paid. She had let itrun on too long, and all the time you believed it was settled every week:it was partly your fault, because you so seldom looked at the accounts, and was always trusting her with large sums of money. Miss Etta did notmean to be dishonest, but she was extravagant, and sometimes herdressmaker refused to wait for the money, and sometimes her millinerthreatened to dun her; but she would quiet them a bit with a five- orten-pound note filched from the housekeeping, always meaning, as shesaid, to pay it back when she drew her quarterly allowance. 

'I used to know of these doings of hers, for often and often she has sentme to pacify them with promises. I told her sometimes that she would doit once too often, but she always said it was for the last time. 

'She got afraid to tell me at last, but I knew all about the butcher'sbill, for Mr. Dryden had been up to the house asking to see you, as hewanted his account settled. You were out when he called, but I never sawMiss Etta in such a fright: she had a fit of hysterics in her own roomafter he had left the house, and I had trouble enough to pacify her. Shesaid if you found out that Dryden's account had not been settled forthree months that you would never trust her again; that she was afraidMr. Eric suspected her, and that she did not feel safe with him, and agreat deal more that I cannot remember. 

'It ended with her making up her mind to pawn most of her jewellery, andwe arranged that Bob should manage the business. He was up at the cottagefor a night or two, though no one was aware of that fact, for he keptclose, for fear Mr. Eric should spy upon him. 

'He slept at the cottage the very night the cheque was stolen from thestudy'; but as Leah paused here Mr. Hamilton lifted his head from hishands and bade her impatiently go on with the history of that night. 

CHAPTER XLIV

LEAH'S CONFESSION

'You know what happened that day, sir, ' observed Leah, hesitating amoment, for even her hard nature felt some compunction at the look ofsuffering on her master's face. She had eaten his bread for years, andhad deceived and duped him; but she must have felt remorse stirring inher as she saw him drop his head on his clasped hands again, as thoughhe were compelling himself to listen without interruption. 

'You had been talking to Mr. Eric a long time in the study, Miss Ettatold me; he had been going on like mad about Mr. Edgar Brown, and havingto go to Mr. Armstrong's office; but you had been very firm, and hadrefused to hear any more, and he had flung off to his own room in one ofhis passions. Miss Gladys had followed him, and I heard him telling herthat he had forgotten himself and struck you, and that you had turnedhim out of the study, and that he was in difficulties and must havemoney, for Mr. Edgar had got him into some trouble. '

'You heard this by listening at Mr. Eric's door, for Miss Gladys sawyou, ' I observed, not willing to let this pass. 

'What has that got to do with it?' she returned rudely. 'I am speakingto the master, not you': but she grew a shade paler as I spoke. 'Youwere up late that night, sir; I was waiting to speak to Miss Etta, andencountered you in the passage. I went back to my own room for a littlewhile, and then I knocked at her door; but there was no answer. I couldsee the room was dark, but I could hardly believe she was asleep: so Iwent to the bed and called Miss Etta, but I very soon found she was notthere: her gown was on the couch and her dressing-gown missing from itsplace. 

'I had a notion that I might as well follow her, for somehow I guessedthat she had gone to the study; but I was certainly not prepared to seeMr. Eric stooping over your desk. He had a letter in his hand, and hadjust put down his chamber candlestick. All at once it flashed upon mymind that Miss Etta had told me that you had received a large cheque thatnight, and that you were going up to London the next day to cash it, andshe hoped Dryden would not call again before you went. She said it quitecasually, and I am sure then she had not thought of helping herself. Thenthe thought must have come to her all of a sudden. 

'I remembered the cheque, and for an instant I suspected Mr. Eric. But asI was watching him I saw the curtain of one of the windows move, and Ihad a glimpse of yellow embroidery that certainly belonged to Miss Etta'sdressing-gown. In a moment I grasped the truth: she had taken the chequeto settle Dryden's bill. But I must make myself certain of the fact: soI asked Mr. Eric, rather roughly, what he was doing, and he retorted bybidding me mind my own business. 

'He had laid his letter on the desk, but when he had gone I walked upstraight to the window, and nearly frightened Miss Etta into a fit byasking her what she had done with the cheque. She was grovelling on herknees before me in a moment, calling me her dear Leah and imploring me toshield her. I was very fierce with her at first, and was for putting itback again, until she told me, trembling all over, that she had endorsedit. She had copied your writing, and only an expert could have told thedifference. 

'"It is too late, Leah, " she kept saying; "we cannot hide it from Gilesnow, and I must have the money, and you must help me to get it. " And thenshe whispered that I should have some of it for Bob. 

'"It is a nasty bit of business, Miss Etta, " I replied, for I did notwant to spare her; "it is forgery, that is what they would call it in acourt of law"; but she would not let me finish, but flung herself upon mewith a suppressed scream, and I could not shake her off. She kept sayingthat she would destroy herself if I would not help her: so I turned itover in my mind. I wanted money for Bob, and--well, sir, the devil had adeal to do with that night's business. I had settled it all before anhour was over. Bob would go up to London with the cheque, and cash it atthe bank: he was tall and fair, and a suit of Mr. Eric's old clotheswould make him quite the gentleman, and no one would notice the scar;when he was safely off and you missed the cheque there would be littletrouble in casting the blame on Mr. Eric. I had taken care to place theletter in the desk, and I had plenty of circumstantial evidence to offer. 

'Well, you know the rest, sir, --how you called Miss Etta into your study, and how she begged you to send for me. I had my story all ready, --my fearof thieves, and how I saw Mr. Eric standing with his hand in your desk. Of course the cheque could not be found: no one believed the poor younggentleman's ravings, especially after his talk with Miss Gladys. We tookcare that the telegram should not be sent too soon. Bob was on his wayback by then, and before evening Dryden had his money, and Bob was safein Clerkenwell. What is the good of my repeating it all? I shielded MissEtta at Mr. Eric's expense; and, though I was sorry enough to drive himaway from his home, we had to look to our own safety, and Miss Etta wasnearly out of her mind with remorse and terror. ' But here Mr. Hamilton'svoice interrupted her harshly. 

'Wait a moment, woman: have you ever since that day heard anything ofthat unfortunate boy?'

To my surprise Leah hesitated. 'Miss Etta believes that he is dead, sir;but I can't help differing from her, though I never told her the reason;but I have fancied more than once, --indeed I am speaking the truth now, sir, ' as he darted a meaning look at her, 'I have no motive to dootherwise. --I have fancied that I have seen some one very like Mr. Ericlurking about the road on a dark night. Once I was nearly sure it was Mr. Eric, though he wore a workman's dress as a disguise. He was looking atthe windows; the blind was up in the study, and Miss Gladys was therewith Mr. Cunliffe; he had made her laugh about something. It was a warmnight, and rather wet, and the window was open; I was just shutting itwhen I caught sight of him, and nearly called out; but he turned awayquickly, and hid himself in the shrubbery, and though I went out to lookfor him I was too late, for I could see him walking down the road. '

'You are sure it was Mr. Eric. ' Oh, the look of intense relief on Mr. Hamilton's face! He must have believed him dead all this time. 

'I am nearly sure, sir. I saw him again in town. I was passing the AlbertMemorial when I looked up at one of the fine houses opposite, and saw ayoung workman on the balcony with a painter's brush in his hand: the sunwas shining full on his face. I saw him plainly then. '

Mr. Hamilton started from his seat. 'If this be true!--my father's songaining his bread as a house-painter!'

'It is true, ' I whispered; 'for I saw him myself, and told Gladys. '

'You saw him!--you!' with an air of utter incredulity. 

'Yes; and I tried to speak to him. He was so like the picture in Gladys'sroom, I thought it must be Eric. But he would not hear me, and in amoment he was gone. The men called him Jack Poynter, and said he was agentleman, but no one knew where he lived. Oh, I have tried so hard tofind him for you, but he will not be found. '

'And you did not tell me of this, ' very reproachfully. 

'Gladys would not let me tell you, ' I returned: 'we could not be sure, and--' But he put up his hand to stop me. 

'That will do, ' in a tone of suppressed grief that went to my heart. 'Iwill not wrong you if I can help it; no doubt you did it for the best;you did not willingly deceive me. '

'Never! I have never deceived you, Mr. Hamilton. '

'Not intentionally. I will do you justice even now; but, oh, '--and herehe clinched his right hand, and I saw the veins on it stand out likewhip-cord, --'how I have been betrayed! Those I have trusted have broughttrouble and confusion in my household; and, good God! they are women, andI cannot curse them. '

I saw Leah quail beneath this burst of most righteous indignation. The blinding tears rushed to my eyes as I heard him: in spite of hissternness, he had been so simple and so unsuspicious. He trusted peopleso fully, he was so generous in his confidence, and yet the woman heloved had played him false, and the pitiful creatures he had shelteredunder his roof had hatched this conspiracy against his peace. 

'You can leave me now, ' he continued harshly, turning to Leah. 'I willnot trust myself to say more to you. If you receive mercy and not justiceat my hands, it is because your confederate is even more guilty than you. I cannot spare the one without letting the other go unpunished. To-morrowmorning, before the household is up, you and everything belonging to youshall leave this house. If you ever set foot in Heathfield again it willbe at your own peril. Go up to your own room now and pack your boxes; Ishall take the precaution of turning the key in your door to prevent yourholding communication with any member of my household. '

'I give you my word, sir--' began Leah, turning visibly pale at the ideaof finding herself a prisoner. 

'Your word!' was the disdainful reply; and then he pointed to the door. 'Go at once!' But she still lingered. There was a spark of good even inthis woman. She was unwilling to quit our presence without knowing whatwas to become of her mistress. 

'You will not be hard on Miss Etta, sir? She has done wrong, but she isa poor creature, and--' But Mr. Hamilton walked to the door and threw itopen with a gesture that compelled obedience. 

The next moment, however, he recoiled with a low exclamation of horror;for there, drawn up against the wall, in a strange half-crouchingattitude, as though petrified with terror, was his miserable cousin. 

I heard Leah's shocked 'Miss Etta! How could you be so mad?' And then Mr. Hamilton put out his hand, as though to forbid approach; but with a cryof despair Miss Darrell seemed to sink to the ground, and held himconvulsively round the knees, so that he could not free himself. 

'Get up, Etta!' he said indignantly. 'It is not to me you have to kneel';for he thought her attitude one of supplication. But I knew better. Shehad not strength to stand or support herself, and I passed behind himquickly and went to her help. 

'You cannot speak to him like that, Miss Darrell. He will not hear you. 'But, though Leah assisted me, we had some difficulty in inducing her torelax her frantic grip. And even when we placed her in a chair she seemedas though she would sink again on the ground. She was trembling all over, her teeth chattering; the muscles of her face worked convulsively. 

'Giles, Giles, ' she screamed, as he seemed about to leave her, 'you maykill me if you like, but you shall not look at me like this. ' But, without vouchsafing her any answer, he turned to me. 

'Will you wait with my cousin a moment? I will be back directly. ' Inodded assent. I knew he wished to see Leah safely in her room, but ashe closed the door Miss Darrell clutched my arm. She seemed really besideherself. 

'Where has he gone? Will he fetch the police, Miss Garston? Will they putme in prison for it?'

'No, ' I returned sternly. 'You know you are safe with him. He will nothurt a hair of your head, because you are a woman, and his own flesh andblood. '

'But he will banish me from his house!' she moaned. 'He will neverforgive me or let me see his face again. He will tell--oh, I cannot bearit!'--her words strangled by a hoarse scream. 'I cannot and will not bearit. '

I put my hand on her shoulder. 'You must control yourself, ' I saidcoldly. 'Would you wish Mr. Hamilton to treat you as a mad woman? Listento me, Miss Darrell. One part of your secret is safe with me. Try andrestrain yourself, and I will promise you that it shall never pass mylips. '

Even in her hysterical excitement she understood me, and a more humanexpression came into her hard, glaring eyes. 'Say it again; promise me, 'she moaned. 'I hate you, but I know you are to be trusted. '

'If you behave yourself and try to control your feelings a little, ' Ireturned slowly, 'I will say nothing about Uncle Max. ' But at the nameshe covered her face with her hands and rocked herself in agony. In spiteof all her sins I pitied her then. 

At that moment Mr. Hamilton returned; but before he could speak I saidquickly--

'Your cousin is not in a condition to listen to you to-night, and it isvery late: I am going to take her up to her room and do what I can tohelp her. Will you allow us to go?'

He looked at her and then at me. His face was hard and sombre; there wasno relenting there. 'Perhaps it will be better, ' he returned slowly. 'Yes, you may go, but do not stay long with her. I may want to speakto you again. '

'Not to-night, ' I remonstrated; for I could see he was oblivious of thetime, and it was near midnight. 'To-morrow morning, as early as you like;but I cannot come down again. '

'Oh, I see, ' the meaning of my words dawning upon him. 'To-morrowmorning, then. Take her away now. ' And, without another glance, he walkedaway to his study table. 

'Come, Miss Darrell, ' I whispered, touching her; and she rosereluctantly. 'Giles, --let me say one word to him, ' said she, trying tofollow him feebly, but I recalled her sternly and made her follow me. Ihad no fear of her now. Leah, whom I dreaded, was locked safely in herroom, and this poor miserable woman was harmless enough. 

She broke into hysterical sobs and moans when I got her into her ownroom. I was afraid Gladys might hear her, and I insisted on her showingmore self-control. My sharp words had their effect after a time, but itwas impossible to induce her to undress or go to bed. She had flungherself across the foot and lay crouched up in a heap, with all thedelicate embroidery of her French dressing-gown crushed under her. Whenshe was quieter I put pillows under her head and covered her up warmly, and then sat down to watch her. 

I was about to leave the room once to fetch something I wanted, when shesuddenly struggled into a sitting posture, and begged me, in a voice ofhorror, not to leave her. 

'Leah will murder me if you do!' she cried. 'She has frightened meoften, --she says such things, --oh, you do not know! I should never havebeen so bad but for Leah!'

'I shall not be long; and Leah is locked in her room; Mr. Hamilton hasthe key, ' I returned quietly. But it was with difficulty that she wouldlet me go. I suppose even criminals feel the need of sympathy. MissDarrell hated me in her heart, had always hated me, but the sight of evenan unloved human face was better than solitude. No wonder with suchthoughts people go mad sometimes. 

I was surprised to see Mr. Hamilton walking up and down the long passage, as though he were keeping guard. He was going to let me pass him withouta word, but I stopped and asked what he was doing. 

'I was waiting until you were safe in your own room, ' was the reply. 'What has kept you so long?'

'I must go back again, ' I returned quickly; 'she is not fit to be leftalone. I am not afraid of her now, Mr. Hamilton: she can do me no harm. Please do not watch any longer. '

'You were ill: have you forgotten that? I ought not to allow you to makeyourself worse. Why, ' with a sort of impatience visible in his manner, 'need you be troubled about our miserable affairs?'

'Let me go back for a little while, ' I pleaded; for I knew if he orderedme into my own room I should be obliged to obey him. 'It keeps her incheck, seeing me there: she is so exhausted that she must sleep soon; andthen I will lie down. ' I suppose he thought there was no help for it, forhe drew back for me to pass; but I was grieved to hear his footsteps fora long time after that pacing slowly up and down, and it was more for hissake than my own that I was glad when Miss Darrell's moans ceased, andthe more quiet regular breathing proved to me that she was asleep. 

The passage was empty when I came out, and the first faint streak of dawnwas visible. It was too late then to think of going to bed. I lay down, dressed as I was, and slept for a couple of hours; then the sunshine wokeme, and I got up and took my bath and felt refreshed. 

Chatty brought me my tea early, and told me that Mr. Hamilton was walkingin the garden. 'And do you know, ma'am, ' observed the girl breathlessly, 'something strange must have happened since last evening; for when Ilooked out of my window before six this morning I saw master standingbefore the door, and there was Leah, in her bonnet, speaking to him, andshe went off with Pierson, wheeling off her boxes on his truck. I dobelieve she has really gone, ma'am, and not a creature in the house knowsit. '

'Never mind: it is not our business, Chatty; but I think I will go andspeak to your master when I have finished my tea. '

'I was to give you a message, ma'am, --that he would be glad if you couldjoin him in the garden as soon as you were up, as he had to go somedistance, and he wanted to tell you about it. ' I put down my cup at oncewhen I heard this, and hurried out into the garden. 

Mr. Hamilton was pacing up and down the asphalt walk as he had paced thepassage last night. He did not quicken his steps when he saw me, butwalked towards me slowly, with the gait of a man who has a load on hismind. 

'I hardly expected you so early. Have you had any rest at all?' lookingat me rather anxiously. 

'Yes, thank you; I have slept for two hours. But you have not, Mr. Hamilton'; for he was looking wretchedly worn and ill. 

'Was it likely that I could sleep?' he returned impatiently. 'But I haveno time to waste. Atkinson will be round here directly with the dog-cart. I am going off to Liverpool by the 12. 10 train. '

'To Liverpool?' in unfeigned surprise. 

'Yes; I have been thinking all night what is to be done about myunfortunate cousin. She is dependent on me, and I cannot send her awaywithout finding her a home. That home, ' pausing as though to giveemphasis to his words, 'can never be under my roof again. '

'I suppose not. '

'The sin is of too black a dye for me to bring myself to forgive her. IfI were to say that I forgive her I should lie. ' And here his face becamedark again. 'She has disgraced that poor boy Eric, and driven him awayfrom his home; she has made Gladys's life wretched: her whole existencemust have been a tissue of deceit and treachery. How could I sleep whenI was trying to disentangle this mesh of deception and lies? how do Iknow when she has been true or when wholly false?'

'I fear there has been little truth spoken to you, Mr. Hamilton. ' I wasthinking of Gladys when I said that, but something in my words seemed tostrike him. 

'Is there anything else I ought to know? But no, I have no time for that:I must try and make some arrangements at once: she cannot break breadwith us again. The people I want to find are old patients of mine. I wasable to serve them once: I feel as though I have a claim on them. '

'But you will be back soon?' for I could not bear him to leave us alone. 

'To-morrow morning. I will take the night train up, but I shall bedetained in London. Take care of Gladys for me, Miss Garston. Do not tellher more than you think necessary. Do not let Etta see her, if you canhelp it; but I know you will act for the best. ' Then, as he looked at me, his face softened for a moment. 'I wish I had not to leave you; but youcould send for Mr. Cunliffe. '

'Oh, there will be no need for that, ' I returned hastily, for the thoughtof the wretched woman upstairs would prevent me from sending for UncleMax. 'Come back as quickly as you can, and I will do my best for Gladys. '

'I know it. I can trust you, ' he replied, very gently. 'Take care ofyourself also. ' Then, as the wheels of the dog-cart sounded on thegravel, he held out his hand to me gravely, and then turned away. Amoment afterwards I heard his voice speaking to Atkinson, and as Ientered the shrubbery Pierson was fastening the gate after them. 

CHAPTER XLV

'THIS HOME IS YOURS NO LONGER'

There are long gray days in every one's life. 

I think that day was the longest that I ever spent: it seemed as thoughthe morning would never merge into afternoon, or the afternoon intoevening. Of the night I could not judge, for I slept as only weary youthcan sleep. 

Sheer humanity, the mere instinct of womankind, had obliged me to watchby Miss Darrell through the previous night: for some hours her hystericalstate had bordered on frenzy. I knew sleep was the best restorative insuch cases: she would wake quieter. There would be no actual need for myservices, and unless she sent for me I thought it better to leave heralone: she was only suffering the penalty of her own sin, the shame ofdetected guilt. There was no sign of real penitence to give me hope forthe future. 

I found Gladys awake when I returned from the garden: in spite of myanxiety, it gave me intense pleasure to hear her greeting words. 

'Oh, Ursula, come and kiss me; it is good morning indeed. I woke sohappy; everything is so lovely, --the sunshine, and the birds, and theflowers!' And, with a smile, 'I wished somebody could have seen--"mythoughts of Max. "' And then, still holding me fast, 'I do not forget mypoor boy, in spite of my happiness, but something tells me that Eric willsoon come back. '

'He might have been here now, ' I grumbled, 'if you had allowed me to tellyour brother'; for those few reproachful words haunted me. 

'Yes, dear; I know I was wrong, ' she answered, with sweet candour. 'Gilesis so kind now that I cannot think why I was so reserved with him; but ofcourse, ' flushing a little, 'I was afraid of Etta. '

'I suppose that was the reason, ' I returned, busying myself about theroom; for I did not care to pursue the subject. Mr. Hamilton's few wordshad convinced me that he thought it would be wiser to leave Gladys inignorance of what was going on until Miss Darrell was out of the house. She had borne so much, and was still weak and unfit for any greatexcitement. My great fear was lest Miss Darrell should force her wayinto Gladys's presence and disturb her by a scene; and this fear keptme anxious and uneasy all day. 

Gladys was a trifle restless; she wanted a drive again, and when I madeher brother's absence a pretext for refusing this, she pleaded for astroll in the garden. It was with great difficulty that I at last inducedher to remain quietly in her room. But when she saw that I was reallyserious she gave up her wishes very sweetly, and consoled herself bywriting to Max, in answer to a letter that he had sent under cover to me. 

It was nearly noon before Chatty brought me a message that Miss Darrellwas just up and dressed, and wished to speak to me; and I went at once toher. 

The usually luxurious room had an untidy and forlorn aspect. The crumpledIndian dressing-gown and the breakfast-tray littered the couch;ornaments, jewellery, and brushes strewed the dressing-table. MissDarrell was sitting in an easy-chair by the open window. She did notmove or glance as I entered in the full light. She looked pinched andold and plain. Her eyelids were swollen; her complexion had a yellowishwhiteness; as I stood opposite to her, I could see gray hairs in thesmooth dark head; before many years were over Miss Darrell would look anold woman. I could not help wondering, as I looked at her, how any onecould have called her handsome. 

'Chatty says Leah has gone, ' she said, in a voice fretful with misery. 'I told her that that was too good news to be true. Is it true, MissGarston?'

'Yes; she has gone. '

'I am glad of it, ' with a vixenish sharpness that surprised me. 'I hatedthat woman, and yet I was afraid of her too: she got me in her toils, andthen I was helpless. Where has Giles gone, Miss Garston? Chatty said hewent off in a dog-cart with his portmanteau. '

How I wished Chatty would hold her tongue sometimes! but most likely MissDarrell had questioned her. 

'Mr. Hamilton's business is not our affair, ' I returned coldly. 

'That means I am not to ask; but all the same you are in his secret, 'with one of her old sneers. 'Will he be back to-night?'

'No, not to-night; to-morrow morning early. '

'That is all I want to know, Miss Garston, ' hesitating a littlenervously. 'I have never liked you, but all the same I have not injuredyou. '

'Have you not, Miss Darrell?'

'No, ' very uneasily; but she did not meet my eyes. 'I defy you to provethat I have. Still, if I were your enemy, ought you not to heap coals offire on my head?'

'Possibly. '

My coolness seemed to frighten her; she lost her sullen self-possession. 

'Have you no heart?' she said passionately. 'Will you not hold up afinger to help me? You have influence with Giles; do not deny it. If youask him to keep me here he will not refuse you, and you will make me yourslave for life. '

I heard this proposition with disgust. She could cringe to me whom shehated. I shook my head, feeling unable to answer her. 

'I could help you, ' she persisted, fixing her miserable eyes on me. 'Oh, I know what you want: you cannot hide from me that you are unhappy. Iknow where the hindrance lies; one word from me would bring Giles to yourfeet. Am I to say that word?'

'No, ' I returned indignantly. 'Do you think that I would owe anythingto you? I would rather be unhappy all my life than be under such anobligation. You are powerless to harm me, Miss Darrell; your plots arenothing to me. '

'And yet a word from me would bring him to your feet. '

'I do not want him there, ' I replied, irritated at this persistence. 'I do not wish you to mention his name to me; if you do so again I willleave you. '

'On your head be your own obstinacy, ' she returned angrily; but I couldsee the despair in her eyes, and I answered that. 

'Miss Darrell, ' I went on, more gently, 'I cannot help you in this. Howcould I ask Mr. Hamilton to keep you under his roof, knowing that youhave poisoned his domestic happiness? Even if I could be so mad orfoolish, would he be likely to listen to me?'

'He would listen to you, ' half crying: 'you know he worships the groundyou walk on. '

I tried to keep back the rebellious colour that rose to my face at herwords. 

'Do not cheat yourself with this insane belief, ' I returned quietly. 'Mr. Hamilton is inexorable when he has decided on anything. '

'Inexorable! you may well say so!' rocking herself in an uncontrollableexcitement. 'Giles is hard, --cruel in his wrath: he will send me away andnever see me again. ' And now the tears began to flow. 

'Miss Darrell, ' I continued pityingly, 'for your own sake listen to me amoment. You have failed most miserably in the past: let the future yearsbe years of repentance and atonement. Mr. Hamilton will not forgive untilyou have proved yourself worthy of forgiveness: remember you owe thefuture to him. '

She stared at me for a moment as though my words held some hope for her;then she turned her back on me and went on rocking herself. 'Too late!'I heard her mutter: 'I cannot be good without him. ' And, with a strangesinking of heart, I left the room. 

She could bring him to my feet with a word. Was this the truth, or onlyan idle boast? No matter; I would not owe even his love to this woman. 'I can live without you, Giles, --my Giles, ' I whispered; but hot tearsburnt my cheeks as I spoke. 

In the afternoon I saw Miss Darrell pacing up and down the asphalt walk. Gladys saw her too, and turned away from the window rather nervously. 'How restless Etta seems!' she said once; but I made no answer. Towardsevening I heard her footsteps perambulating the long passage, and softlyturned the key in the lock without Gladys noticing the movement. Gladysnoticed very little in that sweet dreamy mood that had come to her; herown thoughts occupied her; her lover's letter had more than contentedher. 

About ten o'clock I went in search of Chatty, and came face to face withMiss Darrell. She was in her crumpled yellow dressing-gown, and her darkhair hung over her shoulders; her eyes looked bright and strange. I movedback a step and laid my hand on the handle. 

She greeted this action with a disagreeable laugh. 

'I suppose you heard me trying the door just now. Yes, I wanted to seeGladys; I wished to make some one feel as wretched as I do myself; butyou were too quick for me. Do you always keep your patients under lockand key?'

'Sometimes, ' laconically, for I disliked her manner more than everto-night: it was not the first time that I had fancied that she had hadrecourse to some form of narcotic. 'Why do you not go to bed, MissDarrell?'

'Perhaps I shall when I have thoroughly tired myself. These passages haverather a ghastly look: they remind me of Leah, too, ' with a shudder. 'Good-night, Miss Garston; pleasant dreams to you. I suppose you havenot thought better of what I said about Giles?'

'No, certainly not, ' retreating into my room and locking the door in apanic. I heard a husky laugh answer me. Perhaps last night's watching hadtired my nerves, for it was long before I could compose myself to sleep. 

The night passed quietly, and I woke, refreshed, to the sound of summerrain pattering on the shrubs. The little oak avenue looked wet anddreary; but no amount of rain or outward dreariness could damp me, withthe expectation of Mr. Hamilton's return; and I helped Chatty arrange ourrooms with great cheerfulness. 

He came back earlier than I expected. I had hardly finished settlingGladys for the day, --she took great pains with her toilet now, and washard to please in the matter of ruffles and ornaments, --when Chatty toldme that he wished to speak to me a moment. 

I made some excuse and joined him without delay. He looked much as hehad the previous morning, --very worn and tired, and his eyes a littlesunken; but he greeted me quietly, and even kindly; he asked me if I feltbetter, and how Gladys was. I was rather ashamed of my nervous manner ofanswering, but that odious speech of Miss Darrell would come into mymind when he looked at me. 

'Chatty says my cousin is in the dining-room: do you mind coming downwith me for a few minutes? I do not wish to see her alone. '

Of course I signified my willingness to accompany him, and he walkedbeside me silently to the dining-room door. 

Miss Darrell was sitting on the circular seat looking out on the oakavenue; she did not turn her head, and there was something hopeless inthe line of her stooping shoulders. I saw her hands clutch the cushionsnervously as her cousin walked straight to the window. 

'Etta, ' he began abruptly, 'I wish you to listen to me a moment. I willspare you all I can, for Aunt Margaret's sake: I do not intend to be morehard with you than my duty demands. '

'Oh, Giles!' raising her eyes at this mild commencement; but they droppedagain at the sight of the dark impenetrable face, which certainly had nolook of pity on it. She must have felt then, what I should certainly havefelt in her place, that any prayers or tears would be wasted on him. 

'It would be useless, and worse than useless, ' he went on, 'to point outto you the heinousness of your sin, --perhaps I should say crime. Allthese years you have not faltered in your relentless course; no pity forme and mine has touched your heart; you have allowed our poor lad towander about the world as an outcast; you have suffered Gladys to carry aheavy and bitter weight in her bosom. Pshaw! why do I reiterate thesethings? you know them all. '

'Giles, I have loved you in spite of it all! Be merciful to me!' But hewent on as though he heard her no more than the rain dripping on theleaves. 

'This home is yours no longer; you are no fit companion for my sisters, even if I could bear to shelter a traitor under my roof. If I know mypresent feelings, I will never willingly see your face again: whether Iever do see it depends on your future conduct. '

'Oh, for pity's sake, Giles!' She was writhing now. In spite of all hersins against him, she had loved him in her perverse way. 

'I have found you a home far from here, ' he continued in the samechilling manner, 'and to-morrow morning you will be taken to it. TheAlnwicks are kind, worthy people--not rich in this world's goods, or whatthe world would call refined. I was able to help them once when they werein bitter straits: in return they have acceded to my request and haveoffered you a home. '

'I will not go!' she sobbed passionately. 'I would rather you should killme, Giles, than treat me with such cruelty!'

'They are old, ' he went on calmly, 'but more with trouble than years, andthey have no one belonging to them, and they promise to treat you like adaughter. You will be in comfort, but not luxury: luxury has been yourcurse, Etta. A moderate sum will be paid to you yearly for your dress andpersonal expenses, but if overdrawn or misapplied it will be curtailedor stopped altogether. Your maintenance will be arranged between theAlnwicks and myself, and, unless I give you permission to write, --whichis distinctly not my purpose now, --no letter from you will be read oranswered, and I forbid all such communication. '

'I cannot--I cannot bear it!' she screamed, springing to her feet; but hewaved her back with such a look that her arms dropped to her side. 

'No scene, I beg, ' in a tone of disgust. 'Let me finish quietly what Ihave to say. --Miss Garston, ' turning to me, 'could you spare Chatty tohelp my cousin pack her clothes and books? for we shall start early inthe morning. Mr. Alnwick has promised to meet us half-way. '

'I can set Chatty at liberty for the day, ' was my answer. 

'Very well. Etta, you may as well go at once. Your meals will be servedin your room. I do not wish you to resume your usual habits: this is myhouse, not yours. Your only course now must be obedience and submission. Let your future conduct atone to me for the past, that I may rememberwithout shame that I have a cousin Etta. '

He turned away then, but I could see his face working. He had dearlyloved this miserable creature, and had cared for her as though she hadbeen his sister, and he could not leave her without this vague word ofhope. Did she understand him, I wonder, --that in the future he mightbring himself to forgive her? I heard her weeping bitterly in her roomafterwards, and Chatty, in her fussy, good-natured way, trying to comforther: the girl had a kind heart. 

Early in the afternoon Mr. Hamilton joined us in the turret-room. Directly he came in and sat down by his sister's couch I knew that hemeant to tell her everything, --that he thought it best that she shouldhear it from him. 

He told it very quietly, without any explanation or expression offeeling; but it was not possible for Gladys to hear that Eric's name wascleared without keen emotion. 'Oh, thank God for this other mercy!' shesobbed, bursting into tears; and presently, as he went on, she creptcloser to him, and before he had finished she had clasped his arm withher two hands and her face was hidden in them. 

'Oh, Giles! if you only knew what she has made me suffer!' she whispered. 'We should have understood each other better if Etta had not always comebetween us. '

'You are right; I feel you are right, Gladys, ' stroking her fair hair ashe spoke; then she looked up and smiled affectionately in his face. 

'Ursula, will you leave me alone with my brother for a little? There issomething I want to tell him!' And I went away at once. 

As I opened the door, Chatty came down the passage with a pile offreshly-ironed linen. Her round face looked unusually disturbed. 

'She is going on so, ma'am, ' she whispered, 'it is dreadful to hear her. She is making us turn out all her drawers, and there are three big trunksto fill. She says she is going away for ever. '

'Hush!' I returned, with a warning look, for Miss Darrell was at the doorwatching us. She was in her yellow dressing-gown, and the old pinchedlook was still in her face. 

'Why are you stopping to gossip, Chatty?' she said querulously. 'I shallnot have finished until midnight at this rate. Leah would have packed bythis time. ' And Chatty, with rather a frightened look, carried in herpile of clean linen. 

I strolled about the garden for an hour, and then went back to the house. Mr. Hamilton was just closing the door of his sister's room. He lookedhappier, I thought: the dark, irritable expression had left his face. Hecame forward with a smile. 

'Gladys has been telling me, Miss Garston. I am more glad than I can say. Cunliffe is a fine fellow; there is no one that I should like so well fora brother. '

'I knew you would say so. Uncle Max is so good. '

'Well, he has secured a prize, ' with a slight sigh. 'Gladys is a noblewoman; she will make her husband a happy man. There is little doubt thatEtta did mischief there; but Gladys was not willing to enter on that partof the subject. I begin to think, ' with a quick, searching look thatsomewhat disturbed me, 'that we have not yet reached the limits of hermischief-making. '

I could have told him that I knew that. I think he meant to have saidsomething more; but a slight movement in the direction of Miss Darrell'sroom made us separate somewhat quickly. I saw Mr. Hamilton glanceuneasily at the half-closed door as he went past it. 

I found Gladys in tears, but she made me understand with some difficultythat they were only tears of relief and joy. 

'But I am sorry too, because I have so often grieved him so, ' she said, drying her eyes. 'Oh, how good Giles is!--how noble!--and I havemisunderstood him so! he was so glad about Max, and so very very kind. And then we talked about Eric. He says we were wrong to keep it from him, that even you were to blame in that. He thinks so highly of you, Ursula;but he said even good people make mistakes sometimes, and that this wasa great mistake. I was so sorry when he said that, that I asked hispardon over and over again. '

I felt that I longed to ask his pardon too; and yet the fault had beenGladys's more than mine; but I knew she had talked enough, so I kissedher, and begged her to lie down and compose herself while I got the teaready. 

We did not see Mr. Hamilton again that night. Gladys and I sat by theopen window, talking by snatches or relapsing into silence. When she hadretired to rest I stole out into the passage to see what had become oftired Chatty, but I repented this charitable impulse when I saw MissDarrell standing in the open doorway opposite, as though she werewatching for some one. 

On seeing me she beckoned imperiously, and I crossed the passage withsome reluctance. 

'Come in a moment: I want to speak to you, ' she said hoarsely; and Isaw she was much excited. 'I sent Chatty to bed. We have finishedpacking, --oh, quite finished. Giles will be satisfied with my obedience;and now I want you to tell me what you and he were saying about Mr. Cunliffe. ' But her white lips looked whiter as she spoke. 

'Excuse me, Miss Darrell, ' I returned; but she stopped me. 

'You are going to say that it is no business of mine. You are alwayscautious, Miss Garston; but I am resolved to know this, or I will refuseto leave the house to-morrow morning. Are they engaged? is that whatGiles meant when he said he was a fine fellow?'

I thought it wiser to tell her the truth. 'They are engaged. '

'And Giles knows it, and gives his consent?'

'Most gladly and willingly. '

'I wish I could kill them both!' was the sullen reply; and then, withouttaking any further notice of me, she sat down on one of the boxes and hidher face in her hands, and when I tried to speak to her she shook herhead with a gesture of impatience and despair. 

'The game is played out; I may as well go, ' she muttered; and seeing herin this mood I thought it better to leave her; but I slept uneasily, andoften started up in bed fancying I heard something. I remembered herwords with horror: the whole scene was like a nightmare to me, --thedisordered and desolate room, with the great heavily-corded trunks, thedim light, the wretched woman in her yellow dressing-gown sittingcrouched on a box. 'Can this be love?' I thought, with a shudder, --'thiscompound of vanity and selfishness?' and I felt how different was myfeeling for Giles. The barrier might never be broken down between us, Imight never be to him more than I was now, but all my life I should loveand honour him as the noblest man I knew on God's earth. 

CHAPTER XLVI

NAP BARKS IN THE STABLE-YARD

I was arranging some flowers that Max had sent us the next morning, andwaiting for Gladys to join me, when Mr. Hamilton came in. 

'Where is Gladys?' he asked, looking round the room; but when he heardthat she had not finished dressing, he would not hear of my disturbingher. 

'It is no matter, ' he went on. 'I shall be back before she is in bed. Ionly wanted to tell her that I have seen Cunliffe. I breakfasted with himthis morning. He will be up here presently to see her. He looks ten yearsyounger, Miss Garston. ' And, as I smiled at that, he continued, in rathera constrained voice, --

'Mr. Tudor breakfasted with us. '

'Yes, I suppose so, ' I returned carelessly. 'What splendid carnationsthese are, Mr. Hamilton! You have not any so good at Gladwyn. '

'Cunliffe must spare me some cuttings, ' he replied, rather absently;then, without looking at me, and in a peculiar voice, 'Is it still asecret, Miss Garston, or may I be allowed to congratulate you?'

I dropped the carnations as though they suddenly scorched me. 

'Why should you congratulate me, Mr. Hamilton?'

'I thought you considered me a friend, ' he replied, rather nervously. 'But, of course, if it be still a secret, I must beg your pardon for myabruptness. '

'I don't know what you mean, ' I said, very crossly, but my cheeks wereburning. 'If this be a joke, I must tell you once for all that I dislikethis sort of jokes: they are not in good taste': for I was as angry withhim as possible, for who knew what nonsense he had got into his head? Helooked at me in quite a bewildered fashion; my anger was evidentlyincomprehensible to him. We were playing at cross-purposes. 

'Do you think I am in the mood for joking?' he said, at last. 'Have youever heard me jest on such subjects, Miss Garston? I thought we agreed onthat point. '

'Do you mean you are serious?'

'Perfectly serious. '

'Then in that case will you kindly explain to me why you think I am to becongratulated?'

He looked uncomfortable. 'I have understood that you and Mr. Tudorwere engaged, or, at least, likely to become so. Do you mean, ' asmy astonished face seemed to open room for doubt, 'that it is nottrue?--that Etta deceived me there?'

'Miss Darrell!' scornfully; then, controlling my strong indignationwith an effort, I said, more quietly, 'I think that we ought to beg Mr. Tudor's pardon for dragging in his name in this way: he would hardlythank us. If I am not mistaken, he is in love with my cousin Jocelyn. '

'Impossible! What a credulous fool I have been to believe her! Yourcousin Jocelyn, --do you mean Miss Jill?'

'Yes, ' I returned, smiling, for a sense of renewed happiness was stealingover me. 'The foolish fellow is always following me about to talk of her. I do believe he is honestly in love with her. He saved her life, and thatmakes it all the worse. '

'All the better, you mean, ' regarding me gravely. That fixed, seriouslook made me rather confused. 

'Would you mind telling me, Mr. Hamilton, ' I interposed hurriedly, 'whatput this absurd idea into your head?'

'It was Etta, ' he returned, in a low voice. 'It was that night when youhad been singing to us, and she came home unexpectedly. '

'Yes, yes, I remember'; but I could not meet his eyes. 

'She told me when we got home that Mr. Tudor was in love with you, andthat she believed you were engaged, or that, at least, there was anunderstanding between you; and she added that if I did not believe her Imight watch for myself, and I should see that you were always together. '

'Well?' rather impatiently. 

'I will beg your pardon afterwards for following Etta's advice, but I didwatch, and it was not long before I came round to her opinion. '

'Mr. Hamilton!'

'Wait a moment before you get angry with me again. I never saw you in apassion before'; but I knew he was laughing at me. 'Etta was certainlyright in one thing: I seemed always finding you together. '

'That was because I often met Mr. Tudor in the village, and he turnedback and walked with me a little; but we always talked of Jill. '

'How could I know that?' in rather an injured voice. 'Were you talking ofMiss Jocelyn in the vicarage kitchen-garden that evening?'

'Probably, ' was my cool reply; for how could I remember all the subjectsof our conversation?

'And when you went to Hyde Park Gate, you were together then, --Leah sawyou, --and--' But I could bear no more. 

'How could I know that I should be watched and spied upon, and all myinnocent actions misrepresented?' I exclaimed indignantly. 'It was notfair, Mr. Hamilton. I could not have believed it of you, that you shouldlisten to such things against me. That boy, too!'

'Nonsense!' speaking in his old good-humoured voice, and lookingexceedingly pleased. 'He is five-and-twenty, and a very good-lookingfellow: a girl might do worse for herself than marry Lawrence Tudor. '

'But I intend to have him as my cousin some day, ' was my reply; but atthis moment Chatty came in to tell Mr. Hamilton that the boxes were inthe cart, and Miss Darrell waiting in the carriage. 

'Confound it! I had forgotten all about Etta, ' he returned impatiently. 'Well, it cannot be helped: we must finish our conversation thisevening. ' And with a smile that told of restored confidence he went off. 

I sat down and cried a little for sheer happiness, for I knew the barrierwas broken at last, and that we should soon arrive at a completeunderstanding. It was hard that he should have to leave me just then; andthe thought of resuming the conversation in the evening made me naturallya little nervous. 'Supposing I go back to the White Cottage, ' I thoughtonce; but I knew he would follow me there, and that it would seem idlecoquetting on my part. It would be more dignified to wait and hear whathe had to say. I should go back to the White Cottage in a day or two. 

Gladys came out of her room when she heard the wheels, and proposed thatwe should go down into the drawing-room. 'Poor poor Etta!' she sighed. 'Itry to pity and be sorry for her, but it is impossible not to be gladthat she has gone. I want to look at every room, Ursula, and to realisethat I am to have my own lovely home in peace. We must send for LadyBetty; and Giles must know about Claude. I do not believe that he willbe angry: oh no, nothing will make Giles angry now. '

Max found us very busy in the drawing-room. I was just carrying out awork-box and a novel that belonged to Miss Darrell, and Gladys had pickedup a peacock-feather screen, and a carved ivory fan, and two or threelittle knick-knacks. 'Take them all away, Ursula dear, ' she pleaded, witha faint shudder; but as she put them in my arms there were Max's eyeswatching us from the threshold. 

I saw her go up to him as simply as a child, and put her hands in his, and as I closed the door Max took her in his arms. The peacock screenfell at my feet, the ivory fan and a hideous little Chinese god rollednoisily on the oilcloth. I smiled as I picked them up. My dear Max andhis Lady of Delight were together at last. I felt as though my cup of joywere full. 

Max remained to luncheon, but he went away soon afterwards. Gladys mustrest, and he would come again later in the evening. I was rather gladwhen he said this, for I wanted to go down to the White Cottage and seeMrs. Barton, and I could not have left the house while he was there. Yes, Max was certainly right: it would be better for him to come again whenMr. Hamilton was at home. 

I made Gladys take possession of her favourite little couch in thedrawing-room, but she detained me for some time talking about Max, untilI refused to hear another word, and then I went up to my own room, andput on my hat. 

I thought Nap would like a run down the road, --and I could always makeTinker keep the peace, --so I went into the stable-yard in search of him. He was evidently there, for I could hear him barking excitedly. The nextmoment a young workman came out of the empty coach-house, and walkedquickly to the gate, followed closely by Nap, jumping and fawning on him. 

'Down, down, good dog!' I heard him say, and then I whistled back Nap, who came reluctantly, and with some difficulty I contrived to shut him upin the stable-yard. There seemed no man about the premises. Then Ihurried down the road in the direction of the village: my heart wasbeating fast, my limbs trembled under me. I had caught sight of a perfectprofile and a golden-brown moustache as the young workman went out of thegate, and I knew it was the face of Eric Hamilton. 

My one thought was that I must follow him, that on no account must I losesight of him. As I closed the gate I could see him in the distance, justturning the corner by the Man and Plough; he was walking very quickly inthe direction of the station. I quickened my steps, breaking into a runnow and then, and soon had the satisfaction of lessening the distancebetween us; my last run had brought me within a hundred yards of him, and slackened my pace, and began to look the matter in the face. 

I remembered that the London train would be due in another quarter of anhour; no doubt that was why he was walking so fast. I must keep near himwhen he took his ticket. I had no fear of his recognising me; he had onlyseen me twice, without my bonnet, and now I wore a hat that shaded myface, and my plain gray gown was sufficiently unlike the dress I hadworn at Hyde Park Gate. I had a sudden qualm as the thought darted intomy mind that he might possibly have a return-ticket; but I should know ifhe got into the Victoria train, and I determined on taking a ticket formyself. 

I had a couple of sovereigns and a little loose silver in my purse. I hadassured myself of this fact as I walked down the hill. As soon as theyoung workman had entered the booking-office, I followed him closely, andto my great relief heard him ask for a third-class ticket for Victoria. When he had made way for me I took the same for myself, and then, as Ihad seven minutes to spare, I went into the telegraph-office and dashedoff a message to Gladys. 

'Called to town on important business; may be detained to-night. Willwrite if necessary. '

As I gave in the form I could hear the signal for the up train, and hadonly time to reach the platform when the Victoria train came in. 

The young workman got into an empty compartment, and I followed andplaced myself at the other end. I had no wish to attract his notice; theill success of my former attempt had frightened me, and I felt I darednot address him, for fear he should leave the train at the next station. Some workmen had got in and were talking noisily among themselves. I didnot feel that the opportunity would he propitious. 

When we had actually left Heathfield I stole a glance at the young man:he had drawn his cap over his eyes, and seemed to feign sleep, no doubtto avoid conversation with the noisy crew opposite us; but that he wasnot really asleep was evident from the slight twitching of the mouth anda long-drawn sigh that every now and then escaped him. 

I could watch him safely now, and for a few minutes I studied almostpainfully one of the most perfect faces I had ever seen. It was thin andcolourless, and there were lines sad to see on so young a face; but itmight have been a youthful Apollo leaning his head against the woodenwainscotting. 

Once he opened his eyes and pushed back his cap with a gesture ofweariness and impatience. He did not see me: those sad, blue-gray eyeswere fixed on the moving landscape; but how like Gladys's they looked!I turned aside quickly to hide my emotion. I thought of Gladys and Mr. Hamilton, and a prayer rose to my lips that for their sake I mightsucceed in bringing the lost one back. 

The journey seemed a long one. All sorts of fears tormented me. Iremembered Mr. Hamilton was in London: there was danger of encounteringhim at Victoria. It was five now: he might possibly return to dinner. Icould scarcely breathe as this new terror presented itself to me, for ifEric caught sight of his brother all would be lost. 

When the train stopped, I followed the young workman as closely aspossible. As we were turning in the subterranean passage for the DistrictRailway, my heart seemed to stop. There was Mr. Hamilton reading hispaper under the clock: we actually passed within twenty yards of him, andhe did not raise his eyes. I am sure Eric saw him, for he suddenly divedinto the passage, and I had much trouble to keep him in sight: as it was, I was only just in time to hear him ask for a third-class single toBishop's Road. 

I did not dare enter the same compartment, but I got into the next, and now and then, when our train stopped at the different stations, I could hear him distinctly talking to a fellow-workman, in a refined, gentlemanly voice, that would have attracted attention to him anywhere. Once the other man called him Jack, and asked where he hung out, and Inoticed this question was cleverly eluded, but I heard him say afterwardsthat he was in regular work, and liked his present governor, and that theold woman who looked after him was a tidy, decent lady, and kept thingscomfortable. My thoughts strayed a little after this. The sight of Mr. Hamilton had disturbed me. What would he think when Gladys showed himmy telegram? He had promised to finish our conversation this evening. I felt with a strange soreness of longing that I should not see Gladwynthat night. My absence of mind nearly cost me dear, for I had no ideathat we had reached Bishop's Road until Eric passed my window, and with asmothered exclamation I opened the door: happily, the passengers werenumerous and blocked up the stairs, so I reached the street to find himonly a few yards before me. 

My patience was being severely exercised after this, for Eric did not gostraight to his lodgings. He went into a butcher's first, and after a fewminutes' delay--for there were customers in the shop--came out with anewspaper parcel in his hand. Then he went into a grocer's, and throughthe window I could see him putting little packets of tea and sugar in hispocket. 

His next business was to the baker's, and here a three-cornered crustyloaf was the result. The poor young fellow was evidently providing hisevening meal, and the sight of these homely delicacies reminded me thatI was tired and hungry and that a cup of tea would be refreshing. Ericcarried his steak and three-cornered loaf jauntily, and every now andthen broke into a sweet low whistle that reminded me of his nicknameamong his mates of 'Jack the Whistler. '

We were threading the labyrinth of streets that lie behind Bishop's RoadStation; I was beginning to feel weary and discouraged, when Eric stoppedsuddenly before a neat-looking house of two stories, with very brightgeraniums in the parlour window, and taking out his latch-key let himselfin, and closed the door with a bang. 

I stalked carelessly to the end of the street, and read the name. 'No. 25Madison Street, ' I said to myself, and then I went up to the door andknocked boldly. My time had come now, I thought, trying to pull myselftogether, for I felt decidedly nervous. 

A stout, oldish woman with rather a pleasant face opened the door; herarms were bare, and she dried her hands on her apron as she asked me mybusiness. 

'Your lodger Jack Poynter has just come in, ' I said quietly. 'I have amessage for him. Can I see him, please?'

'Oh ay, --you can see him surely. ' And she stepped back into the passageand called out, 'Jack, Jack! here is a young woman wants to speak toyou. ' But I shut the door hurriedly and interrupted her:

'Let me go up to his room: you can tell me where it is'; for it neverwould do to speak to him in the passage. 

'Well, perhaps he may be washing and brushing himself a bit after hisjourney, ' she returned good-humouredly: 'he is a tidy chap, is Jack. Ifyou go up to the top landing and knock at the second door, that is hissitting-room; he sleeps at the back, and Sawyer has the other room. '

I followed these instructions, and knocked at the front-room door; but novoice bade me come in; only a short bark and a scuffle of feet gave menotice of the occupant: so I ventured to go in. 

It was a tidy little room, and had a snug aspect. A white fox-terrierwith a pretty face retreated growling under a chair, but I coaxed her tocome out. The steak and the loaf were on the table. But I had no time forany further observation, for a voice said, 'What are you barking at, Jenny?' and the next moment Eric entered the room. 

He started when he saw me caressing the dog. 

'I beg your pardon for this intrusion, ' I began nervously, for I saw Iwas not recognised; 'but I have followed you from Heathfield to tell youthe good news. Mr. Hamilton, it is all found out; Miss Darrell stole thatcheque. '

I had blurted it out, fearing that he might start away from me even then:he must know that his name was cleared, and then I could persuade him tolisten to me. I was right in my surmise, for as I said his name he puthis hand on the door, but my next words made him drop the handle. 

'What?' he exclaimed, turning deadly pale, and I could see how his lipsquivered under his moustache. 'Say that again: I do not understand. '

'Mr. Hamilton, ' I repeated slowly, 'you need not have rushed past yourpoor brother in that way at Victoria, for he is breaking his heart, andso is Gladys, with the longing to find you. Your name is cleared: theyonly want to ask your forgiveness for all you have suffered. It was afoul conspiracy of two women to save themselves by ruining you. Leah hasmade full confession. Your cousin Etta took the cheque out of yourbrother's desk. '

'Oh, my God!' he gasped, and, sitting down, he hid his face in his hands. The little fox-terrier jumped on his knee and began licking his hands. 'Don't, Jenny: let me be, ' he said, in a fretful, boyish voice that mademe smile. 'I must think, for my brain seems dizzy. '

I left him quiet for a few minutes, and Jenny, after this rebuke, curledherself up at his feet and went to sleep. Then I took the chair besidehim, and asked him, very quietly, if he could listen to me. He wasfrightfully pale, and his features were working, but he nodded assent andheld his head between his hands again, but I know he heard every word. 

I told him as briefly as I could how Gladys had languished and pined allthese years, how she had clung to the notion of his innocence and wouldnot believe that he was dead. He started at that, and asked what I meant. Had Giles really believed he was dead?

'He had reason to fear so, ' I returned gravely; and I told him how hiswatch and scarf had been found on the beach at Brighton, and how thehotel-keeper had brought them to Mr. Hamilton. 

He seemed shocked at this. 'I had been bathing, ' he said, in rather anashamed voice: 'some boy must have stolen them, and then dropped hisbooty for fear of the police. I missed them when I came out of the water, and I hunted about for them a long time. As I was leaving the beach I sawone of Giles's friends coming down towards me, and I got it into my headthat I was recognised. I dared not go back to the hotel. Besides, mymoney was running short. I took a third-class ticket up to London, andon my way fell in with a house-painter, who gave me lodging for a fewnights. '

'Yes, and then--' for he hesitated here. 

'Well, you see, I was just mad with them at home. I thought I could neverforgive Giles that last insult. My character and honour were gone. Ettahad been my secret enemy all along, because she knew I read her truly. Leah had given in her false evidence. My word was nothing. I was lookedupon as a common thief. I swore that I would never cross the threshold ofGladwyn again until my name was cleared. They should not hear of me; ifthey thought me dead, so much the better!'

'Oh, Mr. Eric, and you never considered how Gladys would suffer!'

'Yes, that was my only trouble; but I thought they would turn her againstme in time. I was nearly mad, I tell you: but for Phil Power I believe Ishould have been desperate; but he stuck to me, and was always telling methat a man can live down anything. Indeed, but for Phil and his prettylittle wife I should have starved, for I had no notion of helping myself, and would not have begged for a job to save my life, for I could notforget I was a gentleman. But Phil got me work at his governor's. SoI turned house-painter, and rather liked my employment. I used to tellmyself that it was better than old Armstrong's office. Why, I make twopounds a week now when we are in full work, ' finished the poor ladproudly. 

My heart was yearning over him, he was so boyish and weak and impulsive;but I would not spare him. I told him that it was cowardly of him to hidehimself, --that it would have been braver and nobler to have lived hislife openly. 'Why not have let your brother know what you were doing?' Icontinued. 'For years this shadow has been over his home. He has believedyou dead. He has even feared self-destruction. This fear has embitteredhis life and made him a hard, unhappy man. '

'Do you mean Giles has suffered like that?' he exclaimed; and his grayeyes grew misty. 

'Yes, in spite of all your sins against him, he has loved you dearly; andGladys--' But he put up his hand, as though he could hear no more. 

'Yes, I know, poor darling; but I have often seen her, often been nearher; but I heard her laugh, and thought she was happy and had forgottenme. How long is it since Leah confessed, Miss--Miss--' And here helaughed a little nervously. 'I do not know who you are, and yet youmust be a friend. '

'I am Ursula Garston, a very close friend of your sister Gladys, andI have been nursing her in this last illness. '

'What! has she been ill?' he asked anxiously. And when I had given himfull particulars he questioned me again about Leah's confession, and Ihad to repeat all I could remember of her words. 

'Then I was not cleared when you spoke to me at Hyde Park Gate?' hereturned, with a relieved air. 'So it did not matter my giving you theslip. You frightened me horribly, Miss Garston, I can tell you that. Isaw those advertisements, too, to Jack Poynter, and I was very nearleaving the country; but I am glad I held on, as Phil advised, ' drawinga long breath as he spoke. 

CHAPTER XLVII

'AT LAST, URSULA, AT LAST!'

We were interrupted at this moment by the landlady's voice calling toEric from the bottom of the stairs. 

'Jack, --I say, Jack, what has become of the steak I promised to cook foryou? I'll be bound Jenny has eaten it. '

Eric gave a short laugh and went out into the passage, and I heard himsay, in rather a low voice, --

'A lady, a friend of my sister's, has just brought me some news. I expectshe is as tired and hungry as I am. Do you think, ' coaxingly, 'that youcould get tea for us in the parlour, Mrs. Hunter? and perhaps you willjoin us there'; for class-instinct had awoke in Eric at the sight of alady's face, and I suppose, in spite of my Quakerish gray gown, I wasstill young enough to make him hesitate about entertaining me in hisbachelor's room. 

There was a short parley after this. Then Mrs. Hunter came up panting, and, still wiping her hands from imaginary soap-suds, carried off thesteak and the three-cornered loaf. 'It will be ready in about twentyminutes, Jack, ' she observed, with a good-natured nod. 

Eric employed the interval of waiting by questioning me eagerly about hissisters. Then he tried to find out, in a gentlemanly way, how I contrivedto be so mixed up with his family. This led to a brief _résumé_ of my ownhistory and work, and by the time Mrs. Hunter called us I felt as thoughI had known Eric for years. 

Mrs. Hunter beamed on us as we entered. There was really quite a temptinglittle meal spread on the round table, though the butter was not freshnor the forks silver, but the tea was hot and strong, and the bread wasnew. And Eric produced from his stores some lump sugar and a pot ofstrawberry jam, and I did full justice to the homely fare. 

When Mrs. Hunter went into the kitchen to replenish the teapot I took theopportunity of consulting Eric about a lodging for the night. It was toolate to return to Heathfield. Besides, I had made up my mind that Ericshould accompany me. Aunt Philippa and Jill were in Switzerland, and thehouse at Hyde Park Gate would be empty. I could not well go to an hotelwithout any luggage. Eric seemed rather perplexed, and said we must takeMrs. Hunter into our confidence, which we did, and the good woman soonrelieved our minds. 

She said at once that she knew an excellent person who let lodgings roundthe corner, --a Miss Moseley. Miss Gunter, who had been a music-mistressuntil she married the young chemist, had lived with her for six years;and Miss Crabbe, who was in the millinery department at Howell's, the bigshop in Kimber Street, was still there. Miss Gunter's room was vacant, and she was sure Miss Moseley would take me in for the night and make mecomfortable. 

I begged Mrs. Hunter to open negotiations with this obliging person, andshe pulled down her sleeves at once, and tied her double chin in a verybig black bonnet. While she was gone on this charitable errand, Eric andI sat by the parlour window in the gathering dusk, and I told him aboutGladys's engagement to Uncle Max. 

He seemed much excited by the news. 'I always thought that would be acase, ' he exclaimed: 'I could see Mr. Cunliffe cared for her even then. Well, he is a first-rate fellow, and I am awfully glad. ' And then he fellinto a reverie, and I could see there were tears in his eyes. 

Mrs. Hunter returned presently with the welcome news that Miss Moseleywas airing my sheets at the kitchen fire, and, after a little more talk, Eric walked with me to Prescott Street and gave me in charge to MissMoseley, after promising to be with me soon after nine the next morning. 

I found Miss Moseley a cheerful talkative person, with very few teeth anda great deal of good-nature. She gave me Miss Gunter's history as shemade the bed. I could see that her marriage with the young chemist wasa great source of glorification to all connected with her. She was stillholding forth on the newly-furnished drawing-room, with its blue sofaand inlaid chiffonier, as she lighted a pair of candles in the brasscandlesticks, and brought me a can of hot water. I am afraid I was ratherthankful when she closed the door and left me alone, for I was tired, andlonged to think over the wonderful events of the day. I slept verysweetly in the old-fashioned brown bed that was sacred to the memory ofMiss Gunter, and woke happily to the fact that another blue day wasshining, and that in a few hours Eric and I would be at Heathfield. Iate my frugal breakfast in a small back parlour overlooking the blankwall of a brewery, and before I had finished there was a quick tap at thedoor, and Eric entered. A boyish blush crossed his handsome face as Ilooked at him in some surprise. He had laid aside his workman's dress, and wore the ordinary garb of a gentleman. Perhaps his coat was a littleshabby and the hat he held in his hand had lost its gloss, but no onewould have noticed such trifles with that bright speaking face and airof refinement; and, though he looked down at his uncovered hands andmuttered something about stopping to buy a pair of gloves, I hastened toassure him that it was so early that it did not matter. 'I should hardlyhave recognised you, Mr. Eric, ' I ventured to observe, for I saw he wasa little sensitive about his appearance; and then he told me in his frankway that the clothes he wore were the same in which he left Gladwynnearly four years ago. 

'They have been lying by all this time, ' he went on, 'and they are sadlycreased, I am afraid. I have grown a little broader, and they don't seemto fit me, somehow, but I did not want Gladys to see me in anythingelse. '

We had decided to take the ten o'clock train to Heathfield, so I didnot keep him long waiting for me. On our way to the station we met ahouse-painter: he looked rather dubiously at Eric. 

'All right, Phil, ' he laughed, 'I am going home; but I shall turn upagain all right: this lady has brought me good news. ' And he wrung Phil'shand with a heartiness that spoke volumes. 

He was very excited and talkative at first, but as soon as we leftVictoria behind us he became quieter, and soon afterwards perfectlysilent; and I did not disturb him. He grew more nervous as we approachedHeathfield, and when the train stopped he had not an atom of colour inhis face. 

'I do not know what I shall say to Giles, ' he said, as we walked up thehill. 'It will be very awkward for both of us, Miss Garston. Of courseI know that--'

But I begged him not to anticipate the awkwardness. 'You will be welcomedas we only welcome our dearest and best, ' I assured him. 'Your brother'sheart has been sore for you all these years: you need not fear one wordof reproach from him. ' But he only sighed, and asked me not to walk soquickly; his courage was failing; I could see the look of nervous fearon his face. 

We had arranged that he should accompany me to Gladwyn. Gladys never lefther room before twelve, and I thought that I could shut him safely in thedining-room while I prepared her for his arrival. I knew Mr. Hamilton wasnever at home at this hour, but I had not reckoned on the disorganisedstate of the house, or the difference my brief absence would make in theusual routine. 

I blamed myself for rashness and want of consideration when, on openingthe gate, I saw Gladys crossing one of the little lawns around the house, with Max and Mr. Hamilton. At my faint exclamation Eric let go the gaterather too suddenly, and it swung back on its hinges so noisily that theyall looked round, and the poor boy stood as though rooted to the spot. But the next moment there was the gleam of a white gown, and Gladys camerunning over the grass towards us with outstretched hands, and in anothersecond the brother and sister were locked in each other's arms. 

'Oh, my darling, ' we heard her say, as she put up her face and kissedhim, and then her fair head seemed to droop lower and lower until ittouched Eric's shoulder. I glanced anxiously at Mr. Hamilton. 

'Take her into the house, Eric, ' he said, in his ordinary voice; but howwhite his face looked! 'It has been too sudden, and she has fainted. 'And, without a word, Eric lifted her in his strong arms and carried herof his own accord to the little blue couch in the drawing-room, and thenstood aside while his brother administered the usual remedy. Not a lookhad passed between them yet: they were both too much absorbed in Gladys. 

She soon opened her eyes, and pushed away the vinaigrette I was holdingto her. 

'It is nothing, Ursula. I am well, quite well. Where is my dear boy? Donot keep him from me. ' And then Eric knelt down beside her, and put hisarm round her with a sort of sob. 

'I ought not to have startled you so, Gladys. I have made you look sopale. ' But she laughed again, and pushed back his hair from his forehead, and feasted her eyes on his face as though they could never be satisfied. 

'Eric, darling, it seems like a dream; and it was Ursula, dear goodUrsula, who has given you back to us. We must thank her presently; butnot now. Oh, I must look at you first. He looks older, does he not, Giles?--older and more manly. And what broad shoulders, and such amoustache!' but Eric silenced her with a kiss. 

'That will do, Gladys dear, ' he whispered, springing to his feet; andthen, with downcast eyes and a flush on his face, he held out his handto his brother. It was taken and held silently, and then Mr. Hamilton'sdisengaged hand was laid on his shoulder caressingly. 

'Welcome home, my dear boy, ' he said; but his voice was not quite soclear as usual. 

'I am very sorry, Giles, ' he faltered; but Mr. Hamilton would not let himspeak. 

'There is nothing to be sorry for, now, ' he said significantly. 'Have youshaken hands with Mr. Cunliffe, Eric? Gladys, can you spare your boy fora few moments while I carry him off?' And, as Gladys smiled assent, Mr. Hamilton signed to Eric to follow him. 

Max sat down beside Gladys when they had left the room, and Gladys madea space for me on the couch. 

'You must tell us how it happened, ' she said, fixing her lovely eyes onme. 'Dear Ursula, we owe this fresh happiness to you: how can I thank youfor all your goodness to us?' But I would not allow her to talk in thisfashion, and I left Max to soothe her when she cried a little, and thenI told them both how I had found Eric in the stable-yard with Nap, andhow I had tracked him successfully to his lodgings. 

'She is a brave, dear child, is she not, Gladys?' observed Max. Then, with a mischievous look in his brown eyes, 'You are proud of yourpresumptive niece, are you not, dear?' And then, in spite of Gladys'sconfusion, for she was still a little shy with him, I burst out laughing, and she was obliged to join me, for it had never entered into our headsthat Gladys would be my aunt. The laugh brought back her colour and didher good; but she would not look at Max for a long time after that, though he was on his best behaviour and said all sorts of nice thingsto us both. 

It was a long time before Mr. Hamilton brought Eric back to us. Theyboth looked very happy, but Eric's eyes had a strangely softened lookin them. The gong sounded for luncheon just then, and Mr. Hamilton askedme, in rather a surprised tone, why I had not taken off my hat andjacket, so I ran off to my room in a great hurry. As he opened the doorfor me, he said, in rather an odd tone, 'Do you know you have not wishedme good-morning, Miss Garston?' I muttered some sort of an answer, but hemerely smiled, and told me not to keep them waiting. Gladys came in toluncheon, and took her usual place; but neither she nor Eric made muchpretence of eating, though Mr. Hamilton scolded them both for their wantof appetite. Nobody talked much, and there was no connected conversation:I think we were all too much engrossed in watching Gladys. Max was in thebackground for once, but he did not seem to think of himself at all: thesight of Gladys's sweet face, radiant with joy, was sufficient pleasurefor him; but now and then she turned to him in a touching manner, asthough to show she had not forgotten him, and then he was never slowto respond. 

When luncheon was over, Mr. Hamilton begged me to take Gladys to theturret-room and persuade her to lie down. 

'I am going to send Cunliffe away until dinner-time, ' he said, witha sort of good-natured peremptoriness: 'under the circumstances he isdecidedly _de trop_. Yes, my dear, yes, ' as Gladys looked pleadingly athim, 'Eric shall come and talk to you. I am not so unreasonable as that. 'And I think we all understood the feeling that made Gladys put her armsround her brother's neck, though we none of us heard her whisper a word. Max consented very cheerfully to efface himself for the remainder of theafternoon, and Gladys accompanied me upstairs. I waited until Eric joinedus, and then I left them together. 

'Oh, Gladys, he was so good, and I did not deserve it!' he burst outbefore I had closed the door. 'I never knew Giles could be like that. 'But I took care not to hear any more. I hardly knew what to do withmyself that afternoon, but I made up my mind at last that I would finisha letter I had begun to Jill. The inkstand was in the turret-room, but Ithought I would fetch one out of the drawing-room; but when I reachedthe head of the staircase I drew back involuntarily, for Mr. Hamilton wasstanding at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the wall withfolded arms, as though he were waiting for somebody or something. Anunaccountable timidity made me hesitate; in another second I should havegone back into my room, but he looked up, and, as before, our eyes met. 

'Come, ' he said, holding out his hand, and there was a sort of impatiencein his manner. 'How long are you going to keep me waiting, Ursula?' And Iwent down demurely and silently, but I took no notice of his outstretchedhands. 

I was trying to pass him in a quiet, ordinary fashion, as though therewere no unusual meaning in his deep-set eyes; but he stopped me somewhatcoolly by taking me in his arms. 

'At last, Ursula, at last!' was all he said, and then he kissed me. . . . 

 * * * * *

I remember I told Giles, when I had recovered myself a little, that hehad taken things too much for granted. 

He had brought me into the drawing-room, and was sitting beside me on thelittle couch. To my dazzled eyes the room seemed full of sunshine and thesweet perfume of flowers: to this day the scent of heliotrope brings backthe memory of that afternoon when Giles first told me that he loved me. He seemed rather perplexed at first by my stammering little speech, andthen I suppose my meaning dawned on him, for his arm pressed me moreclosely. 

'I think I understand: you mean, do you not, Ursula, that I have notasked you in plain English to be my wife? I thought we understood eachother too well for any such word to be necessary. Ever since you told methat fellow Tudor was nothing to you, I felt you belonged to me. '

'I do not see that, ' I returned shyly, for Giles in his new character wasrather formidable. He had taken such complete possession of me, and, as Ihad hinted, had taken everything for granted. 'Because Mr. Tudor wassimply a friend, it did not follow that I cared for any one else. '

'Yes; but you do care for me a good deal, darling, do you not?' in amost persuasive voice. 'But, for my own comfort, I want you to tell meif you are quite content to accept such a crabbed old bachelor for yourhusband. '

It was a little difficult to answer, but I made him understand thatI looked upon him in a very different light, and I think I managed tocontent him. 

'And you are really happy, dear?'

'Yes, very happy'; but the tears were in my eyes as I answered. He seemeddistressed to see them, and wanted me to tell him the reason; but I thinkhe understood me thoroughly when I whispered how glad Charlie would havebeen. I asked him presently how long he had cared for me, but, to mysurprise, he declared that he hardly knew himself: he had been interestedin me from the first hour of our meeting, but it was when he heard mesing in Phoebe Locke's room that the thought came to him that he must tryand win me for his wife. 

I think it was in answer to this that I said some foolish word about mywant of beauty. I was a little sensitive on the subject, but, to mydismay, Giles's face darkened, and he dropped my hand. 

'Never say that to me again, if you love me, Ursula, ' he said, in sucha grieved voice that I could hardly bear to hear it. 'Do you think Iwould have married you if you had been handsome? Do you know what youare talking about, child? Has no one told you about Ella?'

'Oh yes, ' I returned, terrified at his sternness, for he had never spokento me in such a tone before. 'Yes, indeed, and I know she was verybeautiful. '

'She was perfectly lovely, '--in the same hard voice. Oh, how he must havesuffered, my poor Giles! 'And the memory of that false loveliness hasmade me loathe the idea of beauty ever since. No, I would never have letmyself love you if you had been handsome, Ursula. '

'I am glad I am not, ' I returned, in a choked voice, for all this wasvery painful to me. Something in my tone attracted his notice, for hestooped and looked in my face, and his manner instantly changed. 

'Oh, you foolish child, ' very caressingly, 'there are actually tears inyour eyes! You are not afraid of me, Ursula? I am always excited when Ispeak of Ella: she very nearly destroyed my faith in women. '

'I cannot bear to think how you suffered, ' I faltered, but he would notlet me finish. 

'Never mind; you have been my healer; you have always rested me so. Nevercall yourself plain again in my hearing. No other face could be half sodear to me. ' And then, with his old smile, 'Do you know, dear, when I sawyou in that velvet gown at your cousin's wedding you looked so handsomethat I went home in a bad humour, and then Etta told me about Tudor. Well, I have you safe now. ' But I will not transcribe all Giles's speech;it was so lover-like, it made me understand, once for all, what I was tohim, and how little he cared for life unless I shared it with him. 

By and by he went on to speak of our mutual work, and here again he morethan contented me. 

'I do not mean to rob the poor people of their nurse, Ursula, ' he saidpresently. 'When you come to Gladwyn as its mistress, I hope we shallwork together as we do now. '

I told him I hoped so too; that I never wished to lay down my work. 

'You are quite right, dear, ' he answered cheerfully. 'We will not beselfish in our happiness. True, your work must be in limits. When I comehome I shall want to see my wife's face. No, ' rather jealously, 'I couldnot spare you of an evening, and in the morning there will be householdduties. You must not undertake too much, Ursula. '

I told Giles, rather demurely, that there was plenty of time for theconsideration of this point. He was inclined to bridge over the presentin a man's usual fashion, but my new position was too overwhelming for meto look beyond the deep abiding consciousness that Giles loved me andlooked to me for happiness. 

So I turned a deaf ear when he asked me presently if I should mind LadyBetty sharing our home; 'for, ' he went on, 'the poor child has no otherhome, and she is so feather-headed that no sensible man will think ofmarrying her. ' It was not my place to enlighten Giles about Claude, butI thought it very improbable that Lady Betty would be long at Gladwyn;but I was a little oppressed by this sort of talk, and yet unwilling thathe should notice my shyness, so I took the opportunity of saying it wastea-time, and did he not think that Gladys and Eric had been talking longenough?

He seemed unwilling to let me go, but I pleaded my nurse's duties, andthen he told me, laughing, that I was a wilful woman, and that I mightsend Eric to him. As it happened, Eric was coming in search of Giles, andI found him in the passage. 

Gladys was lying on her couch, looking worn out with happiness. Shewas beginning to speak about Eric, when something in my face seemed todistract her. She watched me closely for a moment, then threw her armsround me and drew my head on her shoulder. 

'Is it so, Ursula? Oh, my dear dear sister! I am so glad!' And she seemedto understand without a word when my over-excited feelings found vent ina flood of nervous tears, for she only kissed me quietly, and stroked myhair, until I was relieved and happy again. 

'Dear Ursula, ' she whispered, 'how can I help being glad, for Giles'ssake?'

'And not for mine?' drying my eyes, and feeling very much ashamed ofmyself. 

'Ah, you will see how good Giles will be, ' was her reply to this. 'Youwill be a happy woman, Ursula. You are exactly suited to each other. ' AndI knew she was right. 

Max's turn came presently. 

I was sitting alone in the drawing-room before dinner. Giles had broughtme some flowers, and had rushed off to dress himself; and I was lookingout on the garden and the strip of blue sky, and buried in a happyreverie, when two hands suddenly lifted me up, and a brown beard brushedmy face. 

'Little she-bear, do you know how glad I am!' Max joyously exclaimed. Andindeed he looked very glad. 

CHAPTER XLVIII

'WHAT 0' THE WAY TO THE END?'

Two days afterwards I went back to the White Cottage and took up my oldlife again, --my old life, but how different now!

I shall never forget how Phoebe welcomed me back, and how she and Susanrejoiced when I told them the news. Strange to say, neither of themseemed much surprised. They had expected it, Susan said, in rather anamused tone, for it was easy to see the doctor had thought there was noone like me, and was always hinting as much to them. 'Why, I have seenhim watch you as though there were nothing else worth looking at, 'finished Susan, with simple shrewdness. 

I kept my own counsel with regard to Aunt Philippa and Jill, for I hadmade up my mind to go up to Hyde Park Gate as soon as they had returned, and tell them myself. But I wrote to Lesbia, with strong injunctions ofsecrecy. 

The answer came by return of post. 

It was a most loving, unselfish little letter, and touched me greatly. 

'I shall be your bridesmaid, Ursula, ' it said, 'whether you ask me ornot. Nothing will keep me away that day. I shall love to be there fordear Charlie's sake. 

'The news has made me so happy. Mother scolded me when she found mecrying over your letter, but she cried herself too. We both agreed thatno one deserved happiness more. I am longing to see your Mr. Hamilton, Ursie dear. He has one great virtue in my eyes already, that heappreciates you, ' and so on, in Lesbia's gentle, sisterly way. 

The fact of our engagement made a great sensation in the place. Peoplewho had hitherto ignored the village nurse came to call on me. I supposecuriosity to see Mr. Hamilton's _fiancée_ brought a good many of them. 

My new position was not without its difficulties. Giles, who wasimpatient and domineering by nature, chafed much against the restraintsimposed upon him by my loneliness. 

His brief calls did not suffice him. I would not let him come often orstay long. Max asked us to the vicarage sometimes, and now and thenGladys or Lady Betty would call for me and carry me off to Gladwyn forthe evening; and of course I saw Giles frequently when he visited hispatients, but with his dislike to conventionality it was rather difficultto keep him in good-humour. He could not be made to see why I should notmarry him at once and put an end to this awkward state of things. 

We had our first lovers' quarrel on this point, --our first and ourlast, --for I never had to complain of my dear Giles again. 

I think hearing about Lady Betty's long engagement with Claude Hamiltonhad made him very sore. He had been bitterly angry both with poor littleLady Betty and also with Gladys. He declared the secrecy had hurt himmore than anything; but Eric acted as peacemaker, and he was soon inducedto condone his sisters' trangression. 

He came down to talk over the matter with me, and to tell me of thearrangements he had made for them. 

It seemed that a letter from Claude had arrived that very mail; tellingGiles of his promotion, and asking leave to come and fetch his dearlittle Lady Betty. It was an honest, manly letter, Giles said; and asClaude was in a better position, and Lady Betty had five thousand poundsof her own, there seemed no reason against their marrying. 

He had talked to both Max and Gladys, and they were willing that Claudeand Lady Betty should be married at the same time. The New Year had beenalready fixed for Gladys's, and Max meant to get leave of absence for twoor three months and take her to Algiers; and as Claude would have tostart for India early in March, Giles thought the double wedding would bebest. They could get their _trousseaux_ together, and the fuss would begot over more easily. 

I expressed myself as charmed with all these arrangements, for I thoughtit would be very dull for Lady Betty to be left behind at Gladwyn; andthen I asked Giles what he had settled about Eric. 

He told me that Eric was still undecided, but he rather thought of goingto Cirencester to enter the agricultural college there. 

'You see, Ursula, ' he went on, 'the lad is a bit restless. He has givenup his absurd idea of becoming an artist, --I never did believe in thosedaubs of his, --but he feels he can never settle down to city life. He isvery much improved, far more manly and sensible than I ever hoped to seehim; but he is of different calibre from myself, '

'Do you think farming will suit him?' I asked anxiously. 

'Better than anything else, I should say, ' was the reply. 'Eric is anactive, capable fellow, and he was always fond of out-door pursuits. Heis young enough to learn. I have promised to keep Dorlicote Farm in myown hands until he is ready to take it. It is only ten miles from here, and has a very good house attached to it, and Eric will find himself inclover. ' Then, as though some other thought were uppermost in his mind, he continued, 'I am so glad that you and he are such friends, Ursula, forhe will often take up his quarters at Gladwyn. '

It was after this that Giles asked me to marry him at once. He wasstrangely unreasonable that morning, and very much bent on having his ownway. My objections were overruled one by one; he absolutely refused tolisten to my arguments when I tried to show him how much wiser it wouldbe to have his sisters and Eric settled before he brought me home asmistress to Gladwyn. 

It was the first time our wills had clashed; and, though I knew that Iwas right and that he was wholly in the wrong, it was very painful for meto refuse his loving importunities and to turn a deaf ear when he told mehow he was longing for his wife; but I held firmly to my two points, thatI would settle nothing without Aunt Philippa's advice, and that I wouldnot marry him until Easter. 

I told him so very gently, but Giles was not quite like himself that day. Lady Betty's secrecy was still rankling in his mind, and he certainlyused his power over me to make me very unhappy, for he accused me ofcoldness and over-prudence, and reproached me with my want of confidencein his judgment. My pride took fire at last, and rose in arms against histyranny. 'You must listen to me, Giles, ' I returned, trying to keep downa choking feeling. 'You are not quite just to me to-day, but you do notmean what you say. You will be sorry afterwards for your words. If I donot accede to your wishes, it is not because I do not love you wellenough to marry you to-morrow, if it were expedient to do so; but underthe circumstances it will be wiser to wait. I will marry you at Easter, If Uncle Max comes back by that time, for neither you nor I would likeany one else to perform the ceremony. Will you not be content with this?'

'No, ' he returned gloomily. 'You are keeping me waiting for a merescruple: neither Gladys nor Lady Betty would say a dissenting word ifI brought you to Gladwyn at once. You are disappointing me very much, Ursula. I could not have believed that my wishes were so little to you. 'But he was not able to finish this cutting speech, for I could bear nomore, and suddenly burst into such an agony of tears that Giles was quitefrightened. 

I found out then the goodness of his heart and his deep unselfishaffection for me. He reproached himself bitterly for causing me suchpain, begged my pardon a dozen times for his ill temper, and so coaxedand petted me that I could not refuse to be comforted. 

He laughed and kissed me when I implored him to take back his words aboutmy coldness. 

'My darling!--as though I meant it!' he said; but he had the grace tolook very much ashamed of himself. 'Of course you were right, --you alwaysare, Ursula: we will wait until Easter if you think it best. MissPrudence shall have her own way in the matter; but I will not wait a daylonger for all the Uncle Maxes in the world. ' And so we settled it. 

I remember how I tried to make up to Giles for his disappointment, and toshow him how much I cared for him. We were dining at the vicarage thatevening with Gladys and Eric, and as he walked home with me in themoonlight he took me to task very gently for being too good to him. 

'You have been like a little angel this evening, Ursula, and I have notdeserved it. I believe I love you far more for not giving me my own way. It was pure selfishness: I see it now. '

'I hope it is the last time that your will will not be mine, ' I answered, rather sadly. 'If you knew what it cost me to refuse you, Giles!' But oneof his rare smiles answered me. 

It was the end of September when I went up to Hyde Park Gate to tell mywonderful piece of news to Aunt Philippa and Jill. Jill was very naughtyat first, and declared that she should forbid the banns; her dear Ursulashould not marry that ugly man. But she changed her opinion after a longconversation with Giles, and then her enthusiasm knew no bounds. It wasamusing to see the admiring awe with which Aunt Philippa looked at me. Myengagement had raised her opinion of me a hundredfold. I was no longerthe plain eccentric Ursula in her eyes; the future Mrs. Hamilton was aperson of far greater consequence. 

I could see that her surprise could scarcely be concealed. I used tonotice her eyes fixed on me sometimes in a wondering way. She told Lesbiathat she could hardly understand such brilliant prospects for dearUrsula. I had not Sara's good looks; and yet I was marrying a far richerman than Colonel Ferguson. 

'I think Mr. Hamilton a very distinguished man, my dear, ' she continued, much to Lesbia's amusement. 'He is peculiar-looking, certainly, and alittle too dark for my taste; but his manners are charming, and he iscertainly very much in love with Ursula. She looks very nice, and is verymuch improved; but still, one hardly expected such a match for her. '

Lesbia retailed this little speech with much gusto. Dear Aunt Philippa!she certainly did her duty by me then: nothing could exceed her kindnessand motherliness. And Sara came very often, looking the prettiest andhappiest young matron in the world, and almost overwhelmed me with adviceand petting. 

They had come to the conclusion that my position was a somewhat awkwardone, and that it would not do for me to go on living at the WhiteCottage. They wanted me to give up my work at Heathfield until after mymarriage; and at last Aunt Philippa conceived the brilliant idea oftaking a house at Brighton for the winter. 

'You have never liked Hyde Park Gate, Ursula, ' she said, very kindly;'and we shall all be glad to escape London fogs this year: your unclewill not mind the expense, and I think the plan will suit admirably. Heathfield is only twenty minutes from Brighton, and Mr. Hamilton will beable to visit you far more comfortably, and you can sleep a night or twoat Sara's when you want to go up to London to get your _trousseau_. '

I thanked Aunt Philippa warmly for her kind thought, and then I wrote toGiles, and asked his opinion. I found that he entirely agreed with AuntPhilippa. 

'I think it an excellent plan, dear, ' he wrote; 'and you must thank yourgood aunt for her consideration for us both. I shall see you far oftenerat Brighton than at the White Cottage. Miss Prudence will be less activethere: I shall be allowed to enjoy a reasonable conversation without thespeech--"Oh, do please go away now, Giles; you have been here nearly anhour"--that invariably closed our cottage interviews. ' I could see Gileswas really pleased with Aunt Philippa's proposition, so I promised to goback to Heathfield and settle my affairs, and join them directly thehouse in Brunswick Place was ready; and by the middle of October we wereall settled comfortably for the winter. 

I found Giles was right. I saw him oftener, and there was less restrainton our intercourse. He would come over to luncheon whenever he had aleisure day, and take me for a walk, or drop in to dinner and take thelast train back. Gladys and Lady Betty came over perpetually. I used tohelp them with their shopping, and often go back with them for a fewhours. Max was also a frequent visitor, and Mr. Tudor. Aunt Philippa keptopen house, and made all my visitors welcome. I think she was a littlesorry that Mr. Tudor came so perseveringly: but she was true to herprinciples to let things take their course and not to fan the flame byopposition. She was always kind to the young man, and though shegenerally contrived to keep Jill beside her when he dropped in forafternoon tea or encountered them on the parade, she did it so quietlythat no one noticed any significance in the action. 

But I think Aunt Philippa's maternal fears would have been up in arms ifshe had overheard a conversation between Jill and myself one wintryafternoon. 

Aunt Philippa had gone up to town to see Sara, who was a little ailing, and she and Uncle Brian were to return later. Gladys and Giles were todine with us, and Max would probably join them. Aunt Philippa was veryfond of these impromptu entertainments, but she had not extended theinvitation to Mr. Tudor, who had called the previous day, and I had gotit into my head that Jill was a little disappointed. 

She sat rather soberly by the fire that afternoon; but when MissGillespie left us she took her usual seat on the rug, and her black locksbobbed into my lap as usual, but I thought the firelight played on a veryserious face. 

'What makes you so silent this afternoon, Jill?' I asked, rathercuriously; but she did not answer for a moment, only drew down myhand, and looked at the diamonds that were flashing in the ruddyblaze, --Giles's pledge that he had placed there; then she laid her cheekagainst them, and said suddenly--

'I was only thinking, Ursie dear: I often think about things. Do youremember that evening at Hyde Park Gate when the lamp fell on me, andI might have been burnt to death?'

'Oh yes, Jill, ' with a shudder, for I never cared to recall that scene. 

'Well, I was thinking, ' still dreamily. Then, with a change of mannerthat startled me, 'Ursie, if a person saves another person's life, don'tyou think that life ought to belong to them?--that is, if they wish it?'with a sudden blush that rather alarmed me. 

'Stop, my dear, ' I returned coolly. 'This is very vague. I do not thinkI quite understand. A person and another person, and them, too: it isterribly involved. Which is which? As the children say. '

Jill gave a nervous little laugh, but her eyes gave me no doubt of hermeaning: they looked strangely dark and soft. 

'Mr. Tudor saved my life, ' she whispered. 'Ursie, if he wants it, thatlife ought to belong to him. '

'Jill, my dear, ' for I was thoroughly startled now. Things were growingserious; but Jill gave me a little push in her childish way. 

'Ursie, don't pretend to look so surprised: you knew all about it: I sawit in your face. Don't you remember what he said that night, that he didnot know what would become of him if I died, that he could not bear it?Did you see how he looked when he said it?'

I remained silent, for I could not deny that Mr. Tudor had betrayedhimself at that moment; but she went on very quietly, 'Ursie dear, I knowMr. Tudor cares for me; he does not always hide it, though he tries to doso. You see he is so real and honest that he cannot help showing things. '

'Jill, ' I exclaimed anxiously, 'what would your mother say if she knewthis?'

'I think she does know it, ' replied Jill calmly. 'She does not care forMr. Tudor to come so often, but she is good to him all the same. Neitherfather nor mother will be pleased about it, because he is not rich, poorfellow; not that I think that matters, ' finished Jill, in a grave, old-fashioned manner. 

'My dear child, ' in a horrified tone, 'you talk as though you were sureof your own mind, and you are hardly seventeen. '

'So I am sure, ' was the confused answer. 'If Mr. Tudor cares enough forme to wait for a good many years, --until I am one-and-twenty, --he willfind me all ready: of course I belong to him, Ursula: has he not saved mylife? There is no hurry, ' went on Jill, in her matter-of-fact way; 'he isvery nice, and I shall always like him better than any one else; butI should not care to be engaged until I am one-and-twenty. One wantsa little fun and a good deal of work before settling down into an engagedperson, ' finished the girl, with a droll little laugh. 

I was spared the necessity of any reply to this surprising confession bythe entrance of our three visitors, for Max had encountered them at thestation, of course by accident, and had walked up with them. That factwas sufficient to account for Gladys's soft bloom and the satisfied lookin her eyes: she looked so lovely in the new furs Giles had bought her, that I did not wonder that Max was a little absent in his replies to me. Jill had made some excuse and left us, and it was really a very goodidea of Giles's to ask me to come out on the balcony and look at the sea. He wrapped me in his plaid and placed me in a sheltered corner, and westood watching the twinkling lights, and the dark water under the glimmerof starlight. He had a great deal to tell me, first how happy Eric was inhis new work, and what cheerful letters he wrote to Gladys, and nextabout Captain Hamilton, with whom he professed himself much pleased. 

'Lady Betty is just as much a child as ever. It is ridiculous to think ofher as a married woman, ' he went on; 'but Claude declares himself to beperfectly satisfied. Well, there is no accounting for tastes, ' with achange of intonation that was very intelligible. 

'And how is Phoebe, Giles?'

'Oh, first-rate, ' he answered cheerfully; 'she likes her new couch muchbetter than the bed. I tell her if she goes on improving like this weshall have her in the next room before Easter. By the bye, Ursula, haveyou digested the contents of my last letter? Shall we go to the Pyreneesto spend our honeymoon? It will be too early for Switzerland; we mightgo later on, or to the Italian lakes. '

'Anywhere with you, Giles, ' I whispered; and he gave me silent thanks forthat pretty speech. 

He did not say any more for a little time, and I stood by him watchingthe dark, wintry sea. Once my life had been dark and wintry too, but howmercifully I had been drawn out of the deep waters and brought to thisdear haven of rest! As I crept nearer to Giles he seemed to utter myunspoken thought. 

'I am very happy to-night, Ursula, I have been thinking as I travelleddown what it will be to me to have you always near me, to share my workand life. I am so glad you love Gladwyn so dearly. '

'Love Gladwyn, --your home, Giles: is there anything strange in that?'

'No, dear, perhaps not; but I like to hear you say so. There will notbe a wish of yours ungratified if I can help it. I mean to spoil youdreadfully, Ursula. '

I told him, smiling, that I was not afraid of this threat, and just thenMax's voice interrupted us:

'Little she-bear, do you know this is dreadfully imprudent? Is this theway Hamilton means to take care of you?'

'Wait a moment, Ursula, ' whispered Giles. 'Do you hear that ballad-singerin the square?' A voice clear and shrill seemed to float to us in thedarkness: 'Sweet and low, sweet and low, wind of the western sea, ' shesang. The waves seemed to splash in harmonious accompaniment; the lightswere flickering, the carriages rolling under the faint starlight. I sawGiles's face--as I loved to see it--grave, thoughtful, and satisfied. 

'After all, ' he said, as though answering some inward questioning, 'a mancannot know what his life will bring him. Do you remember what RobertBrowning says:

"What o' the way to the end?--The end crowns all. "

The end crowns all to me, Ursula. ' And Giles's deep-set eyes gave me nodoubt of his meaning.