[Illustration: The old lady tapped her stick impatiently on the hardgravel. 

PAGE 36. ]

ROBIN REDBREAST

A STORY FOR GIRLS

BY

MRS MOLESWORTH

AUTHOR OF 'CARROTS;' 'THE PALACE IN THE GARDEN;' 'A CHARGE FULFILLED;''IMOGEN;' 'THE BEWITCHED LAMP, ' etc. 

WITH SIX ILLUSTRATIONS BY ROBERT BARNES

W. & R. CHAMBERS, LIMITEDLONDON AND EDINBURGH

 A good old country lodge, half hid with blooms Of honeyed green, and quaint with straggling rooms. 

 LEIGH HUNT. 

 Give me simplicity, that I may know Thy ways, Know them and practise them. 

 GEORGE HERBERT. 

CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER PAGE

I. THE HOUSE IN THE LANE 7

II. THE OLD LADY 23

III. TWO JACINTHS 39

IV. A LETTER AND A DISCUSSION 54

V. AN OLD STORY 69

VI. BESSIE'S MISGIVINGS 84

VII. AN INVITATION 99

VIII. DELICATE GROUND 116

IX. THE INDIAN MAIL 135

X. THE HARPERS' HOME 150

XI. GREAT NEWS 164

XII. '"CAMILLA" AND "MARGARET, " YES' 181

XIII. MAMMA 192

XIV. A COURAGEOUS PLEADER 206

XV. LADY MYRTLE'S INTENTIONS 224

XVI. A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT 239

XVII. TWO DEGREES OF HONESTY 255

XVIII. I WILL THINK IT OVER 270

XIX. UNCLE MARMY'S GATES 281

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

THE OLD LADY TAPPED HER STICK IMPATIENTLY ON THEHARD GRAVEL _Frontispiece_

AND THEN FRANCES RELATED THE WHOLE, MARGARET LISTENINGINTENTLY TILL ALMOST THE END Page 75

JACINTH'S BROWS CONTRACTED, AND THE LINES OF HERDELICATE FACE HARDENED, BUT SHE SAID NOTHING 141

JACINTH SAT DOWN ON A STOOL AT LADY MYRTLE'S FEETAND LOOKED UP IN HER FACE 177

'IT IS SO GOOD OF YOU, MEETING ME LIKE THIS, ' THEYOUNGER WOMAN WHISPERED 207

'AH WELL!' SAID LADY MYRTLE, 'ANOTHER DREAM VANISHED!' 243

ROBIN REDBREAST. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE HOUSE IN THE LANE. 

It stood not very far from the corner--the corner where the lane turnedoff from the high-road. And it suited its name, or its name suited it. It was such a pretty, cosy-looking house, much larger really than itseemed at the first glance, for it spread out wonderfully at the back. 

It was red too--the out-jutting front, where the deep porch was, lookingspecially red, in contrast with the wings, which were entirely coveredwith ivy, while this centre was kept clear of any creepers. And high up, almost in the roof, two curious round windows, which caught andreflected the sunset glow--for the front was due west--over the top ofthe wall, itself so ivy grown that it seemed more like a hedge, mighteasily have been taken as representing two bright, watchful eyes. Forthese windows were, or always looked as if they were, spotlessly cleanand shining. 

'What a quaint name! how uncommon and picturesque!' people used to saythe first time they saw the house and heard what it was called. I don'tknow if it will spoil the prettiness and the quaintness if I reveal itsreal origin. Not so _very_ long ago, the old house was a queer, ramblinginn, and its sign was the redbreasted bird himself; somewhere up in theattics, the ancient board that used to swing and creak of a windy night, was still hidden--it may perhaps be there to this day! And somebody (itdoes not matter who, for it was not any somebody that has to do withthis story) took a fancy to the house--fast growing dilapidated, and indanger of sinking from a respectable old inn into a very undesirablepublic-house, for the coaches had left off running, and the old trafficwas all at an end--and bought it just in time to save it from suchdegradation. 

This somebody repaired and restored it to a certain extent, and thensold it again. The new owner enlarged and improved it, and built thehigh wall which now looked so venerable; for already this was many, manyyears ago. The present owner of Robin Redbreast was the daughter of thisgentleman--or nobleman rather--and she had lived in it ever since thedeath of her husband, fully twenty years ago. 

She was an old woman now. Her name was Lady Myrtle Goodacre. TheGoodacres, her husband's family, belonged to a distant county, and when_her_ Mr Goodacre died, her connection with his part of the countryseemed to cease, for she had no children, and her thoughts turned to theneighbourhood of her own old home, and the pretty quaint house not veryfar from it, which had been left her by her father, the late earl. Andthither she came. But she was not exactly a sociable old lady, and fewof the Thetford people knew her. So that there grew to be a slightflavour of mystery about Robin Redbreast. 

The lane was about three-quarters of a mile from the little town ofThetford. Not that it was a little town in its own estimation; likemany small things, it thought itself decidedly important. It was apleasant, healthy place, and of late years it had wakened up a good dealin some directions, of which education was one, so that several familieswith boys and girls in want of schooling came and settled there. For thegrammar-school was now prospering under an excellent and energetichead-master, and there was talk of a high-school for girls. 

But this latter institution was still in the clouds or the air, and sofar, the girls of Thetford families had to content themselves with theteaching to be obtained at two steady-going, somewhat old-fashionedprivate schools, of which the respective heads were, oddly enough, theMisses Scarlett and the Misses Green. There were three Misses Scarlettand two Misses Green (I fear they were more often described as 'The MissScarletts' and 'The Miss Greens'), and all five were ladies of mostestimable character. 

There was no rivalry between the two schools. Each had and held its ownplace and line. Ivy Lodge and Brook Bank were perfectly distinct, sodistinct that neither trod on the other's toes. The former, thatpresided over by the Scarlett sisters, was recognisedly for thedaughters of the Thetford upper ten thousand; Brook Bank existed for thelittle maidens belonging to the shopkeepers and small farmers of andnear the town. Nowadays a high-school would ignore such distinctions andabsorb them all--whether for better or worse is a matter of opinion. Butas things were, I don't think any harm came from the division ofclasses; thanks in great measure, very probably, to the good sense andfeeling of the heads of the two schools. On the rare occasions on whichthe Misses Scarlett met the Misses Green--at great parish entertainmentsor fancy fairs--the latter gave precedence to the former with ready andsmiling deference, sure to be graciously acknowledged by oldwhite-haired Miss Scarlett with a kindly hand-shake or 'Many thanks, Miss Green;' the younger sisters following suit. For the Scarletts werewell-born, much better born, indeed, than some of their pupils, and theGreens had got themselves educated with difficulty, and in their presentposition were higher on the social ladder than any of their progenitorshad ever been--higher socially and more successful practically than theythemselves had in past days dared to hope to be. Financially speaking, it was well known in Thetford that the Greens had made a much betterthing of their school than the Scarletts. The Scarletts were inclined tobe too liberal and too generous. Their boarders were in many instancesthe children of former friends or connections, who found it convenientto trade upon such ties when the questions and difficulties of educationarose, and to suggest that _their_ daughters might be taken on adifferent footing. 

In a side-street running out of the market-place stood a few well-built, old, red-brick houses, which were considered among the 'best' residencesin Thetford. No two of them were exactly alike: some were nearly twiceas large as the others; one was high and narrow, its neighbour short andbroad. They were only alike in this, that they all opened straight on tothe wide pavement, and had walled-in, sunny gardens at the back. 

In one of the smaller of these houses--a prim, thin-looking house, tootall for its breadth--lived a maiden lady, well known by some of theThetford folk, not indeed _unknown_ to any, for she had made her home inthe town for many years. Her name was Miss Mildmay, or to be quitecorrect, Miss Alison Mildmay. For the actual Miss Mildmay was herniece, a very young girl whom you will hear more about presently. 

Miss Alison Mildmay was a very old friend of the Misses Scarlett. 

At Number 9 Market Square Place--that was the name of the short row ofhouses I have described--some six months or so before the date at whichI think this story may really be said to begin, there had been anarrival one evening. 

It was late October: the days were drawing in; it was almost dark whenthe fly from the two-miles-off railway station--I should have explainedthat there was no station at Thetford; the inhabitants had petitionedagainst the railway coming near them, and now their children had tosuffer the inconvenience of this shortsightedness as best theymight--drew up at Miss Mildmay's door, and out of it stepped fourpeople--three children, and a young man scarcely more than a boy. Therewere two girls, looking about twelve and fourteen, a little fellow ofsix or seven, and the young man. 

They were all in mourning, and they were all very silent, though in themomentary delay before the door was opened, the eldest member of theparty found time to whisper to the girls a word or two of encouragement. 

'Try to be cheery, darlings, ' he said. 'There's nothing to be afraid of, you know. '

'I'm not afraid, Uncle Marmy, ' replied the elder; 'I'm only _awfully_dull. If--oh, if Francie and I were old enough for you to be going totake us out to papa and mamma. Oh, if only'----

'Hush, ' whispered Uncle Marmy. He looked young to be an uncle, youngerstill to be, as he was, a full-fledged lieutenant in the 200th. 'Hush, dear, ' as the door opened. 

Miss Mildmay was at home--it would have been strange had she not beenso, considering that she had known for quite a week the exact day andhour at which her guests were expected. But it would have seemed lessstrange and more natural had she been there in the hall, hurryingforward to meet them, instead of waiting, to all appearance calmlyenough, in the long bare drawing-room, into which the parlour-maid atonce ushered them. She was a small woman, neat and pleasing inappearance, and her manner was sufficiently cordial as she came forward;though the reverse of demonstrative, it was dry rather than cold. 

'You are very punctual, ' she said as she kissed the children and shookhands with their young escort, saying as she did so, 'Mr Denison, Ipresume?'

'Yes, ' he replied; adding in a cheerful tone, 'it is a case ofintroducing ourselves all round. You have never seen my--"our" I maysay--nieces and nephew before?'

'No, ' said Miss Mildmay. 'I am a very, an exceedingly busy person, and Irarely leave home, and never have visitors. So, though my brother'schildren have been so many years in England, they might have been asmany more without our meeting, but for--these unforeseen circumstances. '

It seemed as if some less vague expression had been on her lips, butglancing round, she had caught sight of a tremulous flutter amidst theblack garments of the two girls seated beside her--the elder stretchingout her hand to clasp her sister's. Miss Alison Mildmay dreaded 'scenes'of all things; possibly, too, she felt conscious that her words soundedharsh. For she added quickly, 'Of course, I don't count these youngfolk as visitors. I hope they will very soon feel quite at home here, and no doubt we shall fall into each other's ways nicely. '

The little speech cost her an effort; but she was rewarded for it. Marmaduke Denison could not restrain an audible sigh of relief. 

'Thank you, ' he said, with what sounded almost exaggerated fervour, 'thank you so much. It is--it has been very good of you to--to arrangeas you have done. I assure you my sister and Mildmay appreciate itthoroughly. '

A shade of stiffness returned again to her manner. 

'I quite understand my brother, ' she said coldly. And though Uncle Marmywas too deeply in earnest to mind the snub, he wished he had answeredless effusively. 

'Do you think Eugene is like his father?' he said quietly, drawingforward the little fellow, who had been standing somewhat in thebackground. 

The aunt's face softened again. And truly the boy was a pleasant objectfor her eyes to rest upon. He was very fair as to hair and complexion, though his eyes were dark and wistful; he was an extremely pretty child. 

'Yes, ' she said more cordially than she had yet spoken. 'He is likeFrank, but he has his mother's eyes. '

Again the feeling of relief stole over the young man. 

'She can't be so cold as she seems, ' he reflected. 'I fancy I could geton with her, and I daresay Francie and Eugene will. It is Jacinth I amanxious about. ' And he glanced at the elder girl, as the thought passedthrough his mind. So far neither she nor her sister had spoken. Jacinthsat there with a grave, almost expressionless face, her lips compressedin a way which her uncle knew well. And suddenly he became aware of acurious thing. It almost made him smile. This was an undoubtedresemblance between his elder niece and her aunt!

'I wonder how that will work, ' he thought. 'I wonder if it is onlysuperficial or if it goes deeper? If so, I hope poor Jass will have awider life than has evidently fallen to the lot of this good lady. ' Andthen, as it struck him that they were all sitting silent in mostconstrained discomfort, he thrust aside his reflections and forced hisattention to return to the present. 

'Perhaps I had better be looking up my quarters at the inn, ' he said, rising. 'I found I could get up to town practically almost as early bythe morning's express as by a night train. So if you will allow me, MissMildmay, I will look in first thing to-morrow for another glimpse ofthese little people. '

'But you will return to dine--at least not to dine, but--well, call ithigh tea or supper, whichever you like, ' said his hostess, cordially. 'Unless, of course, you prefer'----

Marmaduke stood irresolute. He was desperately afraid of annoying MissMildmay. 

'Oh no, of course not, ' he began, 'but I'm'----

A sudden impulse seized Jacinth. She felt as if she must dosomething--if she sat still a moment longer she would burst into tears. She sprang to her feet and caught her uncle's arm. 'Oh, _do_ come back, Marmy, ' she said. 'You don't know. --Aunt Alison, do say he must. '

'Of course he must, ' said Miss Mildmay. 'I am not going out this eveningas I usually do. I have given myself a holiday in honour of yourarrival, so pray come back as soon as you have ordered your room at the_Swan_, Mr Denison, ' And Marmaduke smilingly consented. 

This little incident seemed to have thawed them all. 

'I will show you your rooms now, ' said Miss Mildmay, when, the young manhad gone. 'You two girls are to be together of course, and Eugene'slittle room is on the next floor. '

Eugene, who was following with his sister Frances, whose hand he held, here squeezed it while he looked up in her face with anxiety. 

'Never mind, ' she whispered. 'It's quite a little house compared togranny's, Eugene. You can't be far away. Very likely you'll be justoverhead, and so if you want us in the night you can knock on thefloor. '

This seemed to satisfy the child, and the sight of his room, whichthough small was bright and cheerful, went still further to reassurehim. 

'It will be nice to have a room of my own, ' he said bravely. 'Atgranny's I slept in the night nursery with nurse. '

'But you're a big boy now, you know, ' said Jacinth, hastily, as ifafraid of her aunt thinking him babyish. 

'Yes, of course, ' agreed Miss Mildmay. 'I cannot promise you that youwill find everything here the same as at your poor grandmother's. Youalways called her your grandmother, I suppose, ' she went on, turning toJacinth, 'though she was not really any blood relation. '

The girl's lip quivered, but she controlled herself. 'We--we neverthought about that, ' she said. 'And then, of course, she was UncleManny's own mother, and we are so _very_ fond of him. '

'Ah! he seems a nice young fellow, but so very young, and Mrs Denisonwas quite elderly. But she was more than middle-aged when she married, of course, ' said Miss Mildmay. 

There was a slight, almost indescribable tone of condescension ordisparagement in her voice, the reason of which I will explain. Both thegirls were conscious of it, but it affected them in different ways. 

'Ye--es, ' began Jacinth, hesitatingly, 'I know'----

But Frances here broke in eagerly. 

'You are not explaining it properly to Aunt Alison, Jacinth. You knowyou're not. It wasn't only or principally for Uncle Marmy's sake that weloved dear granny. She was as sweet and good to us as she could be, andI'd have loved her awfully if she hadn't been--been any relation--atall;' but here the little girl ignominiously burst into tears. 

Miss Mildmay the elder glanced at her with scant sympathy. 

'I suppose she is over-tired, poor child, ' she said to Jacinth. 'I willleave you to take off your things. Come down as soon as you can; youwill feel better when you have had something to eat;' and she turned togo. They were standing in the girls' own room. But at the door shepaused a moment. 'Shall I send up Phebe?' she said. 'That is the younggirl I have engaged to wait upon you three. No, perhaps, ' as her eyesfell on the still weeping Frances, 'it would be better to wait a little. Just take off your outdoor things. The trunks will be brought up whilewe are at tea, and then Phebe can begin to unpack. '

She was scarcely out of hearing when Jacinth turned upon her sister. 'I'm ashamed of you, Frances, ' she said. 'Crying and sobbing like that, when you can see Aunt Alison isn't the sort of person to have anypatience with silliness! Such a beginning to have made! And it isn't asif it was really about--about poor granny. ' Here it must be owned hervoice faltered. 'It was just that you were vexed with me. '

'Well, and if I was, ' replied Frances, drying her eyes and swallowingdown her sobs. 'I don't like you to speak coldly of granny, for you didlove her in your heart, I know, dearly. Aunt Alison looks down upon her, just because she wasn't quite--no, she _was_ quite a lady--but becauseshe wasn't at all grand. And there's some excuse for her, because shedidn't know her. But for us it would be _too_ horrid, when she was sogood to us, even all those years she was so suffering and feeble. Andthen, for Uncle Manny's sake too. '

'There now, ' said Jacinth, not sorry to turn aside the reproach whichconscience told her she had merited. 'You are saying the very thing youblamed me for--but truly, Francie, I didn't mean anything not nice todear granny. I felt that Aunt Alison couldn't _understand_ what she was;and--and--it was no use seeming to take up the cudgels for our otherrelations the moment we came. '

There was something in this, and no doubt a reluctance to discuss theirgrandmother with a stranger, and a prejudiced stranger, had mingled withJacinth's desire to propitiate her aunt. So the sisters kissed and madefriends, and when a few minutes afterwards they went down-stairs, and MrDenison made his appearance again, the traces of tears had all butvanished from Frances's fair face. 

The two girls had been five years in England, little Eugene three; andduring all these years, owing to exceptional circumstances and unluckycoincidences, they had never seen their parents. Nor was there anyprospect of their doing so for three or four years to come. All thistime had been spent under the care of their mother's step-mother, MrsDenison, whose recent death had thrown them again, in a sense, on theworld, and the best Colonel Mildmay could arrange for them was thesomewhat unwilling guardianship of his elder sister Alison. She was anhonourable and well-meaning woman, who had found her own sphere inactive good works among the poor of Thetford. But she did not understandor care for children, and the charge of her nieces and nephew she onlyaccepted as a duty. 

'I will do my best, ' she wrote to the parents in India, 'but I dare notpromise that it will be all you could wish. Still there are undoubtedlyadvantages here, in the way of schools, and the place is healthy. I willgive what time I can to the children, but I cannot give up all mypresent responsibilities and occupations. You would not expect it. Ifear the children may find my rules strict, for--owing to Mrs Denison'slong ill-health and peculiarly gentle character--I think it scarcely tobe expected that they are not somewhat spoilt. '

She was right. It scarcely _was_ to be expected. It was marvellous thatthe girls and their little brother were not more 'spoilt. ' Mrs Denisonadored them, and could see no fault in them. Nor was she in any sense aclever or strong-minded woman. Of inferior birth to her latehusband--the daughter of merely the village doctor--she had married himwhen she was nearly forty, making the kindest of stepmothers to his onlychild, now Mrs Mildmay; loving her in no sense less devotedly than sheloved her own son, Marmaduke, the child of Mr Denison's old age--theUncle Marmy, who was more like an elder brother than an uncle to thelittle trio sent home to his mother's care. 

But Mrs Denison was so essentially _good_, so single-minded andtruthful, that her influence, even her too great unselfishness for theirsake, had not radically injured her grandchildren. Her death had beenpreceded by a slow and gradual decline--none of those about hersuspected the extent of the sufferings she hid so resolutely under acalm and cheerful exterior--and the end came gently with no bitternessor shock. Even to Marmaduke, though he loved her devotedly, she hadseemed more like a grandmother than a mother, and her gradual enforcedwithdrawal from the family life had prepared him and the girls for whathad to be. 

Perhaps the full realisation of their loss only came home to them, whenthe question of where they were all to go was decided by a letter fromColonel Mildmay, telling of his arrangement with his sister, and byMarmaduke's receiving orders to start almost at once for India. 

'I'm glad they didn't come before, ' he said. 'If only I could take youall out with me;' for his regiment was that of his brother-in-law. 

'Yes indeed--if only!' said Jacinth, as she said again that firstevening at Thetford. 

Stannesley, the Denisons' old home, was to be let. Though not a verylarge place, it was expensive to keep up, and Marmaduke was somewhatshort of ready money, and not as yet ambitious of the quiet life of acountry squire. His father had been easy-going, his mother no speciallyendowed woman of business; things had suffered, and rents had gone down. It would need some years' economy before the young man could retire tolive in the old liberal way. But he did not mind; the world was beforehim, and he loved his profession. 

That first evening in Market Square Place passed on the whole morecheerfully than might have been expected. Miss Mildmay was practicallykind--more self-denying than her guests realised, for out ofconsideration for them, she had renounced attendance that evening at acommittee meeting of which she was the ruling spirit, and those whoknew her well would have seen that to sit for two or three hours 'withher hands before her, ' in her drawing-room, made her feel sadly like afish out of water. 

But the four new-comers were too preoccupied to observe herrestlessness; the younger ones were tired too, and anxious for them tofeel as cheerful as possible the next day, their uncle left early, advising Miss Mildmay to send them all off to bed. 

'I am not leaving till twelve o'clock after all, ' he said, 'so, if youhave no objection I'll call in about half-past ten, and take these threeyoung people a walk. I'd like to see something of Thetford: its looks sopretty. '

It was something to look forward to--another glimpse of the dear kindboyish face. And with the thought of the next morning's walk together, in their mind, the girls went to bed, and got up in good time for theiraunt's early breakfast, trying to look and feel as cheerful as theycould. 

Marmaduke was more than punctual. It was barely ten o'clock when he rangat the door and came in briskly, saying it was such a lovely day he hadthought it a pity to lose any of it. 

It could not be anything but a sad walk, though they all tried topretend it was not, and Uncle Marmy talked very fast and made all sortsof jokes, which Jacinth and Frances saw through, though they made Eugenelaugh. 

'Thetford's a very pretty place, really, ' said Jacinth. 'There arelovely walks on every side, I should think. Do you suppose we shall gowalks with the girls at our school, Uncle Marmy, or by ourselves withPhebe?'

'By yourselves, I should think. You are only to be at school till oneo'clock, ' he replied. 

'Oh, that will be much nicer, ' said both the girls; 'we shall explorethe neighbourhood. Oh what a pretty lane!' for they were just thenpassing Robin Redbreast corner. 'Do let us go down it a little way, uncle, ' added Frances, 'I see what looks like a gate into a garden. '

And a moment or two later, the four stood, breathless with admiration, in front of the great gates in the high ivy-covered wall I havedescribed. 

The clear spring sunshine was falling brightly on the quaint old house;what of the garden could be seen was exquisitely neat and trim; RobinRedbreast was looking charming. 

'What a _delicious_ old house!' said Jacinth. 'I wonder who lives here?'and she gave a little sigh. 'Now, Uncle Marmy, wouldn't it be perfectlylovely if papa's time was out, and he and mamma had come home and wewere all going to live here--just _fancy_!'

'It's awfully pretty, ' said Marmaduke, 'but when your father's time's upI want you all to come back to live at Stannesley with me. '

Jacinth laughed. 

'No, that wouldn't do, ' she said. 'You'd be getting married. No, itwould be much the nicest for us to live here and you at Stannesley, andfor us to pay each other lovely visits. Of course we'd always betogether at Christmas and times like that. And your wife must be very, _very_ nice--like a sort of elder sister to us, you know, and'----

'My darlings, ' said poor Marmy, to whom it had suddenly occurred to lookat his watch, 'time's up--or just about it. We must hurry back. '

'Let's say good-bye here, ' said Frances. 'Let's kiss you here, darlinguncle, not before Aunt Alison in her drawing-room. And, oh, I _will_ trynot to cry. '

So it came to pass that almost their first memory of their new home wasassociated for the three children with Robin Redbreast, the old house inthe lane. Often as they passed it, it always brought back to them UncleMarmy's sunburnt face and kind eyes, and again they seemed to hear his'Good-bye, my darlings, good-bye, ' which he strove hard to utter withoutletting them hear the break in his usually hearty and cheery voice. 

Half-an-hour later he was gone. 

CHAPTER II. 

THE OLD LADY. 

It was six months now since the arrival at the house in Market SquarePlace. Mr Denison had been long with the regiment at----No, it does notspecially matter where it was in India. The sisters got letters fromhim, as well as from their mother, by almost every mail, and in each herepeated the same thing--that he had never in his life found himself aperson of so much consequence as Colonel and Mrs Mildmay considered him, seeing that he could give them direct news and description of theirthree children. And on their side, this seemed to make their parentsmore real and to draw them nearer to Jacinth and Frances, increasingmore and more the intense longing for their return. 

It is autumn, a pleasant season in this part of the country--reallypleasanter perhaps, though one is reluctant to allow it, than thelovely, fascinating, capriciously joyous spring--and it is a Friday. Jacinth and Frances Mildmay are walking home from school, carrying theirlittle bag of books. For Saturday is a whole holiday--no going to schoolthat is to say--so, naturally, some lessons must be learnt at home forMonday. 

'Aren't you glad to think to-morrow's Saturday, Jass?' said Frances. 'Ifonly Aunt Alison would let us stay in bed half-an-hour later on Saturdaymornings, it _would_ be nice. '

'You lazy little thing!' said Jacinth, 'no, I don't think it would benice at all. I'd rather get up even earlier than usual on a holiday, andfeel we have the whole long day before us. It's one of the things Iadmire Aunt Alison for--that she's so punctual and regular; we'd _never_have been in time at school every morning, Francie, if our home hadstill been at poor granny's. '

'I don't like you to say "poor" granny, ' said Frances, rather irritably. 'Say "dear" granny. And Jacinth, whether it's true or not that in someways we were rather spoilt and--and--not methodical and all that, atStannesley, I wish you'd _never_ say it to Aunt Alison. She's quiteready enough to be down on all the ways there. '

'If ever I've said anything of the kind, ' said Jacinth, 'it's only beenas a sort of excuse for _you_; for you know, Frances, you weredreadfully unpunctual and careless in little ways when we first came, though I do think you're getting better. '

'Much obliged, ' said Frances, rather snappishly, for she was aquick-tempered girl. 'It's no thanks to Aunt Alison if I am. It's simplythat I see it is right to try and be more careful, and--partly too foryour sake, Jass. But it isn't for love of Aunt Alison. I don't love her. I'd have--what wouldn't I have done for granny or Uncle Marmy?--theyloved us and Aunt Alison doesn't. She's good, in one way I daresay she'svery good, but it's all duty. Why, just think how she leaves us toourselves, once she's ordered our meals and told us what we are to do. Evening after evening we're alone. _That_'s not loving us. '

'I think you should be very glad indeed that she trusts us, ' saidJacinth. 'It's much better as it is than to have her fussing after usout of duty, as you say. It would be very uncomfortable for us to feelthat she was always thinking we interrupted all the things she has todo. She told me a while ago that it was the greatest possible relief toher to find she _could_ trust us, and that having us interfered with herlife much less than she expected. '

'Oh, _I_ don't want any more of her, ' said Frances hastily. 'Don't thinkthat. But you must allow it's scarcely like having a home; sometimes Ireally think I would rather be boarders at school, do you know, Jass? Itwould be a good deal jollier. Don't you think so?'

'No, indeed, ' said Jacinth, very decidedly. 'I certainly wouldn't likeit at all. School's all very well for lessons, but I should hate to beso tied up. I like being independent. Of course Aunt Alison knows we'reto be trusted, but if we were at school we should have to ask leave forevery single thing we wanted to do. And think of poor little Eugenewithout us. '

'Oh, it was only an idea, ' said Frances. 'I didn't really mean itseriously. But I like some of the girls very much, especially theHarpers; don't you like the Harpers exceedingly, Jass? I've liked schoolitself ever so much better since the two younger ones came. Of courseCamilla Harper wasn't much good to us, as she was quite one of thebiggest ones. But I think they're all nice. I _love_ Bessie andMargaret. '

'Yes, ' her sister agreed. 'I think they're very nice. But they're ratherbabyish; you see they've always lived at home, and never had to dependon themselves at all. I think they're not at all rich. '

'That makes them all the nicer, _I_ think, ' said Frances. 'I don't knowif it's always the way, but it certainly is at school--the richestgirls aren't nearly as nice as some of the others. '

'Oh, that's nonsense, ' said Jacinth. 'It may just happen that some ofthose we know to be richer are--well, rather commoner--but you can'tmake any rule about it. '

'I wish Aunt Alison would let us ask the Harpers to tea, sometimes, 'said Frances. 'I'm almost sure Miss Scarlett would let them come. '

'But I'm _more_ sure that Aunt Alison wouldn't like anything of thekind, ' said Jacinth, and even she sighed a little. 'So it's no usethinking of it. I hope you're prepared for a good long walk thisafternoon, Francie. It's a lovely day, and we've been so little outlately. We needn't do our lessons till to-morrow. Ah, there's Eugene!'as at that moment the boy came flying down the street to meet them. 'Howhave you got on to-day, old man?' she said, fondly. 'Would you like togo a good long walk this afternoon?'

Eugene went to a small boys' school, a few doors only from his aunt's. He was certainly the least to be pitied in the children's somewhatlonely life, for his sisters were devoted to him, and their affectionmade up to him for the absence of other love. Yet this sounds too severeon Miss Mildmay, who in her own undemonstrative way _did_ love hernephew and nieces. But she had mapped out her life on lines independentof home ties, and she had not the breadth and nobility of nature torecognise that the charge unexpectedly laid upon her was as much aheaven-sent mission as the labours among the poor, which she fulfilledwith such devotion and enthusiastic self-denial. Her 'duty, ' her dryduty, she performed to the children, but it never entered her mind orimagination that more than this could, under the circumstances, bedemanded of her. 

'Oh yes, ' Eugene replied. 'I'm game for as many miles as you girls, anyway. '

His sisters burst out laughing. Their seven-years' old brother wasdeveloping fast. 

'Where shall we go to, then?' said Jacinth, as they rang at their owndoor. 'I hope Phebe will be "game" too, Eugene, for we can't go withouther, and she doesn't love very long walks. '

But Phebe proved to be in an unusually enterprising mood. She was a verygood-natured girl, honest and well-principled, her only important faultbeing laziness, which her young charges did their best to conceal fromMiss Mildmay. 

'Aunt Alison would _certainly_ send her away, if she knew how late Phebesometimes calls us in the morning, ' Jacinth used to say. 'There'snothing that would vex her more than laziness, and it is very tiresome. But then, very likely, she'd get us some prim maid that would beill-natured and crabbed, and perhaps not _really_ as good as Phebe. '

So, though they shook the terrors of a probable dismissal over thedelinquent's head, they made no further complaint. And every time Phebehad been specially in fault, she was so exceedingly penitent that shealmost persuaded her young mistresses as well as herself that it wouldnever happen again. 

She had been very late that Friday morning, and in consequence was nowdoubly on the alert. Not only did she profess herself equal to walkingten miles if the young ladies wished it, but she undertook to carryMaster Eugene pick-a-back, should he feel tired, a proposal which didnot find favour in Master Eugene's eyes, though her next suggestion thatshe should escort the party to a lovely wood they had not yet visited, 'round by Aldersmere' was received with acclamations. 

'We've always wanted to go along the Aldersmere road, ' said Frances. 'You remember, Jass, we went a tiny bit up it that morning--that firstmorning with dear old Marmy. '

'Yes, ' said Jacinth, with a sigh, 'that first and last day. '

'Is it the way along by Uncle Marmy's gates?' asked Eugene. 

Phebe did not understand him, but Jacinth explained. 

'He means past that lovely old house, Robin Redbreast, you know, ' shesaid. 

'We could come home by that lane; we can get into it by the other endand come out at Robin Redbreast corner on to the high-road, ' said Phebe;'it's a very pretty way indeed, though it's a long walk, ' her voicesounding rather doleful. 

'Phebe's thinking better of it, ' said Frances laughing. 'Ah well, if youdon't want to go a long walk, you'd better tell Aunt Alison that youcan't stand the hard work here--so late in bed, and up so _dreadfully_early in the morning. '

The maid's face flushed scarlet. 

'Miss Frances!' she began reproachfully. 

Jacinth looked annoyed. In spite of her defence of her aunt's system andher own love of independence and self-confidence, she did feel consciousthat the three of them were left in some ways too much to themselves:her sister's tone was not quite what a young lady's should be inspeaking to a servant. 

'Frances, ' she said. 'I think it's very bad taste to joke about seriousthings, and being too late nearly every morning is a serious thing. '

'I wasn't joking, ' Frances replied. 

'Well, say no more about it. We'd better start if we're going to. Phebe, do you think there's any chance of cook's giving us some cake, or evensome bread-and-butter, to take with us?'

Phebe shook her head. 

'I'm afraid not, Miss Jacinth, ' she replied. 'She'd only complain toMiss Mildmay; it's best not to ask. '

'And I really can't afford any more pennies for buns, ' said Jacinth. 'Wemust trust to getting a good tea when we come home. '

'Will Aunt Alison be in for tea?' said Frances. 'Oh no--it's Friday. Iforgot, ' with a distinct note of satisfaction in her voice. 

'So there'll be nobody to say we're greedy if we do eat a great lot, 'said Eugene, with satisfaction still less disguised. 

Friday was one of Miss Alison Mildmay's busiest days, as she went outimmediately after breakfast and did not return till the children wereabout going to bed. They had had dinner by themselves, and were now inthe little room, half schoolroom, half nursery, appropriated to theiruse, on the same floor as the sisters' bedroom. 

'Do let us go, ' said Jacinth, impatiently, 'and don't even talk of beinggreedy, Eugene; it's not nice. '

Notwithstanding these little elements of discord before they started, the walk turned out a great success. It was a delicious day, to beginwith, and lovely autumn weather is no doubt more soothing in its effecton both old and young than that of any other season. The little partystepped out bravely; the four miles to Aldersmere seemed only half thereal distance, and the place itself, when they reached it, would haverewarded a much greater amount of exertion. 

It was a little lake, lying in a hollow; the trees, from which came itsname, growing almost into the water. There was a curious charm about theintense loneliness of the place, none the less that it was not actuallyvery far removed from the haunts of men. The pool was said in theneighbourhood to be exceedingly deep, and the dark still water lookedmysterious enough to be so; but then this is said of every pond or lakeof romantic appearance in all parts of the country, just as everytumble-down ruin or gloomy deserted house is sure to have the name ofbeing haunted. 

At one side there was a little clearing and a tempting stretch ofvelvety-looking grass, disfigured, however, by blackened patches wheregipsy-fires, amateur or professional, had recently been lighted. 

'It would be a jolly place for a picnic, ' said Frances. 'I wonder ifit's picnickers who've been here, or gipsies. '

'Real gipsies choose opener places generally, ' said Jacinth. 'Still thiswould be a very cosy place in hot weather, but I suspect it's only beenpicnics. Let's remember it for next summer, Francie, and try to coaxAunt Alison to let us bring our dinner or at least our tea with us onenice hot day. '

'It wouldn't be much fun all by ourselves, ' said Frances. 'If we couldask the Harpers to come too some holiday, _that_ would be fun. '

'Oh how you tease about the Harpers!' replied Jacinth impatiently. 'Idaresay you'll have quarrelled with them long before next summer, as youdid with the Beckinghams. '

'Jacinth, it's very unkind of you to say that, ' said Frances, indignantly. 'I _didn't_ quarrel with the Beckinghams, only you wouldn'thave had me stand Priscilla saying that papa and mamma can't care forus much if they leave us all these years without troubling to come hometo see us. '

'It was very impertinent, ' said the elder sister, 'but I think you makefriends too quickly. You told Priscilla Beckingham our whole historyalmost the first day we were at school. None of the girls would say sucha thing as that to _me_. '

Frances was on the brink of a still more indignant reply, whenPhebe--one of whose best points was a very sweet temper, which made heralways ready to avert a storm if she could--broke in, just in time. 

'Miss Jacinth, ' she said, 'I think we should be turning towards home. We've been here longer than you'd think, and Master Eugene will begetting tired. '

'I'm not a bit tired, ' said the little boy, 'but I'll tell you what Iam, or what I'm going to be, and that's awfully nungry. Talking ofbringing our dinner or tea out with us next summer has put it into myhead. If even I'd a bit of bread, I'd eat it. '

'Come on, then, ' said Jacinth, encouragingly, 'the sooner we go, thesooner we'll be home. And we can have tea the minute we get in, can'twe, Phebe, even if it's not quite five o'clock. '

'Certainly, miss, I don't think there'll be any difficulty about that, 'said Phebe, who was pretty well persuaded in her own mind that it wouldbe quite the orthodox tea-time before they could reach Market SquarePlace. 

The first part of the way was pleasant walking, even though they werebeginning to be just a little tired, for it was over level ground; butthe next two miles were stiffer, for they were almost entirely up-hill, which had naturally made the outstart down-hill, an easy commencementof the expedition. 

Eugene was soon rather done up, though he would not hear of Phebe'scarrying him. 

'If it wasn't so climby, I wouldn't mind, ' he said, 'but my legs doesget so tired of always shortening themselves up. '

'Never mind, Master Eugene, ' said the maid; 'we'll be at the back end ofthe Redbreast Lane, directly, and after that, there's no more climbing. '

'And once there we shall be less than a mile from home, ' said Jacinth. 'Oh Francie, do you remember how nice it was at Stannesley with the olddonkey, whenever we were going a long walk?'

'And granny watching for us at home with tea in her own sitting-room fora treat, and those _exquisite_ little scones, ' said Frances. 'Oh don'tspeak of it. '

'No, please don't, ' said Eugene, 'for it makes me nungrier and nungrier. And--I'm afraid I'm beginning to be _firsty_ too, and that's worser thanbeing nungry. It always says so in shipwreck stories. They read us oneat school the other day, and it said so. '

'Eugene, how silly you are!' said Frances, 'as if your feeling a littlehungry and a tiny atom thirsty could compare with dreadful sufferingslike sailors have. '

'And really, Eugene, considering you're past seven, you should try tospeak better, ' added Jacinth. 'I hope you don't say "nungry and firsty"at school. How they must laugh at you!'

'They don't then, ' said the little boy, 'and they don't need to. I'mvery pertickler at school, and I always say 'ungry and wursty properly. But it's a great trouble to remember, and I like a rest from beingpertickler at home. You needn't be so cross. Why, there's a boy atschool, older than me, who calls the sun the "fun"--he does really. '

'Well, I know papa and mamma would like you to speak well, ' saidJacinth, 'so you should try for their sake. "Ungry" is worse than"nungry"; you mustn't get into the way of dropping your "h's, " whateveryou do. That matters more than baby talking; it's _vulgar_. '

'It's very unkind of you to call me vulgar, ' said Eugene, in a veryplaintive voice, 'and I'll tell you what, Jass, I'm getting _so_fir--wursty, I mean, that I just can't go all the way back wifout adrink. '

Jacinth and Frances looked about them in despair; Eugene was a very goodlittle fellow generally, but he was rather delicate and nervous, andnotwithstanding the dignity of his seven years, they knew by experiencethat once he was fairly started on a fit of crying, it was far from easyto predict when it would be over. They were now in the long lane knownas Robin Redbreast Lane, or the Redbreast Lane; another quarter of amile at most would bring them out on to the high-road, where they wereat no great distance from Thetford. 

'I'm afraid it's been too long a walk for him, ' said Jacinth. 'It's sucha pity, for it's so good for him to have a nice country walk, now thathe goes to school every day. '

'I'm not tired, ' said Eugene, 'I'm only firsty now; I can wait for beingnungry till tea-time, quite well, but I must have somefin to drink. '

'Is there any cottage along this lane, that we could ask for a glass ofwater at?' Jacinth inquired of Phebe. 

But the girl shook her head. 

'There's no cottage nor house of any kind between this and thehigh-road, except the Robin Redbreast itself, ' said she. 'And that's nota place where one could ask for a glass of water even. The old lady'svery stiff in her ways, and the servants are just the same. '

'Oh no, ' said Jacinth, 'of course it wouldn't do to ask for anything ata _gentleman's_ house. You must just bear it, Eugene dear, and perhapswe'll pass some cottage when we leave the lane; though I'm not very fondof drinking water at any cottage--one's never sure of its being good. '

'There's the drinking fountain just outside the town; I daresay MasterEugene can get along till we come to that, ' said Phebe, encouragingly. 

And for a few moments nothing more was heard of the little boy's woes. He plodded along silently, till just as they were approaching 'UncleMarmy's gate' as they called it, he burst out again. 

'I _must_ have a drink, Jass. I tell you I must. Let me go and ask forone at this house. It wouldn't be naughty. I _can't_ go any furder. '

The girls hesitated. It went very much against the grain with them--withJacinth especially--to let the boy go up to the front door of thisstrange house to ask for the boon of even a glass of water. And yet itwouldn't do to let him go to the back-door, 'as if we were beggars, 'said Frances. 

'Would it be better to send Phebe? Well, perhaps that would be best. Phebe, will you go with Master Eugene--to the front door? But Eugene, you are really very tiresome, ' said the elder girl. 

'I _must_ have a drink, Jacinth. It's not my fault. I can't help beingfirsty, ' said the boy, in his doleful tone. 'If you say I mustn't, I'll_try_ to bear it, but'----

At this moment an unexpected turn was given to the state of affairs bythe gate, a few feet in front of them, being pushed open, to allow someone to come out. 

The sound interrupted the children's discussion; they all looked towardsthe gate. 

The 'some one' was an elderly, more correctly speaking, perhaps, an oldlady. She was not _very_ tall, but she was thin, and, considering heryears, wonderfully erect. As she stood there at the gate, her thickblack silk skirt trailing a little, a large fleecy white shawl thrownround her head and shoulders--her bright dark eyes glancing out all thedarker and brighter from the contrast with her snowy hair anddraperies--she looked both striking and stately. Not a person to takeliberties with, assuredly. 

Phebe shook in her shoes. As I have said, there was a considerableamount of awe felt in Thetford for the somewhat mysterious inhabitant ofRobin Redbreast, and Phebe was a Thetford girl. 

As for the young Mildmays, they stood motionless, not overawed, but bothimpressed and startled, gazing at the unexpected apparition in a waywhich Jacinth afterwards hoped to herself had not seemed like ill-bredstaring. 

But the lady was looking at them too. She had a stick in her hand--apolished black-wood stick, with a gold knob at the top--and for thefirst moment or two she stood as if leaning on it. Then she raised itwith a little gesture, as if inviting them to come nearer. 

'What was that name I heard you say just now?' she began. 'I heard youfrom the other side of my garden-wall. I have quick ears, though I amold. '

The mention of ears was unfortunate. Somehow it recalled the story ofRed Riding-hood and her grandmother to Eugene; tired and excitedalready, he grew perfectly white and caught hold of his elder sister'sdress. And for a moment or two the presence of mind of the whole partyseemed to have deserted them. No one spoke. 

The old lady tapped her stick impatiently on the hard gravel. 

'Don't you understand me?' she said. 'You were talking fast enough justnow. The little boy was complaining of being thirsty. I think it was hethat said the--the name. What is the matter with him? does he think I amgoing to eat him?'

This last was addressed to Frances, now standing a little in front ofthe others, partly with an instinct of coming between the terrifiedlittle boy and those keen, searching eyes. 

'My brother is very tired--and very thirsty, ' she said. 'It was he thatwas speaking, and I daresay he said our names. Mine is Frances, but mysister's is Jacinth. Perhaps you heard that name: it is very uncommon. '

'Jacinth!' repeated the old lady, '_Jacinth!_'

Her voice sounded far away and dreamy. A queer feeling came over the twogirls, as if by a strange chance they had strayed unawares into somesecret chamber, some long-closed deserted house; or as if a vaguemomentary glimpse into some long-ago story, some old romance, of thedistant past had been suddenly opened to them. 

They could not themselves have put this feeling into words; it came tothem, I think, in the subtle way in which sometimes we are conscious ofthe unexpressed emotions and sensations of those near us. Neverthelessthey stood silent, surprised and almost awe-struck. Then the old ladyseemed to rouse herself: with a little effort she came back into thepresent, as it were. 

'Yes, ' she said, 'that was the name I heard. Are you Jacinth?' she wenton, addressing the elder girl, and as she fixed her eyes on Jacinth, alittle tremor passed over her. 'I think, ' she whispered to herself, butthe children caught the words, 'I think--I wonder if it is fancy--Ialmost think I see a likeness. '

Jacinth was tall and well grown for her age. She was not _pretty_--notas pretty as fair, fluffy-haired Frances--but there was promise of morethan prettiness in her almost severely regular features, and hercolouring when one examined her carefully, was good too. Her hair a richdark brown, of a shade one hardly does justice to at the first carelessglance; her complexion healthily pale, with a tinge of sun-burning, perhaps a few freckles; her eyes clear, strong, hazel eyes, with longsoftening lashes. The whole was spoilt by a want of light--of thesunshine one loves to see in a young face--the expression was too graveand impassive; there was the suggestion of future hardness, unless timeshould mellow instead of stiffening and accentuating the alreadysomewhat rigid lines. 

It must have been this expression, more than any actual resemblance infeature, which had made Marmaduke Denison smile to himself at thecurious likeness which had struck him between Jacinth and her AuntAlison. 

The girl looked up in the old lady's face, and something--the oddity ofthe whole situation, some indefinite sympathy which unconsciously soughtfor an outlet--made her smile. Jacinth's smile was charming. Already toher thin young face it gave the roundness and bloom it wanted--everyfeature softened and the clear observant eyes grew sweet. 

A faint flush--the mere suggestion of colour which in the aged oftendenotes intense emotion--rose to Lady Myrtle Goodacre's face, as she metJacinth's smile. She scarcely waited for the girl's reply to herquestion. 

'Yes, ' she went on, 'it must be. I cannot be mistaken. My dear, ' sheadded, 'I want to ask you several things, but this poor little fellow istired--and thirsty, didn't you say? Will you come in for a moment ortwo? Not farther than the porch, if you prefer; perhaps you are in hasteto get home, and I must see you again. '

She turned and walked quickly back towards the house--the door of whichstood open--along the straight smooth gravel path leading from the gate;the children following her, without seeming quite to know why, and Phebebringing up the rear with a face which looked as if she were doubtingwhether they were about to enter an ogre's castle or a white cats'palace. 

'Miss Jacinth, Miss Frances, ' she panted in vague remonstrance. But theytook no notice. 

CHAPTER III. 

TWO JACINTHS. 

The porch was almost like a room. It had cushioned seats all round, arustic table at one side, and stained glass, tiny-paned windows. The oldlady hurried through it, looking back over her shoulder to say, 'Sitdown for a minute or two. I will order some milk for the little boy, 'and nothing loth, the children did so, though in silence. 

Then Eugene glanced round in triumph. 

'There now, ' he said, 'you see I was right. She doesn't mind a bit. Ishouldn't wonder if she brought us out cakes too. '

'_Hush_, ' said Frances, 'you needn't talk like that, Eugene. You were asfrightened as anything when she first came out. And how can you be sogreedy?'

'Hush, ' said Jacinth in her turn, and still more authoritatively. 'Don'tyou hear? she's coming back. '

The door standing slightly ajar was pushed open more widely, disclosinga trim-looking maid, carrying a tray with a large glass jug full ofmilk, and--joyful sight!--a plate of small brown crisp-looking cakes. Eugene's eyes glistened, though, poor little chap, it was more at thesight of the milk than the cakes, for he was very thirsty indeed. But hesat still, to outward appearance patiently enough, for just behind themaid came the old lady again, looking quite eager and excited, a brightspot of colour on each cheek. 

'Put the tray on the little table, ' she said. 'Yes, that will do. Youneed not stay;' and the trim maid disappeared again. 

Lady Myrtle poured out a glass of milk and gave it to Eugene. 

'Your sisters will excuse my attending to you first, I am sure, ' shesaid. 'You are very thirsty, I know. --Now, will you two have some milkand some cake?' she went on, turning to Jacinth and Frances. 

Jacinth felt half inclined to refuse, but something in the old lady'smanner made it difficult to do so. She did not seem accustomed to haveeven her suggestions disregarded, and her invitation was more like acommand. 

'After your brother has finished his milk, ' their hostess went on, 'perhaps he would like to walk about the garden a little with your maid, or if he is tired, there is a nice arbour over there in the corner. Iwant to speak to you two a little. I have some questions to ask you, butI want you to understand that I will not invite you to come in till youhave got leave from--from your parents or your guardians. When I was achild I would not have entered any stranger's house without leave, and Iapprove of strict ways of bringing up children. '

The girls listened respectfully, making a little sign of assent. ButEugene's whole attention had been given to the milk and cakes. Now thathis thirst was satisfied, he began to think about others, and for thefirst time found his voice. 

'Mayn't Phebe have some milk and cake, too, please?' he said. 'We'vebeen a drefful long walk. I'm sure Phebe's firsty too. '

Phebe blushed scarlet, but in spite of her terror, her good manners--andshe was a specially good-mannered girl--did not forsake her. 

'Master Eugene, my dear, ' she said quietly. 'You forget I am not alittle young gentleman like you. --If I might take his glass and plate tothe arbour, my lady, he would be very happy, and out of the way. '

Lady Myrtle smiled benignly. She liked 'tact. '

'Certainly, my good girl, ' she said, 'and take a glass and some cakesfor yourself too. --That is a nice-mannered girl, ' she added to Jacinthand Frances. 'She is both modest and sensible. '

'Yes, ' said Jacinth, 'we like her very much. Aunt Alison got her for usbefore we came here. '

Lady Myrtle's face grew grave. 

'Is Aunt Alison the relation you live with?' she asked. 'Is her name MrsAlison? And where and with whom did you live before? Have you noparents? I am not asking out of curiosity, but because I think you mustbe related to a very dear friend of mine--now dead. ' Here her breathseemed to catch her voice. 'I may be mistaken, but I do not think so. '

'Our parents are in India, ' said Jacinth. 'Our father is ColonelMildmay, and Aunt Alison is his sister. Alison is her first name. Wehave only lived with her since our--grandmother, Mrs Denison, died. '

'_Denison!_' repeated Lady Myrtle, 'I was sure of it. But _Mrs_ Denison?I cannot understand it. Are you not making a mistake, my dear? Are yousure that your grandmother was _Mrs_ Denison? Was she not'----

'Mrs Denison was only our _step_-grandmother, ' interrupted Jacinth, eagerly. Frances could not blame her now for explaining this! 'She wasvery good to us, but--she wasn't our own grandmother. _She_ died beforewe were born. She was mamma's mother, and I am called after her. She wasLady Jacinth Denison, and'----

'I knew it, ' exclaimed the old lady. 'And her name before she wasmarried was'----

Jacinth hesitated a little. It is sometimes rather confusing to rememberrelations so far back. 

'I know, ' said Frances; 'it was More'----but here she too stopped. 

'Moreland?' said Lady Myrtle. 

The girls' faces cleared. Yes, that was it. 

'But the Christian name--"Jacinth"--satisfied me, ' said the old lady. 'The name, and your face, my dear, ' to Jacinth herself. 'Thank you, foranswering my questions. Perhaps I must not keep you any longer to-day, but I will write to your aunt--Miss Mildmay--Miss Alison Mildmay--Ithink I have heard of her at Thetford--and ask her to allow you to cometo see me again very soon. If I keep you longer just now, she may beuneasy. '

'Oh no, ' said Frances, 'she won't be at home when we get back. It's oneof the days she's out all day--till after we're in bed, generally. '

'Dear me!' said Lady Myrtle, 'she must be a very busy person. '

'Yes, ' said Jacinth, 'she is. She is very, _very_ useful, I know. Andone couldn't have expected her to give up all the things she'd been atso many years, all of a sudden, when we came. We don't mind, except thatit seems a little lonely sometimes; but--I don't think Aunt Alisoncares much for children or girls like us. She says she's got out of theway of it. But she's quite kind. '

'You have a governess, I suppose?' asked Lady Myrtle. 

'No, ' said Jacinth, 'we go every day but Saturday to Miss Scarlett'sschool. '

She coloured a little as she said it, for she had an instinct that'school' for girls was hardly one of the things that her hostess hadbeen accustomed to in _her_ youth, and notwithstanding Jacinth'sdecision of character, she was apt to be much influenced by the opinionsand even prejudices of those about her. But still she knew that MissScarlett's was really a somewhat exceptional school. 

'To Miss Scarlett's, ' repeated Lady Myrtle. 'I have heard of it. Ibelieve it is very nice, but still--I prefer home education. But perhapsI should not say so. No doubt your parents and guardians have acted forthe best. I should like you to tell Miss Alison Mildmay all I have askedyou, and I will write to her. And in the meantime, that she may notthink me too eccentric an old woman, pray tell her that I was--that yourown grandmother--I like you to call her that--Lady Jacinth Moreland, afterwards Lady Jacinth Denison, and I, were the--yes, the very dearestof friends when we were young. It is possible that Miss Alison Mildmaymay have heard my name from your mother. I think your mother--what isher name--"Eugenia, " oh yes, I remember--I think your mother must haveheard of me even in her childhood. My unmarried name was Harper, "MyrtleHarper;" your grandmother and I first took to each other, I think, because we had such uncommon names. '

'Harper!' exclaimed Frances eagerly, 'there are some--what is it, Jacinth?--I mean Bessie and Margar'----

'We must go, ' said Jacinth, getting up, as she spoke. 'Frances, will youcall Eugene? and'--turning to her hostess, 'thank you _very_ much forbeing so kind. And oh, if you will ask Aunt Alison to let us come again, it would be such a pleasure. '

She raised her beautiful eyes to Lady Myrtle's face. A mist came overthe keen bright old pair gazing at her in return. Partly perhaps toconceal this sudden emotion, Lady Myrtle stooped--for, tall thoughJacinth was for her age, she was shorter than her grandmother's oldfriend--and kissed the soft up-turned cheek. 'My dear, you are _so_ likeher--my Jacinth, sometimes, ' she murmured, 'that it is almost too muchfor me. '

Then a practical thought struck her. 

'You have not told me your address at Thetford, ' she said. 'I had betterhave it, though no doubt Miss Alison Mildmay is well known in theplace. '

Jacinth gave it. 

'Number 9, Market Square Place, ' she said. 

'Oh, I know where it is--a row of rather nice quaint old houses. Still, you must feel rather cooped up there sometimes, after Stannesley; wasnot that the Denisons' place? I was there once. '

'We miss the grounds, and--yes, we miss a good many things, ' saidJacinth simply. 

'Then I hope that Robin Redbreast will make up to you for some of them, 'said Lady Myrtle. 'You know the name of my funny old house, I daresay?'

'Oh yes, ' said Francis, who had just rejoined them with Eugene andPhebe, 'we heard it the very first day. And we've always thought itlovely--both the house and the name. And we always pass by this way whenwe can, because of the gates. We call them 'Uncle Marmy's gates, ' forit was here we said good-bye to him--good-bye _properly_, I mean. '

'Kissing, and trying not to cry, ' added Eugene, by way of explanation. 

Lady Myrtle seemed a little startled. 

'Uncle Marmy!' she repeated, 'that was your grandfather's name. Ithought your mother was an only child. '

'Yes, ' said Jacinth, 'Uncle Marmaduke is not our real--not our fulluncle. He is mamma's half-brother only. '

'Oh, ' exclaimed the old lady, 'now I understand. '

'But we love him just as much--_quite_ as much as if he was our wholeuncle, ' said Frances, eagerly. 'He's perfectly--oh, he's as nice as hecan _possibly_ be. '

Lady Myrtle smiled, and gave a little pat to Frances's shining tangle ofcurly hair. 

'Good-bye then, my dears, for to-day, ' she said. 

But she stood at the gate looking after them till they reachedthe corner of the lane, when some happy impulse madeJacinth--undemonstrative Jacinth--turn round and kiss her hand to thesolitary old figure. 

'She's like a sort of a grandmother to us, ' said Eugene. 'What a goodthing, ' with extreme self-complacency, 'I made you go in!--what a goodthing I was'--after a great effort--'wursty!'

But Jacinth's face was slightly clouded. She drew Frances a little apartfrom the others. 

'Frances, ' she said severely, 'you must have more sense. How could youbegin about those girls at school?' Lady Myrtle, if she does notice us, won't want to hear all the chatter and gossip of Miss Scarlett's. Andit's such a common sort of thing, the moment you hear a name, to startup and say "Oh, _I_ know somebody called that, " and then go on aboutyour somebodies that no one wants to hear anything of. '

Frances looked rather ashamed. She was barely two years younger than hersister, but on almost every subject--on questions of good manners andpropriety above all--Jacinth's verdict was always accepted by her asinfallible, though whence Jacinth had derived her knowledge on suchpoints it would have been difficult to say. No one could have been lessa woman of the world than the late Mrs Denison; indeed, the much misusedbut really sweet old word 'homely' might have been applied to her in itsconventional sense without unkindly severity. And no life could havebeen simpler, though from that very fact not without a certain dignityof its own, than the family life at Stannesley, which was in reality theonly training these girls had ever known. 

'I'm very sorry, Jass, ' said the younger sister, penitently. 'It wasonly--it did seem funny that her name was Harper, when I am so fond ofBessie and Marg'----

'I'm getting tired of your always talking of them, ' said Jacinth. 'Idaresay they're nice enough'----

'And they're _quite_ ladies, ' interposed Frances, 'though they are sovery poor. '

'I wouldn't look down on them for _that_; I should think you might knowme better, ' said Jacinth. 'We're not at all rich ourselves, though Isuppose papa and mamma seem so in India with all the parties and thingsthey're obliged to have. And I never said the girls weren't "quiteladies, " as you say. But I know how it will end: in a little while youwon't like Bessie and Margaret any better than Prissy Beckingham. Youfly at people so at first. '

'I don't think it will be that way this time, ' said Frances in a toneof quiet conviction. 'There's something _different_ about the Harpers. '

'It isn't a very uncommon name, ' said Jacinth. 'There are all sorts ofHarpers. Why, at Stannesley, the village schoolmaster's wife was calledHarper before she married, I remember. And then Lord Elvedon's familyname is Harper. '

They had drawn nearer to the other two by this time, and Phebe overheardthe last words. 

'If you please, Miss Jacinth, that is Lady Myrtle's family. Her fatherwas Lord Elvedon, two or three back, and the Lord Elvedon now is anephew or a cousin's son to her, though they never come near the place;it's been let ever since I can remember. '

'I wonder if she was brought up at Elvedon, ' said Frances. 'It must seemrather sad to her, if she was there when she was a little girl, to haveno one belonging to her there now. '

Altogether the adventure--and a real adventure it was--gave them plentyto think of and to talk about all the way home and after they got there. Eugene forgot his fatigue, and chattered briskly about the goodness ofthe little brown cakes, till he got a snub from Jacinth about being sogreedy. His appetite, however, did not seem to have suffered, and he wasquite ready to do justice to the tea waiting for them at home, thoughnot without some allusions to Lady Myrtle's delicious cakes, and wishesthat Aunt Alison would sometimes give them 'a change from bread andbutter. '

For one of Miss Mildmay's fixed ideas about children was that they couldnot be brought up too plainly. 

'We do have a change sometimes, ' said Jacinth. 'We always have goldensyrup on Saturdays and jam on Sundays, and you know we've had buns twoor three times on birthdays. '

'Other children have buns and cakes far oftener than us, ' said Eugene. 'Like we used to at Stannesley. '

'It was quite different there, ' said Jacinth; 'a big country-house andbaking at home. '

'_Everything_ was nice at Stannesley, ' said Frances with a sigh. 'Grannyand Uncle Marmy really loved us; that makes the difference. '

'Aunt Alison loves us in her way, ' said Jacinth. 'Everybody can't be thesame. I think you're getting into a very bad habit of grumbling, Frances. And this afternoon you really should be pleased. For Ishouldn't at all wonder if Lady Myrtle often asks us to go to see her, and that would be a treat and a change. But what you say about poorgranny and Uncle Marmy reminds me to say something. You really needn'tfly up so on the defensive every time I name them; you did it againto-day, and I'm sure Lady Myrtle must have thought it very queer, justas if I'----

But this second reproof for her behaviour at Robin Redbreast did notfind Frances as meek as the former one, which, in deference to Jacinth'ssuperior knowledge on such subjects, she had felt she perhaps deserved. 

'I will "fly up" as you call it, ' she interrupted angrily, 'when youtalk in that cold measured way about dear granny and Uncle Marmy, as ifyou were almost ashamed of them. For one thing I can't bear you to say"poor" granny; it's not right. She was a sort of a saint, and I'm quitesure that now she's'----But here Frances burst into tears. 

Jacinth felt sorry, but annoyed and irritated also. She blamed herselffor having begun any private talk of the kind before Eugene and Phebe;for, as sometimes happened when they had come in late, Phebe was havingtea with them this evening. And she felt conscious also of deserving, toa certain extent, her sister's blame. But Jacinth had a good deal ofself-control. 

'I cannot understand, ' she said quietly, though the colour rose to hercheeks--'I cannot understand how you can think such things of me--as ifI--as if anybody could have loved _them_ more than I did; as if'----Buthere the tears rose to her own eyes. 

Frances was at once melted. 

'I didn't mean _that_, ' she said. 'I know you did. I wouldn't love _you_if I didn't know it. But it's your manner; you seem in such a hurryalways to explain that granny wasn't our own grandmother. '

'I don't think that's fair, ' said Jacinth. 'How could I possibly havehelped explaining about it when it is _only_ because of our owngrandmother that Lady Myrtle cares anything at all about us. And Iwasn't in a hurry to explain; don't you remember that Lady Myrtle keptasking if we were sure our grandmother was only _Mrs_?'

Yes, that had been so, but still the slightly hurt feeling whichJacinth's tone about the dear Stannesley people had more than once givenFrances still remained, and she might have said more, had not her sisterprevented her doing so. 

'Anyway, ' she said, 'we need not say any more about it just now. '

After tea they got out their lesson-books, anxious to do all they could, so as to wake on Saturday morning with the delightful sensation of areal whole holiday. But their long walk, perhaps the excitement of theiradventure, had tired them. Lessons, with Frances especially, seemed moredifficult than usual, and after a good many yawns and not a few groans, she decided that it was no use to attempt anything calling for a 'clearhead' that evening. 

'I'll just copy out my dictation and exercises, ' she said, 'and do allthe fresh learning to-morrow morning. Won't you do so too, Jass, forthere are two or three things we can learn together?'

'Very well, ' said Jacinth, though with a little sigh, 'perhaps it wouldbe better. '

It was not only that she was tired--her head was full of Robin Redbreastand its owner, and all manner of fancies and castles in the air werecrowding upon her. It was really so romantic, she thought; it was notsilly to picture to herself the delightful possibilities of the future. 

'Suppose Lady Myrtle really gets very fond of us'--she said 'us, ' but'_me_' would perhaps have been more correct, and after all this wasscarcely unnatural, as it was she who had specially recalled the JacinthMoreland of her enthusiastic youthful affection to the oldlady--'supposing she in a sort of way adopted us--or me'--for Jacinthwas not selfish in the common acceptation of the word, thoughself-important and fond of ruling, 'what happiness it might bring us!She doesn't seem to have any relations, and she must be very well off. Supposing she took us to live with her, and treated us just like her ownchildren, I wonder if mamma wouldn't come home then, and papa tooperhaps. For of course, if they knew we were going to be well off, papawouldn't worry so about staying out in India his full time and all that. How I should _love_ to be the one to be able to do everything for themall. '

Still it would not do to begin speculating on what might happen in thefar future when--Jacinth felt shocked when she realised that, inpicturing herself as Lady Myrtle's possible heir, she was anticipatingthe old lady's death; yet she certainly could not 'fit in' the idea oftheir all living together at Robin Redbreast with its presentchâtelaine. And she laughed at her own absurdity. 

'Papa is so independent, ' she reflected. 'Even if _mamma_ had a lot ofmoney, I don't believe he'd be satisfied without working as hard asever. And of course he loves his profession. '

Then she determined not to be silly, and to think no more about it. Buther dreams that night were very fantastic and rosy-hued. She awoke inthe morning from a vision of a wonderful room of which the walls werepainted all over with robins, which suddenly burst out singing her name, 'Jacinth, Jacinth, ' to find that Frances was awake and calling to her. 

'Oh Francie, I was having _such_ an interesting dream, ' she said. 'Iwish you hadn't awakened me: I can't remember what was dreams and whatwasn't, ' she went on sleepily. 'Did we really go inside Uncle Marmy'sgates, and see?'----

'Of course we did, ' said Frances, 'and I've got such a good thought. Don't you think we might go that way again to-day and take mamma's lastphotograph with us? Lady Myrtle would be sure to like to see it, and weneedn't ask for her, you know. And it would keep her from forgetting us, and anyway we might walk round the garden, I should think. '

'No, ' said Jacinth, 'we can't do anything like that without AuntAlison's leave, and of course we can't ask for leave unless Lady Myrtlewrites to Aunt Alison. And there's no telling if she will. She may beone of those whimsical old people that mean to do a thing, and thenthink better of it and do nothing. '

Frances's face fell. 

'Oh, I do hope not, ' she said. 'Somehow I don't _think_ she's that sortof old lady. '

Nor in her heart did Jacinth. The expression of her misgivings had beenas much or more to damp or check herself as Frances. For she wasstartled to find how wildly she had been indulging in buildingair-castles. Few, if any, even of those she had spent her life among, knew Jacinth Mildmay thoroughly, or had any suspicion of theimpressionableness, the almost fantastic imagination, hidden under herquiet, almost cold exterior. But to some extent she knew herself betterthan is often the case at her age. She was well aware that she neededstrict holding in hand; she sometimes even went too far in judging ascontemptible weaknesses, feelings and impulses which were full of good. 

But as regards the fancies which since yesterday had been so absorbingher, she was in the right. Even apparently harmless hopes and wishesdependent on the caprice, or, if carried where they _may_ lead to, contingent on the life or death of others, are better checked at once. Indulgence in such can do no good, and _may_ do harm. 

They had not seen their aunt the night before. And her manner wassomewhat 'carried' and preoccupied when she kissed the girls as theyentered the dining-room, where she was already seated at the tablewaiting to read prayers. 

A slight misgiving came over Jacinth. She glanced at the sideboard wherethe morning letters were always placed. Yes, one or two torn wrapperswere lying there: evidently the letters had come and been opened. ForMiss Alison Mildmay was, as Frances expressed it, 'a _dreadfully_ earlygetter-up, ' and had always an hour or more to herself before the youngermembers of the household appeared. 

I am afraid Jacinth's attention that morning was rather distracted. Shesat glancing at her aunt's profile, cold and almost hard, as she wasaccustomed to see it, but with just now the addition of some irritablelines about the forehead which were certainly not _always_ there. 

'Something has vexed her, I am certain, ' said Jacinth to herself. 'I dowonder if it has anything to do with Lady Myrtle. Oh dear, if she haswritten so as to vex Aunt Alison, and we get blamed for it, andeverything is spoilt!'

CHAPTER IV. 

A LETTER AND A DISCUSSION. 

'Were you very late last night, Aunt Alison? Are you tired?'

The questions came from Frances, who had noticed the unusual silence atthe breakfast-table--not that they were ever very loquacious, for Eugenehad his meals up-stairs and he was the chatterbox of the party--butwithout any of her sister's fears or misgivings. So that she looked upat her aunt in happy freedom from any self-conscious embarrassment. 

'I was not later than I am usually on Fridays, ' said Miss Mildmay. 'No, thank you, I am not tired. Will you have some more tea, Jacinth?'

'Yes, please, ' said the elder girl. She was growing more and morenervous, and yet her anxiety to know if Lady Myrtle really had writtenalready made her remain near her aunt as long as possible. 

Miss Mildmay had apparently finished her own breakfast, for afterhanding Jacinth her cup, she took up a little pile of letters which laybeside her, and drew out one, which she unfolded and glanced at with apeculiar expression on her face. 

'Have you--have you nothing to tell me--no message to give me?' she saidat last, still fingering the letter. 

She spoke to both girls, but it seemed to Jacinth as if her words weremore specially addressed to her, and she started, while a flush rose toher face. And suddenly she remembered--or realised rather--that LadyMyrtle _had_ given them a message for their aunt; though, oddly enough, in spite of her thoughts having been so much absorbed with the adventureof the day before, it had never once occurred to her during that silentbreakfast that she should have spoken of it to her aunt--should, infact, have related all that had passed. There had been no reason for hernot doing so--the old lady had specially desired it--it was only thather strong impression that Miss Mildmay had something to say to them hadmade her wait. 

'Of course, ' she exclaimed nervously. 'I really don't know what we'vebeen thinking of _not_ to tell you. For we _have_ a message foryou. --Frances, why didn't you remind me?'

Frances stared. It was seldom her way to take the initiative, she was soaccustomed to follow Jacinth's lead; and just now she had been quitecontentedly waiting to speak of their visit to Robin Redbreast till hersister saw fit to do so. 

'I--I didn't know. I thought'----began Frances confusedly. 

Miss Mildmay turned upon her sharply. 

'Have you been planning together not to speak of this--this curiousaffair to me?' she said. 'I don't pretend not to know all about it. Ido, ' and she touched the letter, 'by this, but I must say I think Ishould not have heard of it _first_ from a stranger. There is one thingI cannot and will not stand, I warn you, girls, and that is any approachto want of candour. '

'Aunt Alison, ' exclaimed Jacinth in hot indignation, 'how can you? Didyou not hear me ask Frances why she had not reminded me to tell you?'

'No, I cannot understand that, ' said her aunt, still coldly. 'It isquite impossible that you had _forgotten_ about it, when it onlyhappened'----She glanced at the letter and hesitated. 'When was it, ithappened?'

'Only yesterday, ' said Jacinth quietly. 'No, _of course_, I hadn'tforgotten. But I had forgotten that I had a message for you that Ishould have given immediately I saw you. That I _had_ forgotten, and ifyou don't believe me, I can't help it. '

Her voice choked, and the tears rushed to her eyes, though with a strongeffort she kept them from falling. 

Frances glanced at her, her face working with sympathy. 

Miss Mildmay seemed perplexed. 

'Only yesterday!' she said. 'I don't see how I have got this letter soquickly. I thought it was at least the day before. '

'No, ' said Frances, 'it was only yesterday. We went a long walk in theafternoon, and of course we didn't see you till this morning. Wecouldn't have told you till just now, and I thought--I think--I thoughtJass was waiting to speak to you alone after breakfast. '

'It wasn't that, ' said Jacinth. 'If you want to know exactly why Ididn't begin about it at breakfast, Aunt Alison, it was because I had asort of idea or fancy that you had heard already from Lady Myrtle. Ithought you looked just a little annoyed, and I kept expecting you tosay something about it, and then, of course, I would have told youeverything there was to tell. '

Miss Alison Mildmay was severe, but she was not distrustful orsuspicious, and the candour of the two girls was unmistakable. 

'I am sorry, ' she said, 'to have judged you unfairly. Tell me the wholestory now, and then I will read you what this eccentric old lady says. '

She smiled a little. 

'That was just what she said you'd call her, ' broke in Frances. 'But shesaid her letter would make you understand. '

'Oh yes, of course it does, to a certain extent, ' replied her aunt. Thenher eyes fell on the envelope--'Miss Alison Mildmay. '

'Considering I have lived twenty years at Thetford, ' she said, ratherbitterly, 'I think it, to say the least, unnecessary to address me likethis, though of course I don't deny that it is, strictly speaking, correct. '

Jacinth glanced at it. 

'I am sure'--she began. 'You don't think _I_ had anything to do withit?'

'Oh no, I don't suppose you ever thought of it. But Lady Myrtle Goodacrehas never seen fit to call upon me, so it is all of a piece. I reallymust not waste any more time, however; I have a dozen things waiting forme to do. You say it was yesterday afternoon?'

'Yes, ' said Jacinth. 'We went a long walk--to Aldersmere, and comingback, Eugene was tired and very thirsty, and he begged us to let him askfor a drink just as we were getting near Robin Redbreast, and the oldlady heard us talking over the wall'----

'And she heard Jass's name, ' interrupted Frances, 'and'----

'Let Jacinth tell it, if you please, Frances, ' said Miss Mildmay. 

So Jacinth took up the story again, and related all that had happened. 

Her aunt listened attentively, her face softened. 

'I don't think I need read you what Lady Myrtle has written, after all, 'she said, when Jacinth had finished speaking. 'I understand it wellenough, and I have no doubt your father and mother would like you to goto Robin Redbreast now and then; of course, not to any extreme, or so asto interfere with your lessons or regular ways. '

'Does Lady Myrtle ask you to go to see her too?' inquired Jacinth, halftimidly. 

'Oh dear, no, ' replied Miss Mildmay: 'she is straightforward enough. Shedoes not pretend to want to make _my_ acquaintance, and after all whyshould she? She has had plenty of time to do so if she had wished itduring all these years; and honestly, ' and here again she smiled quitenaturally, 'I don't want to know her. I have no time for freshacquaintances. And her interest in you children, Jacinth especially, hasnothing to do with our side. It is entirely connected with theMorelands. '

'I wonder how she and our grandmother came to be such friends, ' saidJacinth. 'Lady Myrtle's old home was near here, and the Morelands didn'tbelong to this neighbourhood. '

'No, but the Elvedons have another place in the north near yourgrandmother's old home, ' said Miss Mildmay, who was very well posted upin such matters. 'They have never lived all the year round at Elvedon, Ifancy, and now of course it is let. '

'Lady Myrtle's name used to be Harper, she told us, ' said Frances, whonever cared to be very long left out of the conversation, 'and there aresome girls called Harper at our school. But Jacinth says it's quite acommon name. '

'No, Frances, I didn't say that, ' said Jacinth. 'I said it wasn't an_un_common name; that sounds quite different. '

'Possibly the Harpers at Miss Scarlett's may be someconnection--distant, probably--of the Elvedons, ' said Miss Mildmay, carelessly. 'But of course it is not, as Jacinth says, an uncommonname. '

But her remark set Frances's imagination to work. 

'They are very, _very_ nice girls--the nicest at the school, ' she said. 'Their names are Bessie and Margaret. If you could only see them, AuntAlison! I do _so_ wish you would let us ask them to tea some Saturday. '

'Nonsense, child, ' said Miss Mildmay, impatiently. 'I cannot beginthings of that kind, as you might understand. You have companionship atschool, and when you are at home you must be content with your ownsociety. Now you must leave me: I have to see the cook, and I have mademyself late already. '

'Frances, ' said Jacinth on their way up-stairs to their own littlesitting-room, 'I do think you are the _silliest_ girl I ever knew. Justafter all that discussion--and I can tell you I was shaking in my shoesfor ever so long--just when it had ended so well, you must go and vexAunt Alison by wanting to have the Harpers here at tea. I think you areabsurd about those girls, as you always are about new friends. _I_ don'twant them here at tea, or at anything. '

'Well, I do, then, or rather I did, ' said Frances doggedly. 'That's justall the difference. No girls have as dull a life as we have. '

'It's a very silly time for you to begin complaining, just when we havea chance of some amusement and change, ' said Jacinth. 'I'm almost sureLady Myrtle will ask us to spend the day, or something like that, verysoon. '

'I don't want to go. It's you she cares for, and you may keep her toyourself, ' said Frances, waxing more and more cross. 'I wish I was aboarder at school. I'd like it far better than being always scolded byyou. '

It was not often that Frances so rebelled, or that their small squabbleswent so nearly the length of a quarrel. But this morning there seemeddisturbance in the air; and to add to it, when Frances had finished herEnglish lessons, and was about to begin her French translation, shefound, to her dismay, that she had forgotten to bring an important bookhome with her. 

'What _shall_ I do?' she exclaimed, forgetting, in her distress, theunfriendly state of feeling between herself and her sister. 'I reallymust have it, or I shall miss all my marks in the French class, and youknow, Jacinth, I had set my heart on getting the prize. '

Jacinth's sympathy was aroused. She herself was in a higher class thanher sister, but she was greatly interested in Frances's success. ForFrances was rather a giddy little person. Till the companionship andemulation at school had roused her, she had never bestowed moreattention on her lessons than was absolutely unavoidable. 

'I don't know what to do, ' said the elder girl after some reflection. 'Idon't see how you are to get the book till Monday. '

For there was a strict rule at the school, that day-scholars wereneither to go there nor to send messages from their homes, out of schoolhours. So that forgettings of books required for preparation, or othercarelessnesses of the kind, became serious matters. 

'If I don't get it till I go to school on Monday, I needn't get it atall, ' said Frances. 'There's no comfort in telling me that. You know theclass _is_ on Monday morning, so I've as good as lost my chance already, and I needn't bother about it any more. I'll never try for a prizeagain, I know that. '

She began to hum a tune in a would-be-indifferent, reckless way, butJacinth knew that this was only bravado, and that it would be followedby great vexation of spirit, and she felt sorry and anxious. 

'I'll tell you what, Frances, ' she said at last, after sitting for sometime, her head resting on her hand, her own work at a standstill for themoment--'I'll tell you what: the only plan is this--for you to gostraight to Miss Scarlett herself and tell her all about your havingforgotten the book, and how anxious you are about the prize. I daresayshe'd let you go to your shelf and fetch it; she would see you had notbroken her rule. '

It was a good idea, and Frances recognised this, but all the same shedid not like it at all. 

'I'd have to go to the front-door, ' she said reluctantly, as she satdrumming her fingers on the table, 'and I can't go alone. '

'There's no need for you to go alone: take Phebe. Aunt Alison wouldn'tmind your taking her in the morning for once. I'll help her to put awayour things from the laundress, or whatever it is she's busy about. And Ithink you'd better go at once, Frances, if you're going. '

'Aunt Alison won't be in till dinner-time, so I can't go till afterthen, ' said Frances. 

'Yes, you can, ' Jacinth persisted. 'You know you can. I undertake to putit all right with Aunt Alison. Do go at once. If I have half an hourquietly to myself, I shall have finished my lessons by the time you comein--it won't take you more than half an hour--and then I can helpPhebe. '

'If I could see Miss Marcia Scarlett I shouldn't mind so much, ' nextsaid Frances, still irresolutely. 

Jacinth's patience began to give way. 

'You are too bad, Frances, ' she said. 'You are spoiling my work andlosing any chance you have of getting the book. If you wait till theafternoon, most likely all the Miss Scarletts will be out or engaged, and I rather think--yes, I am sure the boarders told me that theschool-books are locked up at noon on Saturday till Monday morning. Askfor Miss Marcia, if you like; you've just as good a chance of seeing heras the others. But you must decide. Are you going or not?'

Frances got up slowly from her seat and moved towards the door. 

'I suppose I must, ' she said in a martyrised tone. 'You do scurry oneso, Jacinth. ' And then when, having borne this certainly unmeritedreproach in silence, Jacinth with relief heard the door close on hersister and began to hope she was going to have a little peace, it wasopened again sufficiently to admit Frances's fluffy head, while sheasked, in a half-grumbling, half-conciliatory tone, if she might takeEugene. 

'Of course, ' said Jacinth; 'a little fresh air in the morning is alwaysgood for him. '

She heard no more except, ten minutes or so later, the closing of thefront-door, and the next three-quarters of an hour passed, rapidly, soabsorbed was she in her own work, till the old church clock strikingtwelve--for St Blaise's in the Market Square was but a stone's-throwfrom Miss Mildmay's house--made her look up suddenly, and at that momentcame a rushing of eager feet across the stone-tiled hall, quicklyfollowed by Frances's voice in great excitement. 

'Jacinth, Jass!' she exclaimed, and almost before the elder girl hadtime to say to herself, 'I do hope nothing has gone wrong, ' her sister'sbright face reassured her. 

Frances was like a veritable April day--gloom and sparkle, tears andlaughter, succeeded each other with her as swiftly as the clouds rushingbefore the wind alternately veil and reveal the sun's bright face, though underneath all this fitfulness and caprice lay a sturdyfoundation of principle and loyalty which circumstances, so far, hadscarcely brought out, and which Jacinth certainly did not as yet realiseor appreciate. 

'Oh Jass, ' exclaimed the little girl, 'I am so glad I went. _Such_ anice thing has happened! I saw Miss Marcia--I asked for her at the door, and she was crossing the hall; wasn't it lucky? She _was_ so kind aboutthe book, and she took me herself to the big schoolroom to fetch it. None of the girls were there--it looked so funny all empty, you can'tthink--they were out in the garden. And Jass, to-day they 're going tohave their last out-of-doors tea for this year, you know, as it'sgetting cold. They have tea in the garden every fortnight all throughthe fine weather. And she invited _me_, Jass--just fancy! She said shewas sure you wouldn't mind, as it's quite an extra thing to invite aday-scholar, you see, and'----

Here Frances was forced to take breath, and Jacinth got a chance ofputting in a word. 

'Of course I don't mind, ' she said. 'I'm very glad indeed, _very_ gladfor you to have a little fun. And we couldn't have gone much of a walkthis afternoon, as Eugene is still tired with yesterday. '

'And you think Aunt Alison will let me go?' said Frances. 

'Oh yes, I'm sure she will. If you will get on with your lessons now, Frances, so as to be able to say at dinner that you have quite finished, I will go down-stairs and watch for Aunt Alison. She will be in by one, to-day, and I'll ask her for you. '

'Oh thank you, Jass, ' said Frances gratefully. 'Yes, I'll hurry up. But--Jass'----

'Well?'

Francie's face grew very grave. 

'It's about my things, Jass. What do you think I should wear? I'm soafraid Aunt Alison will be vexed if I put on my best things--and ofcourse black frocks do get spoilt if one runs about much--and yet myevery-day frock is so shabby now, and--I don't want the girls to thinkwe're never properly dressed. '

Jacinth considered. They were still in deep mourning, for Miss Mildmay'sideas on such subjects were 'old-fashioned, ' and she quite recognisedthat the late Mrs Denison's memory should be treated with the fullestrespect. But Jacinth sympathised with Frances's feelings. 

'I was looking at our dark-gray frocks with Phebe the other day, ' shesaid. 'The ones we had new just before--before our mourning. You knowthey were got for half-mourning because of old Sir GeorgeMildmay's--papa's uncle's--death, and they look quite fresh and nice. Idon't think you've grown much, Francie--and oh, by-the-bye, I believethere's a tuck that could be let down. '

'Yes, ' said Frances, 'there are little tucks--a lot--above the hem. '

'Then I'll run up and tell Phebe to get them out, yours at least. I'llexplain to Aunt Alison; and if I lend you my wide black sash, I'm sureit will look quite mourning enough. '

'Oh Jass, ' exclaimed Frances, '_how_ good of you!'

The honour and glory of Jacinth's best black sash was almost too muchfor her. 

'Really, I should never be cross to Jass. She is so very, very kind andunselfish, ' thought the grateful little girl. 

The gray frock was looked out and soon got ready. It was lying on achair in the girls' room when Jacinth, a little before half-past one, atlast heard her aunt's step in the hall, and ran forward to meet her, primed with her request. 

Miss Mildmay was still in a somewhat conciliatory mood, and she listenedto Jacinth's story with as much kindliness as was in her nature to show. 

'Yes, ' she said, 'I suppose she may as well go, though you know, mydear, I cannot encourage any schoolgirl friendships. It would beimpossible for me to invite other children here, and yet I could notaccept attentions for you which I could not return. '

'But this is different, being at Miss Scarlett's, where we go to school. You didn't mind our going to the breaking-up party before the midsummerholiday, ' said Jacinth, trembling a little at the irresolution in heraunt's face. 

'Oh, I don't mean to stop her going, ' said Miss Mildmay. 'It is verynice of you to be so eager for Frances to have the little pleasure. Butjust warn her, if you can, not to get too intimate with the other girls. It will only cause trouble and annoyance. Frances is an impulsivelittle creature, but she is old enough to understand that she should bediscreet. The worst of any girls' school, even the best, is the chatterand gossip that go on. '

'I have often warned Frances about that kind of thing, ' said Jacinth. 'The girls are all very nice and lady-like, but of course we don't seevery much of them; it is not as if we were boarders. Francie is moresensible about making friends than she was at first. The only two shereally likes _very_ much are the Harpers--Bessie and MargaretHarper--the girls she was speaking of to you. '

'They are nice girls, I believe, ' said Miss Mildmay. 'Miss Scarlett toldme about them. I don't think we need discourage her friendship withthem. After all, any gossip one would dislike is more probable with theother day-scholars, and you have not much to do with them, I think. '

'There are so few compared with the boarders, ' said Jacinth, 'andthey're all great friends together. I don't think any of them areparticularly interesting. Thank you so much, Aunt Alison, for lettingFrances go. I'll run and tell her, she will be so delighted. '

And so she was, delighted and grateful, so that she took in good partthe little lecture Jacinth proceeded to give her in accordance with heraunt's wish. 

'I _am_ careful, I really am, Jass, ' she maintained. 'I don't care a bitfor any of the day-scholars. They are rather common just because theythink they're not, and they do _so_ look down on Miss Green's scholars. It's quite absurd. The only girls I really care for are the Harpers, and--well, a little for Prissy Beckingham, though she's rather silly. '

'It's the day-scholars Aunt Alison doesn't want you to be great friendswith, ' said Jacinth. 'In a little place like this, there's always a lotof chatter. She knows the Harpers are nice girls. '

'Well, that's all I want, ' said Frances, with satisfaction. 'I don'twant a lot of friends. Bessie and Margaret are quite enough for me--andyou, Jass. If I hadn't any one but you I should be content, especiallywhen you're so very kind to me as you've been to-day. '

And at the appointed time, Frances made her appearance dressed for hergarden party, in great spirits, very conscious of the grand effect ofher sister's best black silk sash. 

'And what are you going to do with yourself, Jacinth?' inquired heraunt, who happened to be crossing the hall at the moment that the twogirls came running down--Frances ready to start. 'Are you and Eugenegoing a walk? or have you lessons to do still?'

'No, I finished them all this morning, and Eugene is tired. I don'tquite know what I'm going to do, ' said Jacinth. 

She was not the least of a complaining nature; she had no thought ofcomplaining just then, but as Miss Mildmay's glance fell on the youngfigure standing there so interested in her sister's pleasure, it struckher almost for the first time, in any thorough way, that the life withher here at Thetford was somewhat lonely for her nieces, and that it wasnot by any means every girl of Jacinth's age who would accommodateherself to it so contentedly. 

'It is always a pity when parents and children have to be separated, 'she said to herself. 'It is unnatural. It should not have to be. Fromthe effects of such a separation in my childhood, I believe I havesuffered ever since. It made me hard and unable to understand familylife as I might have done. '

And her tone was unusually kind and gentle when she spoke again. 

'Would you care'----she began. 'I scarcely think you would, but wouldyou care to come with me for once in a way to our girls' club? I shallbe there all the afternoon giving out the lending-library books, and agood many volumes need re-covering. I could find you plenty to do, andwe can have a cup of tea there. '

'Oh, I should like to come--very much, ' said Jacinth, eagerly. 

Miss Mildmay seemed pleased. 

'Well, I think I had better make sure of you while I can have you forthis one Saturday afternoon, ' she said. 'In future I shall not besurprised if you spend Saturdays often with your old lady at RobinRedbreast. I have written to her, Jacinth. I am just going to post theletter. '

'Oh, thank you, ' said the girl. --'Good-bye, Francie; you see I shall notbe dull without you, ' and the two kissed each other affectionately. 

Then Frances, escorted by Phebe, set off, and Jacinth ran up-stairs toget ready for her expedition with her aunt. 

CHAPTER V. 

AN OLD STORY. 

That Saturday afternoon passed very pleasantly for both the sisters. Jacinth earned her aunt's commendation by her quick neat-handedness andaccuracy, and a modicum of praise from Miss Mildmay meant a good deal. The little misunderstanding of the morning, ending as it had done inmaking the aunt, an essentially just woman, blame herself for hastyjudgment, had drawn her and her elder niece closer together than had yetbeen the case. And no doubt there was a substratum of resemblance intheir natures, deeper and more real than the curious capricious likenesswhich had struck Marmaduke so oddly--which was indeed perhaps but acasual coming to the surface of a real underlying similarity. 

Things were turning out quite other than the young uncle in his anxietyhad anticipated. 

'If fate had sent me Jacinth alone, ' thought Miss Mildmay, 'I ratherthink we should have got on very well, and have fitted into each other'sways. There is so much more in her than in Frances. I strongly suspect, in spite of her looks, that Jacinth takes after our side of thehouse--she almost seems older than Eugenia in some ways--whereasFrances, I suppose, is her mother over again. '

But here she checked herself. Any implied disparagement of hersister-in-law she did not, even in her secret thoughts, intend orencourage, for Alison Mildmay was truly and firmly attached to herbrother's wife, widely different though their characters were. 

'Frances is really only a baby, ' she went on thinking. 'There's notelling as yet what she will turn out. '

Jacinth on her side was conscious of a good deal of congeniality betweenherself and her aunt. It was not the congeniality of affection, oftenall the stronger for a certain amount of intellectual dissimilarity, ordifferences of temperament, thus leaving scope for complementaryqualities which love welds together and cements; it was scarcely eventhat of friendliness. It consisted in a certain satisfaction andapproval of Miss Mildmay's ways of seeing and doing things. The girlfelt positive pleasure in her aunt's perfect 'method;' in the clear andwell-considered manner in which her time was mapped out; in the quickdiscrimination with which she divined what would be the right place andtreatment for each girl in her club; even in the beautiful order of thebook-shelves and the neat clerk-like writing of the savings-bankentries. It was all so complete and accurate, with no loose ends leftabout--all so perfect in its way, thought Jacinth, as she cut and foldedand manipulated the brown paper entrusted to her charge for the books'new coats, rewarded by her aunt's 'Very nice--very nice indeed, mydear, ' when it was time to go home, and she pointed out the neat littlepile of clean tidy volumes. 

Frances on her side had enjoyed herself greatly. She was the onlyoutsider, otherwise day-scholar, at the garden tea, which fact in no waylessened her satisfaction while it increased her importance. 

'I wish you were a boarder, Frances, ' said Margaret Harper, the youngerof her two friends, as they were walking up and down a shady path inthe intervals of the games all the girls had joined in. 'Don't you? Itwould be so nice, and I am sure we should be great, _great_ friends--youand Bessie and I. '

'And not Jass?' said Frances. 'I shouldn't like to be a boarder unlessJass was too. Then, I daresay, I wouldn't mind. '

'We'd like to be friends with Jacinth too, ' said Margaret, 'but Bessieand I don't think she cares very much about being great friends. Sheseems so much older, though she's only a year more than Bessie, isn'tshe?'

'She's fifteen, ' said Frances. 'She is old in some ways, but still sheand I do everything nearly together. She's very good to me. She's verynice about you, and I'm quite happy about having you and Bessie for mybest friends, for Jacinth and Aunt Alison think you're the nicest girlshere. '

Margaret coloured with pleasure, but with some shyness too. 

'I'm glad they think we're nice, ' she said; 'and I'm sure, if your auntknew father and mother, they'd think we _should_ be far, far better thanwe are, at least than I am. I don't think Bessie _could_ be much betterthan she is. But a good many others of the girls are very nice indeed;they are none of them not nice, except that Prissy Beckingham talks toomuch and says rather rude things without meaning it, and Laura Frenchcertainly has a very bad temper. But she's always sorry for itafterwards. And who could be nicer than the Eves or Honor Falmouth. '

'I don't know them much; they're too big for me, you see, ' said Frances. 'Of course I'd know them better if we were boarders. Do you like my grayfrock, Margaret? It's the first day I've had on anything but black forsuch a time; it does feel so funny. '

'I think it's very pretty, and you've got such a beautiful sash!' saidMargaret admiringly. 'But I always think you and Jacinth are so nicelydressed, even though you've been in black all the time. Bessie and Ican't have anything but very plain frocks, you know. Mother couldn'tafford it, for we're not _at all_ rich. '

'I don't fancy we are, either, ' said Frances; 'I shouldn't think papawould stay out in India if we were. But at Stannesley, where we livedbefore, granny always got us very nice dresses: she used often to sendto London for them. I don't believe Aunt Alison will care so much how weare dressed. Do you have an allowance for your gloves, Margaret? We do. I got a new pair yesterday, but I'm afraid they're not very good; whereare they, I wonder? Oh yes, here in my pocket; there are little whitymarks in the black kid already, as if they were going to split. '

She drew the gloves out, as she spoke, but with them came somethingelse--a doubled-up, rather soiled white card. 

'What's this?' said Frances, as she unfolded it. 'Oh, I declare! Justlook, Margaret--it's an old Christmas card of last year. I remember oneof the children gave it me at the Sunday school, and I've never had thisfrock on since. Isn't it strange?'

She stood looking at the card--an ordinary enough little picture of arobin on a bough, with 'Merry Christmas' in one corner--a mixture ofsadness and almost reverence in her young face. 'Last Christmas' seemedso very long ago to Frances. And indeed, so much had happened since thento change things for herself and her brother and sister, that it didnaturally seem like looking back to the other side of a lifetime torecall the circumstances which then surrounded them. How well sheremembered that very Sunday, the last of the old year; how they hadchattered and laughed as they ran home over the frosty ground, and UncleMarmaduke, who had just joined them, had predicted skating before theweek was out! How tenderly granny had kissed them that night when theywent to bed, with some little remark about the ending of the year, andhow the next morning she was not well enough to get up, anxious thoughshe was in no way to cloud or damp their enjoyment; and how the doctorhad begun to come every day, and then--and then----The tears started toFrances's eyes as she seemed to live through it all again, and for amoment or two she did not speak; she forgot that Margaret was standingbeside her with sympathising face. 

'Dear Frances, ' she said, 'does it remind you of something sad? Has itto do with when you went into mourning?'

'Yes, ' said Frances, 'it was soon after last Christmas that granny--ourgrandmother that we lived with--got ill and died, you know, Margaret. It's for her we are still in mourning. '

'And you were very fond of her, of course?' said Margaret. 

'Very, _very_, ' said Frances. 

Then she almost seemed anxious to change the subject: she was afraid ofbeginning to cry, which 'before all the girls' would have certainly beenill-timed. And her glance fell on the card in her hand. 

'Robin Redbreast, ' she said consideringly. 'Margaret, have you everpassed that lovely old house, down the lane on the Crickthorne Road, that's called "Robin Redbreast?" The bird on the card reminded me of itjust now. '

'Oh yes, ' said Margaret rather eagerly. 'I know it quite well. Once ortwice Bessie and I have stood at the gate and looked in. Isn't it adelicious quaint old place?'

'It's perfectly beautiful, ' said Frances. 'You can't think what it lookslike from the inside. '

'Have you ever been inside?' questioned Margaret, evidently intenselyinterested. 'Do tell me about it. '

Frances glanced round, as if to make sure that no one was withinhearing, partly perhaps from a feeling that Jacinth would not have likedher to go 'chattering' about their yesterday's adventure, partly from achildish love of importance and mystery. 

'Is it anything you shouldn't tell me, perhaps?' said Margaret, withquick delicacy. 'Don't mind my having asked you; it wasn't--it wasn'texactly curiosity, Frances. '

And Frances, glancing at her friend, saw that her face had reddened allover. Margaret was not a pretty child, but she was very sweet-looking, with honest gray eyes and smooth brown hair. Her features were good, butthe cheeks were less round than one likes to see at her age; there was arather wistful expression about the whole face, almost suggestingpremature cares and anxiety. 

'Oh no, dear, ' said Frances reassuringly. 'It's not that. It _was_rather queer, and you see we weren't quite sure at first how Aunt Alisonwas going to take it. And Jacinth is always rather down upon me fortalking too much. But I know I may tell _you_, for it's quite fixed thatyou and Bessie are to be my best friends: it's the day-scholars thatAunt Alison doesn't want me to talk much to. '

'Yes, ' agreed Margaret, 'I quite understand. '

[Illustration: And then Frances related the whole, Margaret listeningintently till almost the end. ]

She was in a fever, poor child, and from no selfish motive assuredly, tohear more about the mysterious house. But she restrained herself, scrupulously careful in no way to force the other's confidence. 

'When I said what Robin Redbreast looked like from the inside, I meantfrom inside the gates, ' began Frances, after a moment or two'sreflection. For she was scrupulously truthful. 'I've not been inside thehouse--not farther than the porch. But the porch is like a little room, it _is_ so pretty. I'll tell you how it all was; you may tell Bessie, but not any one else, because, you see, there's quite a story about it. '

And then Frances related the whole, Margaret listening intently tillalmost the end, when the little narrator, stopping for a moment to takebreath, after 'So you see our grandmother was her very dearest friend, and she really seemed as if she could scarcely bear to let Jacinth go, and--_isn't_ it like a real story?' saw, to her surprise, that herhearer's face, instead of being rosier than usual, had now grown quitepale. 

'Why, Margaret, what's the matter? You look as if I had been telling youa ghost-story, you're so white, ' she exclaimed. 

Margaret gave a little gasp. 

'It is so strange, ' she said. 'I'll tell you why it has made me feel soqueer. Mine is a sort of a secret, Frances; at least when we came hereto school mother told us not to talk about it. But I know I can trustyou, and what you've told me makes it seem as if somehow--I don't knowhow to say what I mean--as if we must be a sort of relation to eachother, from our people long ago having been such friends. For, do youknow, Frances, Lady Myrtle Goodacre is our aunt--our great-aunt, that isto say--father's own aunt?'

Frances stopped short and _almost_ clapped her hands. 

'There now, ' she said, 'I had a feeling there was something like that. I_wish_ Jacinth hadn't stopped my speaking of you, when Lady Myrtle toldus her name used to be Harper. '

'Were you going to speak of us?' asked Margaret. 

'Yes, it was on the very tip of my tongue. Indeed I believe I did get asfar as "There are some, " when Jacinth stopped me. She said afterwardsthat it is "common, " when any one mentions a name, to say immediately, "Oh, _I_ know somebody called that. " I don't quite see why it should becommon; it's rather interesting, I think. Still I daresay it's true thatcommon people often do speak like that, when you come to think of it. They've always got an aunt, or a cousin, or a friend's friend calledso-and-so, or living somewhere, if you mention a place. '

'I daresay they do, ' said Margaret; but she seemed to be giving onlyhalf her attention. 'Frances, ' she went on, 'I wonder what would havehappened if you _had_ spoken of us? I wonder if Lady Myrtle would havetaken any notice?'

Frances stared. 

'Of course she would!' she exclaimed. 'Do you mean to say she wouldn'thave taken any notice of hearing that her own grand-nieces were so nearher? Why, she'----But suddenly the actual state of the case struck her. 'Do you--does she _not_ know you're here?' she went on, raising her blueeyes in bewilderment to Margaret's face. 'No, I suppose she doesn't, orof course you would be asked to Robin Redbreast on holidays and all thatsort of thing. '

'No, ' Margaret replied, 'she doesn't know anything about us. I'm noteven sure that she knows of our existence; anyway she has never heardour names, or how many of us there are, and I can't believe she reallyunderstands how--how very poor we are. For she is very, very rich, youknow, Frances, though she lives in that quiet way. '

'_Is_ she?' said Frances. 'I do wish I had spoken of you, whether it was"common" or not. '

'She mightn't have thought that we were any relation, ' said Margaret, simply. 'Harper isn't a very particular name. And you see we're not verynear to the head of the family now. Lord Elvedon is only father'scousin, and they never stay near here. Father and mother see themsometimes in London, but they've got a very large family, and they'renot rich--not _extra_ rich themselves; for the one before this LordElvedon, the one who was father's uncle, you see, was very extravagant, though it was mostly his brother's fault--that was our grandfather. Hisname was Bernard Harper, and'----

'It's awfully interesting, ' said Frances, 'but I'm afraid I'm gettingrather muddled. Your _grandfather_--what was he, then, to Lady Myrtle?'

'I'll begin at the other end, ' said Margaret; 'that will make itplainer. There was a Lord Elvedon who had two sons and a daughter; thedaughter was Lady Myrtle. The sons were younger than the daughter, andthey were both extravagant. The elder one was a weaker character thanhis brother, and quite led by him, and before their father died they hadalready wasted a lot of money, and given him a great deal of trouble, especially Bernard, the second one. So old Lord Elvedon left all he_could_ to his daughter, Lady Myrtle; of course the estates and a gooddeal had to go with the title, but still the new Lord Elvedon was muchless rich than he should have been, you see, and our grandfather--thatwas the son called Bernard--was really poor, and his children, ourfather and his sisters, have always been poor. Father says a good dealwill go back to the title when Lady Myrtle dies, and she is quitefriends with the present Lord Elvedon, her nephew. But she couldn't bearher brother Bernard--I believe he behaved very badly to her and to allhis people--and she has never taken the least notice of father, thoughfather is really a sort of an angel;' and Margaret's eyes glistened. 'You know it is like that sometimes, ' she went on; 'a bad father--and Iam afraid our grandfather was a bad man, though I don't quite likesaying it--sometimes has very good children. '

'But Lady Myrtle _can't_ know about you all--about your fatherespecially, ' said Frances. 'I think he should write to her, or dosomething. Very likely she's got quite wrong ideas about him. '

'No, ' said Margaret, 'she must know he is a very good man. He was in thearmy, you know, like your father, and he was very brave and did lots ofthings, but he had to leave because of a wound, when he was only acaptain. When he and mother married he hoped to stay on till he became ageneral, and at first they weren't so badly off, for mother had somemoney. But a good deal of it was lost somehow. '

'I do think Lady Myrtle should be told--I really do, ' said Frances, stopping short and speaking with great energy. 

But Margaret only shook her head. 

'She does know a good deal, ' she said. 'We are sure she does, for someyears ago my aunt--that's father's only sister--the other died quiteyoung--wrote to her about us. Aunt Flora isn't badly off in a way, forshe has no children, and her husband is a judge in India. But she can'tdo much for us, and--you see it's her husband's money; it isn't as if itwas a relation of _ours_. '

Frances had never thought of things in this way; she was years and yearsyounger in mind, or rather in experience and knowledge of life, thanMargaret Harper, her junior by nearly twelve months. For Margaret withher older brothers and sisters had early had to face practicaldifficulties and troubles, the very existence of which was unknown toher young companion. 

'It's a shame--a regular shame; that's what it is!' said Francesvehemently, her face flushing with indignation, 'and something should bedone. '

Just at that moment a figure came running towards them. It was Bessie, the elder of the Harper girls. 

'Margaret, Frances, where have you been? what have you been doing allthis time?' she exclaimed. 'We've had ever so many games, and now teawill be ready directly. What are you looking so mournful about, Margaret, and you so excited, Frances? You haven't--oh no, you couldn'thave been quarrelling. '

The smile on both faces was sufficient answer--no, certainly they hadnot been quarrelling!

'What have you been talking about, then?' said Bessie again, and shelooked at them with considerable curiosity. 

Bessie was two years older than her sister. She was handsomer too, andmuch stronger. There was a bright, fearless, resolute look about her, very attractive and prepossessing. But she was less intellectual, lessthoughtful, more joyous and confident, though tenderly and devotedlyunselfish to those she loved, especially to all weak and dependentcreatures. 

'Margaret has been telling me _such_ interesting things, ' began Franceseagerly. 

'And Frances has been telling _me_ about--about Lady Myrtle and RobinRedbreast. Just fancy, Bessie, they know her! She was a very, very oldfriend of their grandmother's. '

And between them the two girls soon put the elder one in possession ofall they had been discussing. 

Bessie Harper's bright face grew grave; she could not blame her sisterand Frances, but still, on the whole, she almost wished the discoveryhad not been made, though 'it was bound to come some time or other, Isuppose, ' she reflected. 

'I call it a perfect shame!' said Frances, her cheeks flaming up again. 'To think of that horrid old woman having more money than she knows whatto do with, and keeping it all to herself, when it _really_ belongs--agood part of it, at least--to your father. '

'No, no, ' said Bessie, 'we can't say that. Our great-grandfather had aright to do what he did with his money. And if he _had_ left it to ourgrandfather, it would all have been wasted, most likely. '

'If he had known how good _father_ was going to be, he'd have left it tohim, I daresay, ' said Margaret. 

'He couldn't have known that, ' said Bessie with a merry laugh. 'Fatherwasn't born when he died. '

'No, but just because of that, Lady Myrtle should make up for it now, 'said Frances. 'I daresay I shouldn't call her "horrid, " and of courseshe's your aunt, and I can scarcely believe she _does_ know all aboutyou. Perhaps she never got your other aunt's letter. '

'Oh yes, she did, ' said Bessie. 'She answered it by sending it backwith a note saying that none of the descendants of the late BernardHarper were kith or kin of hers. '

'How wicked!' exclaimed Frances. 

'No, no, it's not right to say that, Frances dear, ' said both sisters. 'Father says, ' Bessie went on, 'that no one knows what her brothers madeher suffer, and how good she was to them, standing between them and herfather, and devoting herself to them, and hoping against hope, evenabout our grandfather, till I suppose she _had_ to give him up. It isawfully sad, and for her sake as well as ours, mother and I have oftensaid how we wished she knew father. He would make up to her for thedisappointment in her brothers. '

'Isn't Lord Elvedon nice?' asked Frances; 'that's her other nephew, isn't he?'

'Oh yes, I think he's a good sort of a man, but not clever, ' saidBessie. 'Not like _father_. '

'And then our boys, ' added Margaret. 'They are so good and so clever. '

Her pale little face flushed with rosy pleasure. 

'How nice!' said Frances, with ready sympathy. 'How many brothers haveyou?'

'Two big--older than we are, and one little one of eleven. There are sixof us, ' Margaret replied. 

CHAPTER VI. 

BESSIE'S MISGIVINGS. 

But just then came the sound of approaching voices. 

'Bessie, Bessie, where are you? Haven't you found them? Tea's quiteready. '

And Bessie started. She had forgotten the errand on which she had come. 

'Oh, we must be quick!' she said. 'That's Honor and the others callingus; I forgot how the time was going. But Frances, I must speak to youfor a moment before you go. Don't forget. '

And then the three ran off to rejoin their companions. 

Never had Frances enjoyed herself more, her only regret being thatJacinth was not there to share her pleasure. There was the element ofnovelty to add zest to the whole, and then as the 'boarders' looked uponher as in some sense their guest, they vied with each other in makingmuch of her--for her own sake too, for Frances was a great favourite, amuch greater favourite than her sister, among their companions. It is tobe doubted if Frances would have enjoyed herself quite as much hadJacinth been with her. For not only did Jacinth's rather cold, stand-offmanner destroy any geniality towards herself; it often acted on Francesas a sort of tacit reproach to her own overflowing spirits. 

And through all the little girl's fun and merriment there ran theconsciousness of the trust reposed in her by the Harpers. She was fullof intense interest in their family history; it was really quite like astory in a book, she kept saying to herself, and she felt bursting witheagerness to relate it all to Jacinth. 

How good and delightful they must all be, Bessie and Margaret's fatherand mother, and brothers and sisters! It was easy to believe it, thegirls were so nice themselves! How lovely it would be if, somehow, she, or Jacinth and she, could be the means of healing the family breach andintroducing her relations to Lady Myrtle, so that in the end they mightbe restored to their lost rights. For 'rights' Frances was determined toconsider them, in her vehement young judgment and hot partisanship ofher friends. 

'It is not fair or just!' she said to herself; 'it is shameful that theyand their father should suffer for their _grandfather's_ fault. Butnobody could help seeing how good they are: if only Lady Myrtle knewthem it would all be right. I wonder how would be the best way to tellher? Jacinth will know--she is so much cleverer than I, and then she issure to be Lady Myrtle's favourite. I am glad she is, for in spite ofwhat Bessie and Margaret say, I don't feel as if I could ever like thatold lady. '

And her eagerness to go home and talk it all over with 'Jass, ' made her, notwithstanding her enjoyment of the afternoon, scarcely sorry when oneof Miss Scarlett's servants came out to tell her that her maid hadcalled to fetch her. 

She said good-bye to her companions and ran in for a moment, by old MissScarlett's special desire, to the drawing-room, where the ladies weresitting. They kissed her affectionately. 

'I've been so happy, ' she said. 'We've had such beautiful games; I'venot had such fun for ever so long. '

'I am so glad, my dear child, ' said the eldest lady, and she smoothedthe little girl's soft hair. 'You must come again and see something ofyour companions out of lesson hours as well as in the schoolroom. '

Frances's eyes sparkled with pleasure. 

'I would like it very much, ' she said. 

'What is your sister about this afternoon?' said Miss Marcia. 'Perhapsshe does not care so much about games and romping as you do?'

'No, she doesn't, ' replied Frances, bluntly. 'This afternoon she's gonewith Aunt Alison to the girls' club. '

'Very nice, ' said Miss Scarlett, approvingly. 'Jacinth is a thoughtfulgirl and older than her years, in some ways. Is she interested alreadyin Miss Mildmay's good works?'

The old lady was pleased to hear of any bond of sympathy likely to drawthe aunt and niece together, for much as she respected Miss Mildmay, shehad had strong doubts of her fitness for the charge of the girls, andconsiderable misgivings as to their happiness with her. And MissScarlett was old-fashioned, and but for her native kindliness of _heart_she might almost have been prejudiced and narrow-minded. She scarcelybelonged to the present generation. Her youth had been passed in asomewhat restricted groove, where the Lady Bountiful notions ofbenevolent work among the poor were still predominant. Her sisters, agood many years her juniors, had to a certain extent assimilated modernideas. 

Frances hesitated. She could not bear in the least to decry her dear'Jass, ' and yet she knew that her sister had so far troubled her headvery little, if at all, about her aunt's girls' club or otherphilanthropic undertakings. 

'Aunt Alison doesn't tell us much about all these things, ' she said. 'To-day was the first time she asked Jacinth to go with her, but Jasswas very pleased indeed, and I'm sure she'll like to be of use. '

Miss Scarlett smiled. She was quick of perception in some ways; sheunderstood the little girl's loyal admiration of her sister, and againshe patted her fair head. 

'Well, ' she said, encouragingly, 'sometimes, I hope, Jacinth may like tospend a holiday afternoon with us. But tell her and your aunt from me, that if ever they are at a loss what to do with _you_, Frances, MissMildmay must let me know. We can manage a good run in the garden even inwintry weather, and there _are_ such things as blindman's-buff andhide-and-seek in the house sometimes. '

'Thank you _very_ much, ' said Frances. 'I think--I would like to comesometimes on Saturdays, for, besides going with Aunt Alison, I shouldn'twonder if--I daresay Jass may have often to go'----She stopped andhesitated, and finally blushed. 'I don't think I can explain, ' she said. 

'Never mind, my dear, ' said Miss Marcia, coming to the rescue, with avague idea that perhaps Jacinth had some private charities of her own inprospect which she did not wish talked about. 'Give Miss Scarlett'smessage to your aunt and sister, and good-bye till Monday morning. '

Frances ran off, much relieved in her mind. 

'But I really must be careful how I talk, ' she reflected sagely. 'I hadquite forgotten that I wasn't to chatter about Lady Myrtle--except toBessie and Margaret. Jacinth said I might really count them my friends, and that means being able to tell them anything I like. Besides, howcould I have helped telling Margaret about Lady Myrtle, when she told meall the story of her being their great-aunt?'

Her conscience nevertheless was not absolutely at rest, and joined toher eagerness to tell her sister all she had heard of the Harpers'family history was now a slight fear of Jacinth's considering herindiscreet, and she was so preoccupied that, as she hurried out to thehall, where Phebe was waiting, she almost ran against Bessie, who waseagerly watching for her. 

'Frances, ' she said, 'I must speak to you a moment. I asked Miss Linley, and she let me run in, and she said I might walk down to the gate withyou. ' There was rather a long drive up to the door of Ivy Lodge. 'Listen, dear; it's this. I can't bear to ask you to keep anything asecret from your aunt or your sister, but _sometimes_ secrets may beright, if they concern other people and are not about anything in anyway wrong. And I don't see what else to do. It is this--would you mindpromising me not to tell _anybody_ about Lady Myrtle Goodacre being ourrelation, till I have written home to mother and told her that you andJacinth know her, and about your grandmother having been her dearfriend? I am _so_ afraid of doing harm, or vexing father, for though heis so good, he is--very proud, you know, and--he could not bear itto--to come round to Lady Myrtle that we were talking about her, or--thinking about her money. '

Bessie's face by this time was crimson. Frances opened her mouth as ifabout to speak, then shut it again, and gazed at Bessie with a varietyof contradictory feelings looking out of her blue eyes. There wasdisappointment, strong disappointment that her wonderful schemes forbringing the Harpers and their old relative together threatened thus tobe nipped in the bud; there was disappointment, too, that she was not tohave the pleasure and importance of relating the story 'just like onein a book' to her sister; and yet there was considerable relief, born ofher recently aroused misgiving as to how Jacinth would look upon herconfidences with Margaret. 

Bessie meanwhile stood looking at her in undisguised anxiety. 

'It doesn't matter a bit about Aunt Alison, ' Frances at last blurtedout. 'We're not at all bound to tell her everything; mamma knows shewouldn't understand or take the trouble to listen. And so, when we camehere, mamma said we must just do the best we could. I've always toldJass everything, and we write long, _long_ letters to mamma. We tellher--at least I do--everything that puzzles us, even things I can'tunderstand about--about religion, ' and here Frances grew red. 'Thoughthat's _one_ thing that's better here than at Stannesley; the Bibleclasses are so nice. '

'But Frances, ' repeated Bessie, 'about not telling Jacinth? It is onlytill I write to mother and get her answer. And I'm not asking you tohide anything wrong; it's really our own family affairs. '

'I know, ' said Frances. 'No, I don't think it could be wrong topromise. '

'Put it this way, ' said Bessie: 'suppose you had, by some sort ofaccident, overheard anything about other people, you wouldn't at allthink you were bound to tell Jacinth. Well, you see it was a _little_like that; Margaret shouldn't by rights have told you without askingmamma. '

'I see, ' said Frances. 'Well then, Bessie, I promise not to tell anybodytill you give me leave. Only, you won't count my writing it all tomamma? I write the most of my weekly letter to her on Sunday, so I'dlike to know, because to-morrow's Sunday, you see. '

'_Of course_, ' said Bessie with the utmost heartiness, '_of course_ youmust write everything to your mother, just as I shall to mamma. Thankyou so much, dear Francie, for understanding so well. And--and--just oneother little thing--don't you think, just now, it will be better for youand Margaret not to talk about Lady Myrtle to each other? I mean if sheinvites you to Robin Redbreast and you go, I don't think you'd bettertell Margaret. She's not very strong, and she thinks of things so, onceshe gets them in her head. She's different from me. I can put them rightaway. '

And Bessie gave herself a little shake and stood there, all the anxietygone out of her face, bright, fearless, and handsome as usual. 

Frances, however, gave a little sigh. 

'Very well, ' she said, 'I won't speak about it any more to Margaret ifyou think I'd better not. But it's rather hard not to have any one I cantell about it, when I've been so interested. '

And Frances's face grew very doleful. 

Bessie Harper looked and felt sorry for her. She knew what a warmfaithful little heart she had to do with, and unaware as she was ofFrances's slight fear of Jacinth's displeasure, she perhapsoverestimated the trial it was to the younger sister to be debarred fromgiving her confidences to the elder one. 

'I'm very sorry, ' she said, sympathisingly. 'I really am very sorryindeed. But still I'm sure it's better for Jacinth not to know about ittill I hear what mother says. You see she _may_ be invited to LadyMyrtle's any day, and if anything about the Elvedons or our family wassaid, it would be impossible for her not to feel uncomfortableand--and--not open, you know, unless she told what Margaret told you, and that might be just what father would dislike. '

'And suppose _I_ go to Robin Redbreast too, ' said Frances, 'what am I todo?'

'I thought you said Jacinth was the one who would go, ' said Bessie. 

'Oh well, ' replied Frances, who had raised the difficulty partly out ofhalf-petulant contradiction, 'I am pretty sure it will be Jass. I don'tthink Lady Myrtle noticed me much, and I don't want to go. I don't likeher; at least I don't care about her unless she could be made nice toyou. And any way she wouldn't ask _me_ questions, even if by chance shedid hear your name'----

'And Jacinth isn't the least likely to speak about us, as things are. Soit's all right; and any way, Frances, you can write a very long letterto your mother to-morrow. '

'Yes, ' the little girl agreed. 'That's better than nothing; only, justthink of the weeks and weeks before I can get an answer! Whatever othertroubles you have, Bessie, you _are_ lucky to have your father andmother in England, and to know them. I don't know mamma for myself abit; only by her letters, and because I just feel she _must_ be verygood and kind. When I was very little it seemed something like--no, perhaps you wouldn't understand'----

'I think I would, ' said Bessie, who was eager to make up by every meansin her power for any distress she was causing to her friend. 'Tell me. '

'I was only thinking what queer feelings children have, ' said Frances. 'When I was little, before I had ever seen mamma--of course I canremember her since the time I _did_ see her, five years ago, and sincethen she has seemed real--but before that, it was only a kind of faith. Writing letters to her was a very little--don't think it's naughty of meto say it--a very little like saying our prayers. They went out, away tosomewhere, to some one I'd never seen; just like, you know, when wepray. '

'Yes, ' said Bessie gently, 'but the answers came. '

'I know, ' replied Frances simply. 'And sometimes I think it helped tomake me feel that there is something _real_ in saying our prayers. But Imust go. '

'And so must I, ' said Bessie. 'And thank you, dear Francie. '

She kissed the little face affectionately, and then hastened back to hercompanions. 

'I do love Frances, ' she thought. 'Somehow, I don't feel as if I couldever love Jacinth quite as much. I do hope all this won't bother thepoor little thing. I should make Margaret unhappy if I blamed her forhaving told Frances, and I scarcely see how she could have helped it. Itisn't as if we were in disgrace, ' and Bessie threw back her headproudly. 'We have no secrets: father's whole life and character are_grand_; and rather than have that horrid old Lady Myrtle--there, now, I'm calling her just what I told Frances she mustn't--rather than haveher thinking _we_ want her money, I'd--I don't know what I wouldn't do. If only'----And here poor Bessie's heroics broke down a little. Therecame before her a vision of 'father' with his crutch--for he had beenwounded in the hip and was very lame--with the lines of suffering on hisface, showing through the cheery smile which it was seldom without; andof 'mother' in her well-worn black poplin, which she used to declarewas 'never going to look shabby, ' planning and contriving how to sendthe two girls, neatly and sufficiently provided for, to school, when thewonderful chance of a year at Miss Scarlett's had so unexpectedly comein their way. 

Bessie's eyes filled with tears. 

'I'd do anything for them, ' she thought. 'I'd go to be Lady Myrtle'scompanion or lady's-maid or _anything_, if it would do any good. It'sall very well to be "proud, " but I'm afraid my pride would melt veryquickly if I could see any way to help them. But I'm glad I stoppedFrances talking about it; it really might have done harm. I must write along letter to mother. I wonder if I can begin it to-night?'

Frances, escorted by Phebe, made her way home in greater silence forsome minutes than was usual with her. She was revolving many things inher fluffy little head. 

'Had they come in when you started to fetch me?' she inquired at last ofthe maid. 

'Not yet, Miss Frances. Miss Mildmay gave me orders to go for you athalf-past six, before she went out. But I don't think they'll be long. Late tea is ordered for half-past seven, and Miss Mildmay is neverbehind time on Saturday evenings. '

'I don't mind whether they're in or not--not much, ' said Frances. 'Idon't want any more tea. I suppose Eugene has had his?'

'Yes, Miss Frances, his tea and an egg. He was very pleased. MasterEugene does enjoy a nice boiled fresh egg. I think you'll have to godown to late tea, though, Miss Frances; perhaps Miss Mildmay wouldn't bepleased if you didn't; and perhaps'----

'Nonsense, Phebe, ' said her young mistress; 'Aunt Alison doesn't care. You speak as if she was like a mamma, wanting to have us beside heralways. She's had Miss Jacinth all the afternoon, and she likes herbetter than me. I'm sure she wouldn't care if she never saw me again. Well, no; perhaps I shouldn't say that, for she's quite kind. She wasvery kind about letting me go this afternoon, and sending you to take meand to fetch me, Phebe. '

'Yes, Miss Frances, ' began Phebe, again with some hesitation, 'it wasjust that I was thinking about. If you go down to tea just as usual, nice and neat, it'll make it more likely that she will let you go again. It will show that a little change now and then will do you no harm, norget you out of regular ways, so to say, Miss Frances. '

'Very well, ' the child agreed; 'I don't care much one way or another. OhPhebe, ' she went on, brightening up again--it would have been difficultto depress Francie for long--'we had such fun this afternoon;' and shewent into some particulars of the games, which Phebe listened to withgreat interest. 'I wish Aunt Alison would _sometimes_ let us havefriends to play with us. We could have beautiful "I spy" in the garden. '

'Yes, Miss Frances, so you could, ' agreed Phebe. 

'You see at Stannesley there were really no children, no girls any waynear our age except the Vicar's daughter, and though she came to havetea with us sometimes it wasn't much pleasure--not _fun_, at least. She's a little older than Miss Jacinth, and oh, Phebe, she's so_awfully_ deaf. It's almost like not hearing at all. '

'Poor young lady!' said Phebe, sympathisingly. 

'Yes, isn't it sad? And so, you see, the one thing we were glad of aboutcoming here--I was, any way--was about going to school; just what somegirls wouldn't have liked. I've always wanted so to have somecompanions, only it isn't half as much good having them if you only seethem at lessons. I don't think Miss Jacinth minds. She was pleased to goto school because of learning better and finding out how much othergirls know compared with us, but I don't think she minds the way I do. '

She had almost forgotten whom she was speaking to, or indeed that shewas speaking aloud, and half started when Phebe replied again to thislong speech. 

'It's just because of that, Miss Frances, ' said the girl, 'that I wasthinking how nice it will be if you're invited sometimes to play withthe young ladies of a holiday afternoon like to-day. And if I were you, I'd take care to show Miss Mildmay that it doesn't unsettle you, and I'djust put out of my mind about having any young ladies to come to you. It'd not suit your aunt's ways. '

'No, ' said Frances, 'I suppose not. It's only really the Harpers I careabout, ' she added to herself. 'And now, ' she went on thinking, 'withthis muddle about the old lady at Robin Redbreast--if their motherdoesn't want her to know about them, perhaps it's best for Jacinth notto see them much. And I'll have to forget what Margaret told me, afterI've written to mamma. I want to remember it _exactly_ to tell her. '

She sighed a little. Almost for the first time Frances began to realisethat, even when one is possessed of the purest motives and the bestintentions, life may be a complicated business. Right and wrong are notalways written up before us on conspicuous finger-posts, as we fancy inchildhood will be the case. There are shades and modifications, wisdomand unwisdom; apparently, though, thank God, only 'apparently, 'conflicting duties, whose rival claims it is not always easy to measure. And it is not till some stages later in our journey that we come to seehow our own prejudices or shortsightedness or self-will are really atthe root of the perplexity. For God demands no impossibilities. As hasbeen quaintly said, 'He neither expects us to be in two places at once, nor to put twenty-five hours' work into twenty-four. '

To do what is the least agreeable to us, though far from an invariablerule, is often a safe one. Frances would have liked to run up-stairs tothe nursery, and to sit down there and then to the long letter to'mamma, ' to the outpouring of confidence to the almost unknown friendshe had learned to trust. But common-sense and a certain docility, whichwas strongly developed in her, in spite of her superficialself-assertion and blunt, even abrupt outspokenness, made her yield toPhebe's advice. 

And it was a neat, composed-looking little maiden who met her aunt andsister on their return half an hour or so later, somewhat tired andfagged by their rather tedious afternoon's work. 

'I am glad you are back, my dear, ' said her aunt. 'I wished afterwards Ihad made a point of your not keeping Phebe waiting, as I had forgottenthat Eugene would be alone, and I am always afraid of any accident withthe fire, or anything of that kind. '

'I did keep her waiting a little, ' said Frances, honestly. 'But I'vebeen back a good while. I've heard Eugene his Sunday lessons: he knowsthem quite well. And I think tea is quite ready, Aunt Alison. '

'That's right, ' Miss Mildmay replied. 'You may ring for it to be broughtin, while Jacinth and I take off our things. --Frances seems none theworse for her visit, ' she added to her elder niece as they made theirway up-stairs. 'I shall not object to her going to Ivy Lodge sometimesin this way, if it does not make her rough or hoydenish. '

'I don't think there is much fear of her learning anything of that kindfrom the _boarders_, ' said Jacinth, gratified by her aunt's confidentialtone. 'I shouldn't be so sure of the day-scholars, but you know, AuntAlison, the Miss Scarletts keep them very distinct. It is a--well, ' witha little smile, 'a great compliment for Francie to be asked this way. '

'The Miss Scarletts have plenty of discrimination, ' her aunt replied. 'They know that my nieces--your father's daughters--going to any school, especially a day-school, is a great compliment to that school. '

It was not often that Miss Mildmay indulged in any expression of herunderlying family pride. It suited Jacinth's ideas 'down to the ground. '

'Yes, of course, ' she agreed quietly. 'Still the school _is_ anexceptional one. I think Frances is learning to understand some thingsbetter, ' she went on. 'But of course she is _very_ young for her age. Atfirst she was far too ready to rush into bosom friendships andenthusiastic admirations and all that sort of thing. And she perfectlyadores games, ' with a slight intonation of contempt. 

'_You_ don't?' said Miss Mildmay, smiling. 'There is nothing to beashamed of in liking games, if not allowed to go too far. '

'I think it must be born in some people, ' said Jacinth. 'It isn'tlaziness that makes me not care for them. For I love riding and longwalks and dancing. Only, somehow, I feel so much _older_. '

'I can sympathise with you, ' said her aunt. 'I have never been able tocare for any game that ever was invented. So I have not been victimisingyou this afternoon, you are sure?'

'Oh indeed, no, ' replied Jacinth heartily. 

On the whole the domestic atmosphere in Market Square Place seemed moregenial. 

CHAPTER VII. 

AN INVITATION. 

Jacinth was quick of observation. They had not been many minutes seatedat table before it struck her that Frances was unusually silent--orrather, absent and preoccupied, for the mere fact of her not speakingmuch in her aunt's presence was not remarkable. 

She glanced at Frances once or twice inquiringly, then she tried to drawher into the conversation, but only succeeded in extractingmonosyllables in reply. Still her sister did not look depressed, certainly not cross; it was much more as if her thoughts were elsewhere. 

'What are you dreaming about, Frances?' said Jacinth at last with atouch of sharpness. 'Are you very tired?'

'Did you not enjoy yourself this afternoon?' asked Miss Mildmay, following suit. 

Frances started, and pulled herself together. 

'Oh yes, ' she said, '_very_ much. I never enjoyed myself more. I wasonly--oh, I was only thinking of things. '

'What sort of things?' asked her aunt good-humouredly. 'Had you muchgrave and learned discussion at Ivy Lodge?'

Frances reddened a little. 

'We did talk quietly part of the time, ' she said. 'We weren't playinggames _all_ the afternoon. I was a good while walking up and down withMargaret, and afterwards with Bessie. '

Miss Mildmay glanced inquiringly at her elder niece. 

'Yes, ' said Jacinth, replying to the unspoken question. 'Those are thegirls Frances is so fond of--the Harpers. '

'Oh yes, I remember, ' said Miss Mildmay. 'Their mother is an old friendof the Scarletts, and the good souls were delighted to take the girlsat'----She stopped suddenly, aware that she had been on the point ofbetraying a confidence, realising, too, that the subject of it wasscarcely suited for her young auditors, for Frances especially. But inher slight confusion she stumbled on the very thing she was anxious toavoid, so that it required little 'putting of two and two together' forJacinth to complete to herself, with an inward smile, her aunt'sbroken-off sentence. 'They are not--the Harpers, I mean--they are not atall well off, and--a large family, I fancy, ' Miss Mildmay went on. 

'No, ' said Frances in her clear young voice, rather to her hearers'surprise, 'no, they are not _at all_ rich. '

Then she started, grew crimson, and looked round in affright: had shesaid something she should not have said? A strange, silly, nervousfeeling came over her; as if she must, in another moment, burst intotears. 

'Frances, ' said Jacinth, 'what are you looking so terrified about?There's no harm in what you said. It's no secret; Aunt Alison said itherself first. '

Her tone was not unkindly, though slightly sharp. But a look of reliefoverspread her sister's face. 

'No, of course not. I'm very silly, ' she murmured. 

'I think you must be a little over-tired, ' said Miss Mildmay vaguely. She had not specially noticed Frances's expression. 'I wonder, ' she wenton, 'I wonder if those Harpers are any relation to the Elvedons? Ican't quite remember what Miss Scarlett said about them. It was theirmother she was interested in, though--not their father. If they wereElvedon Harpers, Lady Myrtle would know about them; at least'----

'Harper isn't at all an uncommon name, ' interrupted Jacinth. 

But Miss Mildmay did not resent the little discourtesy--her mind waspursuing its own train of thought. 'I don't know that it _would_ followthat she could know anything of them, ' she said. 'Some of the lastgeneration of Harpers were sadly unsatisfactory, and I believe the oldman, Lady Myrtle's father, disinherited one or more of his sons. So ifyou ever go to Robin Redbreast, girls, I think it would be just as wellnot to mention your school-fellows of the name. '

Jacinth shot a rather triumphant glance at her sister. 

'It is generally better, and more well-bred, not to begin about "Are yourelated to the so-and-so's?" or "I have friends of your name, " andremarks like that; isn't it, Aunt Alison?' she said. 'I was tellingFrances so, only yesterday. '

Frances reddened again. 

'Well, yes, ' said Miss Mildmay. 'Still, one cannot make a hard and fastrule about such matters. It calls for a little tact. '

She was very inconsistent; who is not? Something in Jacinth's prematurewisdom--almost savouring of 'worldly' wisdom--rather repelled her, careful and unimpulsive though she herself was. Then she felt annoyedwith her own annoyance: it was unjust to blame the girl, when sheherself had been inculcating caution. 

'In this case, ' she added, 'I am sure it is best to keep off familyaffairs, you being so young and Lady Myrtle Goodacre so old; and as Iknow, there have been sore spots in her history. '

Then she rose from the table. 

'Francie, dear, I think you had better go to bed early. You _are_looking tired, ' she said kindly, and as she kissed the little girl shealmost fancied--was it fancy?--that she felt a touch of dew on hercheek. 

'I'm afraid I don't understand children at all, ' she thought to herself, though with a little sigh. 'What in the world can Frances be cryingabout?'

Jacinth, once they were alone, did not spare her sister. 

'I do think you are too silly, ' she said. 'If you go on so oddly afterhaving an afternoon's play, I am sure Aunt Alison won't let you goagain. First you seemed half asleep, then you jumped and lookedterrified for nothing at all, and now you are actually crying. What _is_the matter?'

'I didn't mean'----began Frances. 

'I believe it's those girls, ' continued Jacinth, working herself up torare irritation, for as a rule she was gentle to her sister. 'Theyreally seem to bewitch you. Are you crying because you're not a boarderat school, so that you could be always beside them?' she addedironically. 

'No, of course not. I wouldn't be so silly, ' said Frances, with a touchof her usual spirit. 

'Then what _are_ you crying about?'

Frances murmured something about 'thinking Jacinth was vexed with her. '

'Nonsense, ' said Jacinth. 'You know I wasn't in the least till you gotso silly. I don't understand you to-night one bit, but I will say Ithink it has something to do with the Harpers, and if they begin comingbetween you and me, Frances, I shall end by really disliking them. '

'I think you dislike them already, ' retorted Frances, 'and I'm sure Idon't know why. '

To this Jacinth vouchsafed no reply. She would have said the accusationwas not worth noticing. But yet at the bottom of her heart she knewthere was something in it. A vague, ridiculous, unfounded sort ofjealousy of the Harpers had begun to insinuate itself. 

'I wish their name had been anything else, ' she said to herself. 'Idon't believe they are really any relation to Lady Myrtle--at least notanything countable. But it is so disagreeable to have the feeling ofknowing anything of people who _may_ be--well, rather objectionablerelations of hers. Well, no; perhaps that's putting it too strong. Imean relations she doesn't want to have to do with, and I don't see whyshe _should_ want to have to do with them. I shall take care, I know, not to speak of them to her, for it would only annoy her, and it's nobusiness of mine. I do wish Frances hadn't taken them up so, she is sosilly sometimes. '

Frances on her side began to think she had gone too far. She glanced upat Jacinth, and saw that her face was very grave. 

'Jass, ' she said, stealing up to her and speaking in a soft apologetictone, 'I'm very sorry for being cross. I think I _am_ rather tired, though I did so enjoy myself this afternoon. Perhaps I'd better go tobed, for I want to write most of my letter to mamma to-morrow. I want towrite her a good long one this time. '

'Very well, ' said Jacinth as graciously as she could. 'I'm sure Ihaven't meant to be cross either, Francie; but--I don't like the idea of_any one_ coming between you and me. '

'Of course not; nobody _could_, never, ' said Frances eagerly. 'Kiss me, Jass. I really don't know what made me begin to cry; it was a mixture. '

Her voice trembled a little again. In terror of incurring Jacinth'sdispleasure, Frances tugged at her pocket-handkerchief. Out came, forthe second time that day, the old Christmas card. 

'What's that?' said Jacinth. 

Frances smoothed it out and showed it her, reminding her of its history. 

'I think it was that that made me feel rather--queer--this afternoon, first, ' she said. 'It brought things back so. '

'Well, dear, go to bed and have a good night. And to-morrow you'll befresh for a nice long letter to mamma in the afternoon, when we comeback from the children's service; there's always plenty of time. I wantto write her a long letter too. '

The letters were written, neither sister reading the other's. This was arecognised rule, and a wise one, as it kept each child more directly intouch with the absent mother, and also enabled her to judge of herchildren's gradually developing characters. The very way in which thesame occurrence was related by each threw many an unsuspected light onthe 'Jacinth' and 'Frances' she had personally so sadly little knowledgeof. 

And then for some days life at Number 9 Market Square Place, which hadbeen to a certain extent enlivened or disturbed, seemed to revert againto its usual monotony. It was almost like a dream to Jacinth to recallthe strange visit to the quaint old house and the unexpected confidencesof Lady Myrtle Goodacre; the more so that she had at first allowed herimagination to run wild on all the possibilities thus opened up. And toFrances it was even more bewildering to remember the glimpse vouchsafedto her by her young friends into their past family history. For thoughthey were both as affectionate and friendly as before--more so, indeed, it seemed to her--neither by word nor allusion was the Saturday'sconversation referred to. Margaret had evidently promised Bessie to keepoff the subject, and Frances of course could but do the same. 

'Perhaps, ' she thought to herself, 'they will never speak of it again tome; perhaps that is what their mother has told them she wished. Butafter all, it doesn't look as if this would much matter, for there is nosign that Lady Myrtle means to take any more notice of us, not even ofpoor Jass. I'm not surprised; any one that can be so unkind about herown relations _can't_ be very nice. '

Frances was sorry for Jacinth, and a little disappointed for herself, and there had still lingered in her some dim hopes that possibly_somehow_ their own acquaintance with the old lady might have been ofuse to her friends. Jacinth, though she said nothing, was feeling verychagrined indeed, and not a little bitter. 

What could have happened to change Lady Myrtle so? Could it be that shewas really very fanciful and whimsical? It scarcely seemed so, considering that she had written so promptly to Miss Mildmay, not losingeven one post! And this thought suggested another explanation. Couldtheir aunt's letter in reply have contained something to annoy the oldlady? Jacinth began to be very much afraid it must be so, and it madeher very vexed with Miss Mildmay, though she did not in the leastsuppose it had been done _intentionally_. 

'Aunt Alison is perfectly straightforward, ' thought the girl. 'If shemeant to stop our going to Robin Redbreast, she would have said so rightout. But she may have written in a stiff, stuck-up way, as if it wouldbe a great favour to let us go, which would very likely offend LadyMyrtle. I do think she might have told me what she said. '

And but for Miss Mildmay's being particularly busy that week, and veryengrossed by some unexpected difficulties which had arisen in connectionwith one of her benevolent works, she could scarcely have failed tonotice Jacinth's extremely icy manner and unusual silence. 

But on Friday morning came a thaw. 

Miss Mildmay looked up with a smile--her smiles were somewhat rare, butnot without a certain charm--as the girls entered the dining-room, _even_ though they were too late for prayers. 

'We are so sorry, Aunt Alison, ' said Frances eagerly. 'We _just_ got tothe door in time to be too late. '

'Well, I must forgive you, for I cannot say that it often happens. And--I have something to tell you, Jacinth, ' was the gracious reply. 

Two things had pleased Miss Mildmay that morning: a letter with thewelcome news that, thanks to her judicious management, the difficultyalluded to had been got over, and another letter from Lady MyrtleGoodacre, with a cordial invitation to her elder niece. For Miss Mildmayherself, though it was not her way to express such things, had felt alittle annoyed and considerably surprised at no further communicationfrom the owner of Robin Redbreast. 

Now, however, all was cleared up. The old lady had been ill, 'otherwise, ' she wrote with studied courtesy, 'she had hoped before thisto have had the pleasure of calling. ' But under the circumstances shefelt sure that Miss Mildmay would excuse her, and in proof of this, would she allow her niece Jacinth to spend Sunday at Robin Redbreast? bywhich she explained that she meant from Saturday to Monday morning. 

'My carriage shall call for her about noon, ' wrote Lady Myrtle, 'and sheshall be sent home, or straight to school, at any hour she names onMonday. '

Jacinth's eyes sparkled. This was just the sort of thing she had beenhoping for, but with the self-restraint peculiar to her, unusual in oneso young, she said nothing till her aunt directly addressed her, afterreading aloud Lady Myrtle's note. 

'Well, what do you say to it? Would you like to go?' asked Miss Mildmay. 

'Very much indeed, ' Jacinth replied, 'except'----And as her eyes fell onher sister she hesitated. 'I wish Frances had been invited too, ' she wason the point of saying, but she changed the words into, 'I hope Franceswon't be dull without me. '

'Oh no, don't think about that, ' said the younger girl. 'I really andtruly would not like to go; I shouldn't care about it in the least, andI am _very_ glad I'm not asked. '

And Jacinth saw that Frances thoroughly meant what she said. 

Before the day was over, Frances felt still more glad that she had notbeen included in the invitation, for as soon as morning lessons werefinished, and the day-scholars were getting ready to go, Bessie Harpercame running to her with a letter in her hand. 

'This is for you, Frances, ' she said. 'It is from my sister Camilla, who was here, you know, when you first came, for a little. '

Frances was staring at the letter in surprise. 

'I scarcely knew your sister at all, ' she said. 'She was so big comparedwith me--even with Jacinth. '

'Ah well, you will understand when you've read it. It came inside one tome, ' said Bessie. 'It'll be all right when you've read it. But I mustgo. ' And off she ran. 

Frances looked again at the envelope and then deposited the letter inher pocket. She had a feeling that she would read it when she was alone, for she began to have some idea what it was about. She read it at homethat afternoon. It ran as follows:

 SOUTHCLIFF, _October 7th_. 

 MY DEAR FRANCES--I am writing to you instead of my mother, for as you and I were, though only for a short time, school-fellows, we think perhaps I can explain better what Bessie's letter makes us think necessary to say. Mother is not vexed with Margaret for what she told you, for there is nothing secret about us or our history, though there have been sad things in father's family long ago, as you know. Bessie told us of your kind feelings about us, and though I saw so little of you, I can well believe them. But with regard to our great-aunt, both my father and mother hope she will hear nothing about us. Father has long left off any thought of friendly relations with her. Of course there is no reason why our name should not be mentioned to her by yourself, or your sister, if it happened to come up in conversation; but we should be sorry for her to think we murmured about being poor, or that any of us ever thought of her as a rich relation who might help us. So we shall all be very glad indeed if you will try to forget that you know anything of us Harpers except as school-fellows who will always be pleased to count you a true friend. Mother wishes you to do just what you think best about showing this letter to your sister or not. And of course you will tell your mother anything or everything about the matter. Yours affectionately, CAMILLA HARPER. 

Frances gave a sigh. 

'I won't show it to Jacinth, ' she thought. 'Aunt Alison said it wasbetter for her not to speak about the Harpers to Lady Myrtle, so there'sno use in saying anything about them. And it's more comfortable not tohave something in your head you're not to tell. I suppose I must try toput it all out of my head, but it _would_ have been nice to help to makethat old aunt of theirs like them. I'll put the letter in an envelopeready addressed to mamma--that'll keep any one from touching it--andI'll send it to her in my next letter. '

But it called for some self-control not to tell it all to her sister, even at the risk of her displeasure. And Frances was conscious of a veryslight feeling of relief when Jacinth, evidently in high spirits, thoughquiet as she always was, set off in state the next day for her visit toRobin Redbreast. 

She had made up her mind to enjoy herself and to be pleased witheverything, and it was not difficult to carry out this programme. Everything Lady Myrtle could think of to make her young guest feel athome had been done, and Jacinth was both quick to see this and mostready to appreciate it. 

She drew a deep breath of satisfaction when she found herself seated inLady Myrtle's comfortable brougham, which, though a trifleold-fashioned, was, like everything belonging to the Robin Redbreastestablishment, thoroughly good of its kind. 

'It is like being at Stannesley again, ' thought Jacinth, 'only poorgranny's carriage and horses, and old Simpson the coachman, weren't halfso nice as all this is. '

And, to confess the truth, I think a passing regret went through herthat the road to her destination lay straight out from the town on theMarket Square Place side, so that there was no chance of her meeting anyof her school-fellows and giving them a smiling nod of recognition. 

The door was opened by the neat parlour-maid, but behind herappeared--to do special honour to the young lady, no doubt--afunctionary whom Jacinth had not seen before--no less a personage thanMr Thornley, Lady Myrtle's old, not to say aged butler. He came forwardgently rubbing his hands, and bending with a decorous mixture ofpaternal solicitude and deference which Jacinth by no means objected to, though it made her inclined to smile a little. 

'Miss Mildmay, I presume?'

'Miss Mildmay' was quite equal to the occasion. She bent her headgraciously. 

'Her ladyship is awaiting you in her boudoir, if you will have thegoodness to follow me, ' the old man proceeded. 

They were standing in the hall. It was large--at least it seemed so incomparison with the impression given by the outside of the house, whichJacinth knew so well, and which was really cottage-like. The hall waswainscoted in oak half-way up, where the panels met a bluish-greenJapanese-looking paper. A really old oriental paper it was, such as isnot even nowadays to be procured in England, so thickly covered withtracery of leaves and flowers and birds and butterflies in a delightfultangle, that the underlying colour was more felt than seen. A shortstaircase of wide shallow steps ran up one side, disappearing apparentlyinto the wall, and up this staircase, rather to Jacinth's surprise--forthere were several doors in the hall leading, no doubt, to the principalground-floor rooms--stepped Thornley in a gingerly manner till hereached the little landing at the top. There he threw open a door, papered like the walls so cleverly as to be invisible when closed, though it was a good-sized door--wide and high. And as soon as the girl, following behind, caught sight of the vista now revealed, she wonderedno more, as she had been doing, at Lady Myrtle's choosing an up-stairsroom for her boudoir. 

'In a town it would be different, ' Jacinth had been saying to herself, 'but in the country it's so much nicer to be able to get out into thegarden at once. '

But she did not understand the peculiar architecture of Robin Redbreast. A glow of colour met her eyes, for the door in the wall opened on to agallery, three sides of which ran round an inner hall on theground-floor, while the fourth--that facing her--was all conservatory, and conservatory of the most perfect kind. The girl started, half-dazzled by the unexpected radiance, and drew a quick breath ofsatisfaction, as the butler passed along the side of the gallery andthrew open a door leading in among the flowers--she, following closely, lingered a moment while the old servant passed on, partly to give himtime to announce her, partly to enjoy for half an instant the fragranceand beauty around her. 

Then came a voice, and a figure in the inner doorway--the figure thatalready seemed so familiar to her, though she had seen it but once. 

'My dear child--my dear Jacinth, ' and she felt two kind arms thrownround her, and the soft withered cheek of the old lady pressed againsther own. 'This is delightful--to have you all to myself--my own childfor the time. '

Jacinth's usually cold unimpulsive nature was strongly moved; there isalways something impressive and touching in the emotion of the aged. AndLady Myrtle, one felt by instinct, was rarely demonstrative. 

The girl looked up in her face, and there came a slight mistiness overthe hazel eyes, which her new old friend seemed to know so well--oh sowell!--the sight of them carried her back half a century; and, aboveall, when Jacinth began to speak, she felt as if all the interveningyears were a dream, and that she was again a girl herself, listening tothe voice of Jacinth Moreland. 

'I am so very pleased to come. I have been longing to see you again, 'said her young guest. Thornley had discreetly withdrawn. 'And how lovelyit is here! You don't know how I enjoy seeing flowers again like these. '

'It _is_ pretty, isn't it?' said Lady Myrtle, pleased by the frankadmiration. 'In cold weather I am sometimes shut up a good deal, and mygarden is my great delight. So I tried to make myself a little wintergarden, you see. I have had to stay up here the last few days, but Ihope to go about again as usual to-morrow. And of course I shall go downto luncheon and dinner to-day. I waited to ask you to come, my dear, till I was better. I could not have let you be all by yourself in thedining-room. '

'Oh, ' exclaimed Jacinth, with sudden compunction, 'I should have askedif you were better. How could I forget?'

'Why, you have not been two minutes here, my dear child. And I wrotethat I was better. It was only a cold. But at my age, "only a cold" maycome to be a great deal, and I have got into the way of taking care ofmyself, I scarcely know why; it is natural, I suppose, and after all, however alone one is, life is a gift. We must not throw it away. I amnot _quite_ well yet'--she had coughed more than once whilespeaking--'but the weather is milder again. '

'Yes, ' said Jacinth, 'a sort of St Martin's summer. I hope, ' she addedgently, 'you will let me wait upon you a little while I am here. Wouldn't you like the door shut?'

Lady Myrtle smiled. She liked the allusion to St Martin's summer; itseemed like a good omen. Was this bright young life, so strangelyassociated with her own youth, to bring back some spring-time to herwinter?--was Jacinth to be a St Martin's summer to her?

'Thank you, ' she said. 'Yes, please shut the outer door. Poor oldThornley often thinks he has closed it when he hasn't; his hands are sorheumatic. I like the door into the conservatory left open. Yes, that'sright. And now come and talk to me for a few minutes before you take offyour things. There is still half an hour to luncheon. Tell me what youhave been doing these last few days--busy at lessons? That fair-hairedlittle sister of yours doesn't look as if she _over_worked. '

Jacinth smiled. 

'No, ' she said, 'I don't think Francie _over_works, but she does verywell. The being at school has really been a good thing for her, for shefeels herself that she is the better for emulation. '

'And the Scarletts are gentlewomen, thorough gentlewomen, ' said LadyMyrtle, musingly. 'That makes a difference. And I suppose a good many ofthe pupils are really nice--lady-like and refined?'

'Yes, ' said Jacinth, readily. 'The boarders are all nice--some of themreally as nice in every way as they can be, clever, too, and anxious tolearn. I don't seem to know them quite as well as Frances does, for, somehow, I am not very quick at making friends, ' and she looked up atLady Myrtle with a slight questioning in her eyes. The confession didnot sound very amiable. But the old lady nodded reassuringly. 

'Just as well or better that it should be so, ' she said. 'Few friendsand faithful has been my motto. Indeed, as for _great_ friends I neverhad but one, and you know who that was, and I verily believe she neverhad any one as much to her as I was. ' She sighed a little. 'Your sisteris quite a child--a very nice child, I am sure, but she is not aMoreland at all. I have heard of some girls at Miss Scarlett's--let mesee, who were they? What are the names of the ones you like best?'

Jacinth hesitated. 

'There are the--the Eves, ' she said, 'two sisters, and the Beckinghams, and Miss Falmouth. She is almost too old for us. '

But the Harpers she did not name, saying to herself that her aunt hadadvised her not to do so. In this she deceived herself. Miss Mildmaywould never have counselled her direct avoidance of mention of the twogirls whom Frances--and she herself in her heart--thought the mosthighly of among their companions. 

Lady Myrtle caught at the last name. 

'Falmouth, ' she repeated. 'Yes, it must have been of her I heard. I knowher aunt. Very nice people. '

Then she went on to talk a little of Jacinth's own special tastes andstudies, to ask what news the girls had last had from India, how oftenthey wrote, and so on, to all of which Jacinth replied with her usualsimple directness, for she felt perfectly at ease with her hostess. Andthe little reminiscences and allusions to the long-ago days when all theyoung interests of Jacinth Moreland and Myrtle Harper were sharedtogether, with which the old lady's talk was so interspersed, in no waybored or wearied this girl of to-day, as it might have done some of hercontemporaries. On the contrary, such allusions made Jacinth feel moreon a level with her companion, and flattered her by showing her theconfidence with which she was regarded. 

'I don't suppose she would speak of those past times to _any one_ butme, ' thought Jacinth proudly. 'Except, of course, perhaps to mamma. '

CHAPTER VIII. 

DELICATE GROUND. 

The two days at Robin Redbreast passed most satisfactorily, and longbefore they came to an end Jacinth felt completely at home. It wouldhave been almost impossible for her or for any girl not to feel gratefulfor Lady Myrtle's extreme kindness, but besides this, everything in thelife suited Jacinth's peculiar character. She liked the perfect order, the completeness of the arrangements, just as--in very differentsurroundings--she liked and appreciated the same qualities in her aunt'ssphere. Mere luxury or display would not have pleased her in the sameway, and except in the one matter of flowers and all expenses connectedwith her garden, Lady Myrtle lived simply. The house itself, though inperfectly good taste, was decidedly plain; the furniture belonged to asevere and unluxurious date. The colouring was harmonious, butunobtrusive. 

But Jacinth thought it perfection. Her own room--the one which the oldlady had specially chosen for her, and which she impressed upon her shemust think of as appropriated to her--was exactly what she liked. Thechintz hangings--pale pink rosebuds on a white ground--the quaintspindle-legged dressing-tables and chairs, the comfortably spacious butundecorated wardrobe of dark old mahogany, the three-cornered bookcasesfitted in to the angles of the walls with their lozenge-paned glassdoors--all was just as she liked. 

'It's so beautifully _neat_, ' she said to Lady Myrtle. 'I like a houseto be almost primly neat. Frances says she's sure I shall be an oldmaid, and I daresay I shall be. I shouldn't mind, if I had a house of myown like this to live in. '

Lady Myrtle glanced at her with one of her peculiar but approvingsmiles. 

'That is another point in common between us, ' she said. 'I have alwaysfelt like you, and when--let me see, it must be fully twenty years agonow--when, for the first time I really was perfectly free to furnish ahouse to suit myself, you see I carried out my own ideas. '

'Oh, I thought Robin Redbreast was really old--furniture and all, ' saidJacinth with a slight tone of disappointment. 

'So it is, ' said Lady Myrtle. 'A good deal of it was here in the house, and I had it done up--and some things I brought from Goodacre. Mybrother-in-law who succeeded there kindly let me choose out things of myfavourite date. And they did not suit Goodacre, which is very grand andheavy, and, to my mind, ugly. '

'I know what you mean, ' said Jacinth, eagerly--'enormous mirrors withhuge gilt frames, and enormous gilt cornices over the window curtains, and great big patterns on the carpets. There was a house near Stannesleylike that. It was interesting, something like an old palace, and grand;but I shouldn't like to live in a house of that kind. '

'No, there seems nothing personal about it. One's own little self makesno impression; you feel that you are just passing through it for thetime. Elvedon was rather like that, though the present tenants havemanaged to lighten it a good deal. But our other place--I mean my ownfamily's place, up in the north, where I knew your deargrandmother--though not so grand, is much more homelike than Elvedon. Mynephew and his wife live there when they are not in London. It is not soexpensive as the place here. '

Jacinth grew a little nervous and said exactly what she did not mean tosay. 

'Are they not very rich, then?' and instantly blushed crimson, whichLady Myrtle took as an expression of fear lest she had been indiscreet. And she hastened to answer so as to put the girl at ease again. 

'No, ' she said; 'far from it. But they will be better off some day, andit has been for their good that they have not been rich hitherto. Thesins of the fathers are visited on the children, as you cannot fail tosee for yourself, my dear, when you come to know more of life. ' LadyMyrtle sighed. 'My poor brother Elvedon was very weak and foolish, ledinto all kinds of wild extravagance by--by another, much, much worsethan he;' and here the old lady's face hardened. 'And naturally, ' shewent on, 'we--my father and I--dreaded what his son might turn out. PoorElvedon, my nephew I mean, is far from a clever man, but he is sensibleand steady, and so are his two sons. So, as I was saying, some day theywill be better off. '

Jacinth listened with the utmost attention. She was much gratified byher hostess's confidence, and relieved, too, that no mention had beenmade of any other Harper relatives. 

'Bessie and Margaret are not Lord Elvedon's daughters, of course, ' shesaid to herself, 'so it does not seem as if they were near relations;perhaps, after all, they are not relations at all. So I don't see that Ineed bother my head about them; I might have mentioned them to LadyMyrtle among the girls at school without her noticing it, I daresay. '

'This is too old talk for you, my dear, ' said the old lady, after alittle silence. 

'No, no indeed, ' said Jacinth eagerly. 'I am so pleased you don't treatme as a child, dear Lady Myrtle. And I love to think of you and mygrandmother long ago, when your families were almost relations, weren'tthey?'

'Yes, truly--Jacinth and I often said we loved each other more than ifwe had been sisters. That reminds me, my dear, that nice little sisterof yours must come to see me some day soon, and the boy too, the nexttime you come. When shall that be?'

'Whenever you like, dear Lady Myrtle, ' Jacinth replied. 

'Well then, supposing you come again in a fortnight--next Saturday week, that is to say. I will send for you as before, and the two children mustcome with you and stay till six or seven; then I will send them homeagain and you will remain with me till Monday morning. I must not beselfish, otherwise I would gladly have you every week. But that wouldnot be fair to your aunt. '

'It wouldn't matter so much for Aunt Alison, ' said Jacinth; 'I reallydon't think she would mind. But Francie and Eugene would not like me tobe away every Sunday. '

'Then let us try to make it every other, ' said Lady Myrtle. 'My dearestchild, ' and she pressed the girl's hand, 'how I wish I could have youwith me altogether. But no, that would not do--it would not be a rightlife for her'--she seemed as if she were speaking to herself. 'Tell me, dear, ' she went on, 'you do feel already _at home_ at Robin Redbreast?I want you to learn to love the little place as well as its oldowner--who can't be its owner for ever, ' she added in a lower voice, sothat less quick ears than Jacinth's would scarcely have caught thewords. 

'I love it already dearly, ' she replied. 'For your sake first of all, ofcourse, but for its own too. I couldn't imagine a more perfect old housethan it is. '

They were walking in the garden, for the weather was mild and LadyMyrtle had been able to go to church that morning. It was Sunday andlate afternoon. The long level rays of the evening sun fell on the largelawn--smooth and even as a bowling-green--along one side of which, onthe broad terrace, the two were pacing up and down. Lady Myrtle stoppedshort, she was holding the girl's arm, and looked up at the windows, glinting cheerily in the red glow beginning to be reflected from thesky. 

'Yes, ' she said, 'it really is a dear old place. And for any one whocared to fit it for a larger family there is plenty of space andconvenience for extending it. '

'It seems a very good size already, ' said Jacinth, 'though of course Icannot judge very well. '

'You must see it all, ' said Lady Myrtle; 'the next time you come I hopeI shall be quite well and able to show you all over it. No, it wouldscarcely need building to; but there are several rooms at the other sidein rather an unfinished condition, because I really had no use for them. The last tenant was on the point of completing them when he left. He hada large family, and it was getting too small for them, but heunexpectedly came into a property elsewhere, and then my father gave methis place. There are some very nice rooms you have not seen. Have youbeen in the one where my old pensioners come for their dinner everySaturday?'

Jacinth shook her head. 

'That would make a capital billiard room, ' Lady Myrtle went on, Jacinthlistening to all she said with the greatest interest. 'Indeed, RobinRedbreast has everything needed for a comfortable roomy house. It is toolarge for me, unless I had a good many visitors. When your father andmother come from India, Jacinth, I must have you all to stay with me. '

Jacinth's eyes sparkled. 

'Oh how delightful that would be!' she said. 'I have often thought howthey will miss Stannesley when they come home. For it is let for a longtime. And wasn't it funny, Lady Myrtle, that last morning when we weresaying good-bye to Uncle Marmy at the gate, we looked in at this garden, and said how lovely it would be if papa and mamma had come home, and wewere all living together in a house like this! And to think it _may_come true, if you ask us all to stay with you. '

Lady Myrtle stroked Jacinth's hand fondly. 

'Yes, dear, ' she said, 'it may come true, and I trust it will. '

This conversation took place, as I said, on the Sunday afternoon. Veryearly the next morning the brougham took Jacinth back to Market SquarePlace, in time for her to start for school with Frances at their usualhour. 

Frances did not receive with rapturous delight the news of herinvitation to Robin Redbreast. 

'Must I go?' she said. 'Wouldn't it do for just Eugene to go with you, Jacinth? He would enjoy it. '

'Yes, I should, ' said Eugene, 'pertickerly if we have some of thoselittle brown cakes for tea. '

'Eugene, ' said Frances in a tone of disgust, 'I'm sure Lady Myrtle wouldnot have asked you if she had known you were such a greedy little boy. '

They were in the dining-room waiting for their aunt, who, for once, wasa few minutes late for dinner. Just then she came in. She greetedJacinth pleasantly, and seemed glad to hear that she had enjoyedherself. Then she was told of the invitation for the following week, andFrances appealed to her to say she 'needn't go. ' But Frances's hopeswere speedily disappointed. 

'Not go!' said Miss Mildmay; 'of course you must go. It would be mostungrateful to Lady Myrtle, and would, besides, put Jacinth in a verydisagreeable position. You are the grand-daughter of Lady Myrtle's oldfriend as well as Jacinth, even though her special interest may be inJacinth. '

'It would make me look so selfish too, ' said Jacinth, who, now that shefelt sure of her own place with the old lady, was far from wishing todeprive Frances of her share in the pleasures and advantages of theiracquaintance with Robin Redbreast. 

So Frances had to give in. 

And when the day came she enjoyed the visit, on the whole, very much. 

'If only, ' she said to herself before starting, 'if only I could havegot mamma's letter in answer to mine before going. I would have knownthen exactly how to do about the Harpers. Of course I can't tellstories, and _they_ would never have wanted me to do that. I only hopenothing will be said about school or about anything to do with them. '

Then she tried to recall the exact words of Camilla Harper's letter, bythis time two-thirds on its way to India to her mother. 

Jacinth said nothing at all about the Harpers in connection with LadyMyrtle, and Frances began to think her sister had forgotten all aboutthe question of their possible relationship, which in the meantime atleast the younger girl was not sorry for. 

It was again a lovely day--the weather seemed to favour the visits toRobin Redbreast--even milder than the Saturday of Jacinth's first staythere. And this time, instead of the brougham, a large roomy ponycarriage came to fetch them, a spring cart having already called forJacinth's portmanteau that morning. 

'How lovely!' said Frances, as she and Eugene took their seats withgreat satisfaction opposite her sister and the coachman; 'I am so gladit is an open carriage. I wish Lady Myrtle would send us home in itagain this evening: don't you, Eugene?'

'I'm sure her ladyship will be quite pleased to do so, miss, if you justmention that you would like it, ' said the man, a staid unexceptionableold servant, though many years younger than Thornley. 

'Oh well, I will. I may, mayn't I, Jass?' said Frances, her eyessparkling with pleasure, only damped by Jacinth's grave expression. DidJass think she was chattering too much already? High spirits wereFrancie's native air: it was very difficult for her to be quiet andsubdued for long together. But Jacinth really loved to see Franceshappy, and she knew that Lady Myrtle would feel the same. 

'She thinks her such a mere child, ' thought the elder girl. So shesmiled reassuringly as she replied: 'Of course, dear, you can ask LadyMyrtle. I am sure she won't mind if it keeps fine; and there is no signof rain, is there?' she said turning to the coachman. 

'No indeed, ma'am, ' he replied. 'We shall have no rain just yet a bit. '

'It's a _perfect_ day, ' said Frances. 'I really sometimes think I likeautumn as well as spring. '

'I have always liked it much better, ' said Jacinth calmly. 

Lady Myrtle was walking up and down the terrace, waiting for them. Shewas much better--for her, indeed, quite well--she said, and her facelighted up with pleasure as she kissed Jacinth tenderly. Then she turnedto the younger ones and kissed them too. 

'I must have a good look at you, Frances, ' she said. 'No--you are not aMoreland, and yet--yes, there is a slight _something_--in spite of yourblue eyes and shaggy hair, ' and she patted Frances's head. 'And you, myboy;' and she examined Eugene in his turn. 'His eyes are more like hisgrandmother's; nothing approaching your eyes, Jacinth, but still theyare more of the colour. '

'Eugene is very like mamma, ' said Frances eagerly. 'Everybody says so. '

'And I'm called after her, ' added Eugene. 

'So that's quite as it should be, ' said Lady Myrtle. 'And some day Ihope I may have the great pleasure of comparing mamma and her boytogether. Now dears, listen to my plan--would you like to go a drivethis afternoon, or would you rather play about the garden and the littlefarm? I mean Frances and Eugene--Jacinth, of course, is quite at homehere. '

The two younger ones looked at each other. 

'Oh please, ' said Frances, 'if we may go home in the open carriage, Ithink that would be enough driving. And--it's so long since we've had anice big place to run about in, and--pigs and cows, you know, like athome? Wouldn't you like that best, Eugene?'

'May we see the cows milked?' said Eugene, prudently making hisconditions, 'and, oh please, if we find any eggs, _might_ we take onehome for breakfast to-morrow?'

Lady Myrtle looked much amused. 

'I will put you under Barnes's charge, ' she said. 'Barnes is theunder-gardener, and whatever he lets you do will be quite right. You andI, Jacinth, will have a long drive to-morrow, as I always go to Elvedonchurch once a month, and to-morrow is the day. So I daresay you willmanage to entertain yourself at home to-day. We can go through thehouses in the afternoon. '

'Yes, thank you, ' said Jacinth. 'And the house--you said you would showme all over the house, dear Lady Myrtle. '

'Of course; that will amuse Frances and Eugene too, I daresay, when theyhave had enough running about. Now your sister will go with you to yourroom to take her things off;' and as the two set off, she addedplayfully, 'Jacinth has a room of her very own here, you know, Frances. '

The younger girl was breathless with interest and pleasure, and thefirst sight of the interior of the quaint old house--above all, of thelovely conservatory, past which Jacinth took care to convoyher--impressed her as much as her sister. 

'Oh Jass, ' she said, when they found themselves in the pleasant, rather'old-world-looking' bedroom, where a tiny wood-fire sparkling in thegrate gave a cheery feeling of welcome as they entered--'Oh Jass, isn'tit like a _dream_? That we should really be here in this dear old house, treated almost as if we were Lady Myrtle's own grandchildren, and youstaying here, and this called your room, and--and'----

She stopped, at a loss for words to express her feelings. 

Jacinth smiled, well pleased. 

'Yes, ' she said, 'it really is like a fairy-tale. And'----She hesitateda little. 'You don't know, Francie, what more may not come. Do youremember our saying that morning to Marmy, how lovely it would be ifsome day we had a house like this for our home, and how he and we wouldpay visits to each other?'

Frances's face grew rather pink. 

'Do you mean if, ' she said, her voice growing lower and lower--'if LadyMyrtle _left_ it to us, to you? I don't like, Jass, to'----

'Oh, how matter-of-fact you are!' said Jacinth impatiently; 'I don'tmean anything but what I say. Lady Myrtle says she is going to invite usall--papa and mamma and us three--to stay with her when they come home, and it's a very big house, and she has no relations she cares for. Itmight get to be almost like our home. And Lady Myrtle is the sort ofperson that often speaks of getting old and--and dying. I daresay shemakes plans for what she'd like to be done with her things--I know Ishould--though I hope she'll live twenty years, and I daresay she will, dear old thing. '

Frances would have accepted this simply enough, and after all, Jacinthfelt as she said. The thought that 'some day' Robin Redbreast might beher home would be quite enough for her, and she already loved her kindold friend sincerely. But one sentence in her sister's speech startledFrances with a quick sharp stab: 'No relations that she cares for. '

Somehow, in the pleasure and excitement of coming to Robin Redbreast, she had forgotten about the Harpers. Now all her old feelings ofchivalry for them, and wishes that she could be the means of helpingthem, rushed back upon her, and she felt as if she had, in some queerway, been faithless, even though she was debarred from doing anything, debarred even from telling Jacinth all she knew. And Frances wasunaccustomed to hide her feelings; her face at once grew grave andalmost distressed looking. 

'What is the matter, Frances?' said Jacinth. 'You are such a kill-joy. What are you looking so reproachful about?'

'I didn't mean--I'm not looking reproachful, ' said Frances; 'it wasonly--oh, just something of my own I was thinking of. '

'Well then, I wish you would think of something cheerful, and not screwyour face up as if you were going to cry. I don't want Lady Myrtle tothink we've been quarrelling up here. '

Frances swallowed down a lump in her throat, which was far too apt tocome there on small provocation. 

'Of course Lady Myrtle would never think such a thing, or if she did, she would only think I was naughty or silly or something. She'd neverdream of _you_ being anything but perfect, Jass. I do like her forthat, ' said Frances. 

'You should like her for everything. I'm sure she's as kind as she canpossibly be, ' said Jacinth. 

'Yes, ' said Frances, 'she is. '

Then they ran down-stairs again to the library, where Lady Myrtle hadtold them she would be. They found her improving her acquaintance withEugene, who was chattering away in a most confiding and friendlyfashion, even retailing to her his self-congratulation at having beenthe first cause of their making friends. 

'For you see if I hadn't been so fir--_wursty_, ' with a great effort, 'that day, and _made_ Jacinth let me ask; no, ' suddenly recollectinghimself, 'she didn't let me, but you heard me over the wall, LadyMyrtle; that was it, wasn't it? So it did come of me being wursty, didn't it?'

'Yes, my dear, of course it did, ' the old lady replied, with a smile. 

But just then the luncheon gong sounded and they all made their way intothe dining-room. All went well till about half-way through the meal, when a sudden thought struck Lady Myrtle. 

'Oh Jacinth, my dear, ' she said, 'I was forgetting to tell you. Youryoung friend at school, Honor Falmouth, _is_ the niece of my friend. Iwas writing to her husband the other day about a business matter--he isone of my trustees--and I asked the question. I thought it wouldinterest you to hear it. '

'Yes, ' said Jacinth, 'of course it does. She is a very nice girl indeed, but she is a good deal older than I. She plays beautifully, and nextterm she is going somewhere--to Germany, I think--for the best musiclessons she can have. Did you play the harp, when you were a girl, LadyMyrtle?' she went on rather eagerly. She was vaguely anxious to changethe conversation, for she had still a half-nervous fear of Frances'sindiscretion should the subject of their school-fellows be entered upon. 

'The harp!' repeated Lady Myrtle, half-absently; 'no, my love, I neverwas very musical. But your grandmother sang charmingly. ' And Jacinth, believing she was launched on long-ago reminiscences, began to breathefreely, when suddenly the old lady reverted to the former topic. 

'How much older than you is Honor?' she inquired. 

'About three years. I think she is eighteen, but I'm not quite sure, 'said Jacinth. 

'I was wondering, ' said Lady Myrtle, 'if she would like to come toluncheon some day when you are with me. Or is there any other among yourfriends you care more for?'

'No, ' said Jacinth, 'I think I like Honor as much as any. '

Frances was listening with the greatest interest; her mouth half-open, her knife and fork suspended in their operations. Lady Myrtle caughtsight of her absorbed face and smiled. 

'Have _you_ any friend you would like to ask to come here some day?' shesaid, kindly. 'If it were summer it would be different; we might have astrawberry feast. '

Frances grew crimson, painfully crimson. 

'Oh _how_ silly she is!' thought Jacinth. 

'Thank you, ' stammered Frances. 'I--I don't know. I don't think so. '

'Come, you must think it over, ' said Lady Myrtle, imagining the childwas consumed with shyness. 'Who are your favourite friends, or have youany special favourites?'

'Yes, ' replied Frances, in an agony, increased by the consciousness ofJacinth's eye, but fully remembering, too, that in replying truthfullyshe was violating no confidence; 'yes, I'm much the fondest of Bessieand Margaret, but they mightn't come. I don't think it would be any useinviting any of them, except a big one like Honor, thank you. '

'Ah! well I know Miss Scarlett is strict, and rightly so, I daresay, 'said the old lady. 'Who are these friends of yours--Bessie and Margaretwhat?'

'Bessie and Margaret Harper, ' said Frances, bluntly; 'that's theirname. '

A look of perplexity crossed Lady Myrtle's face. 'Harper, ' she repeated. 'Bessie and Margaret Harper. No, I never heard of them. Butstill'----And the lines on her face seemed visibly to harden. 'Ah well, I will only ask Honor Falmouth then. You must see about it, Jacinth, andlet me know when I should write to her or to Miss Scarlett. '

And then they talked of other things, Jacinth exerting herself doubly, to prevent Lady Myrtle's noticing Frances's silence and constraint. Butafterwards, when they were by themselves for a moment, she took hersister to task. 

'Why did you speak of the Harpers?' she said; 'and why, still worse, ifyou thought you shouldn't have named them, did you look so silly andashamed as if you had done something wrong? I daresay you feltuncomfortable because, as Aunt Alison said, there have been suchdisagreeables in Lady Myrtle's family, and these Harpers may be somerelations of hers. But--couldn't you have managed not to mention them?'

Frances looked quite as distressed as Jacinth could have expected--ormore so. 'I'm sure I didn't mean to speak of them, ' she said. Hermeekness disarmed Jacinth. 

'Well never mind, ' she said reassuringly. 'I daresay Lady Myrtle didn'tnotice; at least, if she did, she couldn't have thought you knewanything about her family affairs. _I_ don't want to hear about them;I'd rather not know what sort of relations the Harpers are, or ifthey're any. Don't think any more about them. '

And with this, Frances had to be or to appear content. But besides thelittle Jacinth knew, she had her own sorer feelings. Though Bessie andMargaret had scrupulously carried out the advice, Frances could see, they had received from home, and while as affectionate as ever to her, refrained from the very slightest allusion to family affairs or even toRobin Redbreast, yet, now that her eyes were opened as it were, Francesnoticed many things that had not struck her before. As the seasonadvanced and the weather grew colder, most of the girls appeared in newand comfortably warmer garments, for Thetford stands high and is a'bracing' place. Well-lined ulsters, fur-trimmed jackets, muffs andboas, were the order of the day. But not so for Bessie and Margaret. They wore the same somewhat threadbare serges; the same not verysubstantial gray tweeds on Sundays, which had done duty since they cameto school; the same little black cloth jackets out-of-doors, with onlythe addition of a knitted 'cross-over' underneath. And one day, admiringFrances's pretty muff, and congratulating her on the immunity fromchilblains it must afford, poor little Margaret confided to herimpulsively that she had never possessed such a treasure in her life. 

'It is one of the things I have always wished for so, ' she said simply, 'though these woollen gloves that Camilla knits us are really verygood. '

Then on another occasion both sisters consulted their friend on a mostimportant matter. It was going to be mother's birthday. They _must_ sendher something; they had never been away from her on her birthday before, and at home one could always make something or find out what she wanteda good while before, so as to prepare. _Could_ Frances think ofanything? She must be used to thinking of things that could go by postbecause of her mother being in India; only--and here Bessie's eager faceflushed a little, and Margaret's grave eyes grew graver--'you see itmustn't cost much; that's the worst of it. '

Frances tried not to look too sympathising. 

'I know, ' she said. 'I quite understand, for of course we haven't evermuch money to spend. I will try to think of something. '

And for once she thoroughly enlisted Jacinth's sympathy for her friends. Possibly, far down in Jacinth's heart, candid and loyal by nature, lay aconsciousness that, notwithstanding the plausible and, to a certainextent, sound reasons for not meddling in other people's affairs, andfor refraining from all 'Harper' allusions to Lady Myrtle, she was goingfarther than she needed in her avoidance of these girls, in herdetermination not to know anything about their family or their possibleconnection with her old lady. Her conscience was not entirely at rest. And in a curious undefined way she was now and then grateful forFrances's ready kindness to Bessie and Margaret: it seemed a vicariousmaking up for the something which she felt she herself was withholding. And this little appeal touched her sympathy; so that with a good deal oftact--more tact than Frances, blunt and blundering, could haveshown--she helped to suggest and carry out a really charming littlebirthday present, most of the materials for which she had 'by her, 'lying useless, only asking to be made into something. 

Never had Bessie Harper felt so ready to make a friend of theundemonstrative girl; never had Francie herself felt more drawn to herelder sister. 

And the little present was carefully packed and sent off; and the tendermother's letter of thanks, when it came, was read to the Mildmays as buttheir due, and for a while it seemed as if the friendship was to extendfrom a trio into a quartette!

But alas! a very few days after the cheery letter from Southcliff, Frances, spending a holiday afternoon at Ivy Lodge, as often happened, especially when Jacinth was with Lady Myrtle, found Bessie Harper paleand anxious, and Margaret's eyes suspiciously red. What was the matter?

'We didn't want to tell you about our home troubles, ' said Bessie. 'I'msure it's better not, because of--you know what. But I must tell you alittle. It's--it's a letter from Camilla. Father has been so much worselately, and they didn't want to tell us. They hoped it was onlyrheumatism with the cold weather. But--mother managed to get him up toLondon to see the great doctor, and--he gave a very bad report. '

Here Bessie's voice failed. 

'He's not going to die?--oh don't say that!' burst out Frances in herheedless way. 

Margaret flung out her hands wildly. 

'Oh Bessie, ' she cried, 'is that what it really means?'

Bessie looked almost angrily at Frances. 

'No, no, ' she exclaimed; 'of course not. Frances, why did you say that?Margaret, you are so fanciful. Of course it is not that. It is just thatthe doctor says his leg is getting stiffer and stiffer, and unlesssomething can be done--some treatment in London first, and afterwards acourse of German baths--he is afraid dad must become _quite_ acripple--quite helpless. And that would be dreadful. It's bad enoughwhen people are rich'--it was sad to hear the old sad 'refrain' ofpoverty, from lips so young--'but when they're poor! Oh no, I can't facethe thoughts of it. What would his life be if he could never get out--heis so active in spite of his lameness--if he had to lie always in hispoky little room? How would darling mother bear it?'

And then brave Bessie herself broke down and fled away to thehouse--they were in the garden--to hide herself till she had recoveredsome degree of calm. 

CHAPTER IX. 

THE INDIAN MAIL. 

Frances went home that evening feeling very unhappy and terribly full ofsympathy, while painfully conscious the while that as yet she must notunburden herself to any one, not even to Jacinth, of her whole thoughtsand feelings in connection with the Harpers. And in any case she couldnot have done so, for Jacinth was away at Robin Redbreast till Monday. 

They met at school on Monday morning, but it was not till they were ontheir way home at dinner-time that the sisters had any opportunity ofspeaking to each other. Jacinth was looking almost brilliantly well, and, for her, Frances saw in a moment, in extremely good spirits. Nowonder--every time she went to Lady Myrtle, the old lady showed herincreasing signs of affection and goodwill: she almost hinted that shewished the girl to think of herself as in a sense adopted by her. 

'Francie, ' said the elder sister, when they at last found themselvesalone, 'I have something so lovely to show you, ' and she drew out alittle velvet-covered case from her pocket. 'See--this is what dear LadyMyrtle has given me; isn't it splendid?'

The 'it' was a small and evidently valuable watch. The back wasenamelled and set with diamonds, in the form of a 'J. ' It was somewhatold-fashioned, enough to enhance its beauty and uncommonness, andFrances gazed at it in breathless admiration. 

'It was Lady Myrtle's own, ' explained Jacinth. 'She told me that she andour grandmother once had a fancy--rather a silly one, I think, though Ididn't say so--for having each other's initial on their things--thingslike this, I mean. So when somebody gave them each a watch, two thesame, they exchanged them. Lady Myrtle doesn't know what became of ourgrandmother's, but she thinks it was lost or stolen, otherwise motherwould have had it. And she has not worn this for ever so long. She saysshe always hoped that _some_ day she'd find somebody belonging tograndmother. Oh Francie, isn't it a good thing I was called "Jacinth?"'

Frances murmured something in reply; her eyes were fixed on the watch. 

'The works are first-rate--_better_ than they make them now, ' Jacinthcontinued; 'and Lady Myrtle has had it thoroughly overhauled by her ownwatchmaker in London, so she's sure it'll go perfectly, with any onecareful; and I am careful, am I not, Francie? Lady Myrtle says she couldsee I was, almost the first time she spoke to me. '

'Yes, ' said Frances, absently, 'I am sure you are, and I am sure LadyMyrtle thinks you almost perfect. '

But still she gazed at the watch, as if it half-mesmerised her. 

'I've felt in such a hurry to tell you about it--to show it to you, 'said Jacinth. 'It seemed to be burning a hole in my pocket, as they say. I did so wish I could have shown it to some of the girls, but I thoughtit was better not. '

This last remark seemed to arouse Frances. 

'Yes, ' she agreed heartily, 'I think it was much better not. ' Then, after a moment or two's silence, 'I wonder how much it is worth?' shewent on; 'ten or twenty pounds, I daresay?'

'Ten or twenty!' repeated Jacinth; 'oh, much more than that. Forty orfifty at least, I should say. '

Frances gasped. 

'What a lot of things one could do with as much money as that!' shesaid. 'I daresay it would be enough to--to'----

'To what?' said Jacinth, a little impatience in her tone. 

'Oh--only something I was thinking of--some one who's ill and can't dowhat the doctor says, ' replied Frances, confusedly. 

Jacinth felt irritated. 

'I don't understand you, Frances, ' she said. 'Do you want to take awaymy pleasure in my watch? I've never had one before, you know, and lotsof girls have watches, quite young. Of course I know the value of itwould do lots of things--make some poor family quite rich for a year. But when you get a new frock of some good stuff and nicely made, I don'tsay to you that you might have had it of common print, run up anyhow, and spent the rest on poor people. You don't see things fairly, Frances. '

Frances recognised the sense of Jacinth's argument, but she could notexplain herself. 

'I didn't mean that exactly, ' she said. 'I know there have to be degreesof things--rich and poor, and I suppose it's not wrong to be rich, if--if one doesn't get selfish. That isn't what I meant. I'm verypleased you've got the watch, Jass, and I wish I hadn't said that. '

'I wish you hadn't too, ' said her sister. 'It has taken away a good dealof my pleasure; and somehow, Frances, very often now, I don't understandyou. I know you are never the least jealous, you haven't it in you, butyet you don't seem to like to see me happy. I could almost think you arewhat Aunt Alison would call "morbid. "'

'I don't think I know what that means, ' said Frances, sadly, though shehad a sort of idea what Jacinth wished to express. 

'Sometimes, ' continued Jacinth, 'I have a feeling that other girls havecome between you and me. If it could be--if I really thought it was theHarpers, though they do seem nice, I would almost hate them. One way andanother, they do seem to have been the cause of a lot of worry. '

'Oh Jass, it isn't their fault--truly it isn't, ' pleaded Frances, almostin tears. 'I haven't been very happy lately, but indeed it isn't thatI'm changed to you. Perhaps after a while you'll understand me better. If only mamma was at home'----

'It's no good wishing for that, ' replied Jacinth. 'And you are so queer, I really don't know if you'd be pleased if things did happen to makemamma come home. I was going to tell you some things, ' she addedmysteriously, 'but I think I'd better not. '

And, to her surprise, her hints, instead of whetting her sister'scuriosity, seemed rather to alarm her. 

'No, ' she agreed, 'if it's anything about Lady----or, or _plans_, I'drather not know. I hate any sort of secret. '

She said the last few words almost roughly, and Jacinth, in spite ofher irritation, felt sorry for her. It was evident that poor littleFrances had something on her mind. But the elder sister did not inviteher confidence. 

'I believe it _has_ to do with these girls, ' she thought, 'and if ithas, I don't want to know it. So Frances and I are quits; she doesn'twant my secrets and I don't want hers. Honor Falmouth says it isuncertain if the Harpers will stay after Christmas. I'm sure I hope theywon't. Frances would forget all about them once they were away. She issuch a baby. '

But her own words had suggested some comfort to Frances. 'If only mammawere here!' she had said. And suddenly she remembered that though mammaherself could not be hoped for, a letter--a letter in answer to her ownlong one enclosing Camilla Harper's--would soon be due. 

'It is five--no, six weeks since I sent it, ' she thought joyfully. 'Imust hear soon. And then I do hope mamma will say it is best to tellJass all about it, whether Jass is vexed with me or not; and even ifthere's _no_ chance of making Lady Myrtle kind to them, I'd far ratherJass knew all I know. '

She sighed, but there was relief in her sigh. And when in another momentshe began talking cheerfully about Jacinth's visit, and all she had doneat Robin Redbreast, her sister almost decided that she herself had beenfanciful and exaggerated about Frances--making mountains out ofmolehills. Jacinth was very anxious to take this view of things; it wasmuch more comfortable to think that the Harpers had had nothing to dowith Frances's fits of depression. 

'And after all, ' thought Jacinth, 'why should we bother about them? Aslikely as not they're no relation to Lady Myrtle, or so distant that itdoesn't count. And it's really not our business. '

It is seldom the case that a looked-for letter--especially from a greatdistance--arrives when hoped for. And Frances had hoped for her mother'sreply by the very first date possible. 

She was not disappointed. They came--a good fat letter for her, athinner one for Jacinth. They lay on the hall table one day when thegirls came home from school; having arrived by the mid-day post, inwhich Thetford now rejoiced. 

Frances seized her letter, her cheeks flushing with excitement. 

'What a thick letter you've got this time!' said Jacinth. But Francesscarcely heard her. 

'Oh, I do so hope I shall have time to read it before dinner!' she said. 

'You've half--no, twenty-five minutes, ' said Jacinth. 'Run and get readyfirst; it won't take you any time, and then you can read your letter inpeace. That's what I'm going to do. '

Frances took her sister's advice, and she managed to make her appearancein the dining-room punctually, the precious letter in her pocket, itscontents already digested. She was rosier than usual, and Jacinth, whoknew her ways so well, could see that she was struggling to keep downher excitement. Jacinth herself was not sorry when dinner was over andshe was free to talk to Frances, after answering a question or two fromher aunt about their Indian news. 

'Frances, ' said her sister, when they found themselves in their ownlittle sitting-room, 'mamma tells me that she has written a good dealmore to you this time than to me, as there was something particular youasked her about. And she says you will tell it me all, or show me herletter. '

[Illustration: Jacinth's brows contracted, and the lines of her delicateface hardened, but she said nothing. ]

Frances drew out her packet. 

'There's more than one letter there, surely, ' said Jacinth, with somecuriosity. 

'Yes, ' said Frances, 'there's one I sent on to mamma to read, and she'ssent it back, so that you can see it now. I daresay you'll be angry withme for not having told you about it before, but I can't help it if youare. Mamma says I did the best I could; but I am so glad for you to knowall about it now, ' and she gave a great sigh. 

Jacinth, more and more curious, took the letters which Frances gave her, and began to read them eagerly. Rather unfortunately, the first shebegan was Camilla Harper's, and she went to the end of it in spite ofFrances's 'Oh, do read mamma's first, Jass. '

Jacinth's brows contracted, and the lines of her delicate face hardened, but she said nothing--nothing really audible, that is to say, though amurmur escaped her of, 'I knew it had something to do with them; it istoo bad. '

When she had finished, she looked up at her sister. 

'There is a good deal more for you to explain, ' she said, coldly. 'Mammasays you will do so--not that I want to hear it. And as you have got sothoroughly in the way of having secrets from me, and now that you havefriends you care for more than me, I really don't see why I need to bemixed up in this affair at all. '

'Oh Jass, dear Jass, don't speak like that, ' exclaimed Frances, theever-ready tears starting to her eyes. 'I couldn't help it. Read againwhat mamma says. '

'I know what she says, ' Jacinth replied. 'I don't need to read itagain. I am waiting for you to tell me the whole. '

It was difficult, but Frances was eager to re-establish confidence withher sister. She told the whole--even how the old Christmas card in herpocket had brought up the subject of Robin Redbreast, and how Bessie hadasked her to tell no one but her mother, if she could help it; then howCamilla's letter had repeated this, ending up by what had recently cometo her knowledge of the increased troubles of the Harper family. 

'Oh Jass, ' she concluded, 'if we could help them somehow. I am so gladmamma has met that aunt of theirs--_isn't_ it lucky? Perhaps she'll beable now to manage something without vexing Captain and Mrs Harper. '

Jacinth lifted her head and looked at Frances. She was paler than usual. 

'I really do think you must be a sort of an idiot, ' she said. 'Otherwise, I should be forced to believe you had no real familyaffection at all. Surely the Harpers might teach you to have _that_, however much mischief they have made in other ways. '

Frances stared at her, dumb with perplexity. 

'What _do_ you mean, Jacinth?' she said at last. 

Jacinth for once lost her self-control. 

'Do you not care for your own father and mother to get anything good?'she said. 'Papa's life has been hard enough--so has ours--separatedalmost ever since we can remember from our parents. And it is all aquestion of money, to put it plainly, though it is horrid of you toforce me to say it. Do you think papa, who is far from a young man now, stays out in that climate for pleasure--wearing himself out to be sureof his pension? And if Lady Myrtle chooses to treat _us_ as herrelations--mamma, the daughter of her dearest friend--instead of the sonof that bad, wretched brother of hers--why shouldn't she? And you wouldruin everything by silly interference in behalf of people we havenothing to do with: very likely you'd do no good to _them_, and onlyoffend her for ever with us. Do you understand _now_ what I mean?'

Frances was trembling, but she would not cry. 

'Mamma does not see it that way, ' she said. 'She is pleased anddelighted at Lady Myrtle being so kind, but she _does_ care about theHarpers too. Read what she says, ' and Frances hurriedly unfolded theletter again till she found the passage she wanted. 

This was what Mrs Mildmay said, after expressing her sympathy with allFrances had told her, and advising her now to tell the whole to Jacinth. 'I remember vaguely about the Harper family in the old days, ' she wrote. 'I know that Lady Myrtle's two brothers caused her much trouble, especially the younger, really embittering her life. But for many yearsI have heard nothing of her or any of the family till just now, for acurious coincidence has happened. A few days before I got your longletter, enclosing Miss Harper's, and dear Jacinth's too, telling of herinvitation to Robin Redbreast, I had met a Mrs Lyle, whose husband hasgot an appointment here. And Mrs Lyle is Captain Harper's sister. I likeher very much, and we have already made great friends. She is veryfrank, and devoted to her brother and his family; and when she heard ofmy children being at Thetford, in talking, one thing led to another, sothat I really knew all you tell me--and perhaps more. It will be ratherdifficult for you and Jacinth--for Jassie especially--to avoid allappearance of interference, as that would do harm on both sides. Butstill you may find opportunities of speaking warmly and admiringly ofthe Harper girls, whenever your school happens to be mentioned. That cando _no_ harm, and may even help to pave the way for bringing about abetter state of things some day. For I do feel most interested in theHarpers, and every time we meet, Mrs Lyle and I talk about them, and allthe troubles they have really so nobly borne. '

Then Mrs Mildmay went on to speak of her pleasure in her children'shaving won Lady Myrtle's kindness, adding that she would look forwardeagerly to the next letters, telling of Jacinth's visit. 

'Marmy says, ' she wrote, 'that it must have been a presentiment whichmade you all take such a fancy to that quaint old house, even though youonly saw it from the outside. '

All this Frances read again boldly to her sister. Jacinth did notinterrupt her, but listened in silence. 

'Well, ' she said, when Frances stopped, 'I told you I had read all mammasaid. '

'Then why are you so angry with me?' demanded Frances bluntly. 'If I ama sort of an idiot, mamma is too. '

Jacinth did not reply. 

'Mamma says you are not to attempt to interfere, ' she said at last. 

'I am not going to. I wouldn't do so for the Harpers' sake, much morethan for Lady Myrtle's. The Harpers have trusted me, and I won't doanything they wouldn't like. '

'Well, ' said Jacinth bitterly, 'you'd better write it all to mamma--allthe horrid, calculating, selfish things I've said. You've got quiteseparated from me now, so that it really doesn't matter what you say ofme. '

This was too much. Frances at last dissolved into tears and flungherself upon her sister, entreating her 'not to say such things, ' tobelieve that nobody in the world--not Bessie or Margaret or_anybody_--could ever make up to her for her own dear Jass. 

'You're not selfish, ' she said. 'You're far more unselfish, really, thanI am. For I never think of things. I see I've never thought enough ofpoor papa and mamma, and how hard it's been for them in many ways, though I did say to Bessie the other day that, whatever troubles they'dhad, they'd not been parted from each other the way we've been. '

'I'm glad you said that, ' Jacinth condescended to say, 'just to let themsee that they're not the only people in the world who have to bearthings. '

'Oh, they _don't_ think that, ' said Frances. 'And Jass, ' she went on, encouraged by her sister's softer tone, and encircling her neck fondlywith her two arms as she sat, half on Jacinth's knee, half on the edgeof her chair, 'I don't quite see why being sorry for the poor Harpers, and--and--wishing we could make Lady Myrtle feel so too, need make herleave off being kind to us too. That's how mamma sees it. I am not onlythinking of the Harpers, Jass; indeed, I'm not. I'm looking forward morethan I can tell you to what you said--that when papa and mamma comehome, Lady Myrtle is going to invite us all to stay with her. Oh, itwould be lovely!' and the little girl clasped her hands together. 'Allthe same, ' she went on, 'I don't think I want ever to go to RobinRedbreast till that time comes. I can't feel natural there, and I'mafraid of vexing you or doing harm somehow. '

'It is not in our hands--not in mine, any way, ' said Jacinth quietly. 'All you have told me makes no difference to me. I am not going tomeddle, and I shall not mention the Harpers at all, if I can help it. '

'Not even in the way mamma says we might?' said Frances. 

'No--not at all, if I can help it. I do not want to spoil the happinessof being with Lady Myrtle by bringing up disagreeable subjects. I shalltell mamma so when I write. '

Frances was silent. After all, she reflected, perhaps it did not muchmatter. Jacinth did not know Bessie and Margaret as _she_ did, and nowthat her sister understood the whole--the near relationship and thewhole story, perhaps it _would_ be very difficult for her to come uponthe subject naturally. 

'Honor Falmouth says, ' remarked Jacinth in a moment or two, 'that shehas heard that perhaps the girls are not coming back to school after theChristmas holidays. '

'Oh, ' exclaimed Frances, looking greatly troubled, 'oh, Jass, I do hopeit's not true. '

'I should not be very sorry, ' said Jacinth, 'except, ' she added withsome effort, 'except for your sake. And of course I have never said thatthey were not very nice girls. I know they are, only--it has been sotiresome and unlucky. I just wish we had never known them. '

'I wish sometimes we had never known Lady Myrtle, ' said Frances. 'Youand I have _never_ been--like this--with each other before, Jass. '

'Well, we needn't quarrel about it, ' said her sister. 'Let's try to keepoff the subject of the Harper family. For _I_ can do them no good. '

'Very well, ' said Frances, though rather sadly. 'I wonder, ' she went onthinking to herself--'I wonder why Bessie and Margaret are perhaps toleave school; they are getting on so well. '

She was too unpractical to guess at the truth--which Jacinth had thoughtit useless to mention as a part of Miss Falmouth's information--thattheir parents could no longer afford to pay for them. 

'For to be gentlepeople, as they undoubtedly are in every sense of theword, ' the girl had said, 'they are really _awfully_ poor. I have heardso from some people who know them at that place where they live. It isquite a little seaside place, where people who want to be quiet go forbathing in the summer. But the Harpers live there all the year round. Itmust be fearfully dull. '

'Yes, ' Jacinth agreed, 'it can't be lively. Still, being poor isn't theonly trouble in the world. '

'No, ' Miss Falmouth replied, 'but I fear they have others too. CaptainHarper is so delicate. '

Jacinth said no more. Honor Falmouth was a kind-hearted but notparticularly thoughtful girl, and she forgot all about the Harpers infive minutes. Her visit to Robin Redbreast had never come to pass, andJacinth did not very specially regret it. She liked best to be alonewith Lady Myrtle. So the relationship of the young Harpers to the oldlady had never come to Honor's knowledge, as it might perhaps have doneif her attention had been drawn to Lady Myrtle by visiting at her house. And at Christmas Honor was leaving school. 

CHAPTER X. 

THE HARPERS' HOME. 

Southcliff was a very dull little place, especially so in winter, ofcourse. In fine weather there is always a charm about the seaside, evenon the barest and least picturesque coast. There are the endlessvarieties of sky panorama--the wonderful sunsets, if you are luckyenough to face seawards to the west; the constantly changing effects oflight and colour reflected in the water itself. And on a wild or ruggedcoast, winter and stormy weather bring of course their own grand thoughterrible displays. 

But Southcliff, despite its promising name, was tame in the extreme. The'cliff' was so meagre and unimposing as to suggest the suspicion ofbeing only an artificial or semi-artificial erection; the shore had noexcitement about it, not even that of quicksands. It was the 'safest'spot all along the coast; even the most suicidally disposed of smallboys could _scarcely_ come to mischief there. The tides went out andcame in with an almost bourgeois regularity and respectability; therewas no possibility of being 'surprised' by the waves; no lifeboat, because within the memory of man no vessel of any description whateverhad been wrecked there; no lighthouse, no smugglers' caves of ancientfame, no possibility of adventure of any kind--'no nothing, ' BessieHarper was once heard to say, when she was very little, ''cept the seaand the sky. '

A grand exception those, however, as we have said. And dull though itwas, there were some people who loved the little place as their home, and were most ready to be happy in it. 

It had some few distinct advantages. It was _very_ healthy, and forthese days very cheap. There was a good church, venerable and well caredfor; the few, very few residents were all estimable and someinteresting. Such as it was, take it all in all, it had seemed a veryhaven of refuge to Captain Harper and his wife when, some eight or tenyears ago, they had pitched their tent there, after the last hopes ofrecovering any of Mrs Harper's lost money--hopes which for long hadevery now and then buoyed them up only to prove again delusive--hadfinally deserted them. 

'At anyrate, ' the wife, with her irrepressibly sanguine nature, hadsaid, 'we have the comfort of now knowing the worst. And Colin andBertram are started. _What_ a good thing the boys were the eldest! Thereis only Fitz to think about, and we'll manage him somehow. For _ofcourse_ the three girls will turn out well. Look at Camilla already. '

Fitz was then about five--the youngest son, the youngest of the familyexcepting delicate little Margaret. He _was_ 'managed, ' and not badly, though a public school was an impossibility; his destination proved tobe the navy, and thither at the proper age he made his way in orthodoxfashion. The girls, helped by their mother, and by their father too, didtheir best, and it was far from a bad best. They were naturallyintelligent; intensely anxious to seize all opportunities of learning, so that a stray chance of half a dozen lessons in music or French didmore for them than as many years will do for most ordinary girls; theywere, the two elder ones at least, wonderfully healthy in mind andbody, bright-tempered, faithful, unselfish, inheriting from their fatherthe noble characteristics which in some mysterious way had in him soflourished as to oust all the reckless and contemptible qualities of theBernard Harper who had half-broken his sister's heart, and brought downin sorrow to the grave his gray-haired father. 

But alas! they had _not_ known the worst, as the loving, brave-spiritedwife and mother had believed. In some sense, it is true, they had notknown the _best_, for the years had brought many satisfactions, manyunlooked-for, though unimportant, mitigations of the poverty so hard tobear cheerfully--people had been 'very kind. ' But the poverty itself hadincreased. There were literally unavoidable expenses for 'the boys, ' ifthey were not to be stranded in their careers; there was an unexpectedrising of the rent owing to their good landlord's sudden death byaccident; there was, worst of all, the terrible strain of CaptainHarper's ill-health. In itself this was sad enough for the wife anddaughters who adored him: it became almost an agony when, joined to theknowledge that more money, and not so very much more, might both relievehis suffering and hold out a reasonable prospect of comparativerestoration. 

One operation--now some years ago--had succeeded for the time; but notbeing followed by the treatment at home and residence abroad prescribed, the improvement had not been lasting. Then it was that Mrs Lyle hadwritten to her aunt, with the result that we know. Her letter wasreturned unopened. 

Then there came a period of comparative comfort, and for two or threeyears the family at Hedge End (such was the not very euphonious name ofthe Harpers' house) took heart again, and began to be sure 'father wasgoing to get well all of himself, after all. ' And during this time someother cheering things came to pass. An old acquaintance of long-ago daysbetween Mrs Harper and the Misses Scarlett was renewed by the ladies ofIvy Lodge coming to Southcliff one Midsummer holiday-time for sea-air, and this resulted in their offering to take Camilla, then almostgrown-up, and later her younger sisters, on exceptionally moderateterms. The news from and of the far-away 'boys' was regular and good. The parents began to breathe freely, and to dare to hope that they hadpassed the worst of their troubles. 

But alas! it was only an interlude. Scarcely had Bessie and Margaretbeen settled at Ivy Lodge when there came anxiety about Colin--tidingsof his prostration by a bad attack of fever; then, when he was able towrite of his recovery, little Fitz broke his leg, and had to be broughthome at the cost of much expense as well as distress to be nursed wellagain. And worst of all, through these many weeks a terrible suspicionwas dawning on poor Captain Harper--a suspicion all too soon to bechanged into a certainty--that he himself was falling back again, thatthe very symptoms he had been warned of were reappearing, and thatunless something were done he might find himself a hopeless and completecripple. 

He kept it to himself till Fitz was all right again; then it had to betold. And the painful journey to London, which Frances heard of atschool, followed, with the great doctor's terribly perplexing verdict. 

What was to be done? Every conceivable suggestion was made anddiscussed, but so far no definite scheme had been hit upon. 

It was at this juncture that the mail which brought the letter from hermother so anxiously looked for by Frances Mildmay, brought also tidingsfrom Mrs Lyle to her relations at Southcliff. 

_This_ letter came at breakfast-time; there was no mid-day post at thelittle bathing-place, but it was nearer London than Thetford. 

'From Aunt Flora, mother, ' said Camilla, the only one besides her youngbrother now at home. 'I do hope it is cheerful, otherwise----No, Isuppose it would not do for you to read it first before giving it tofather?'

Mrs Harper shook her head. She was a slight dark-haired woman, at firstsight more like her youngest daughter than the others, but with a muchmore hopeful expression in her eyes, and far greater firmness anddetermination in all the lines of her face, so that, in spite ofsuperficial dissimilarity, Bessie Harper really resembled her mothermore nearly than either Camilla, calm, gentle, by nature possibly, alittle indolent, or the nervous, anxious-minded Margaret. 

'No, ' she replied, 'it is no use keeping anything from your father. Hehas got an almost magic power of finding out things. Besides, your AuntFlora always tries to cheer him if she can. Put the letter on the traybeside his breakfast, Camilla. I will take it up myself. '

Camilla and Fitz had almost finished their meal before Mrs Harperreturned. 

'I do hope there's nothing wrong, ' said Camilla, with theapprehensiveness which reiterated experience of ill-tidings begets ineven the calmest nature. 

'It can't be my having broken my leg again, ' said her brother, with anot very successful attempt at a joke; 'it was horrid, but I wouldn'tmind breaking the other any day if it would save father's gettingworse. '

But at that moment their mother came in. Her face was decidedly brighterthan when she had left the room. 

'Mother dear, do eat some breakfast. You'll be quite faint, ' saidCamilla, tenderly; 'I was nearly going after you to see if anything werethe matter. '

'No dear, thank you, ' replied her mother. 'Your aunt's letter isunusually interesting. Fancy! is it not a curious coincidence?--rather apleasant one, indeed--the Lyles have just made acquaintance at this newplace with Colonel and Mrs Mildmay, the parents of the two girls at MissScarlett's. '

Camilla looked up with a little misgiving. 

'Aunt Flora is not very discreet always, mother, ' she said; 'I hope shewon't have confided too much to Mrs Mildmay. It might come round in somedisagreeable way to--Robin Redbreast. '

'I think Mrs Mildmay must be particularly nice and sensible, ' Mrs Harperreplied. 'Of course your aunt has talked to her about Lady Myrtle andall the old story; it would scarcely have been in human nature, certainly not in Flora's nature, not to do so, when she found that hernew friend was the daughter of Lady Jacinth Denison; but I don't seethat it can do any harm. Mrs Mildmay has seen nothing of Lady Myrtlesince she was a little child; it is only quite lately, as we know, thatyour great-aunt has come across the Mildmay girls, really by accident. Mrs Mildmay is pleased at it, for her mother's sake, but I am sure sheis not a person to make any mischief. Indeed, ' she added with somehesitation, 'it is just possible that indirectly it may do good. Notthat your aunt suggests anything of the kind. '

Camilla's face flushed. 

'I should hope not, indeed, ' she said indignantly; 'when you think ofthe insult she exposed herself and us to, that time, mother, it would be_impossible_ ever to accept any help from Lady Myrtle. '

But Mrs Harper did not at once reply. Her face had grown very grave, andher eyes seemed to be looking far into things. 

'I cannot quite say that, ' she answered at last. 'There are times when Iam afraid to say what I would not accept, for your father's sake. I feelas if I would consent to anything not wrong or sinful that could savehim. And remember, we must be just. As things are, Lady Myrtle knowsnothing of us except that we are poor. And there is every excuse for herdeep-seated prepossessions against her brother Bernard's family. Pridemust not blind our fair judgment, Camilla. '

The girl did not reply. She felt the reasonableness of her mother'sargument. 

'But oh, ' she thought to herself, 'I should _hate_ to be indebted toLady Myrtle for any help. What would I not do--what would we all not do, rather than that!'

Her feelings might almost have been written on her face, for Fitz, whohad been listening silently, though intently, to the conversation, heremade a remark which might have been a remonstrance with her unspokenprotest. 

'There's one thing to be said, ' began the boy. 'Even though it's allLady Myrtle's by _law_, it came to her from father's own grandfather. Ifour grandfather had been good, his share would have been his and thenfather's and then ours. There's a sort of right about it. It isn't as ifit was all Lady Myrtle's own in any other way--through her husband, forinstance--and that she did anything for us just out of pity, because wewere relations. That _would_ be horrid. '

Fitz was only fifteen, but he and Margaret seemed older than theiryears, as is not unusual with the youngest members of a large family. Besides, all the Harpers had grown up in full knowledge of and sympathywith their parents' anxieties. Living as they did, in closest familyunion, it would have been all but impossible to prevent its being so, save by some forced and unnatural reticence, the evil of which wouldhave been greater than the risk of saddening the children by prematurecares. 

So neither Mrs Harper nor her daughter felt the least inclined to 'snub'the boy for his observation, which contained a strong element ofcommon-sense. 

'Lady Myrtle's wealth comes _in part_ from her husband, ' said MrsHarper. 'That makes one feel the more strongly that the Harper portionshould to some extent return to where it is so needed. But your fatherhas told me that the Elvedons are sure to inherit some of it, and thatis quite right. '

'And, ' said Camilla, with a little effort, anxious to show her motherthat she did wish to be quite 'fair-judging, ' 'you know, Fitz, as wehave often said, if our grandfather, being what he was, had got hisshare, it is most improbable that any of it would have come to father. After all, ' she added with an honest smile that lighted up her quietface and made it almost as bright as Bessie's--'after all, it was betterfor the money to be kept together by Lady Myrtle, than for it to bethrown away and _nobody_ to have any good of it. She is a generous oldwoman, too, in outside ways. I see her name in connection with severalphilanthropic institutions. '

'And really good and well-managed things, your father says. She must bea wise and considerate woman, ' said Mrs Harper. 

'All the more pity, then, that she and father have never come together, 'said Camilla with a sigh. 'She would be able to appreciate him. I nevercould imagine any one wiser and juster than father--though you comepretty near him sometimes, I must say, mother;' and she smiled again. 'Neither of you is ever the least bit unfair to any one, and it doestake such a lot of self-control and--and--a wonderfully well-balancedmind, I suppose, to be like that. '

'I have only learned it--if I have learned it--from your father, 'replied Mrs Harper. 'At your age I was dreadfully impetuous and hasty. Ioften wonder, dear child, how you can be so thoughtful and helpful asyou are. '

Camilla's eyes sparkled with pleasure. 

'Mother, ' she said, 'we mustn't degenerate into a mutual admirationsociety. I shall tell father how we've been buttering each other up allbreakfast-time. It will amuse him. I'm going to see if he will have somemore tea. '

And she ran off. 

By mid-day Captain Harper was established on his sofa in the littledrawing-room, which his wife and daughters still strove so _very_ hardto keep fresh and pretty. From this sofa, alas! especially now thatwinter was in the ascendant even at sheltered Southcliff, the invalidwas but seldom able to move. For walking had become exceedingly painfuland difficult, and so slow that even a little fresh air at the best partof the day could only be procured at the risk of chill and cold--a riskgreat and dangerous. And barely six months ago the tap of his crutch hadbeen one of the most familiar sounds in the little town; he had beenable to walk two or three miles with perfect ease and the heartyenjoyment which his happy nature seemed to find under all circumstances. It had not proved untrue to itself even now. There was a smile on hissomewhat worn face--a smile that was seen in the eyes too, as realsmiles should always be--as his daughter came into the room to see thathe had everything he wanted about him. 

'It is really getting colder at last, father, ' she said. 'At Thetford, Bessie writes, they have had some snow. And Margaret was delightedbecause it made her think of Christmas, and Christmas means cominghome. '

'Poor old Mag!' said Captain Harper. 'Mag' was his own special name forhis youngest daughter; and no one else was allowed to use it. 'Poor oldMag! I really think she's very happy at school, though--don't you, Camilla? Bessie, I knew, would be all right, but I had my misgivingsabout Mag. And it is in every way such a splendid chance for them. Itwould be'----And he hesitated. 

'What, father?'

'Such a pity to break it up, ' he said, 'as--we have almost come to thinkmust be done. '

'They would be perfectly miserable to stay there, if they understood--asindeed they do now, ' Camilla replied, 'that it would be only at the costof what you _must_ have, father dear. '

Her voice, though low, was very resolute. Captain Harper glanced at herhalf-wistfully. 

'I wish you didn't all see things that way, ' he said. 'You see it'sthis, Camilla. If I go up to London to be under Maclean for threemonths, it _may_ set me up again to a certain point, but unless it befollowed by the "kur" at the baths, and then by that other "massage"business within a year or so, it would be just the old story, just whatit was before, only that I am three or four years older than I was, and--certainly not stronger. So this is the question--is it _worthwhile_? It will be at such a cost--stopping Bessie and Mag's schooling, wearing out your mother and you--for what will be more trying thanletting this house for the spring, as must be done, and moving you girlsinto poky lodgings. That, at least, we have hitherto managed not to do. And then the strain on your poor mother being up alone with me inLondon--so dreary for her too. And at best to think that a partial, temporary cure is all we can hope for. No, my child, I cannot see thatit is worth it. I am happy at home, and more than content to bear whatmust be, after all not so very bad. And I _may_ not get worse. Do, darling, try to make your mother see it my way. '

It was not often--very, very seldom indeed--that Captain Harper talkedso much or so long of himself. Now he lay back half-exhausted, his face, which had been somewhat flushed, growing paler than before. 

Camilla wound her arms round him and hid her face on his shoulder. 

'Father dearest, ' she whispered, doing her best to hide any sign oftears in her voice, 'don't be vexed or disappointed, but I _can't_ seeit that way. It seems presumptuous for me to argue with you, but don'tyou see?--the first duty seems so clear, to do what we _can_. Surelythere can be no doubt at all about that? And who knows--_something_ mayhappen to make the rest of what is prescribed for you possible. And evenif not, and if the three months in London only do a little good, atleast we should all feel we had tried everything. Father dearest, if we_didn't_ do it, do you think mother and Bessie and I--and the boys whenthey hear of it, and even the two little ones--do you think we shouldever again feel one moment's peace of mind? Every time you looked paleror feebler, every time we saw you give the least little wince ofpain--why, I think we should go out of our minds. It would beunendurable. '

Captain Harper stroked her fair soft hair fondly. 

'But, dear, suppose it doesn't do any good, or much? Suppose'--and hisvoice grew very low and tender--'suppose all this increased sufferingand weakness is only the beginning of the end--and sometimes I cannothelp thinking it would be best so--my darling, it would _have_ to beendured. '

Camilla raised her tear-stained face and looked at her father bravely. 

'I know, ' she said quietly. 'It may be. Mother and I don't deceiveourselves, though it is no use dwelling upon terrible possibilities. Buteven then, don't you see the difference? We should feel that we had doneour best, and--and that more was not God's will. '

'Yes, ' said her father, 'I see how you mean. I suppose I should feel thesame if it were about your mother or one of you. '

'And father, ' Camilla went on more cheerfully, 'don't worry about thegirls leaving school; it won't do them lasting harm. They have got agood start, and they are still very young. Some time or other they mayhave another opportunity, as I had. And Margaret is such a delicatelittle creature. Father, I wouldn't have said it if they had been goingto stay at Thetford, but I have had my misgivings about her being fitto be so far away. I fear she is very homesick sometimes. '

'Do you really think so?' said Captain Harper with a start. 'Poor littlesoul! If I thought so--ah dear, my home was not much, but still while mymother lived it _was_ home, and oh how I remember what I suffered when Ileft it! Who is it that speaks of "the fiend homesickness?" The meredread of it would reconcile me to having them back again. '

'Then I am very thankful I told you, ' said the girl. 'And father, is itnot nice to know that in spite of everything we girls have _not_ comeoff badly? Bessie and Margaret took good places at once, and I did too, you know. Indeed, Miss Scarlett said that if I had thought of being agoverness, she would have been very glad to have me. '

'I know, ' said her father. 'Well, there is no necessity for that as yet, except for governessing the younger ones as you used to do. And ifthings go better with me, even if I'm only not worse, when we come homeagain I can take you all three for Latin and German and mathematics. '

Camilla's eyes sparkled. She was so delighted to have talked him intoacquiescence and hopefulness. 

'We shall work so hard the three months we are by ourselves that youwill be quite astonished, ' she said. 'And old Mrs Newing will make usvery comfortable; it's there we're to live, you know. It will really begreat fun. '

So from this time the move to London was decided upon for Captain andMrs Harper. 

And when Bessie and Margaret bade their companions good-bye at thebeginning of the Christmas holidays, they knew, though it had beenthought best to say little about it, and the good Misses Scarlettrefused to look upon it as anything but a temporary break, that it wasgood-bye for much longer than was supposed--good-bye perhaps and notimprobably for always, to Ivy Lodge and Thetford and all their friends. 

Bessie felt it sorely. Little Margaret was all absorbed in the delightof going 'home' again. But both were at one in the real sorrow withwhich they parted from their companions, among whom no one had won amore lasting place in their affection than blunt, warm-hearted, honestFrances Mildmay. 

CHAPTER XI. 

GREAT NEWS. 

The first Christmas at a strange place or in a new home is always fullof mingled feelings. Even when the change has been a happy one, notbrought about by sorrows of any kind, the old associations give a sortof melancholy to the thankfulness and joy we all wish to feel at thistime. And for the young Mildmays it was more than natural that thesadness should predominate. 

'Only a year ago _how_ different it was!' sighed Frances, the firstmorning of the holidays, when there was no school to hurry offto--nothing particular to do or look forward to. 'I shall be very gladwhen it's time to begin lessons again. '

'I don't see why you should feel so particularly gloomy just now, ' saidJacinth, not unkindly. 'Things might have been a good deal worse thanthey are. '

'People can always say that, ' replied Frances. 'If you've got to have aleg cut off, you can say to yourself it might have been both legs. Idaresay having Robin Redbreast to go to makes it much nicer for you; Isuppose you'll go there a good deal during the holidays. But it doesn'tmake much difference to me. Lady Myrtle doesn't ask me often, and Idon't want her to. I'm quite glad for you to go there, but it's not thesame for me. '

And again she sighed. 

'What _would_ make you happier, then?' asked Jacinth. 

'Oh, I don't know. Nothing that could be, I suppose. Nothing will makevery much difference till papa and mamma come home. There are one or twothings that are making me particularly unhappy, besides the thinkingit's Christmas and how changed everything is, but--I daresay it's nogood speaking of them. '

'I know what one of them is, ' said Jacinth. 'I can guess it: shall Itell you what it is?'

'If you like, ' Frances replied. 

'It's about the Harpers--Bessie and Margaret--not coming back again toschool, ' said her sister. 

'How did you know about it?' inquired Frances. 'They didn't tell evenme--not really. But I know they were very sad about their father beingso much worse, and once, a few days ago, Bessie said it was almostsettled they were going to let their house at that place where theylive, and that their father and mother were going to be a long time inLondon, and of course that will cost a lot of money--the going toLondon, I mean. And--I could tell, ' and Frances's voice sounded rathersuspicious--'I could tell--by the way, they kissed me--when--when theysaid good-bye--I could _tell_ they weren't coming back, ' and here thechoking down of a sob was very audible. 

For a wonder Jacinth did not seem at all irritated. Truth to tell, she, too, had felt very sorry for the Harper girls--Bessie especially--and aswe know, though she did not allow it to herself, her conscience was notentirely at ease about them. Something had touched her, too, in Bessie'smanner when they bade each other good-bye. 

'Will you kiss me, Jacinth?' Bessie had said. 'I have been so glad toknow you. '

'I have not felt sorry enough for them perhaps, ' Jacinth had allowed toherself. 'But really, there are so many sad things in the world, onewould wear one's self out with being sorry for everybody. '

'How did you know about it?' Frances repeated. 

'I heard something a good while ago from Honor Falmouth; don't youremember?' said Jacinth. 'And last week she told me more, only she saidthey didn't want any fuss made about it. She heard it from friends. ButFrances, do try and cheer up. You've been as kind--at least asaffectionate--as you could be to the Harpers. We hadn't it in our powerto ask them here or anything like that. I'm sure you tried to get AuntAlison to ask them, over and over again. And you won't do them any goodby crying about their troubles, you know, dear. Perhaps they may comeback to school some time or other, even if they're away next term. '

'Thank you, dear Jass, ' said Frances, wiping her eyes. 'You're verykind. I'll try and not be dull. '

She would perhaps have been less grateful for Jacinth's sympathy had sheunderstood the relief it was to her sister, notwithstanding her genuinepity for them, to know that the Harpers were not likely to be associatedwith them any more. Their presence at Ivy Lodge, ever since theacquaintance with Lady Myrtle--more especially since Jacinth herself hadbecome fully informed as to the whole history--had been a perpetualirritation and almost a reproach to her. And the pertinacity with whichshe repeated to herself that it was not her business to take up thecudgels in the Harpers' behalf, of itself suggested a weak pointsomewhere--a touch of the self-excusing which tries to whiten over theunacknowledged self-blame. 

_Now_, Jacinth could afford to let herself feel sorry for Bessie andMargaret and their family--could even picture to herself ways in whichsome day, in some vague future, she and Frances might show kindness totheir former school-fellows. 

'If I were rich, ' thought Jacinth, 'they're just the sort of people I'dlove to be good to; of course one would have to do it very carefully, soas not to offend them. '

Frances was still looking somewhat lugubrious when the door opened andMiss Mildmay senior came in. It was not very often that their aunt paidthe girls a visit in their own little sitting-room, and they both lookedup with some curiosity. 

'I had a letter from Lady Myrtle this morning, ' she said. 'I did notwant to speak about it before Eugene'--for Eugene had lately beenpromoted to breakfast down-stairs--'as I was not sure what you andFrances would wish about it. It is an invitation for you all--Eugenetoo--to spend Christmas at Robin Redbreast. Christmas _time_, I shouldsay. Lady Myrtle invites you all three for a week, and Jacinth for afortnight. What do you say?'

Frances said nothing, but Jacinth looked up quickly. 

'I think it would be unnatural for us all to go away from you forChristmas, Aunt Alison, ' she said. 

Miss Mildmay smiled. 

'A lonely Christmas would be nothing new to me, my dear child, ' shesaid; but she spoke without any bitterness. 

'_I'll_ stay with you, Aunt Alison, ' said Frances, eagerly. 'I reallydon't care about going to Robin Redbreast, and it's Jacinth Lady Myrtlewants. Do let me and Eugene stay here; Eugene needn't be told about itat all. '

'Thank you, my dear, ' said their aunt. 'Thank you both. But--do notthink me ungracious--when I spoke of a lonely Christmas, I only meantthat I have not been used to a family party. I am always very happy andvery busy on Christmas--and I think I should be missed if I were nothere. I should have told you that Lady Myrtle very kindly invites metoo--for Christmas Day--but that would not suit me at all. I _must_ behere in the evening, and indeed I am wanted all day; but I was trying toarrange to do less, so as to be with you three in the afternoon atleast. '

'Then--to put it plainly--it would be rather a relief to you for us allto be away?' asked Jacinth. 

'Well, yes--in a sense it would. That is to say, if I knew you werehappy and well looked after, ' said Miss Mildmay, smiling again. 

'There, Francie, ' said Jacinth, 'you see it is much the best thing thatcould have happened. And of course you and Eugene must come. I supposewe shall take Phebe, Aunt Alison?'

'Certainly, my dear. '

The mention of Phebe seemed to cheer Frances. 'I shouldn't mind so much, if Eugene and I could go walks, ' she said. 'But you know, Aunt Alison, Jass _must_ be a great deal with Lady Myrtle, and I shouldn't know whatto do all day, and Eugene wouldn't either. '

'It'll be all right, you'll see, ' said Jacinth, who, now that she wassatisfied as to her aunt, felt in high spirits. 'You can go about justas you like with Phebe, and it's only for a week. I don't think I shouldstay more than a week, Aunt Alison?'

'I cannot say, ' her aunt replied. 'I almost think you should, if LadyMyrtle wishes it. That week--the week after Christmas week--I think Icould help to amuse Frances and Eugene. We shall be having ourchildren's feasts, and they could be very useful. '

'I _should_ like that!' said Frances eagerly. 

So all seemed satisfactory, and Miss Mildmay left them, to write heranswer to Lady Myrtle. Human nature is very inconsistent. The maidenlady of a certain age could not repress a sigh as she sat down at herdesk: she had not realised till now that all was changed; how she hadbeen looking forward to something like an orthodox Christmas for once, in her prim old house--how she had been planning about the plum-puddingsand cakes, even while groaning a little over the reversal of her usualhabits!

'But it is much better as it is, ' she decided. 'They will be quitehappy, and poor old Lady Myrtle will be less lonely than for many years. She may be a good friend to Eugenia and the children in the future. Andas for me, I don't know how they would have managed without me at StBlaise's, after all. '

And the young Mildmays--Frances included--_were_ very happy at RobinRedbreast. 

Things settled themselves very much as Jacinth had foreseen. UnderPhebe's care the two younger ones were left free to run about as theychose during such parts of the day as Jacinth found that their hostessliked to have her with herself. And the children were much moreaccustomed to this sort of life than if they had ever known thoroughhome care. For even at Stannesley Mrs Denison's age and fragile healthhad often made it impossible for them to be with her as much as shewould have liked: they had early learned to be 'very good at amusingthemselves. '

On Christmas Day the large landau, quite roomy enough for half a dozeninstead of four, took them all to Elvedon church, where they sat withLady Myrtle in the square, be-curtained pew--one of those appropriatedto the Court, which was kept for the lady from Robin Redbreast. 

'It felt very like Stannesley, ' was the verdict of the two younger ones, who had not been at Elvedon before, which seemed to please Lady Myrtle. 

'Yes, ' she said. 'I think you will feel more at home than if you spentthe day at Thetford. '

And the prettily decorated rooms, and the old folk who came in fordinner in the servants' hall, and the roast turkey and flamingplum-pudding and snapdragon afterwards--yes, though they were only sucha very small party, just they three and the old lady instead of theirown granny, and no Uncle Marmy to make his jokes--still it _was_ muchmore homelike than No. 9 Market Square Place could possibly have been. And when Frances went to bed that night, glancing with pleasure at thepretty presents so thoughtfully provided for her--a dear little goldpencil-case in a bracelet from Lady Myrtle, a pair of gloves from AuntAlison, and a handkerchief with a red embroidered border from Jacinthand Eugene--the child felt that she had indeed a great many 'goodthings' to be thankful for. 

'If only'----she thought. 'Oh, how I would like to think that Bessie andMargaret are happy too! I am so afraid that they are very, very sadabout their father. '

Christmas Day was a Thursday. It was always considered a luckycoincidence by the young Mildmays when letters from their far-offparents reached them on the very day of any anniversary. But this yearthe Christmas budget only arrived the morning before Frances and Eugenewere returning to Thetford. Miss Mildmay sent it on by a specialmessenger, knowing how anxious her nieces would be to get their letters. And a mysterious allusion in the little note from her which accompaniedthem made Jacinth start and call out to Frances. 

'Look at what Aunt Alison says, before you read your letter, Francie. What can she mean?'

This was what Jacinth pointed to: 'I have heard from your father andmother also, ' wrote Miss Mildmay. 'The great piece of news will surpriseyou as much as it has surprised me. I shall be glad to have you backagain to talk it all over. ' The sisters stared at each other, their lipsparted and their breath coming quickly. 

Then said Jacinth at last: 'It can't be anything _wrong_, Francie. AuntAlison never would have written of it like that, if it had been. '

'No, ' said Frances, though her voice was rather tremulous; 'of course itcan't be. '

'And, ' continued Jacinth, 'how silly we are to sit here wondering aboutit, when we've only to look at our letters to know! Here goes, Francie!'and she tore open her own envelope; 'let's see which of us will get atit first. '

Frances unfastened her letter more deliberately. It was a much shorterone than Jacinth's, and she had scarcely glanced at the first few lineswhen she sprang from her seat with a sort of shriek. 

'They're coming home, Jass! that's the secret. Oh Jass, Jass, listen:"As I may hope to see you before long, my darling, I won't attempt towrite very much. " That's it. Oh Jassie, sweet, they're coming home!'

Jacinth's face had grown pink, then white again, whiter than usual, asshe rapidly ran through her own letter. 

'Yes, ' she said at last, 'it's--no, it's not _quite_ so good as that. Mamma's coming first: she'll be here in the spring; but papa's notcoming for some months later. He's got to go somewhere for some kind ofinspection, where mamma couldn't go with him, and after that, he's gotsix months' leave, which may or may not--I don't quite understand. Listen, Francie: "During this leave your father will have time to decideas to the future. It is possible he may have the offer of an appointmentin England, which would obviate the necessity of our returning to India. But even if he has this chance, there are fors and againsts to consider:the appointment is not in some ways a very desirable one; it wouldoblige us to live for some, perhaps for several years in a largemanufacturing town in the north of England, and it would be very hardwork for your father. Still, we might--we _should_ be all together. "'

Frances heaved a deep sigh of intense longing. 

'Oh yes, ' she said, 'that would be _everything_. '

'No, I don't see that it would be, ' said Jacinth. 'I should _hate_living in a place like that; and then think of the hard work for papa. When he does come home I want him to be quite his own master, and, and--to be rather grand, you know. I should not mind his having anappointment in London, or some county thing that wouldn't give him muchto do, about here perhaps. But to go and slave in some horrid dirtyplace where there would be no one we could speak to; that would be acome-down after the position he has had in India. '

'Oh Jass, ' said Frances, 'don't let us spoil this beautiful news bythinking of anything disagreeable. Papa must know best, far better thanwe can. Do go on reading the letter. Mamma says I'm to ask youeverything. '

Jacinth's eyes returned to the sheets in her hand. Her face cleared alittle. 

'There's something else, ' she said. 'Oh, I should like that _far_better. Listen, Frances: "Your father has also the certainty of agood--as to position and agreeableness--appointment in London; but thepay would be much, much less, so he is not taking this intoconsideration. So the chances are that we may have to return to Indiaafter his leave is over, and be joined by you, dear Jass, a year later;though at worst I hope we shall be settled in England before my littleFrancie would be ready to come out. But I don't mean to think ofanything at present but the unexpected joy of seeing you all three againso soon. I am writing to your aunt, to know if she can find a littlehouse at Thetford where we can be together. You will just have been oneyear with her, and I do thank her for her care of you. It all seems tohave fitted in so well. When you see Lady Myrtle Goodacre, thank heragain from me for her kindness to you, and tell her what a pleasure ithas been to me to think of it. Tell her, too, how much I am lookingforward to meeting again my mother's dearest friend. "'

'You will tell Lady Myrtle at once, ' said Frances. 

'Yes, of course, ' said Jacinth, but she spoke half absently. Her eyeswere still fixed on her mother's letter. 

'_I_ don't see why he shouldn't even "take it into consideration, "' sherepeated to herself. 'We can't be so desperately poor as all that. _I_shall take it into consideration, any way, my dear mother;' and shesmiled a little. 'Yes, Frances, ' she went on, looking up, and speakingmore decidedly; 'of course I'll tell Lady Myrtle. I think I'll go andtell her now. I know she is alone in the boudoir. And, Francie, you maytell Eugene. '

'May I?' exclaimed Frances, jumping up. 'Oh, thank you, Jass. I'm notsure, ' she went on, 'I'm not sure that Eugene can feel quite so--so_wild_ with happiness as I do. Oh Jass, it is almost too much. It takesmy breath away. ' She was running out of the room, when she looked backfor a moment. 

'Jass, ' she began with a little hesitation, 'does mamma say anythingmore about Mrs Lyle, _their_ aunt, you know? I wonder if she has seenher again?'

'She is sure to have seen her again. They are living close together, 'said Jacinth. 'But she doesn't say anything about her in this letter. Why should she?' Jacinth's tone was growing a little acrid. 'May she notfor once be taken up with our own affairs? what can be more importantthan all she has to tell us? I do wish, Frances, you wouldn't drag theseHarpers into everything; it is really bad taste. '

Frances was not very clear as to what 'bad taste' meant, but she wasvery sorry to have vexed Jacinth. 

'It was only, ' she said, 'only that it seems as if all the happinesswere coming to us, and all the troubles to them. And I was so glad mammawas sorry for them. '

'You speak as if they were our nearest relations, ' said Jacinth, 'instead of being, as they are, actual strangers. '

But she was not sure if Frances heard her. She had already run off. 

Jacinth followed her down-stairs more slowly. They had been sitting inthe elder girl's bedroom, which, with its cheerful outlook and pleasantarrangements of writing-table and bookcases and sofa, and fire burningbrightly, was rather a favourite resort of theirs in the morning, beforeLady Myrtle was free from her various occupations. For she was a busyand methodical old lady. 

The staircase was one of the pretty features of Robin Redbreast: thougha spiral one, the steps were pleasantly shallow, and every here andthere it was lighted by quaintly shaped windows. 

'How I love this house!' said Jacinth to herself, as she passed outround the gallery, already described, on into the conservatory, even atthat mid-winter season a blaze of lovely brilliant colour. 'If--oh, ifit were going to be our home some time or other, how beautiful it wouldbe to look forward to! how delightful it would make mamma's coming back!I can't bear to think of papa's having that horrid appointment up in thenorth. I'd rather keep on as we are, and go out to India when I'm oldenough. '

She had loitered a moment among the flowers; the door of Lady Myrtle'sboudoir was slightly ajar; the old lady's ears were quick; she heardeven the slight rustle of Jacinth's skirts, and called out to her. 

'Is that you, dear Jacinth? Come in--I have finished my letters andaccounts, and was just going to send for you. '

And as the girl hastened in, Lady Myrtle looked up with a bright smileof welcome. It was pleasant to be thus greeted: a change from AuntAlison's calm unimpassioned placidity. 

'Dear Lady Myrtle, ' said Jacinth, 'I don't know how to tell you ournews. We have got our Christmas letters from papa and mamma; Aunt Alisonsent out a messenger on purpose with them. And Francie and I have justread them. And--what do you think?'

She sat down on a stool at Lady Myrtle's feet and looked up in her face. The old lady laid her hand fondly on the girl's soft hair. 

'Nothing wrong, dear; I can see by your face. What can it be? Not--itcan't be that they are coming home?'

Jacinth's eyes sparkled. 

'Yes, indeed, ' she said; 'that's just what it is. At least it's notquite that they're coming home for good; I wish it were. But if youlike, if it won't bother you, I'll read you mamma's letter. '

'Yes, do, dear, ' said the old lady. 

And Jacinth did so, congratulating herself on what had disappointedFrances, that there was no mention at all in this letter of the Harperfamily or Mrs Lyle. 

Lady Myrtle listened with evidently extreme interest. When Jacinth hadfinished, there was a moment or two's silence. Then Lady Myrtle saidquietly but decidedly: 'She must come straight here--your mother, Imean. I shall write to her myself. Don't you think that will be best? Itwill be the greatest satisfaction to me to see her--little Eugenia--howproud your dear grandmother was of her! A fair-haired, brown-eyed littlecreature. Not so like my Jacinth as you are, child. But that, one couldnot expect. It is not often that one sees such a likeness as yours toyour grandmother. But I am so thankful to know I may hope to see yourmother. Sometimes I have feared'----But here Lady Myrtle broke offwithout finishing her sentence. 'Jacinth, I want you to talk about it. What can I say to ensure her coming to me? I want to make her feel thatit will be really like coming home?'

'Say _that_ to her, dear Lady Myrtle, ' Jacinth replied. 'Nothing couldtouch her more. And I am sure she will love to come here, at any ratefor a while, at first. You see she speaks of living at Thetford tillpapa comes--of having a little house there and us with her. There wouldnot be room in Aunt Alison's house, and besides, I think mamma wouldlike to feel more independent with us three. '

[Illustration: Jacinth sat down on a stool at Lady Myrtle's feet andlooked up in her face. ]

'Of course. I would not at all advise her living in Market Square Place, even if there were room, ' said Lady Myrtle. 'In a small house, and withyour aunt being accustomed to be the authority--no, it would not do. Butthere would be no such difficulties here. Your mother must come to mefirst, and you three must be here, too, to meet her. And then, later on, if she thinks it better to take a little house--well, I shall not opposeher. I am not an unreasonable old woman, am I, my child?'

'No, indeed, ' said Jacinth warmly. 'And'--with a little smile--'I knowmamma is very _sensible_. I can tell it by her letters, and even by whatI remember of her. She is eager and hearty--sometimes Francie reminds meof her--but she is never fanciful or obstinate. It sounds impertinent ofme talking like that of her, but I think you will understand. And I amsure you and mamma will suit each other. '

'I am sure we shall, dear, though, in a sense, _you_ will always seemthe _most_ of your grandmother to me, Jacinth. You see my most vividmemory of her is about your age; it is really as if she had come back tome, sometimes. '

'I do so love you to say that, ' said Jacinth. 

'But I want to speak of all your mother writes, ' the old lady went on. 'I--there can be no harm in my talking to you quite frankly, for I seeyour mother confides in you, and she is quite right to do so. Jacinth--Idon't like the idea of that post, whatever it is, at Barmettle. '

Jacinth drew a deep breath of relief. 

'Oh, I am so glad you think so, ' she said. 'I scarcely liked to sayit--it seems selfish--if it would save papa's going out again, and hehas had so much of India; but it _would_ be rather horrid, wouldn't it?And almost a come-down, it seems to me. The other appointment in Londonwould be so much nicer, only living at all _nicely_ in London is sodear, and the pay is smaller. Perhaps it will end after all in papa andmamma going back to India, and my joining them in two or three years. '

Lady Myrtle put out her hand, and clasped Jacinth's firmly in hers. 

'No, my child, ' she said. 'That must not be. I think when one gets asold as I am, one may be a little selfish; that is to say, if one'sselfishness does no one any harm. And your parents have had enough ofIndia; there can be no necessity for their return there, nor for yourjoining them. No, I could not consent to lose you again--the one thingthat has been sent to cheer me! Put all such possibilities out of yourmind, my Jacinth. I will write to your mother. '

'And what shall I say to her?' asked Jacinth. 'About all you have said, I mean. '

'Refer her to me. But tell her how you are all--_we_ are all--countingon her coming first to Robin Redbreast, and that then we shall be ableto talk over everything. Tell her I cannot consent to giving you up;tell her, as I hope you can, that this place is beginning to feel likehome to you. '

'You know I feel it so, dear Lady Myrtle, ' said Jacinth simply. 'I thinkI have been happier here already than I have ever been anywhere else. And I am so glad this news has come while we were here. It makes itdoubly delightful. And we shall remember that it came to us here--thisChristmas week. '

CHAPTER XII. 

'"CAMILLA" AND "MARGARET, " YES. '

There was a great writing of letters during the next day or two at RobinRedbreast. And both Lady Myrtle and the children found it difficult togive their attention to anything but the absorbing subject of MrsMildmay's return. 

And in response to a pressing invitation from the old lady, Miss Mildmayactually managed to spare or make time to come out to Robin Redbreast to'spend the day'--that is to say, three or four hours of it, so that sheand Lady Myrtle might have a talk about the plans under discussion. 

The day chosen was the one in which Frances and Eugene were to return toMarket Square Place. The big carriage was to take them and their auntand Phebe home in the afternoon, leaving Jacinth for another week atRobin Redbreast. 

Never had her nieces found Miss Mildmay so pleasant and almost genial. She was greatly delighted at the news of her sister-in-law'sreturn--delighted and relieved. For it had begun to strike her ratheruncomfortably that what she had undertaken was all but an impossibility. She was very conscientious, as I have said, and no self-deceiver. Shesaw that the girls, as they grew older, were becoming not less but morein need of sympathy and guidance in their out-of-school life--sympathyand guidance which at best she felt very doubtful of being able to givethem, _even_ if she sacrificed all the other duties and occupationswhich had for so many years made her life, for their sakes. And thesacrifice would have been a very tremendous one. 

The doubts and perplexities were increasing daily in her mind when therecame this most welcome and little expected news, followed by the almostas welcome tidings of Lady Myrtle's eager offer of hospitality to thechildren's mother. 

'It is very good, very, very kind and good of her, ' said Miss Mildmay toherself. 'The children's making friends with her really seems to havebrought good-luck. And she may be of lasting and substantial help toFrank and Eugenia. Not exactly because she is rich--Frank is far tooproud to take anybody's money--but she may have interest that would beof use to him. And there would be nothing unnatural in her leavingsomething to Eugenia or to Jacinth. I don't suppose she means to leaveeverything to the Elvedons, for a good deal would have been her ownshare in any case, and a good deal her husband must have left her. Bythe bye, I have always forgotten to ask Miss Scarlett if the Harpergirls she has, or had--some one said they had left--were any relation tothe Elvedon family. Nice girls, evidently, but very badly off, I fancy. '

And then she forgot about the Harpers again. 

But with her grateful feelings to Lady Myrtle, Miss Mildmay naturallyfelt that the least she could do was to clear a day for herself byworking extra hard, so as to be able to spend part of it at RobinRedbreast, as the old lady much wished her to do. 

And she was in her happiest and most cheerful mood, and all would havegone just as Jacinth wished, but for one unfortunate allusion, whichcame in the first place, strange to say, from considerate, cautious MissAlison Mildmay herself. 

Lady Myrtle and her new guest had a long talk by themselves in the firstplace. Then Jacinth, anxiously waiting, heard the boudoir-bell ring, anda message was brought to herself asking her to join them. 

'Come in, my dear child, ' said her old friend; 'your aunt and I havebeen enjoying a good talk. It is so pleasant when such things end inpeople quite agreeing with each other, is it not?' she added, turning toMiss Mildmay with a smile. 

Jacinth's anxious face cleared. 

'Then you do think Lady Myrtle's plan best, Aunt Alison?' she said. 

'I think it a delightful one, for all concerned, ' said Miss Mildmay. 'Ihave been explaining to Lady Myrtle all my--my conflicting feelings. Formuch as I should like to have your mother with me, I know it would notbe as comfortable as I should wish, nor should I be able to see verymuch of her, unless'----

'Forgive my interrupting you, my dear Miss Mildmay, ' interposed LadyMyrtle; 'but I wish you would not worry yourself about all thesequestions, now that they are settled and done with. Eugenia shall comestraight to Robin Redbreast for as long as I can get her to stay, andthat will be as long as she wishes. The children, as well as Jacinth, _my_ child'--and she glanced up affectionately at the young girlstanding beside her--'shall be here to receive her, and you too, MissMildmay, if you will so far honour me. It will be about Easterprobably; there are holidays then, I believe, which will be all thebetter. And there need never be any difficulty about sending you allthree to school and fetching you, even when it is not holiday time. Thenif Eugenia prefers to take a little house temporarily at Thetford, Ishall leave her free to do so, though I may have my private _hopes_ onthis matter. '

Lady Myrtle's eyes were quite sparkling, and there was a bright colourin her cheeks. It was very pleasant to see her so eager and happy. Jacinth, in spite of her aunt's repressing presence, could not helpstooping down and gently kissing the soft old face. 

'And to look further forward still, ' Lady Myrtle continued, holdingJacinth's hand which she had possessed herself of, 'your aunt and I areof accord on another point, my child. Your father must not return toIndia; he has had enough of it. And your mother too. '

'Then you think he should accept'----began Jacinth. 

'We will not go into particulars, ' she replied, patting Jacinth's hand. 'To begin with, Colonel Mildmay has not consulted me. He must first getto know me. But--no, of course that dreadful Barmettle is out of thequestion. You might almost as well be all in India, as far as I amconcerned, for all I should see of you. But all that is some way offstill. The first thing to do is to get your mother's promise to comestraight here. '

'I am sure she will, ' said Jacinth. 'I don't feel any anxiety aboutthat. '

'Nor do I, ' said her aunt. 

Just then the luncheon gong sounded, and they all went down-stairs inthe best of spirits. In the dining-room they were joined by Frances andEugene, who thanks to the genial influences of the morning's news, ranup to Miss Mildmay, and kissed her much more effusively than was usualwith them. 

'How well you are both looking!' she said, and Lady Myrtle glancedround, pleased at the remark. 'I don't think his mother will recogniseEugene, ' Miss Mildmay went on. 'Well, no, she could scarcely do that inany case. But I mean to say I think she will find it difficult tobelieve we are not cheating her altogether when she sees this great, strong, rosy fellow. He was such a poor little specimen!'

'He must have been brought home in time, however, ' said Lady Myrtle. 'Ah, yes, our Indian possessions cost us dear in some ways. Though it isnothing to the old days; my people were soldiers for generations youknow, so we had full experience of these difficulties. I and my brotherswere born in India; my father was only captain in his regiment when hecame into the Elvedon title and property unexpectedly. He would havelived to be very distinguished, I feel sure, if he had not left thearmy;' and she sighed a little. 

'But you have distinguished relatives in the army still, ' said MissMildmay. 'The Captain Harper who was wounded at----after his mostgallant conduct. He is a relation, is he not? I heard about him fromMiss Scarlett: you know his daughters were at Ivy Lodge, and'----

'Indeed!' said Lady Myrtle, and a very strange expression came into hervoice--not annoyance, not even constraint--more like a sort of repressedanxiety and painful apprehensiveness. 'Indeed! No, I do notremember--what were you going to say?'

For Miss Mildmay had stopped abruptly. She was seated opposite Jacinth, and as she got to her last words, some consciousness made her glanceacross the table at her elder niece. In an instant she saw her mistake, and recalled her own vague warnings to the girls to avoid allusions toLady Myrtle's family history. But she was far from cowardly, andessentially candid. And in her mind there had been no mingling of anyselfish motive; nothing but the desire to prevent any possible annoyanceto their kind old friend had prompted her few words of advice to thegirls. And now the strange look--a look almost of restrained anger--onJacinth's face positively startled her. 

'I may have been mistaken in my impression that the family in questionwas in any way related to you, ' she said quietly. 'One should be morecautious in such matters. '

'Yes, ' said Lady Myrtle, nervously, 'I think you must have beenmistaken. I do not know anything of such people, and Harper is not avery uncommon name. By the way, that reminds me--was it you, my dear?'and she turned somewhat abruptly to Frances--'was it not you who oncementioned some school-fellows of the name, and afterwards something wassaid which removed the impression that they could possibly be ElvedonHarpers? I am confused about it. '

All this time Frances's eyes had been fixed on her plate; she hadscarcely dared to breathe since her aunt's allusion. Now she looked up, bravely, though her cheeks were flaming and her heart beating as if tochoke her. An inner voice seemed to tell her that the moment had comefor _something_ to be said--the something which even Camilla Harper inher letter had not debarred her from, which her own mother had hopedsome opportunity might arise for. 

And in spite of Jacinth's stony face, and her aunt's evident wish tochange the subject which she herself had brought on to the _tapis_, Frances spoke out. 

'Yes, Lady Myrtle, ' she said clearly. 'It was I that spoke about Bessieand Margaret Harper. They were at school with us then, and before that, their big sister Camilla was there. But they've left now, I'm afraid, 'and her voice trembled a little. 'I think it's because their father'svery ill, and it costs a lot, and they're not at all rich. They're thevery nicest girls in the world; oh, they _are_ so good and nice. --Yousaid so too, Jacinth?'

Lady Myrtle's eyes turned to Jacinth. 

'Yes, ' the elder girl replied coldly; 'I believe they are very nicegirls. But I did not know them nearly as well as you, Frances. I do notcare for making friends as you do. '

'No, ' said Frances, rather lamely. 'I know you don't; but still I'd likeyou to tell Lady Myrtle how nice they are. '

'Why should it interest Lady Myrtle to hear about your school-fellows, my dear?' said Miss Mildmay, surprised and a little annoyed by Frances'srather pertinacious manner. 'These girls are very nice, I have no doubt;indeed I recollect Miss Scarlett speaking very highly of them; but noone doubts it. I think all your school-fellows must be nice girls--notonly the Harpers. And the name may be a mere coincidence. I have neverheard certainly that they were of the Elvedon family. '

Lady Myrtle had not seemed to be attending to what Miss Mildmay said. She was speaking to herself. 

'"Camilla, "' she murmured softly, '"Camilla" and "Margaret. " Not"Bessie;" no I never heard of a Bessie, and "Margaret" is not uncommon. But "Camilla"--yes, I suppose it must be. '

But just as she said this, Miss Mildmay's last words--the good lady hadrather an emphatic way of speaking--rang out clearly: 'I have neverheard certainly that they were of the Elvedon family. '

'That's just it, ' said Frances, and by this time Lady Myrtle's attentionwas fully caught. 'Of course I don't mean to contradict you, AuntAlison, but I _do_ know they're the same family, and so they arerelations of Lady Myrtle's. And it's not only that I like them. I'm sovery sorry for them, so _very_ sorry. They are all so good, and theyhave so very, very many troubles, ' and here the irrepressible tears roseto poor Frances's eyes, and she turned her head away abruptly. 

Lady Myrtle glanced at her and then at Jacinth. Jacinth's face was quietand very grave. 

'You are a very loyal friend, I see, Frances, ' said the old lady; andrather to every one's surprise the words were accompanied by a littlesmile, and then she turned to Jacinth. 

'I don't think you have ever named these--these Harpers--to me, haveyou, my dear?' she asked. 

Jacinth looked up at once. 

'No, ' she said; 'I have not, and I have refrained from doing so onpurpose. I--I did not think it concerned me, and you might not haveliked it. I--I should be so sorry to vex you. '

The appeal in her eyes touched Lady Myrtle more than Frances's tears. And in what she said, so far as it went, Jacinth was sincere. She didshrink from any possible allusion that could annoy or upset her kindfriend; and the selfish motives underlying the prejudice, almostamounting to positive dislike, which she had allowed to take root in herfeelings to the Harpers, she blinded herself to, or called by some othername. 

Lady Myrtle was silent, but there was no resentment in her face. Sheonly looked sad--very, very sad. 

'You know these girls very much less well than Frances did, ' said MissMildmay, whose sympathies were just now all with Jacinth. 'You see, ' shewent on, turning to her hostess, 'Frances has been in the habit ofspending holiday afternoons at school--sometimes when you had kindlyinvited Jacinth here, on a Saturday, for instance. '

Lady Myrtle started a little. Her thoughts had been far away. She leanedforward and took hold of Jacinth's hand--Jacinth was sitting next toher, and the servants had left the room--and patted it affectionately. 

'Of course. I know Jacinth is very, very thoughtful for me, ' she said. 'And I see that you understand it, my dear Miss Mildmay. Not that I amvexed with little Frances. I like children to be children, and of allthings I like a loyal friend. '

Then she at once and with evident intention, which the others were quickto read, changed the subject of conversation. On the whole, vexed thoughshe was with Frances's persistence--'self-willed obstinacy' as shecalled it to herself--Jacinth felt that the dreaded crisis had passedoff better than might have been expected, and in some things it was arelief. Things were on a clearer basis now. 

'It was bound to come, I suppose, ' she said to herself. 'Mamma seemsalmost as impulsive and quixotic as Frances--quite bewitched by thesepeople. But at worst there's nothing more to tell now, and Lady Myrtleappreciates my feelings if no one else does. '

Frances, on her side, though her heart was still beating tumultuously, felt glad that she had had the courage and opportunity to say what shehad. But for her dread of a private reprimand from Jacinth afterwards, the little girl would on the whole have had a somewhat lightened heartabout her friends. For, as she said to herself, 'Lady Myrtle hadcertainly not seemed angry. '

Strange to say, the anticipated reproof from Jacinth never came. It wastrue there was not much time for any private talk between the sisters, for Frances and Eugene went back to Market Square Place that sameafternoon with their aunt. But even when, a week later, Jacinth herselfrejoined them there a day or two before the reopening of Ivy Lodgeschool, there was no mention of the Harpers, and no allusion to what hadpassed at luncheon the day of Miss Mildmay's visit to Robin Redbreast. 

'Can it be that Lady Myrtle is really going to be kind to them, and thatshe told Jacinth not to be vexed with me?' thought sanguine littleFrances. She would have felt less hopeful had she known that not oneword had passed between her sister and the old lady on the subject ofher unknown relations. And Jacinth had simply made up her mind to thinkno more about them; her conscience now being, or so at least she toldherself, completely at rest--the matter entirely out of her hands. 

It was the easier to carry out this resolution that Bessie andMargaret's places were vacant, though no one seemed very clearly tounderstand why they had not returned, and the Misses Scarlett expressedthe heartiest regret that they had not done so. Honor Falmouth too hadleft, but this had been known by anticipation to her companions forsome time. And in the little world of a school, as in the bigger worldoutside, it is not for long that the circles in the waters of daily lifemark the spot of any disappearance; it has to be so, and does notnecessarily imply either heartlessness or caprice. We are limited as toour powers in all directions--the more marvellous that somewhere, invisible, unsuspected, our innermost self lives on. And far down, belowthe surface restlessness and change, may we not hope that we shall findagain the fibres of loving friendships and pure affections whose rootswere deep and true, though at times it may seem that like other preciousand beautiful things they were but as a dream?

Frances missed her friends sadly, the more so that not knowing theirexact address, and half afraid also to do such a thing on her ownresponsibility, she could not write to them. But nothing depressedFrances now for very long or very deeply. She had found a panacea. Allwould be right soon, 'when mamma comes home. '

CHAPTER XIII. 

MAMMA. 

At Thetford the weeks till Easter--it came in the middle of April thatyear--passed quickly. It is true that every morning, when Frances scoredout one of the long row of little lines she had made to represent thedays till that of her mother's arrival, she could not repress a sigh atthe number yet remaining. But still the time, even for her, passedquickly. For she was busy--working more steadily at her lessons thanever before, in the hope of having satisfactory progress to show--andfull of the happiest anticipations. Morning and night the faithful, simple-hearted girl added to her other petitions the special one thatthings might be so over-ruled as to prevent the necessity of furtherseparation. 

'It can't be wrong to ask it, ' she said to herself, 'for God madefathers and mothers and children to be together. It's something wrongsomewhere when they can't be. And I've got a feeling that it _is_ goingto be like that for us now. I don't care a bit where we live--that placein the north or anywhere--if only we're with them. '

Jacinth, too, on the whole was happy in her own way. Personally, perhaps, she longed less for her mother's presence and sympathy thanFrances did, for she was by nature more self-sufficing. And when onescarcely knows till one is fifteen or sixteen what it is to have amother and a real home of one's own, small wonder if the inestimableblessings of such possessions are barely realised. Then, too, Jacinth'sfrequent visits to Lady Myrtle, and the old lady's ever-increasingaffection for and interest in her had almost filled up the voids thegirl had at first felt bitterly enough in her new life. She would inmany ways have been quite content for things to go on as they were for ayear or two. And if she built castles in the air, it must be allowedthat Lady Myrtle was to a great extent responsible for theirconstruction. 

'I can scarcely fancy feeling as if mamma were more of a mother to methan you seem now, ' she said one day to her old friend. 

'Nay, ' Lady Myrtle replied, 'I must represent a grandmother. You reallydo not know what a mother feels like, dear child. '

'Well, ' Jacinth went on, 'perhaps that's it. But somehow I think mammawill seem more a sort of elder sister to me. And I hope she will take itthat way. We shall get on better if she does. I--I'm afraid I shouldn'tbe very good about giving in. You see I've never had to do it much. '

She smiled a little as she made the confession. 

'I can scarcely imagine you anything but docile, my dear, ' said LadyMyrtle; 'but then, of course, I know I have not seen you really tested. I fancy, however, there will be a mingling of the elder-sisterly feelingin your relations to your mother, and I hope there will be. I think shehas a high opinion of your good sense and judgment, and I don't expectthat she will have any cause to change her opinion. '

Jacinth sat silent for a moment or two. She seemed to be thinkingdeeply; her eyes were fixed on the fire, where the wooden logs werethrowing out brilliant gleams of varying colours, reflected on thebright brasses of the grate and fender. 

'How pretty everything here always is!' she said at last. 'Even to theburning wood. Look, Lady Myrtle, it is blue and purple and even green. '

'They are old ship logs, ' her friend replied. 'It is the brine in themthat makes the colours. '

'Oh dear, ' said Jacinth again with a little sigh, 'how I should love apretty home. Lady Myrtle, I am afraid you will be shocked at me, but doyou know I sometimes almost feel I would rather papa and mamma went backto India next year than that we should have to go to live at thathorrible dingy Barmettle. '

Lady Myrtle was not _shocked_. Still, she was too unselfish by natureherself not to be quick to check any symptoms of an opposite characterin one she really cared for, glad though she was to have Jacinth's fullconfidence. 

'I think you would bear such a trial as that, readily and cheerfully, ifit were for your father and mother's good, ' she said. 'And after all, where we live is not of the importance that I daresay it seems to you. Some of the truly happiest people I have ever known have been so inspite of the most uncongenial surroundings you can imagine. '

'I'm not as good as that, ' said Jacinth in a melancholy voice. 'I can'tbear ugly, messy places; above all, messy, untidy places make meperfectly cross and miserable. '

Lady Myrtle could not help laughing a little at her tragic tone. 

'I don't see that, even if you had to live at Barmettle, your home needbe ugly and untidy, ' she said. 

'I don't know. I've been thinking a good deal about it, ' Jacinthreplied. 'You see, mamma will have been so long in India that she willhave got out of English ways. She must be accustomed to lots of servantsand to have everything done for her. I'm afraid it will be verydifficult and uncomfortable. '

'But she would have you and Frances to help her, ' said Lady Myrtle. 'Atleast--no, dear Jacinth, you really must not anticipate troubles thatmay never, that I trust _will_ never come. '

Then she hesitated and stopped short, and seemed to be thinking deeply. 

'My dearest child, ' she said at last, 'you are very young, and I have agreat dread of forgetting how young you are. I have too, as you know, avery great respect for parental authority. I would never take uponmyself to interfere in any real way with your life, unless I had yourfather and mother's approval. But this I may say, so far as I canpossibly influence them and the whole circumstances, you may rely uponit that this nightmare of Barmettle shall never be anything but anightmare. Though at the same time I am most strongly of opinion thatyour father must _not_ return to India. '

'Oh, thank you, dear Lady Myrtle, thank you a thousand times for whatyou say, ' said Jacinth. 

'It is your father's health I am thinking of too, ' said the old lady. 'Your aunt feels sure that it is time for him to come home for good. Hehas been out there so long, and he is not a young man. He is a good dealolder than your mother. '

'Yes, ' Jacinth replied. 'He is fifteen years older; and mamma has alwaysbeen wonderfully strong. But even for her it would be much nicer tocome home now. Seventeen years is a long time, and only one year and onesix-months at home! Oh, I do feel so much happier since you have spokenso to me--even though it makes me rather frightened about papa. It wouldbe terrible for his health to fail. '

'We must make him take it in time, ' said Lady Myrtle cheerfully. 'Idon't think there is any cause for immediate anxiety. Yes--nothing issadder than when the head of a house breaks down prematurely. '

Her words, following upon her own, struck Jacinth curiously. What was itthey made her think of? What family had she been hearing of whose fatherwas in bad health? Ah--yes, it was these Harpers! How tiresome it wasthat they seemed always to be 'turning up, ' as Jacinth expressed it toherself! There were scores and scores of other families in as badtrouble as they; the world was full of such cases. 

'If Frances had been here, ' thought Jacinth, 'she would have beencertain to begin about them and their father--only annoying Lady Myrtleand doing no good. Not but that I'm very sorry for them. I hope theirfather is better, I'm sure. '

Alas! these two or three months had not passed so quickly or so brightlyin the--no, I must not say in the Harpers' pleasant though plain oldhouse at Southcliff, for Hedge End was let, and the three girls wereliving in Mrs Newing's tiny rooms in Harbour Street--the rooms whereCamilla had declared they would be so cosy and comfortable, enjoying arest from all housekeeping cares. 

And as far as the material details of their life was concerned theywould have been more than content, though it was a new experience tothem to be even temporarily without a home; and now and then Camillaand Bessie grew a little anxious about Margaret, and wondered if theywere taking as good care of her as mother would have done. For thelittle girl looked very pale and delicate sometimes, and her appetitewas fitful. 

'I wonder if it is Mrs Newing's cooking, ' said Camilla to herconfidante, Bessie. 'At home we could always get some nice little thing;mother is so clever in that way, with father having been so long ill. But here it would be impossible to try to cook anything ourselves. '

'And whatever we do, we mustn't worry mother about Margaret, ' saidBessie. 'Mother needs all the cheering possible to keep up her spirits, with dear father being so suffering still. Oh, Camilla, I _wonder_ if weshall soon have better news?'

Things had not improved, even to the limited extent which was all thatCaptain Harper had counted upon, as rapidly as the former time that hehad been an inmate of the private hospital for three months. He wasweaker than then, and perhaps his intense anxiety to benefit by theeffort that had in every sense cost them all so dear, was against him. 

The doctors, so wrote Mrs Harper to her elder girls, now spoke of threemonths more, not as desirable but as a necessity. And how it was to bemanaged she could not see. Furthermore, to give a chance of anythingapproaching cure, or rather lasting improvement, the regulation visit tothe German baths _must_, they now declared, be followed up by a winterin a mild, dry climate. 

'Of this, ' said the mother, 'we are not even _thinking_. The three moremonths here are all we can contemplate, and I dare not tell your fatherhow impossible even that seems. It is out of the question, as he is, tomove him to an ordinary hospital where I could not be with him. Ibelieve if we did so he would give up the struggle and quietly resignhimself to leaving us. '

'Camilla, he _must_ stay, ' said Bessie. 'There is one thing, thesepeople do want to keep on the house longer?'

'For two months--not three, ' said Camilla, 'and we have not yet giventhem a decided answer. '

'Then let us take it upon ourselves _to_ decide, ' said Bessie. 'And wewill write and tell mother that is settled. And what else _can_ we do, Camilla? Father _must_ stay as long as the doctors think necessary. Itis the middle of March now; he has been there two months. I suppose heshould stay till the middle or end of July. '

'And then go abroad, ' said Camilla. 

'Ah well, we scarcely can hope for that. But I think, Camilla, youshould write to Aunt Flora: father will never do it, and mother wouldnot without his leave. But _we_ can. Ask her to lend us some money, whatever is strictly necessary, and tell her that _somehow_ we willrepay her. She is very generous, and she would never forgive us if welet father lose the last chance, for want of anything she could do. '

'But she has so little ready money, ' said Camilla. 'I don't know if theyare bad managers, for they have a good income, but it all seems to go. '

'Father says they cannot help it. Uncle Lyle has so much to keep up outthere--entertaining and all sorts of things, ' said Bessie. 'But I amsure they would manage to lend us--how much?--fifty or a hundred pounds?And Camilla, we _will_ repay it. Can we not save a little on our living?I suppose we couldn't do with a room less; it would not be wholesomefor Margaret. And for her sake too we must not attempt still plainerfood. '

'No, ' said Camilla, 'I fear that is impossible. You see Margaret is soquick. She would notice in a moment if you and I eat less or at alldifferently from her. But--yes, perhaps the time has come when we mustapply definitely to Aunt Flora. I will write by the next mail. '

'And Camilla, if we tide over this present trouble, ' said Bessie, 'Ithink you or I must do something--something to earn money by. I am tooyoung to be a governess yet, but I know--she almost said it to me--thatMiss Scarlett would take me even now as a sort of pupil-teacher, and twoyears hence I think I might be a governess--to young children. '

'It may have to be, ' the elder sister agreed. 'But the question is_which_ of us should go. I could be a governess already, but then thatstops your and Margaret's education. And, Bessie, it would be ratheradditionally trying to father and mother--father especially--for you tobe in that kind of position at _Thetford_, the very part of the countryour family comes from. And so near to Robin Redbreast too. '

Bessie reared her head. '_I_ don't mind that, ' she said. 'I shouldrather like it the better. '

'But _father_?' said Camilla gently. And brave Bessie was silent. 

The letter to Mrs Lyle was written and sent. It reached her in her newIndian quarters about ten days before Mrs Mildmay started on her returnhome. 

 * * * * *

It was May; the charming capricious month we dream of all the yearround, always believing--thanks to poets and childish remembrancesrose-coloured by the lapse of time--that if the weather is cold andgray and generally disappointing this year, it is quite an exception andnever has been so before: it was May before the day came on which LadyMyrtle Goodacre's landau set off in state for Thetford railway station, with Jacinth, Frances, and Eugene already occupying it, and a vacantseat for Miss Alison Mildmay whom they were to call for on the way. 

Frances and even Eugene were almost speechless with excitement: Jacinth, though wound up to a tremendous pitch, was too proud and tooself-contained by habit to show what she was feeling. 

'Lady Myrtle _hopes_ you will come back with us, Aunt Alison, ' she saidquietly, 'at least to spend the rest of the day, as you wouldn't consentto come to stay for two or three. '

Miss Mildmay, before replying, glanced at her niece with a curious sortof admiration, not altogether free from disappointment. 

'Jacinth certainly is extraordinarily self-controlled, ' she thought. Very self-controlled, like very reserved people do not always entirelyappreciate their own characteristics in another! But aloud she repliedmuch in the same matter-of-fact tone. 

'It is very good of her, but I would rather find my own way home fromthe station. I will come out to Robin Redbreast to-morrow or the dayafter to have a talk with your mother. She will have more than enough tooccupy her to-day. '

Jacinth secretly commended her aunt's good sense, but the younger onesseemed a little sorry. They wanted everybody to be as happy asthemselves. 

'It isn't that you don't think there'd be room enough in the carriage, Aunt Alison, is it?' said Frances, anxiously. 'For the closed wagonetteis coming too for mamma's maid and the luggage, and I wouldn't mind theleast bit getting into it. '

'Or I could go on the box, ' suggested Eugene. 'I could _quite_ squeezein between Bailey and Fred, and I'm sure they wouldn't mind. '

'Thank you, dears, ' said Miss Mildmay, more warmly than she had spokento Jacinth; 'thank you very much. No; it is not on that account. Andindeed there is plenty of room in here for Eugene extra. But I shallenjoy more, coming to-morrow or the day after, and then you must allspare me your mother for an hour or so. '

The train was late of course. There was that strange odd bit of time weall know so well--of waiting and expectancy, intensified of course inthe present case by the fact that the mother they were about to meet wasliterally a stranger to the three children. Even Jacinth was a good dealpaler than her wont, when at last the train slowly steamed into thestation and drew up beside the platform where they were standing. 

Would she have known her mother, she asked herself afterwards? Scarcely;there were several passengers who _might_ have been _the_ one. She feltalmost bewildered when Aunt Alison turned from all, to hurry forward togreet a slight, girlish-looking figure--girlish in herself, though notin attire or bearing--who was gazing about her with eager eyes. 

'Eugenia. '

'Alison, ' and the two sisters-in-law had caught each other's hands andkissed each other before Jacinth had really taken in that this was'mamma!'

Then Miss Mildmay drew back without another word than 'Here they are! Idid want to give them over to you, myself, you see, ' and her usuallycalm voice trembled a little. 

And Jacinth felt an arm thrown round her, and the words whispered intoher ear, 'My darling child!' and for almost the first time in her life achoking sensation that was not pain, and a rush to her eyes of tearsthat were not sorrow, made her dimly conscious that she knew her ownnature and its depths less fully than she had imagined. 

And then in turn she fell back a little while the two younger ones, witha glad cry from Francie of 'Mamma, mamma!' and a solemn 'It's me; I'mEugene, ' from the small brother, were drawn close, close, by the armsthat had not held them for so long, and kissed as they never rememberedhaving been kissed before. 

And somehow--I don't think any of them could ever clearly have told how;perhaps Mrs Mildmay's maid had a head on her shoulders and was equal tothe occasion--they all found themselves in the landau again; all, thatis to say, except Aunt Alison, who stood waving good-bye to them allfrom the curbstone, her face for once actually rosy with excitement. 

'Mamma!' said Frances, and then she stopped short. 'It's too lovely, Ican't speak. '

Eugene was stroking his mother's mantle. It was of soft downy material, rich in colour and texture. 

'How pretty!' he said. 

Jacinth glanced at it and the rest of her mother's attire, and at hermother herself. She felt proud of her, of her undeniable beauty and airof distinction--proud to present her to Lady Myrtle--and yet----

'I wonder if mamma is very much taken up with her clothes, ' she thought. 'I wonder if she is extravagant. I expect I _shall_ have to take a gooddeal upon me, as Lady Myrtle said. I suppose people in India really growvery unpractical. '

Poor Lady Myrtle! Little had she intended her words to be thustravestied. 

But the reflection was not disagreeable to Jacinth, to whom a positionof responsibility and management was always congenial. She took hermother's hand in hers, and smiling at Eugene replied: 'Yes indeed. Whatlovely fur trimming, mamma! And what a pretty bonnet! You couldn't havehad that in India, surely?'

'No, ' said Mrs Mildmay, smiling back at her children, 'I got one or twothings in London yesterday. I thought you would like me to look nice, especially as I was going straight to Robin Redbreast. I don't believepoor dear Aunt Alison would have seen any difference if I had come backin the same clothes I went away in all those years ago. '

'No, ' agreed Frances, 'I don't believe she would. '

But Jacinth looked a little grave; she could not quite 'make out' hermother. 

'Aunt Alison spends almost nothing on herself, ' she said. 'She givesaway every farthing she possibly can. '

'I know she does, dear. She is the most self-denying person in thoseways that I have ever met, ' said Mrs Mildmay heartily, though mentallyhoping to herself that Jacinth was not very matter-of-fact. But Eugenewas looking very solemn. 

'What are you thinking of, my boy? his mother asked. 

'Those clothes, ' he said, 'those clothes what you went away with. Theymust be wored out. I was only two when you went away, mamma?'

This made them all laugh, which was perhaps a good thing--a slightrelief to the over-excitement which in their different ways all had beenexperiencing. 

'Mamma, ' said Frances earnestly, when the laughter had calmed down, 'I_must_ tell you, I had no idea you were so pretty. I think you are thevery prettiest person I ever saw. '

'So do I, ' Eugene chimed in. 

Mrs Mildmay could not resist kissing again the two sweet flushed faces. 

'My darlings, ' she said, 'I hope you will always think so, in one way, even when my hair is white and my face old and wrinkled. '

'I hope, ' thought Jacinth to herself, 'I hope mamma isn't--not vain, it's such a contemptible word--but I hope she doesn't care too much forlooks and outside things of that kind. '

But the very defining her thoughts startled her. She knew she had noright to begin criticising her mother in this way, and she pulledherself up. 

'Mamma, ' she said, and her tone was both perfectly natural and simple, and more unconstrained than Mrs Mildmay had yet heard it--'mamma, isn'tit really delightful, and isn't it almost wonderful that we should beall staying with Lady Myrtle and taking you to her? Isn't it really likea fairy story?'

'It is indeed, ' said Mrs Mildmay. 'It _is_ wonderful. The way that sheseemed to start up just when--so soon after we had lost dear granny, andin a sense our home. '

'It would have been lovely, of course, for you to come back to usanyway, ' said Frances, 'but it wouldn't have been _so_ lovely if we'dall been going to Aunt Alison's. It's _rather_ a poky place, you know, mamma, and in India I suppose the houses are all _enormous_. I can onlyremember like in a dream, about very big, very white rooms. '

'The last house we've had was far from _enormous_, ' said her mother witha smile, 'still it was very nice. I often wished you and Jassie couldhave been with us there. '

'But--oh mamma, you'll never go back again, ' pleaded Frances. 'We've gotdear papa's coming to look forward to now, and after that--never mind_where_ we live, if only we stay together. '

Mrs Mildmay smiled, though for the first time with a touch of sadness. 

'Don't let us spoil to-day by looking forward, dear; except, as you say, to your father's coming. If he were here, everything _would_ seemperfect. '

'And here's Robin Redbreast, ' exclaimed Jacinth, as they turned thecorner of the lane, 'and "Uncle Marmy's gates" wide open in your honour. Generally we drive in at the side. Now, mamma, take a good look. Firstimpressions are everything, you know. Isn't _this_ perfect?'

She seemed full of enthusiasm, which her mother was glad to see andquick to respond to. 

'It _is_ beautiful: I have never seen anything like it, ' she repliedwarmly. 'And _could_ there have been a more exquisite day?'

'And mamma, mamma, ' cried Eugene, 'you know, don't you, it was all methat got friends with Lady Myrtle; me, with getting--_wursty_, that day, you know?'

CHAPTER XIV. 

A COURAGEOUS PLEADER. 

Lady Myrtle was standing in the porch. It seemed to her only fittingthat she should come thus far to welcome such a guest, and something inher almost tremulously affectionate greeting touched Mrs Mildmay keenly. 

'It is _so_ good of you--meeting me like this, ' the younger womanwhispered, as she threw her arms round her old friend. 'And, oh, howdelightful it is to have you and this to come to!'

'My dear, my dear, ' said Lady Myrtle, 'don't thank me. Only let me seethat you and your children are happy and at home with me; that is _all_I care about. '

And again she kissed the Eugenia she had not seen since her childhood. 

Mrs Mildmay was very like Frances; correctly speaking, one should put itthe other way, but as a new actor on the scene of this little story itis natural thus to express it. Her face had something indescribablychildlike about it; her blue eyes were almost wistful, though the wholeexpression was bright and happy and very changeful. Yet there was plentyof 'character'--no dearth of good firm lines, with yet an entire absenceof anything denoting hardness or obstinacy; the whole giving from thefirst candid glance an impression of extreme ingenuousness andsingle-mindedness. 

[Illustration: 'It is so good of you, meeting me like this, ' the youngerwoman whispered, as she threw her arms round her old friend. ]

'You are not like your mother, ' said Lady Myrtle, when the little grouphad made its way into the drawing-room where tea was already waiting. 'Iknew you were not. Yet something in your voice recalls her. I supposeyou can _scarcely_ remember her, ' she went on, 'not well enough to seethe really marvellous resemblance between her and my child here--mychild as well as yours?' and she smiled at Jacinth who was standing by, and laid her hand affectionately on the girl's arm. 

'Oh yes, ' Mrs Mildmay replied, 'I remember enough for that. And then Ihave one or two excellent portraits, besides the large one atStannesley; at least my father always told me they were excellent. Andeven when Jassie was quite tiny, he saw the likeness and was delightedat it. But I--I am quite "Denison" I know, and so are Francie andEugene. The odd thing is that Jassie is also in some ways more like theMildmays than the two others. '

'I have never seen your husband, you know, ' said Lady Myrtle. 'I can'tsay that the likeness to good Miss Alison Mildmay has ever struck me. '

The quaint way in which the old lady said it made them all smile alittle--all, that is to say, except Jacinth. She had not altogetherrelished her mother's remark. 

But that evening was a most happy one--perhaps the very happiest the twoyounger children had ever known--and one certainly to be marked with awhite stone in the memory of all the five who spent it together. By atacit agreement no uncertain or anxious questions were touched upon. MrsMildmay was able to give a good account of their father's health at thetime of her leaving him, to the children, and made them all laugh by heraccount of her brother Marmaduke's description of the terrible formalityof that first evening at Market Square Place. She seemed gifted with awonderful amount of fun and merriment: Jacinth caught herself laughingafter a fashion which was very rare with her. 

'Mamma is ever so much _younger_ than I, ' she said to herself when shefound herself alone for the night. 'She is as charming and sweet as shecan be. But I can foresee some things pretty clearly. It is a good thingI am of a different character. What would happen if we were all asimpulsive and'--'childish' was the word in her thoughts, but again shefelt a little startled at the length to which her criticism of hermother was going, and pulled herself up--'as impulsive as Francie, andas mamma must be by nature?'

And she fell asleep in the midst of a not unpleasing picture of herselfas the wise, considerate prop of the whole family, looked up to by herparents, leant upon by Lady Myrtle, a Lady Bountiful to all within herreach, a----But here I think her imaginings probably faded into thephantasmagoria of dreams. 

Mrs Mildmay had bidden her elder girl a fond good-night; then shehastened along the passage for a moment's peep into Frances's littleroom. 

'The child will be asleep, I daresay, ' she thought to herself. 'It isalmost selfish of me to risk waking her. But I will be very careful, andI really cannot resist the delight of seeing them in bed, of knowingthey are under the same roof again at last. '

And she stole in. It was a moonlight night. Francie had been in bed somelittle time, but she was not asleep. She was lying with her eyes wideopen gazing out through the unshaded window, which was within her view, at the tree tops, illumined by the silvery radiance, and swaying gentlyin the soft night breeze; her shaggy hair making a background on thepillow for her sweet, childish face. And at the faint sound her mothermade on entering she started up. 

'Mamma, mamma!' she cried, as Mrs Mildmay knelt down and threw her armsround the little figure. 'My own little mamma, my own, my own! to thinkit _is_ you, to think I really and truly have you. Oh, can I _ever_ beso happy again! Oh, mamma darling, I don't know _how_ to thank Godenough; that was what I was thinking about when you came in. No, no, youdidn't wake me. I haven't been asleep. '

'My darling, my own little girl!' whispered Mrs Mildmay. 

'Mamma dear, ' Frances went on, after a moment's beautiful silence. 'Ifeel already that I can tell you _everything_. Now there's one thing;it's come into my mind again since I've been in bed; I'm afraid I forgotabout it in the first _rush_ of happiness, you know, but now I'veremembered. Mamma, don't you think when we're awfully happy we shouldtry to do something for other people--that God means us to? Well, it'sabout the Harpers. Oh, mamma, I'm afraid they are having such very badtroubles just now. '

Mrs Mildmay started a little. 

'You don't mean, dear--you haven't heard anything _quite_ lately, aboutthe father, Captain Harper, have you?'

'No, ' said Frances, 'I've not heard anything. Miss Falmouth was the onlygirl who knew about them away from school, and she has left. But youremember I wrote to you that Bessie and Margaret mightn't come back, andthey haven't. And I'm _sure_ it's because they've got poorer with theirfather being so ill. Mamma, did you hear anything more from their auntbefore you left?'

'Yes, ' said Mrs Mildmay sadly. 'I heard a good deal. All there is tohear, indeed. A letter from the eldest daughter, Camilla Harper--the onewho wrote to you--came to Mrs Lyle just before I left. She showed it tome. I am afraid it is as you say, Francie; they have very heavy troublesand anxieties indeed. '

'And _don't_ you think they're good, really very good people, mamma?'asked the child eagerly. 

'I think they seem quite wonderfully good, ' said her mother, warmly. 'Icannot understand; I mean I can scarcely realise, how they can all be sobrave and cheerful, when one thing after another--one misfortune afteranother--has come to try them so terribly. Yes, it almost frightens meto think of our happiness in comparison with their troubles, Francie. '

'But mamma, ' and Frances hesitated. 'If we can do anything to help them?Wouldn't that make it seem _righter_? I mean as if we were meant to doit. '

'I _am_ going to try, ' said Mrs Mildmay. Her voice was low and quiet, but it carried assurance with it. 'Your father and I talked a great dealabout it after we heard the worst of things from Mrs Lyle. And wedecided that it would be only right, even at the risk of annoying oreven offending Lady Myrtle. It seems "meant" as you say, Francie--thecoincidences of it all--my coming straight here, and that letterreaching Mrs Lyle just before I left. So we quite made up our mindsabout it. '

Frances drew a deep breath of thankfulness. 

'It does seem as if everything I have most wanted was going to come, 'she said. 

Then, as her mother, after kissing her again, was turning to leave theroom, telling her she really 'must go to sleep, ' the little girl calledher back for a moment. 

'Mamma, dear, ' she said. 'If you don't mind, would you please not sayanything to Jass about what we've been talking of. '

Mrs Mildmay looked a little surprised. 

'Why not, dear? Why should I not tell her as well as you?'

'Oh well, because Jass didn't know Bessie and Margaret nearly as well asI did, and you must have seen by her letters that she didn't care aboutthem like me, ' said Frances. 

'But that does not, in one way, much signify, ' replied her mother. 'OnceJacinth knows all about them she will feel as we do: your father and Ido not know any of them personally. It is not as friends of ours that Iwould in any way plead their cause with their own near relation. '

'No, of course not, ' said Frances. But still she did not seem satisfied. 'Jacinth has always been so afraid of vexing Lady Myrtle by seeming tointerfere, ' she said. 'And even Aunt Alison said it was better not. '

'Very likely not. You are both too young to have it in your power to doanything. Still, I am sure you have lost no opportunity of speakinghighly of the girls whom you _do_ think so highly of. '

'Yes, ' said Frances, quietly. 'I have done that. But somehow, mamma, Ihave vexed Jass about it several times. I shouldn't like her to think Ihad "spoilt" your first evening, by beginning about the Harpers. That'swhat she might say. '

'I will give her no reason for being vexed with you, dear. I canunderstand her fear of vexing Lady Myrtle--I feel the same myself--andwhen I tell her, Jacinth, all about it, it will be in no way mixed upwith you, Francie. She will only need to understand the whole thingthoroughly to agree with us. '

And Frances fell asleep in happy confidence that 'mamma' would put itall right. How delightful it was to have her at hand to lean upon!

But Mrs Mildmay had spoken rather more confidently about Jacinth thanshe quite felt. Frances's words reminded her of the cold, unsympathisingway in which her elder daughter had alluded in her letters to theHarpers; after knowing all that Frances had written to her mother. 

'Jacinth is thoughtful and considerate beyond her years, ' thought she, 'but I do trust she is no way selfish or calculating. Oh no, that isimpossible. I must not be fanciful. Marmy warned me that I might findher self-contained and even self-opinionated, but that is very differentfrom anything mean or selfish. It is sad, all the same, to know nothingof one's own child for one's self, at first hand. Whatever the poorHarpers' trials have been, ' she went on, as Frances had once said toBessie, 'at least they have been spared this terrible, unnaturalseparation. '

And the thought brought back to her again the task that was before heron the morrow. She was not a little nervous about it. 'But I must notdelay, ' she said to herself. 'If anything is to be done to help them inthis present crisis, it must be at once. And I promised Mrs Lyle not toput off. I wonder when I shall have the best chance of a good talk withLady Myrtle. Alison is coming over in the morning, she said. Naturallyshe is anxious to hear all about Frank. I wish it had not happened thatI was obliged to begin upon a certainly _painful_, a possibly offensivetopic with the dear old lady just at the very first! And when she is sovery, very good to us!'

But Eugenia Mildmay was not the type of woman to shrink from what shebelieved to be an undoubted duty because it was painful to herself, oreven to others. 

'Dear little Frances, ' was almost her last waking thought, 'I feel as ifI already understood _her_ perfectly. And oh, I do hope I shall be wiseand judicious with my Jassie too. '

Every trace of fatigue had vanished from Mrs Mildmay's bright face whenthey all met at breakfast the next morning; the 'all' including LadyMyrtle, who had now begun again to come down early, since the fine mildweather had, for the time, dispelled her chronic bronchitis. She lookedround the table with a beaming face. 

'It is long since I have had such a party at breakfast, ' she said. 'Never before, I think, indeed, since I have been settled at RobinRedbreast, and that is a good while ago. To make it perfect we only wantyour husband, Eugenia, whom you know, I have never seen. '

'Well, I hope it will not be very long before you do see him; and I canassure you he is very eager to see you, dear Lady Myrtle, ' replied MrsMildmay. 

'_How_ like mamma is to Frances!' thought Jacinth. It struck her evenmore forcibly this morning than the day before. 

'Is Colonel Mildmay dark or fair? Does he resemble his sister?' inquiredthe old lady. 

Mrs Mildmay considered. 

'No; I scarcely think so, ' she said. 'And yet there is a familylikeness. The odd thing is, as I was saying, that though Jacinth "takesafter" my mother's family so decidedly, yet she is more like theMildmays than either Francie or Eugene. '

'I don't see it, I confess, ' said Lady Myrtle drily, and Mrs Mildmaycaught for the first time a glimpse of the cold manner the old ladycould assume if not altogether well pleased. But in less than an instantLady Myrtle seemed herself to regret it. 'I mean to say I see noresemblance in Jacinth to Miss Alison Mildmay. Of course I cannot judgeas to her having any to her father. '

'Papa has dark hair, like Jass, ' said Frances. 'But he's verynice-looking. '

'The "but" doesn't sound very complimentary to me, Francie, ' saidJacinth laughingly; and her mother, glancing at her, was struck by thewonderful charm of the smile that overspread her face. 

'I wasn't thinking of you that way, ' said Frances, bluntly. 'I wasthinking of Aunt Alison. '

'Aunt Alison's not pretty, ' said Eugene. 'Her's too--not smiley enough, not like mamma. '

'Eugene!' said his mother. But Eugene did not seem at all snubbed. 

'_Ŕ propos_ of Miss Alison Mildmay, ' said Lady Myrtle, 'she is coming tosee you to-day, is she not? She must be anxious to hear all about herbrother. '

'Yes, ' said Mrs Mildmay, 'she will be coming quite early. Jassie told usyou are often busy in the morning, so I thought that would be the besttime for me to be with her. '

'Jacinth knows all my ways, ' said Lady Myrtle with a smile of approval. 'Yes, that will do nicely; Miss Mildmay must stay to luncheon, and thenyou and I, Eugenia, can drive her back. Will you drive with me thisafternoon? I always enjoy a talk in a carriage along our quiet roads. '

'Thank you; that will be very pleasant, ' said Mrs Mildmay. And no onewould have suspected the slight sinking of heart with which she said toherself that this would clearly be the best opportunity for what she hadto lay before her kind hostess as to the poor Harpers. 

'We begin school again on Monday, ' said Frances. 'I do hope it will befine till then. Jass, won't you stay with Eugene and me this afternoon?We do so want to get the house we are building finished so that we canhave tea in it on Lady Myrtle's birthday. '

'Yes, ' Mrs Mildmay interposed quickly, 'that will do very well, andto-morrow perhaps Jassie may drive with you, Lady Myrtle, and then Iwill invite myself to spend the afternoon with you two, shall I?'

Her quick tact, founded on sympathy, warned her of the possibility ofthe elder girl feeling herself thrown out of the place she had naturallycome to feel as her own beside the old lady. 

'And Lady Myrtle is so devoted to Jacinth too. She would miss her, eventhough she would not like to seem to prefer her to me, ' thought themother; and the expression in the two faces rewarded her for herconsideration. 

Frances had her own ideas as to her mother's intentions in connectionwith the proposed drive that afternoon. But she was already perfectly atrest in the delightful certainty that 'mamma would know what was best todo. ' So, though deeply interested and in a sense anxious, she had nonervous misgiving as to the result of the effort which she felt sure wasgoing to be made in behalf of her friends, and she spent the afternoonvery happily with her sister and brother, working at the famous housethey had been allowed to build in a corner of the garden. It was veryinteresting, and even Jacinth, in some ways less 'grown-up' than sheliked to fancy herself, found it very absorbing. By half-past fouro'clock they had all worked so hard that they really began to be verytired and rather hot. 

'I wish it was tea-time, ' said Jacinth. 'We are all to have tea togetherwhile the holidays last. Lady Myrtle thought mamma would like it. And, of course, you and Eugene, Francie, will come in at the end of dinner asyou did last night. I wonder why Lady Myrtle and mamma are so long. Isuppose they've gone a long drive. '

'They started rather late, ' said Frances. 'Aunt Alison was talking toLady Myrtle a good while after the carriage was at the door. But Iwonder they're not back by now. Don't you think we'd better go in nowand get tidy, so as to be quite ready when they come?'

They did so. But for once Frances was the more expeditious of the two. When Mrs Mildmay entered her own room on returning from the drive, alittle figure, unexceptionably neat as to hair and hands and garments, darted out from behind the window-curtains whence she had been watchingthe drive up to the house. 

'Mamma, dear, ' she exclaimed, 'don't ring for Syme. Mayn't I help you totake off your things for once? I do so want to ask you--you don't mind, do you?--_have_ you been able to say anything to Lady Myrtle? I had afeeling that you meant to speak about it the very first chance youcould. '

Mrs Mildmay looked a little agitated. 

'Francie, dear, ' she said, 'I haven't time to tell you about it justnow. We must hurry down to tea. But I have done _something_, and Ialmost hope I have made a beginning towards more. All I can, all itwould be right for me to tell you, I will. But I scarcely think I can doso to-day. Come to my room quite early to-morrow morning, half an houror so before breakfast. As soon as we have had tea just now, I havepromised to help--at least she puts it so--Lady Myrtle to write a ratherdifficult letter. '

'Is it to the Harpers?' half whispered Frances. 

Her mother nodded. 

Frances gave a sort of skip of joy. 

'Oh, mamma, how lovely!' she exclaimed. 'How clever you are! I dobelieve everything's going to come right. '

'Don't be too hopeful, dear. But at least their _present_ terribledifficulties will be a little smoothed, I trust. 

And it was no use telling Frances not to be too hopeful. She seemedalmost to dance as she followed her mother down-stairs, and thedrawing-room at Robin Redbreast had rarely, if ever, heard brighter talkand merrier laughter than went on this afternoon round the tea-table, where Jacinth did the honours as if she were the recognised daughter ofthe house. 

It went perhaps somewhat against the grain with her to be told, thoughin the kindest manner, that Lady Myrtle and Mrs Mildmay had somebusiness letters to write in the boudoir, and must not be disturbed tillpost-time. But she was a sensible girl on the whole, and really glad tosee the cordial understanding between her mother and the friend whoseemed to her now by adoption almost a second mother. And she waswithout the slightest suspicion that the letters in question concernedthe Harpers, of whom indeed for some time past she had almost left offthinking at all. 

'Possibly it's already something about the London appointment for papa, 'she thought. 'Lady Myrtle is always so energetic and business-like. Idaresay she would have _liked_ to consult me about it, but then it wouldscarcely have seemed right not to make mamma the first of course. '

And she answered so pleasantly that she and Frances had a duet theywanted to practise before playing it to their mother, that Mrs Mildmay'sslight instinctive misgiving as to her elder daughter's docility andreasonableness was for the time completely dispersed. 

'To-morrow, you know, dear Jacinth, you are to drive with me, ' said LadyMyrtle, 'while your mother is going to have Francie and Eugene all toherself. '

Perhaps the result of Mrs Mildmay's conversation with her hostess duringtheir drive that afternoon will be best shown by one of the letterswhich the Robin Redbreast postbag carried off that very evening. It wasaddressed to Mrs Harper at a certain number in a quiet bye-street in thenorth-west of London, and ran thus:

 ROBIN REDBREAST, THETFORD, _May_ 4, 187-. 

 MY DEAR MRS HARPER--I write to you instead of to your husband, Captain Harper, who is by birth my nephew, as I understand that he might be upset by an unexpected letter, being at present in a critical state of health. I regret that it should be so, and that your anxieties should be increased by other difficulties, and I enclose a draft on my London bankers for Ł500, which will, I trust, relieve you from your most pressing cares. I ask you to accept this in a kindly spirit, though from a complete stranger. It is the gift of an aged woman who is always glad to have the privilege of helping those whose difficulties may become privately known to her, as well as of responding to the many public appeals for assistance. But it is not the gift of a relative. From a certain date, now many years ago, my brother Bernard Harper and all connected with him died to me as completely as though he had never existed, and I feel it only honest to put the matter in its true light at the risk of wounding not unnatural susceptibilities. I ask you also to accept my sincere good wishes for Captain Harper's restoration to health, and I remain, yours faithfully, MYRTLE CAMILLA GOODACRE. 

It was a strange letter. And strange as it was, it had been moreeccentric still, but for Mrs Mildmay's strenuous efforts to soften itsexpressions and accentuate the real sympathy which had dictated thegift. It was a strange position altogether. The tears had risen into theold lady's bright eyes when her old friend Jacinth Moreland's daughterlaid before her the sad facts of the case, and the life or death thatnot improbably hung upon her response. Never had good cause a betteradvocate. She read aloud the letter written by Camilla Harper to heraunt in India, and confided by Mrs Lyle to Mrs Mildmay; she told ofCaptain Harper's honourable career, and of the brave struggle made byhim and his wife against the overwhelming difficulties which had comeupon them through no fault--no imprudence even--of their own; shedescribed the good promise of their children, how the sons were allalready more or less 'distinguished, the daughters models of girlishexcellence. '

'I quite believe it all, ' the old lady calmly replied. 'It is verywonderful; there must be a good strain somewhere in the blood, andstruggle and adversity are grand teachers, we are told. It is veryinteresting, and I am most ready to help them in any way you advise, mydear Eugenia, or that you think would be accepted. But understand me, Iwould do the same if I had never heard their name till to-day. It is_not_ as relations; Bernard Harper's descendants are neither kith norkin of mine, and this must be understood. '

Mrs Mildmay seemed about to speak, but hesitated. 

'What is it, my dear? Do not be afraid of vexing me: do say what is inyour mind, ' said the old lady. 

'You are so good, dear Lady Myrtle, so good and kind, that it seemsimpertinence for me to differ from you, ' the younger woman replied. 'Itwas only that your words struck me curiously. _Can_ we decide and alterthings in that way? Our relations _are_ our relations; can we, when itsuits us, say they are not? Can we throw off the duties andresponsibilities of relationship? Of course they vary enormously;sometimes they scarcely exist, and one can lay down no rule. But still, in the present case, it _is_ because the Harpers are your relations, andyet by no fault of their own entirely alienated from you, that I havetold you about them. These are solid substantial facts; we cannot undo_facts_. '

Lady Myrtle was silent. Mrs Mildmay glanced at her anxiously, veryanxiously. But there was no sign of irritation in the quiet oldface--only of thought, deep thought. And there was a grave softness inthe usually keen eyes, as if they were reviewing far distant or far pastscenes. 

At last, 'Thank you, my dear, for your candour, ' she said. 'Well, leavethat question alone. I will help this family and at once, because itseems to me a clear duty to do so. Can you not be satisfied with thispractical response to your appeal, my dear?'

'I thank you with all my heart, ' said Mrs Mildmay earnestly, 'both foryour generosity and for your patience with my presumption. '

But she evaded a direct reply to Lady Myrtle's question, and her frienddid not press her farther. 

The result of this conversation we have seen in the letter with itsenclosure which was posted that very evening. The former was not asource of unmitigated satisfaction to Mrs Mildmay. For Lady Myrtleinsisted on the insertion of the last few lines. 

It would not be honest, she maintained, to withhold the expression ofher true sentiments. 

So with what she _had_ achieved, Mrs Mildmay was forced to be content, though there were times during the next day or two in which she askedherself if perhaps she had not done more harm than good? And timesagain, when with the rebound of her naturally buoyant nature, sheallowed herself to hope that she had succeeded in inserting the thinedge of the wedge; in 'making, ' as she had expressed it to Francie, 'abeginning towards more. '

CHAPTER XV. 

LADY MYRTLE'S INTENTIONS. 

And Francie, during those few days, was her mother's only confidante. Various reasons made Mrs Mildmay decide not as yet to come upon thesubject with Jacinth. While still to all intents and purposes so much ofa stranger to her daughter, she felt anxious to avoid all sore orfretted ground; all discussion which might lead her prematurely to judgeor misjudge Jacinth. To Lady Myrtle, of course, she said nothing ofthis; but she suspected, as was indeed the case, that the old lady wouldfeel no inclination to talk about the Harpers to her young companion. There were plenty of pleasanter things to talk about during the longdrives on which, on most alternate afternoons, Jacinth accompanied theirhostess; there were reminiscences of the past, always interesting to thegirl, awakened to fresh vividness by Mrs Mildmay's own recollections ofher mother and her own childhood; there were, more engrossing still, plans for the future, when 'papa' should return and be skilfullypersuaded into renouncing India. And Lady Myrtle was nearly as great atcastle-in-the-air building as Jacinth herself, and though too wise todiscuss as yet with any one, especially with a girl who was really, notwithstanding her precocity, little more than a child, her stillimmatured intentions, Jacinth was far too acute, and Lady Myrtle tooopen and affectionate, for her young favourite not to be well aware howmuch her own future occupied and interested the old lady. Yet Jacinthwas scarcely selfish in the common sense. She was capable, on thecontrary, of great self-sacrifice for those she loved; her happy visionsfor days to come were by no means confined to, even though they might toa great extent revolve around, Jacinth Mildmay. 

As seems often to happen when a looked-for letter, or reply to a letter, is of any peculiar importance, there was some delay in theacknowledgment of Lady Myrtle's communication by Mrs Harper. The oldlady herself took it calmly enough. 'It should, as a business letter, have been replied to at once, but perhaps they are not business-likepeople, and are thinking it over, ' was all she said. 

Mrs Mildmay, on the contrary, and, so far as she understood it all, Frances, felt uneasy and perplexed. Mrs Mildmay was sorry for theHarpers to lay themselves open to the slightest appearance of disrespector unpunctuality, and at the same time she had attacks of fear that LadyMyrtle's letter had hurt and wounded her relatives so deeply that theyhad decided to ignore it. Only, in that case, they would have returnedthe cheque. 

'It is very absurd, ' she said one evening to Frances. 'I don't generally"worry" about things at all, and I am quite sure I have never worriedabout any matter of our own as much. Except, perhaps, that time you allhad scarlet fever at Stannesley, and somehow Marmy's letter missed themail, and we were out of reach of telegraphing. Oh dear, I shall neverforget that week!'

'Dear mamma, ' said Francie, 'I quite know how you feel. I was so fidgetythat time I sent on Camilla Harper's letter to you, though it wasn'tanything like as important. '

But the very next morning the mystery was explained, and quite simply. 

After breakfast Lady Myrtle sent for Mrs Mildmay to her boudoir, whereshe always interviewed her steward and transacted her business for theday. 

'I have just got this, my dear, ' she said, handing a letter to herguest, 'and I knew you would be anxious to see it. The delay, you see, was accidental. '

Her tone of voice somewhat reassured Mrs Mildmay; it was calm andunruffled. Nevertheless it was not without considerable anxiety that shetook the sheet of paper from the old lady's hands and began to read it. It was from Mrs Harper--a touching yet dignified letter, and the chequewas not returned. Mrs Harper began by thanking Lady Myrtle warmly forher kindness; the money she had sent seemed indeed a 'godsend' in thereal sense of the word, and no secondary considerations could make herthink it would be right to refuse what might--what, she trusted andalmost believed, _would_ save her husband's life and restore him tohealth--'even, ' she went on to say, 'if it were _possible_ after this, for us to think of you as an utter stranger, even then I would not dareto refuse this wonderful help. But at the same time you will allow us, Ifeel sure, to accept it as a loan, even though several years may passbefore it is possible for us to repay it. Your agreeing to this willonly immeasurably deepen, instead of lessening our inexpressibleobligation. ' The letter then went on to give a few details of herhusband's condition, and the hopes and fears attendant on it. 'I amwriting in my lodgings, ' Mrs Harper went on, 'before going to him asusual at the hospital. So he does not yet know of this wonderful gift. And I think, as in your kind thoughtfulness you wrote to _me_, not tohim, I am justified in accepting your aid without consulting him, sothat I may tell him it is _done_. Not that in my heart I have anymisgiving as to the view he will take of my action. ' And lastly came asimple explanation of the delay. Mrs Harper had been for a day or two atSouthcliff, as little Margaret was not well, and the rather stupidlandlady of her London lodgings had never thought of forwarding theletter, knowing she was so soon to return. This with a few earnest wordsof repeated thanks made the whole. 

Mrs Mildmay looked up eagerly after she had finished it. 

'You are pleased, dear Lady Myrtle?' she said. 'At least I mean, ' andshe grew a little confused, for the old lady remained rather ominouslysilent, 'you think it is a nice letter, don't you? It seems to me toshow peculiarly good feeling and good taste, for it cannot have been aneasy letter to write. '

'Oh yes, my dear, I quite agree with you, ' said Lady Myrtle with just afaint touch of impatience. 'I don't see how any one could thinkotherwise of the letter. I am perfectly satisfied that--she, ' as if sheshrank from naming the old name, 'is an excellent woman; refined andcultivated, and everything she should be. And I have no doubt they areall thoroughly deserving of the high character they bear. I thank you--Ireally do--for having given me the opportunity of serving people who soclearly deserve help. And these cases of bravely endured, almostunsuspected poverty among the gently born appeal to one almost more thanthe sufferings of the recognised "poor, " though, of course, it is rightto help both. '

'Yes, ' said Mrs Mildmay, 'I often feel it so. And it is very good of youto put things in this way, Lady Myrtle. It takes away my qualms abouthaving interfered, ' and she smiled a little. 

'But, my dear, I have not done, ' Lady Myrtle went on, a trifle testily, 'you must quite understand me. It is not _the very least_--no, no; quitethe other way--not the very least because they are Harpers that I amglad to be of use to them. Neither this letter, nor your ownarguments--nothing, my dear, will alter the facts I stated to you theother day. '

'No, ' agreed Mrs Mildmay, and she could scarcely repress a little smile;'that was what I said myself, dear Lady Myrtle; nothing _can_ alterfacts. '

'Your facts and mine are scarcely synonymous, ' said Lady Myrtle, drily, a little annoyed with herself perhaps, for having unconsciously made useof Mrs Mildmay's own expression. But the annoyance was not deep, for inanother moment she added cheerfully, 'We are quite together on onepoint, however, and that is in rejoicing that this help has come intime, as we may hope, to save a valuable life and much sorrow to thosewho cherish it. If _this_ prove a fact, I think, my dear Eugenia, we mayrest content. '

'Yes, indeed, ' replied Mrs Mildmay, touched by her old friend'sgentleness, though to herself she added, 'for the present, that is tosay. '

And when to eager little Frances she related the upshot of herintervention, she did not retract her former words about having made abeginning. 

'I _think_, ' she said, 'I have got in the thin end of the wedge. Whenhonest-minded people are a little shaken in anything, they try hard topersuade themselves by extra vehemence that they are not so. '

'Mamma, dear, ' said Frances, 'I am beginning to believe not only thatyou are the best but the very cleverest woman in the world. '

And Mrs Mildmay laughed the joyous laugh which was one of her charms. The success which had attended this attempt of hers so far, did seem ahappy omen with which to begin again her home life. 

 * * * * *

It would be interesting here to shift the scene and follow the receptionof the good news by the three anxious girls at Southcliff. It would--tome at least it would--be so pleasant to tell of the happy faces thatlooked at each other with questioning eyes, as if the tidings in theirmother's letter were almost too good to be true. It would be gratifyingto watch the progress made by Captain Harper towards the recovery ofgreater health and strength than had been his for so many years, buteven in telling a story--and the simplest of stories--one cannot alwaysdo as one is inclined. The time has not yet come for visiting theHarpers again. I must hurry on with some necessary explanations beforeleaving Thetford and dear old Robin Redbreast for very differentsurroundings. 

That spring and early summer passed on the whole very happily for MrsMildmay and her three children. As far as Frances and her little brotherwere concerned, there were, I think, no drawbacks, except the fear--not, however, a very great one--that this delightful state of things mightnot last if papa should be obliged to return to India. But to a greatextent their mother was able to reassure them, for in every letterColonel Mildmay wrote more and more strongly of his earnest desire tosettle at home, even though his doing so should lead to some privationsfalling on his family. 

'_Everything_ would be made up for by being together, ' said Francesover and over again. 'I wouldn't care if we all had to live in quite atiny cottage; would you, Jass?'

But Jacinth replied rather coldly that Frances was a silly child whodidn't know what she was talking about. And Mrs Mildmay smiled, andendeavoured to prevent any approach to quarrelling, as she assuredFrances that at all events they would be able to afford a comfortablehouse. 

'I should rather think so, ' said Jacinth in an authoritative and yetmysterious tone. 'I do wish, mamma, you would make Frances leave offspeaking as if we were paupers. '

It is scarcely necessary to say that this conversation and others of asimilar kind did not take place in Lady Myrtle's presence. 

And towards the end of July, sooner than he had hoped for, ColonelMildmay arrived. They were all still at Robin Redbreast to receive him, for on hearing how much earlier his leave was to begin than had beenanticipated, Mrs Mildmay gave in to their kind hostess's earnest wishthat they should remain there at least till her husband's coming. 

'And as much longer as we can persuade him to stay, ' Lady Myrtle added. 'He can so easily run up to town from this, as he is sure to have to bethere often, about these appointments. And then it will be such apleasure to his sister to have him near. '

'Oh yes, Thetford is as good a headquarters as we could have atpresent, ' agreed Mrs Mildmay. 'But Thetford, dear Lady Myrtle, need notnecessarily mean Robin Redbreast, you know! And it would not bedifficult for us to find a nice little house there that would suit usfor the time. '

'Well, well, it will be time enough to see to that when your husband ishere, ' replied the old lady. 

And Mrs Mildmay, whose nature was not one to anticipate or dwell upondifficulties or uncertainties in the future which she could not in thepresent take action about, gratefully accepted her kind friend'shospitality, happy in the knowledge that her doing so really gavehappiness to Lady Myrtle in return. 

It was very strange to have papa in person, 'as large as life or alittle larger, ' said Frances. For they had not pictured to themselvesquite such a tall, grave, rather awe-inspiring personage as he seemed atfirst. And they could scarcely understand how their mother could be soentirely at ease with him; how she could even laugh at him, and teasehim now and then as if she was not 'the least atom' afraid of him. 

But there was plenty of fun and humour hidden in the depths of ColonelMildmay's dark eyes; it was not altogether wanting even in his sisterAlison, though the circumstances of her life had not brought out severalof the qualities developed by his wider and larger experiences. Andbefore long his children, the two younger ones especially, got to knowthis, and to count upon their father's ever-ready sympathy in even themore childish of their interests and amusements. And Jacinth for herpart was intensely proud of her father. He suited her in every way;except that now and then a slight suspicion insinuated itself that thisvery grand and dignified papa of hers, affectionate and even caressingas he could be when he laid his hand on her head and smoothed her softhair, was laughing at her a little, which did not at all suit Jacinth'sprincess-like ideas of herself. 

Still all was very happy, very happy indeed, the sweet summer dayspassing only too quickly; and for some two or three weeks nothing wassaid about 'plans, ' though Colonel Mildmay went up to town more thanonce to visit his doctor and the War Office. 

Then came an evening on which he returned from a hot day in London, fagged and rather knocked up, though with a certain expression on hisface which told his watchful and observant wife that he had come to adecision, which she quietly waited to hear till he sought a goodopportunity for telling it. The opportunity came later, when LadyMyrtle, a little tired by the unusual heat, had gone to her own roomearlier than her wont, and the girls and Eugene had also saidgood-night. 

'Come out into the garden, Eugenia. We can talk better there; it seems, even compared with India, such an airless night. '

'But the stars are beautiful, aren't they, Frank? I do love this placeso, ' said Mrs Mildmay as she seated herself on a rustic chair on theedge of the smooth bowling-green-like old lawn. 

'You always find the stars--the bright spots in every sky, I think, dear, ' said her husband. 'I confess I am feeling a little gloomyto-night, and yet I am glad it is decided. '

'It _is_ decided, then? I thought so, ' said Mrs Mildmay gently. 

'Yes. It is quite certain that it would be madness for me ever to thinkof India again, now or years hence. So I have accepted Barmettle. I sendin the formal papers to-morrow, ' and he sighed a little. 

'I expected it, ' she said. 'I am very thankful, Frank, though you knowhow I sympathise with you about your having to--to--come _down_ at allin position as it were. '

'Doing right can never be really coming down, ' he replied. 'And it isright. The other thing in London would have been impossible, on ourmeans, and not work enough either. And there is nothing againstBarmettle; the place is healthy and cheap, and good education forEugene, and no doubt--the two generally go together--good masters andgovernesses for the girls. Socially speaking, of course, there is notmuch to recommend the place, though there may be a few nice peoplethere. But the girls are still very young; we must just do our best, andmake as happy a home for them as we can. '

'Lady Myrtle is sure often to invite them here, ' said Mrs Mildmay, 'Jacinth especially. When shall we have to go there, Frank? Will it beworth while to look out for a temporary house at Thetford, as we hadthought of?'

'Scarcely, ' said Colonel Mildmay. This was the question--'When shall wehave to go there?'--which he had been the most dreading. He was glad tohave it over. 'I fear, ' he went on, 'you will be rather upset at findinghow soon we have to go. I, at least. You and the children can stay onhere awhile if you like, as dear old Lady Myrtle is sure to want you. But I myself must be at Barmettle the end of next month. '

'And you certainly shall not go alone, ' said Mrs Mildmay, brightly. 'Doyou think I would trust you to choose a house and all the rest of it? IfLady Myrtle will keep Eugene and one of the girls for a week or two, Iand the other child will go north with you of course, and get settledbefore the others join us. There is only one thing I want to ask you, Frank; don't think it is that I have the faintest idea of making youchange your intention; I do not even _wish_ it. But you have notactually--officially--accepted the appointment yet?'

'No, not till to-morrow, ' he replied. 

'Then let me ask you this: Lady Myrtle has been so very, so more thangood to us, that I should like to gratify her in every way we can. Sobefore _actually_ accepting this, I think we owe it to her to tell herabout it. I know she is dying for you to take the London thing, and Iwould like her thoroughly to understand the reasons why you don't. '

'They are very simple and unanswerable, ' said Colonel Mildmay, curtly. 

'Yes, but Frank, though she has never said it actually, I havesuspicions that she wants to help us practically--to increase ourincome, ' said Mrs Mildmay with some hesitation. 

'My dear child, I could never consent to anything of the kind, 'exclaimed Colonel Mildmay, starting up. 'Her hospitality I am mostgrateful for; she may even do things for the children in the future, forJacinth, I suppose, especially, as a godmother or a very old friendmight. I am not foolishly proud. If she likes to leave you or Jacinth alittle remembrance in her will, it would not be unnatural. But beyondthat'----

'I know, I know, ' interposed his wife, hurriedly. 'Of course I feel thesame. But you see, if we talk this over with her, it will both gratifyher and put things for always in their proper light. '

'Very well; I will do so, then, ' said Colonel Mildmay. And then heturned and looked at his wife, for there was moonlight by this time, very earnestly. 'I don't doubt you, Eugenia, ' he said; 'you _know_ Inever could. But you agree with me entirely, my dearest, do you not? Icould never accept a position of the kind. And above all, when we knowthat there are others--the Harpers, I mean--who _have_ claims upon her. For, but for the grandfather's misconduct, he would have had a goodproportion of what is now Lady Myrtle's. '

'I absolutely agree with you, Frank, ' Mrs Mildmay replied. 'And my mostearnest hope is that our good old friend may come to see things in theright light with regard to her own family. This very conversation whichI am urging may be a means of leading her to do so. '

Mrs Mildmay's courage would perhaps have failed her had she known whatthe 'conversation' she alluded to so lightly was really to consist of. It began by the most strenuous opposition on the old lady's side to theBarmettle plan. She had set her heart on Colonel Mildmay's accepting thepost in London which was, according to her, 'the very thing to bedesired for him. '

'You would be so near me, ' she said. 'Any or all of you could come downat any time. Robin Redbreast would be your country home. '

Colonel Mildmay smiled gently while he thanked her, and then he remindedher of the overwhelming difference of the two appointments as regardedthe 'pay. '

'But that needn't--that _would_ not signify, ' Lady Myrtle began, thoughwith evident difficulty in expressing herself, while Mrs Mildmay's heartbeat faster as she realised that they were approaching 'the tug of war. ''I--you must know--it is only natural;' and with other confusedexpressions about Jacinth being to her 'as her own child, ' 'no one ofher own kith or kin except the Elvedons, ' whose affairs were long agodefinitely arranged, and references to her unforgotten devotion to theJacinth of her youth, the old lady plunged into the thick of things. Shehad not meant to speak so soon, she said; she had wished her intentionsto be _faits accomplis_ before she disclosed them, but all this hadupset her and she must explain. 

And then she told the whole, and Colonel and Mrs Mildmay, though alittle prepared for some announcement of proposed benefit to Jacinth inthe future, listened in appalled and almost stunned silence to LadyMyrtle Goodacre's eccentric and, in their eyes, extravagantdetermination. 

Jacinth was to be her heir--all that she had to dispose of, and it wasstill a great deal, even without that portion of her wealth which, withthe knowledge that the old lord would have approved of her doing so, shemeant to restore to the title; even shorn of that and of some otherproperty on the Goodacre side which she only liferented, Lady Myrtle wasa rich old woman. And all she had to leave, short of legacies to certainhospitals and other benevolent institutions which she had interestedherself in, all was to be Jacinth's. The only landed property was RobinRedbreast and the small farm belonging to it, but in money there wouldbe more than enough to keep up three or four places of its size. 

Mrs Mildmay's heart sank, as she listened, but so far neither she norher husband had interrupted the speaker by word or movement. And she, gaining confidence by their silence, at last came to the finalannouncement. 

'So you see, my dear friends, that looking upon Jacinth as I do, it isonly consistent--consistent, and I may say _necessary_--that you consentto my at once arranging for a proper allowance, whatever you like tocall it, being arranged for her. And this--of course you will agree withme, that this must be an amount sufficient not only for a thoroughlygood education, but for her to be surrounded by everything right andfitting for the position she will be called upon to occupy, perhaps notso very long hence, for I am an old woman. And I do not want to teach orinduce any selfishness or self-assertion; I have the very greatestrespect for parental authority; I will tell her nothing, or only whatyou approve of her knowing. But you see how it affects the presentposition of things, and your present decision, my dear Colonel Mildmay. '

Colonel Mildmay moved uneasily in his chair, but still he did not speak. 

'You must see, ' Lady Myrtle proceeded, 'that it would be entirelyinconsistent in these circumstances for you to bury yourself and Eugeniaand the children in a dreadful place like Barmettle. You will, I feelsatisfied, agree that in anticipating the future a little, as it were, and allowing me at once to--to place a certain income at yourdisposal--an income which I am sure Jacinth will continue when thingsare in her own hands--you are only acting reasonably and--justly, I maysay, as well as in a manner really to earn my gratitude. '

The old lady's voice trembled ominously: this strange continued silencewas beginning to rouse some apprehension. As she uttered the lastword--'gratitude'--Mrs Mildmay, hitherto entirely quiescent till herhusband thought well to speak, could no longer restrain herself. Sheleant forward and caught Lady Myrtle's hand in hers. 

'My dear, most kind friend, ' she said, and her own voice was tremulous, 'how can you use such an expression? _You_ grateful to us! Ah, noindeed; as long as we live we shall be at a loss how to show ourgratitude to you. '

'Yes indeed, ' said Colonel Mildmay. 'I do not know how to express myappreciation of all your goodness. I'----

'Then you consent, ' exclaimed Lady Myrtle, her bright eyes sparkling. 'You will be my children; you will let me feel that my lonely life is tohave some joy before its close. '

'Indeed, indeed, all we _can_ do, we shall, ' said Colonel Mildmay verygently. 'You cannot ask more affection than we are most ready to give. But'----He hesitated, and the look of eager satisfaction faded out ofthe old lady's face. 

'But!' she repeated sharply. 'What "buts" can there be in so simple amatter?'

It was a distressing position. Colonel Mildmay, essentially akind-hearted man and most averse to giving pain, felt it acutely. But hewas not one to temporise. It was a case demanding the plainest speaking. 

'My dear Lady Myrtle, ' he said, 'if I am blunt or rough, forgive me. Itis just this. I cannot agree to what I think wrong, and I could neverfeel it right to agree to what you propose. I am still young enough andstrong enough to work for my family in my profession, and the day Ibegan to lead an idle, or even a comparatively idle life, would see me amiserable man. If you are so good as to continue your interest in mychildren--Jacinth especially--by asking them to visit you sometimes, weshall be _most_ grateful. If--if you like to leave Jacinth some littlesum of money in your will which would help or increase any provision Ican make for her, I would be foolish and ungracious in the extreme toobject. But more than this--no, my dear friend, no. For--and here I mustcrave your pardon beforehand for what must seem impertinence andintrusion--not only have we, we Mildmays, _no_ claim upon you, but--there are those who have. '

CHAPTER XVI. 

A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT. 

There was an awful pause. Such at least it seemed to poor Mrs Mildmay, who, now that she was not called upon to act for herself, and felt underthe protection of her husband, dared to tremble! Then came Lady Myrtle'sreply, short, cold, and decisive. 

'I deny it, ' she said. 

Colonel Mildmay did not speak. 

The old lady glanced at him. His eyes were fixed on the table besidewhich he was seated; he tapped it lightly with a paper-cutter which heheld in his hand. And after a moment's waiting she spoke again. 

'I know what you refer to, ' she said. 'It would be nonsense to pretend Ido not. And I can--even--understand how to you it may seem that theclaim you allude to exists. But, if you have talked together aboutthese--these people, as no doubt you have done, has not Eugenia told youwhat I have told her, that on a certain day my father and I shookourselves free from the bonds which had become shackles of shame; thatfrom that time Bernard Harper and all belonging to him ceased to be moreto us than any stranger we might brush against in the street?'

Colonel Mildmay raised his head and looked at her quietly. 

'It could not be done; the bonds do exist and must exist, ' he said. 'Thegreat thing is that, however cruelly they may have torn and wounded youin the past, they may now be to you a cause of happiness andsatisfaction. '

But Lady Myrtle shook her head. 

'I will never acknowledge even the possibility of my recognising thesedescendants of my former brother as anything to me, ' she said. And thequietness with which she spoke was very impressive. 'I have given themassistance because I believe them to be worthy people in sore need. Imay even do so again if you tell me their need continues. But that isall. I should be false to my dead father if I did otherwise. 

'Still, the late Lord Elvedon--your father, I mean--looked forward tohis _elder_ son's children being reinstated, ' Colonel Mildmay venturedto say. 'Why then, in the actual circumstances of his _younger_grandchildren being to the full as worthy and in far greater need, whytreat them so differently?'

Lady Myrtle hesitated, for half a second only, but even that wassomething. 

'My father could not have contemplated the _possibility_ of Bernard'sdescendants being--of their wiping out his disgrace, ' she said at lastconfusedly. 

'Exactly, ' Colonel Mildmay replied quickly. 'And it was only natural. But as he did _not_ contemplate a state of things which has actuallycome to pass, how can his directions affect you with regard to thesefacts?'

Lady Myrtle again shook her head. She had grown very pale, but otherwiseshe was completely self-controlled. 

'I cannot argue in that way. I do not even pretend to be logical, ' shesaid. 'I can only repeat--so it is. So now you understand. If I did notleave that part of my property which I conscientiously believe to be atmy own disposal to the one I have chosen--the child who it seemed to mehad been sent to brighten in some measure the loneliness of my old age;'and here her firm clear voice trembled, 'then--my will must stand as itis, and all destined for Jacinth, and in a sense for you yourselves, shall go to the two hospitals I have selected as the most worthy ofhelp. I will have no compromises, no half measures. '

Colonel Mildmay bowed. 

'Then let it be so, ' he said. 'It is certainly not for me to dictate toyou, dear Lady Myrtle. '

She seemed a little perplexed by his manner. 

'Why should I give in to you?' she said inconsequently. 'Why should Inot leave my fortune to Jacinth all the same? Why do you take forgranted that I shall not do so? should she be punished for your--yourobstinacy and quixotry?' and in spite of herself a smile crept over theold lady's face. 

'I do not take it for granted, ' said Colonel Mildmay. 'I know that youwould not act towards Jacinth in such a way as to place her inopposition to her parents. I know that you respect our way of viewingthe matter, however you may disagree with it. '

Lady Myrtle seemed mollified. 

'You judge me rightly, ' she said. 'If one feeling is stronger thananother in me, it is respect for parental authority and influence. Youare right. I would not so act to your child as to sow discord anddisunion between her and those nearest and dearest to her after I amgone. But, let me ask you one thing--is your present decision quiteirreversible?'

Colonel Mildmay sat silent for a minute considering deeply. 

'Yes, ' he said; 'I do not see any choice. I cannot take the Londonappointment--to live in reality, my dear lady, on your bounty. For thatis what it would be. And even if such a position had been possible forme--and I confess I cannot conceive its being so--still less possiblewould it be now that you know our mind as to the ultimate disposal ofthings, and that we have been forced to thwart your more than generous, your unprecedented goodness to us. '

'Then you will go to Barmettle?'

Colonel Mildmay bent his head. 

'Ah well, ' said Lady Myrtle, 'another dream vanished!'

Mrs Mildmay started up at this. 

'Oh, dear Lady Myrtle, dear, dear friend, ' she said, and the tears werein her eyes, 'don't speak like that. I cannot bear it. You say there canbe no sort of compromise, but surely there can be of one kind; you willnot, you cannot expect us to leave off looking to you and feeling to youas our best and dearest friend?'

And she threw her arms round the old lady as Francie might have done, and was not repulsed. 

'You will let me have Jacinth sometimes?' whispered Lady Myrtle. 

'Of course, of course; whenever you like and as much as you like, ' saidMrs Mildmay eagerly. 

'I will not be unreasonable, ' the old lady said with one of thehalf-wistful smiles that were so touching. 'Even if--if everything hadbeen going to be as I hoped, I would never have wished or expectedanything which could have interfered with her home ties and duties. AndI need scarcely say I will never come upon this subject that we havebeen discussing, with her. I will leave it entirely to you, her parents, to tell her what you think right, though I own I should like her torealise how I have been thinking of her. '

[Illustration: 'Ah well!' said Lady Myrtle, 'another dream vanished!']

'That she certainly shall, ' exclaimed Mrs Mildmay impulsively. Andthough a moment afterwards she was tempted to murmur to herself 'at allcosts, ' she did not repent of her promise. 'It would not be fair to LadyMyrtle for Jacinth to be told nothing, ' she reflected. 'And scarcelyindeed fair to the child herself. For I cannot but believe she will seeit all as we do. '

So that afternoon Colonel Mildmay wrote to accept the appointmentoffered him up at gloomy, smoky Barmettle in the dreary north country. 

'I doubt if we have done much to forward the poor Harpers' cause, ' saidhis wife as she watched him closing and sealing the big blue officialenvelope. 

'Very possibly not, ' he replied calmly. 'But we have, I hope andbelieve, done _right_. And so we must not feel over much concern for thepoor Harpers' future any more than for that of our own children, my dearEugenia. '

And though Mrs Mildmay agreed with him, she was human enough, and womanenough, to sigh a little at certain visions of what might have been, which _would_ intrude themselves!

'But what, ' she began again after a little pause, 'what are we to say toJacinth?'

It is to be confessed that Colonel Mildmay's reply was not quite soready this time. 

'We must consider well about that, ' he said. 'Of course we must tell hersoon about Barmettle. It would not be treating her fairly, for she is aremarkably sensible girl, and has behaved excellently in ratherdifficult circumstances. Alison's little house and odd ways must havebeen somewhat trying after the liberal easy-going life at Stannesley. Itwould not be treating Jacinth as she deserves, not to take her into ourconfidence as to our plans. '

'And the mere mention of Barmettle will lead on to the whole, ' said MrsMildmay. 'Frank, you must help me to put it to her wisely. I fear, though very little has been said about it, that Jassie has an intensedislike to the idea of Barmettle; and I fear still more, that in spiteof Lady Myrtle's good sense and extreme wish to cause no trouble, shehas somehow or other allowed some hint of her intentions to escape her. '

Colonel Mildmay looked very grave at this; graver than he had yet done. 

'Jacinth is extremely quick, ' he said, 'and notwithstanding her quietundemonstrative manner I suspect that she has a very lively imagination. But surely all she has got in her head is only childish; looking forwardto long visits here and a continuance of Lady Myrtle's kindness? Asregards Barmettle, I have no doubt she would prefer my taking the Londonappointment, but she is sensible; we only need to put it to her. '

'I hope so, ' said Mrs Mildmay with a sigh. 'But the whole is socomplicated: she is prejudiced against the Harpers; just the opposite ofFrances. '

'That _is_ unfortunate, ' said Colonel Mildmay. But after a moment'ssilence he spoke again more cheerfully. 'We must not spoil Jacinth, ' hesaid. 'If she has been led to cherish any brilliant hopes, the soonershe gives them up the better. I shall be sorry for her disappointment, but I am sure she is not really selfish. If she sees that you and I arehappier--infinitely happier--as things are, she will not take it toheart. And it may not be necessary to say much; not to enter intomercenary details, to a child like her. '

'I hope so, ' said Mrs Mildmay again. But again her sigh somewhat beliedher words. 

The very next day brought the dreaded opportunity. Some little allusionwas made to Colonel Mildmay's intention of running up to London againthe following week. 

'Shall you have any commissions for me, Lady Myrtle?' he said lightly. 

The old lady shook her head, but without her usual smile. 

'I think not, Colonel Mildmay, thank you, ' she said. 'I _had_ thought ofasking you to see my agent about my house in Brook Street. The presenttenant's lease expires nine months hence, and I must make up my mindwhat I am going to do. '

'I fear I am not very _au fait_ of such matters, ' he replied. 'But Icould at least hear what the agent has to say more satisfactorily thanby letter. So pray let me call; give me all your instructions. I shouldbe more than delighted to be of any use, you must know, ' he endedearnestly. 

Lady Myrtle seemed pleased. 

'Thank you, ' she said. 'Well, yes then; I will tell you what I want toknow. '

This conversation took place at luncheon. That afternoon Jacinth soughther mother in her own room. 

'Mamma, ' she said, 'are you busy? May I talk to you a little?'

Mrs Mildmay laid down her pen. 

'I was writing to Marmy, ' she said, 'but I have plenty of time. What isit, dear? I am glad to have a little quiet talk together. I have beenwishing for it, too. '

But Jacinth scarcely seemed to listen. 

'Mamma, ' she began again, somewhat irrelevantly it might have seemed. 'Brook Street isn't a _very_ grand part of London, is it? At least allthe houses in it are not tremendously grand, are they? I was thinkingabout Lady Myrtle's house. Couldn't it be arranged for _us_ to be hertenants? I'm sure she would like it if she thought we would. Mightn't Isay something about it to her? She likes me to say whatever I think of, but I thought--for such a thing as a _house_, perhaps I had better askyou first. '

'But, my dearest child, we don't want any house in London, ' said MrsMildmay with a smile which she strove to make unconstrained. 'Youforget, dear, the choice was never between Barmettle and _London_, butbetween Barmettle and India again, and'----

'But mamma, ' interrupted Jacinth, 'please answer my question first. IsBrook Street very grand? Would a house there be out of the question forus, even if we--if we had one there for nothing?'

'Yes; unless we had another thousand a year at least, we could notpossibly live there on our income with any comfort or consistency, ' MrsMildmay replied quietly. 

The girl's face fell. 

'A thousand a year! that's a good deal, ' she said. 'I had thought'----

'But why worry yourself about things that can never be, dear Jassie?'said her mother. 'We were going to tell you--even your Aunt Alison doesnot know yet--that it is all decided, and oh, I am so thankful that thelong separation is over at last. Your father wrote yesterday to acceptthe Barmettle appointment. '

Jacinth grew scarlet, then very, very pale. 

'Mamma, ' she exclaimed, and the low repression in her tone was moreunnatural--more alarming, I had almost said--in one so young, than anyeven violent ebullition of temper. 'Mamma, it _can't_ be true. You aresaying it to tease me. You--you and papa would never have settled itwithout telling me, without consulting Lady Myrtle, after all hergoodness?'

'No, ' replied Mrs Mildmay, arming herself for the contest by a resolutedetermination not to lose her self-control, however it might be tried;'no, though a little reflection would show you that you should have moretrust in your parents, dear Jacinth; it was _not_ done withoutconsulting our kind old friend. And however she may regret it, I _know_she respects your father's decision. '

Jacinth looked up eagerly; a reaction of hope came over her. 

'Mamma, ' she said breathlessly, 'believe me, I don't mean to be eitherdisrespectful or distrustful, but did Lady Myrtle say nothing againstit? Is she perhaps going to do so when--when she has thought everythingover?'

'She did say everything she could; she did use the strongest argumentsshe had: but she could not but see that your father's _motives_ wereright, and so she saw it must be as he said, ' replied Mrs Mildmay. 

A harder look crept over Jacinth's face; the eager, almost nervous, anxiety died out of it. 

'There is something about all this that I do not understand, ' she said. 'Unless you and papa mean to treat me as a baby, I think I have a rightto know. I think Lady Myrtle would say so. '

Mrs Mildmay felt much perplexed. Any approach to diplomacy, anything butperfect candour and frankness, was so foreign to her nature, that it wasdifficult for her not at once to speak out and explain the whole. Butthen, if she did so, she might be only sowing seeds of futurebitterness. It was improbable, to say the least, that Jacinth hadrealised in any definite way Lady Myrtle's intentions with regard toher, seeing that the old lady had not announced them to her. 

'All she can know is only that Lady Myrtle meant to do _something_, 'reflected Jacinth's mother. 'It would be for her happiness, and for thatof us all, that she should never know more. '

Jacinth saw the trouble in her mother's face. 

'Mamma, ' she said, 'if you won't speak to me openly, I will ask LadyMyrtle herself. '

Mrs Mildmay flushed. 

'Jassie, ' she said quietly, 'you do not mean it, but your tone soundsalmost like a threat--to me--to your mother?' And in spite of herself, her voice trembled a little. 

But still Jacinth repeated coldly, 'I think I have a right to know. '

At that moment the door opened, and to Mrs Mildmay's immense relief herhusband entered. 

'What is the matter?' he asked quickly. 'Am I interrupting you?'

'On the contrary, ' said his wife, 'I am very glad you have come. Jacinthis, as I half feared she would be, exceedingly upset by the news aboutBarmettle, and she seems to think we have not treated her with theconfidence she deserves. '

'You cannot feel that, when I tell you that my decision was only madeyesterday, ' said her father to Jacinth. 

'Yes. I think you might have--have consulted me a little before makingit, ' the girl replied. 'It is something to me personally; to have tolive at a place like that now I am nearly grown up. '

She seemed to be purposely emphasising the selfish part of herdissatisfaction out of a kind of reckless defiance. 

'Do you quite understand that it was a choice between this appointmentand an indefinite return to India?' said Colonel Mildmay. 

'I understand that you think so. But I don't see it. There was theLondon thing. And even if not, I would rather have had India. '

'No, no, Jassie, don't do yourself injustice, ' exclaimed her mother. 'Not when you think of the risk to your father's health. '

Jacinth hesitated. 

'But there _was_ a choice, ' she said; and now there was a touch oftimidity in her voice. 

Colonel Mildmay considered; they were approaching the crucial point, andhe took his resolution. 

'No, Jacinth, ' he said. 'To my mind, as an honourable man, there was nochoice. I should have forfeited for ever my own self-respect had Iagreed to Lady Myrtle's proposal. '

And then he rapidly, but clearly, put before her the substance of theirold friend's intentions and wishes, and his reasons for refusing to fallin with them. 

'Lady Myrtle is too good a woman to sow discord in a family, ' he said, 'between a child and her parents. And it was impossible for us toapprove of the apportionment of her property she proposed, knowing thatthere exist at this very time those who _have_ a claim on her, who mostthoroughly deserve the restoration of what should have been theirsalways; who have suffered, indeed, already only too severely for the sinand wrong-doing of another. '

Jacinth started, and the lines of her face hardened again. 

'I thought it was that, ' she exclaimed. 'Those people--they are at thebottom of it, then. '

'Jacinth!' said her mother. 

'I beg your pardon, mamma, ' said the girl quickly. 'It must sound verystrange for me to speak like that; but, you don't know how I have beenteased about these Harpers. And mamma, Lady Myrtle doesn't look uponthem as you and papa do, so why should you expect me to do so? Do yousuppose she will leave _them_ anything she would have left us--me?'

'Very likely not, ' said Colonel Mildmay. 

'Then for everybody's sake, why not have left things as Lady Myrtlemeant? I--we, I mean, ' and Jacinth's face crimsoned, 'could have beengood to them; it would have been better for them in the end. '

'Do you suppose they would have accepted help--money, to put itcoarsely--from strangers?' said Colonel Mildmay. 'It is not _help_ theyshould have, but actual practical restoration of what should be theirs. And even supposing our decision does them no good, can't you see, Jacinth, that anything else would be _wrong_?'

'No, ' said Jacinth, 'I don't see it. '

'Then I am sorry for you, ' said her father coldly. 

'I know, ' said Jacinth, 'that Lady Myrtle likes things one way oranother. I suppose she will give us up altogether now. I suppose shewill leave off caring anything about me. You think very badly of me, papa, I can see; you think me mercenary and selfish and everythinghorrid; but--it _wasn't_ only for myself, and it isn't only because ofwhat she was doing for us, and meant to do for us. I have got to loveLady Myrtle very much, and I shall feel dreadfully the never seeing herany more, and--and'----

Here, not altogether to her mother's distress, Jacinth broke down andbegan to sob bitterly. Mrs Mildmay got up from her seat, and came closeto where the girl was sitting by the table. 

'My poor dear child, ' she said, 'we have never thought you selfish in_that_ sort of way. '

'No, ' agreed her father; 'that you may believe. You have had of late toomuch responsibility thrown upon you, and it has given you the feelingthat the whole fortunes of your family depended upon you in some sense. Be content to be a child a little longer, my Jacinth, and to trust yourparents. And there is no need for you to anticipate any change with LadyMyrtle. She will care for you, and for us all, as much as ever--moreperhaps; and as much time as it will be right for you to spend away fromyour own home, you shall have our heartiest consent to spending withher. If you can in any way give her pleasure--and I know you can--itwill be the very least we can do in return for her really wonderfulgoodness to us. '

'I should like to see her; to be with her sometimes, ' said Jacinth, whose sobs had now calmed down into quiet crying. 'But I don'twant--once we go away to that place--I don't want ever to see RobinRedbreast again. Ever since'--and here she had to stop a moment--'eversince that first day when we passed it with Uncle Marmy, I have had asort of feeling to this house--a kind of presentiment. I can't bear tothink of its going to strangers, or--or people that know nothing aboutLady Myrtle. And very likely, if she leaves all she has to big hospitalsor something like that, very likely this place will be sold. '

'It may be so, ' said Colonel Mildmay; and he added with a smile, 'I wishfor your sake I were rich enough to buy it, my poor dear child. '

So Jacinth's castles in the air were somewhat rudely destroyed. Therewas but one consolation to her. Lady Myrtle was even more loving thanhitherto, though she said nothing about the collapse of her plans. ForMrs Mildmay gave her to understand that matters, so far as was fitting, had been explained to her elder daughter. 

'Humph!' said the old lady. 'That seals _my_ lips. For of course Icannot express disapproval of her parents to the child. '

But her tenderness and marked affection went some way to soothe thesmarting of the girl's sore feelings. 

'She understands me far better than papa and mamma do, ' thought Jacinth. 'If they meant me to see everything through their eyes, they shouldn'thave left me away from them all these years. '

Still a curious strain of pride in her father's stern honesty, in hisutter disinterestedness, now and then mingled with her feelings ofdisappointment. She could not help feeling proud of him! Neverthelessthe tears were many and bitter which Jacinth shed when the last night oftheir stay at Robin Redbreast came. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

TWO DEGREES OF HONESTY. 

Barmettle is not an attractive place; though like most places in thisvaried world it has its interests and even no doubt its charm for manyof its inhabitants--its bright and happy homes, as well as its thousandsof hard, if not overworked, pale-faced artisans, men and women, of manygrades and classes. 

And the sun can shine there sometimes; and not so many miles from thevery centre of the town, you can escape from the heavy pall ofsmoke-filled air, into fresh and picturesque country, whose beauties, tomy thinking, strike one all the more vividly from the force of contrastwith the ugliness and griminess which you cannot forget are so near. 

There had been some talk--when the Mildmay family first contemplated thepitching of their tent in this unknown land--there had been some talk ofa house in the neighbourhood of the town, a few miles out, where agarden and a field or two would have been possible, to reconcile thechildren and their mother, to some extent, to the great change from alltheir former experiences. But Colonel Mildmay had been obliged to giveup hopes of this. There were several difficulties in the way, and _the_house which sometimes at such crises turns up with such undeniableadvantages as to over-ride the less immediate objections, had notoffered itself. So, considering the inconvenience of scantycommunication between the barracks and the 'pretty' side of theoutskirts, the impossibility of day-school arrangements for Eugene, anda very certain amount of loneliness and isolation, especially in thewinter months, the fairly desirable house in St Wilfred's Place which_did_ offer itself carried the day. 

It was but five minutes' walk from Colonel Mildmay's official quarters, and conveniently near Eugene's school; it was very much in the minds ofthe teachers who now replaced the Misses Scarlett's institution asregarded the girls; it was not duller as to outlook and surroundingsthan had to be at Barmettle, for it faced St Wilfred's Church, one ofthe oldest and most interesting structures in the modern town, which hadonce been a pleasant straggling north-country village; and last, thoughnot least, its rent was moderate. 

And Mrs Mildmay, unspoilt by her long residence in the East--as full ofenergy and resources as when she arranged the drawing-rooms atStannesley in her careless girlish days, and laughed merrily at her kindstep-mother's old-fashioned notions--exerted herself to make the houseas pretty as she possibly could. 

'I am glad it is cheap, ' she said to her husband, 'for we can afford tospend rather more in making it comfortable and nice, especially forJassie. '

And Jacinth's room was all a girl could wish, and at night, when theouter world was shut off, and the dark square hall and wide quaintstaircase, which had attracted the new tenants in their house-hunting, were lighted up, looking bright and cheerful with the crimson carpetsand curtains which Barmettle smoke had not as yet had time to dull, Frances's expression of approval, 'Really it looks so nice that youmight fancy it wasn't Barmettle at all, ' could scarcely be contradicted. 

But Frances, like her mother, was born with the happy faculty for seeingthe best side of things. It was all, naturally, much harder on Jacinth. And as Jacinth stood one morning in November looking out into the drearystreet, where rain had been pouring down ever since daybreak, and wasstill dripping monotonously, she did feel that her lines had not of latefallen in pleasant places. Yet she was not so selfish as this sounds. She had made a struggle to see things as her parents did, and in thisshe had not been entirely unsuccessful, and the constant love andwatchful sympathy which were now a part of her daily life, unconsciouslyinfluenced her in good and gentle ways which she scarcely realised. 

Some ground she had gained. She had come to see that if her father andmother felt about the Harper family as they did, they could not haveacted otherwise. And her own conscience was not, it will be remembered, entirely clear. 'Of course, ' she said to herself, 'if Lady Myrtle hadbeen left to do as she wished, I should have felt it my duty to dosomething for the Harpers. I'm sure I should have found some way ofmanaging it. ' But no doubt there was a kind of relief in feeling it wastaken out of her hands, for Jacinth was growing gradually less confidentin her own powers: for the first time in her life she was realising thedelight and privilege of having others wiser than herself to whom shecould look up. 

'Mamma, ' she said, on the morning in question, 'do you think therereally are places where it rains ever so much more than at others? or isit only that we notice it more at some? I really could almost thinkthat it rains here _every_ day. '

Mrs Mildmay smiled. 

'No, dear, it really does not. I don't think the rainfall here is muchgreater than in London or at Thetford, but the heavy air and thegrayness make us, as you say, notice it more. In many places where thereactually is more rain than the average, the country is peculiarly brightand fresh. Think of the grass in Ireland. '

But Jacinth's thoughts were already wandering elsewhere. 

'Mamma, ' she began again, 'do you think we shall have to stay here forChristmas?'

'I suppose so, ' replied Mrs Mildmay. 'Even if Lady Myrtle wished it--asindeed I am sure she does--it would hardly be worth while for us to goto her for only two or three days, which is all the leave your fathercould get. And there are a good many things we have to see to here. '

'Yes, ' said Frances, 'there's the Christmas treat for the barrackschildren. It's never been properly done. And Miss Lettice Piers is goingto invite us to their treat at St Wilfred's first, so that we may see. I'd like best to have our visits to Robin Redbreast in the summer, except that it must be rather dull for Lady Myrtle. She was so pleasedto have us there last Christmas. '

'I wish we could have her here, ' said Mrs Mildmay. 'But she would neverbe allowed to come up north in the winter. '

Jacinth sighed. 

'It seems a good while since we heard from Lady Myrtle, ' she said. 'Ihope she's not ill. I did think she would have _tried_ to get us therefor Christmas. '

'I don't think she can be ill, ' said Mrs Mildmay, 'for your aunt wouldhave known it. She goes to see Lady Myrtle regularly. I shall be hearingfrom Alison in a day or two, however. '

'Jassie, ' said Frances, a moment or two later, when their mother hadleft the room, 'I wish you wouldn't look so melancholy. Just think whata lot of nice things have come to us, as well as the sad ones. Justfancy how we should have been ready to jump out of our skins for joy ifwe had known, when we left Stannesley, how soon papa and mamma would beat home with us. '

'I know, ' said Jacinth. 'I do try to think of all that. But I do sodislike this gloomy place, Francie, and I think papa looks so fagged, and we have scarcely any friends we care for; the people are all sostupid, and so'----

'So what?'

'So rich, ' said Jacinth, rather at a loss apparently what crime to layat the doors of the good folk of the manufacturing town who had incurredher displeasure. 

Frances laughed. 

'That's not a sin, ' she said. 'Lady Myrtle's rich, and so in a way, Isuppose, is Uncle Marmy. '

'I mean they seem to think of it so. Once or twice, when I've paid callswith mamma, they were so fussy and show-off. You know how I mean, ' saidJacinth. 

'Well, there are plenty of poor too, if that would make you likeBarmettle any better. Amy Piers says there are some dreadfully poor, andshe says that even the ones who get very big wages don't save at all, and then if there comes a bad time--a bad time for trade, when some ofthe people have to be turned off: it does come like that now and then, she says, though I don't understand why--they are really starving. '

'They should be taught to save, then, ' said Jacinth. 'Why don't thePiers teach them? If I were the vicar, I'd preach sermons about it. Ifpeople are so silly, they must expect to suffer for it. '

'But think of the poor little children!' said Frances, whose sympathywas readier than her sister's. 'It isn't _their_ fault, and they sufferthe most. Amy says it's a good deal owing to the people spending so muchon beer and brandy and horrid tipsifying things. I'm sure the Piers doall they possibly can, and you know how papa says that, even with allthe strict rules in the army, it's awfully difficult to keep the mensober. If I were the Queen, Jass, I'd make a law against having so manypublic-houses; I would indeed. '

'The Queen can't make laws all by herself like that, Frances. You don'tunderstand. If the people were taught how horrid it is to get drunk, they'd leave off wanting to buy too much beer and things like that, andthen the public-houses would have to give up because they wouldn't havecustomers enough. That's the best way. '

'Well, I think it should be done both ways, ' said Frances. 'If thereweren't so many public-houses, there wouldn't be so much temptation;'and the little reformer nodded her head sagely. 

Just then Mrs Mildmay re-entered the room. 

'Jassie dear, ' she said, 'it's Saturday morning. You have no lessons, and though it's so rainy I know you're not afraid of the weather. Frances has a cold, so she mustn't come out. Will you wrap yourself upwell, and come a little way with me to help me to carry some things toMrs Wake? She has gone to stay with her mother, you know, for a littlechange, but they are very poor people, and I must help them as much as Ican. '

Jacinth sprang to her feet eagerly. 

'Oh yes, mamma, ' she exclaimed, 'I should like very much to come. I'llbe ready directly. I'll put on a thick jacket and my waterproof capeover that. '

And in a few minutes the mother and daughter were making their way, eachladen with some parcels as well as the unavoidable umbrella, along themuddy pavement in the direction of a poorer part of the town. Mrs Wakewas the wife of one of Colonel Mildmay's soldier servants; she happenedto belong to a Barmettle family, which was just now very fortunate forher, as she had had a most serious illness in the barracks, and hadlately been moved for greater quiet to her own old home. 

'Francie and I were just talking about the poor people here, ' saidJacinth. 'Amy Piers tells her about them. I shall be very glad to seeone of the homes they live in. '

'It will be rather a good specimen, though they are very poor people, 'said Mrs Mildmay; 'for they are thrifty and most respectable. But formany years the father has not been able to earn full wages, as he wascrippled by an accident. Indeed, but for the kindness of the head of thefactory where he worked, he would have been turned off altogether on avery small pension. It was true kindness to let him stay on to do whatwork he could, for it kept up his spirits. '

'The master must be a good man, ' said Jacinth. 

'I believe he is--one of the best in Barmettle, ' said Mrs Mildmay. 'Buthere we are, Jassie, ' and as she spoke she turned down a small passage, not wide enough to be called by a more important name, leading out ofthe already poor and narrow street they were in, and knocked at a door afew steps on. 

It was quickly opened. A rather gaunt and careworn, but clean andhonest-looking, elderly woman stood before them. Her eyes were red withcrying, but she welcomed Mrs Mildmay very civilly, though with a sort ofreserve of manner which struck Jacinth as very different from theextremely hearty, though respectful, deference with which, as hergrandmother's messenger, she used to be received by their own villagersat Stannesley. 

'You'll be come to ask for my daughter, ' said the woman. She had been adomestic servant, and had but little north-country accent. 'You'rewelcome, I'm sure, and she'll take it kindly. Take a seat, ' and she ledthem into the little kitchen, tidy and clean, though encumbered withsome pieces of treasured furniture decidedly too big for it. 'Yes, she'sfairly--th' doctor's main content. '

'Oh, ' said Mrs Mildmay, 'I am glad to hear it. I was afraid when I sawyou'----But she stopped suddenly, for before she could say more the oldwoman had sunk into a chair, and, flinging her apron over her head, wasgiving way to bitter weeping. Jacinth felt both distressed and alarmed. Like her mother she had noticed the signs of tears on Mrs Burton's face. 

'I am so sorry, ' said Mrs Mildmay, getting up as she said the words, andstanding beside the woman, she gently laid her hand on her arm. 'Is itsome new trouble--your husband?'

'Nay, nay, ' sobbed the poor thing. 'Burton is finely--for him, that's tosay. But have ye not heard th' ill news?' and she raised her head insurprise. 'Th' measter, ' and as she grew absorbed in what she had totell, she fell back into the kind of talk she had accustomed herself todiscard when with 'gentry. ' 'He's gone!' and her sobs broke out again. 

'What! good Mr Fairfield, ' said Mrs Mildmay. 'No, I had not heard it. What a loss he will be! Was it very sudden?'

And Jacinth standing by, listened eagerly to all Mrs Burton told. 

He had been struck by paralysis--the kind friend of so many years--onlytwo days before, and had never rallied. And the grief was widespread anddeep. It would throw many into sorrow and anxiety too, the old womansaid; for though he left two sons to succeed him, it remained to be seenif they would follow in his footsteps. 

'They will be very rich; they may not care to carry on the business, ofcourse, ' said Mrs Mildmay. 'No doubt Mr Fairfield has left a largefortune. '

But Mrs Burton shook her head. It was far from the case. The businesswas doing well, as it deserved to do, but beyond its good prospects heleft but little. And then she went on to explain why it was so; thusentering into the circumstances which had so specially endeared the deadman to his workpeople. A good many years ago, she related, when MrFairfield had first inherited the 'works, ' a terrible accident hadoccurred, in which, with several others, Burton had suffered. Theaccident, though in those days such inquiries were less searching, hadrevealed a certain danger in a part of the machinery recently introducedat great expense, as a wonderful improvement. The danger was remote; itwas perfectly possible no damage might ever again occur from the samecause; no pressure of any kind was put upon the master, no suggestioneven, of change; his own workpeople would not have blamed him had he'let things be. ' But such was not Mr Fairfield's way of viewing amaster's responsibilities. He had almost all the machinery changed, forthe one alteration he deemed absolutely necessary involved others. Andthe outlay had been something immense, especially as a run of bad yearshad followed it. And even when times improved again, and he began tofeel his head above water, he never himself benefited by the profits asmost would have done. 

''Twas always summat for his people, as he called 'em, bless him. Reading-rooms, or clubs, or schools. Year in, year out, 'twas his firstthought and his last. What else was he there for? he'd say, mony's thetime. Ah, well; he's gone where _his_ Master'll have good thought for_him_, ' the old woman added quaintly, 'the master he served so faithful. For ye see, ma'am, ' she went on, forgetting for the moment her grief inher earnestness, 'I take it as it's this way. There's honesty to God aswell as honesty to men. None would 'a blamed Measter Fairfield if he'dlet things be; no man could 'a done so. But he looked higher nor thejudging o' men. '

'Yes, truly, ' Mrs Mildmay heartily agreed, 'that was the secret, MrsBurton. '

'But, oh dear, dear;' cried the poor woman, relapsing again into thetears which did her credit, 'it's mony a sore heart he'll leave behindhim. '

'Mamma, ' said Jacinth softly and half timidly, when a quarter of an houror so later they were wending their way home relieved of their packages, through the muddy streets--'mamma, do you know that what she said--oldMrs Burton, I mean--about the two kinds of honesty has helped to--tomake me understand better than I did before what papa felt, and you too, of course, about--about Lady Myrtle and the Harpers, you know. '

Mrs Mildmay, in spite of the rain and her umbrella, managed to giveJacinth's arm a little loving squeeze. 

'I am so glad, so very glad, dear, ' she said. 

'Mamma, ' said Jacinth, again, after a little silence, in a more assuredvoice this time, 'if papa had been in Mr Fairfield's place, he wouldhave done just like him, wouldn't he?'

'I am quite sure he would, ' agreed her mother. 

And notwithstanding the cold and the rain and the grimness ofeverything, I think Jacinth felt happier that day than since they hadcome to Barmettle. 

A day or two later another little event helped to confirm Jacinth'sbetter and truer views of her great disappointment. This was the arrivalof a letter for Frances, forwarded from Thetford by their Aunt Alison. 

'A letter for me!' exclaimed the little girl, when at thebreakfast-table her mother handed it to her. 'Whom can it be from? Ihardly ever get any letters. ' But as her eye fell on the address herface flushed and brightened. 

'Oh, I do believe, ' she said, 'I do believe it's from Bessie--BessieHarper. And of course she'd have to send it to Aunt Alison's; shedoesn't know we've left Thetford. '

'I'm not so sure of that, ' said Mrs Mildmay. 'When I wrote to Mrs Lylesome time ago, I told her we were coming to Barmettle, but very likelyshe did not think of sending our address to her nieces, for they havenot been in the habit of writing to you or Jacinth. '

'No, ' Frances replied, rather incoherently, for she was already buriedin her letter, 'that's what she says. "Aunt Flora"--is that Mrs Lyle, mamma?--"Aunt Flora told us you had gone to live up in the north. I amafraid it can't be as bright and pretty there as at Thetford, but stillit must be lovely to have your father and mother with you for alwaysnow. I think I can understand far better than ever what a very greattrouble it must have been to you and your sister to be without them allthose years, for oh, we did so miss father and mother when they were inLondon for six months, and then in Germany. They took Margaret with themto Germany, and it did her such a lot of good. I have wanted to write toyou ever so often, and so has Camilla, but mother wasn't quite sure howwe could say what we wished. But now she has had another letter fromAunt Flora, and this has made her give me leave to write and tell youall our beautiful news. Just fancy, dear Francie, father is _almost_quite well. Of course he will always be lame, but he counts thatnothing, and it's really not so bad nearly as it was. All he had done atthe London hospital and then the German baths has turned out _so well_, and now to make it--the cure, I mean--quite lasting, we are_all_--though I write it, I can scarcely believe it--going abroad tosome mild place for the winter. We have not quite fixed where; but wehave let Hedge End till next May, and we shall start very soon. If youwrite to me, please address it to Hedge End. And now I want to saysomething that is rather difficult to say. What has made everything comeright has been the goodness of father's aunt, Lady Myrtle Goodacre. Justwhen we were almost in despair, and it seemed as if nothing _could_ savefather, she sent mother a lot of money: she said it was a present, but_we_ all count it a loan. It was enough to do everything, and more thanenough, and we can never, never thank her too much. But in our hearts weall feel sure that, though you kept exactly to what mother and Camillaasked, yet some of you, _somehow_, have been our good fairies. Perhapsit was your sister Jacinth, perhaps it was Mrs Mildmay; and I am sure, dear Francie, that if ever _you_ had a chance you spoke kindly of us;perhaps we shall never know exactly who did it, or how it was done, sowisely and carefully as it must have been. But oh, we _do_ thank you; ifyou could see the difference in everything about us now, how we are allas happy as the day's long, _you_ would all feel happy just to see it. Nearly every night, when we say our prayers, Margaret and I thank Godfor having sent you and Jacinth to be our school-fellows at MissScarlett's, and for the wonderful way things have come right. "'

Then followed a few details more interesting to Frances than ofconsequence in themselves, about the lessons Bessie and Margaret hadbeen doing, and how well Camilla managed to teach them, and hopes that'some day' the former school-fellows might meet again; ending up withrepetitions of the gratitude they felt _sure_ they owed to somebody, and'much love' from 'your affectionate friend, Elizabeth Vandeleur Harper. '

'"Vandeleur" was Bessie's mother's name. She's very proud of it, ' saidFrances, gazing admiringly at the pretty writing. Then she looked upwith glistening eyes. 'Mamma, Jass, isn't it _beautiful_? Isn't itlovely to think they're so much happier?'

Mrs Mildmay's own face was nearly as bright as Francie's. 

'I cannot _tell_ you how glad and thankful I am, ' she said. And she tookhold gently of Jacinth's hand. 'Doesn't it seem to follow up what wewere saying the other day after we had been at old Mrs Burton's?' shewhispered. 

But Jacinth's face looked pale, and her eyes had tears in them. 

'Mamma, ' she said, 'I suppose you thought I wouldn't have been niceabout it, but I think you might have told me that you did get LadyMyrtle to do something to help the Harpers. I can see that Francie knewabout it, and it is horrid to be in a way _thanked_ by them, when--whenI have really been more a sort of enemy to them than a friend. '

Mrs Mildmay had started a little at Jacinth's first words, for she hadin fact forgotten, in the consciousness of increasing sympathy betweenher elder daughter and herself, how, at the time of her first appeal toLady Myrtle, she had judged it wiser to say nothing about it to Jacinth. And now to her candid and naturally confiding nature this reticence gaveher almost a guilty feeling. But as Jacinth went on speaking, her motherrealised that she had done wisely. 

'Dear Jassie, ' she said quietly, 'at that time I did think it better notto tell you that I had interfered. I wanted to avoid all possibilitiesof irritation till you got to know me better. And I did see that youwere prejudiced to some extent. But now I feel quite differently aboutit, and I wish I had thought of telling you lately, though you must takemy not having done so as a proof of my feeling at one with you. For tillthis minute I thought you did know. At least I forgot you did not. Iwill tell you exactly how it came about. ' And she did so, adding rathersadly, as she concluded, 'And after all, dear, you see I was able to dovery little. Lady Myrtle will _not_ think of them as her relations, andgrateful though they are for this present help, of course it is notanything lasting; not what we would like to make sure of for theirfuture. '

'No, ' Jacinth agreed, 'I understand how you mean. Still, it is a verygood thing their father is so much better. I think they have a greatdeal to thank you for, mamma--you, and Francie too, in her way. I thinkthey should know _I_ have not helped at all; it makes me feelalmost--dishonest. If Francie writes to Bessie, couldn't she saysomething?'

'Whatever she says about the matter at all must only be very slight andvague, ' said Mrs Mildmay. 'And, Jassie dear, you _do_ feel kindly tothem now?'

'I want to feel whatever's right, ' Jacinth replied, and her tone waswonderfully humble. 

'Then there is no need to enter into any explanations, ' said MrsMildmay. 'It would only hurt poor Bessie if you made any sort ofdisclaimer of the friendliness they credit us all with. The only thingyou could ever do might perhaps be'----She hesitated. 

'What, mamma?' asked Jacinth. 

'Some day, ' said her mother, 'you _may_ have an opportunity of saying toLady Myrtle that you think you were a little prejudiced against them. '

'Yes, ' Jacinth agreed, 'perhaps it would be right. For, you see, mamma, _she_ thought I avoided speaking of them because I did not want to annoyher, and I think I made myself believe that too. But now I see it wasn'tonly that. It was partly a--I feel ashamed to think of it--a sort ofhorrid jealousy, I am afraid, mamma. '

And though she reddened as she made what to her was really a painfulconfession, Jacinth's heart felt lighter from that moment. There was nowno shadow of misunderstanding between her mother and herself. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

'I WILL THINK IT OVER. '

The very faint hope which the Mildmays--Jacinth especially--hadcherished that, after all, the coming Christmas might 'somehow' be spentby them and Lady Myrtle together, soon faded. 

There was no question of the old lady's coming north, though in one ofher letters she spoke of the gladness with which she would have made theeffort had it been possible; and there was even no question of their alljoining her at Robin Redbreast, though but for a short visit, for inNovember the fiat went forth which each winter she had secretly for someyears past been dreading--she must not remain in England. For herchronic bronchitis was on her again, and a premature taste of winter inthe late autumn threatened for a week or two to turn this into somethingworse. 

'For myself, ' she wrote, 'I would rather stay at home and take the risk, but I suppose it would be wrong, though really at my age I have littlesympathy with that excessive clinging to life one sees where one wouldlittle expect it. But there is nothing to detain me here specially, andit may be that I shall benefit by the change. I want to choose one ofthe winter places I was so happy at more than once long ago, with _your_mother, when she and I travelled together with my parents. '

For the letter was to Mrs Mildmay. 

And a fortnight or so later came another, which threw great excitementinto the house in St Wilfred's Place, where the children were doingtheir best to give something of a festive and country look to the ratherdark rooms with the help of plenty of holly and mistletoe, which hadcome in a Christmas hamper from Robin Redbreast, by Lady Myrtle'sorders, though she was no longer there. For by this time it wasChristmas Eve. 

This new letter was from abroad. The old lady was already settled in herwinter quarters. Which of the many southern resorts she had chosenmatters little, as it is no part of this simple story to describecontinental towns or foreign travel. And in this particular case therewould be little interest in either, seeing that these places are so wellknown nowadays to the mass of English folk of the well-to-do classes, that accounts of them are pretty sure to be monotonous repetitions. Wewill call the spot selected 'Basse. '

Lady Myrtle wrote cheerfully. She was better, and she was enjoying, asold people learn to do, the chastened pleasure of recalling happy daysin the scenes she was now revisiting. 

'It is all wonderfully little changed, ' she wrote. 'I drive along thesame roads, and walk slowly up and down the same terraces, where LadyJacinth and I used to talk together by the hour in our light-heartedgirlhood. I even fancy I recognise some of the shops we pass, for I amable to stroll about the quieter streets a little with the help of mygood Clayton's arm. I have actually done a little shopping, the resultsof which will, I trust, please you, trifling as they are. I am sendingoff a little box by the Globe Express, which will, I hope, reach you byChristmas Day. And now, dear Eugenia, for the point of my letter. It isClayton's idea; she burst out with it the other day when we were busyabout this same shopping. "Oh, my lady, if only Miss Jacinth--MissMildmay I should say--were here it would be nice! She's just the younglady to enjoy the change and not mind the quiet life, and she _would_brighten you up. " So will you spare her to me for the three or fourmonths I shall be here? I hesitate to ask it; you will miss her so. ButI am emboldened by the belief that it might be for the dear child's owngood. She could have excellent lessons of any or every kind, and someamount of French talking, as I have a few old French friends in theneighbourhood, near enough to spend a day with now and then. Her fatherwould bring her out, and, for my sake, I trust, not grudge the time andfatigue. The whole expenses you would surely let me defray? You cannotbe hard-hearted enough to refuse _this_, dearest Eugenia. '

Mrs Mildmay thought it over and talked it over with her husband: thenthey laid it before Jacinth herself, giving her indeed the letter itselfto read. Jacinth's face crimsoned with pleasure and excitement, and hereyes glistened. But in a moment or two they grew dewy. 

'Oh, mamma, ' she exclaimed, 'it would be delightful. But--I cannot bearto think of leaving you for so long. '

These were sweet and grateful words to the mother's ears. But, as ever, she took the cheerful and sensible view of the matter. The separationwould be but a short one, and it might really be of great advantage toJacinth. Besides which--and this argument, I think, had the most weightwith them all--was it not a duty to do what they could to please theirdear old friend?

So a favourable and grateful answer was sent without much delay, andbefore the new year was many days old, Jacinth and her father foundthemselves speeding across France as fast as the _train de luxe_ couldtake them, to join Lady Myrtle in her winter home. 

Jacinth enjoyed it all, and there was a considerable amount of freshnessto her in the experience, though it was not entirely unknown ground. For, as a young child, she had spent some time in the south of Francewith her mother on her way to England, and she had once in later yearspassed a week or two in Paris with Uncle Marmy and 'Granny. ' But thespecial place which Lady Myrtle had chosen was quite new to her, and ithad its own peculiar beauties and attractions. 

'Tell mamma, ' she said to her father the morning before he was to leave, 'tell dear mamma and Francie that I am as happy as I can be anywhereaway from them. And I will work really hard at French and music, so thatI may be able to help Francie with hers. And it will please mamma, won'tit, papa, to hear how glad Lady Myrtle seems to have me?'

'Yes, dear, I am sure it will, ' said Colonel Mildmay cordially. 'Icannot help feeling, personally, great pleasure in having been able todo anything to gratify her. It was generous of her to give us theopportunity of doing so. '

'She _is_ so generous, ' said Jacinth warmly, 'so large hearted abouteverything, isn't she, papa?'

'She is indeed, ' her father agreed with a little sigh, 'about everythingexcept _one_ thing. It is curious and sad to see how very deep down areher prepossessions on that subject. And I am the more hopeless aboutthem, because there is really no personal vindictiveness, or even, I maysay, prejudice mixed up with these convictions. '

'It _is_ sad, ' Jacinth agreed. 

The next morning saw Colonel Mildmay's departure for home. 

Then began for Jacinth a quiet, regular, but far from unenjoyable life. Lady Myrtle had already made inquiries about the best teachers, and suchof these as undertook the special subjects the girl wished to give hertime to were engaged for her. So several hours of each day were soontold off for lessons and preparation for them. As a rule, Lady Myrtledrove out in the afternoon, her young guest accompanying her, sometimesto pay calls to such of the visitors to the place as were old friends, or in some few cases new acquaintances of hers; sometimes out into thebeautiful country in the neighbourhood, beautiful even in mid-winter, where the views were as varied as charming. 

And as a rule, between twelve and one o'clock, sometimes too in theafternoon if the old lady were not feeling well enough for a drive, Jacinth went for a brisk walk with Clayton as her duenna. 

It was during one of these walks that something most unexpected happenedone day. Lady Myrtle had caught a slight cold and been forbidden to goout. It was a bright but somewhat treacherous day, for though thesunshine was warm there was a sharp, almost icy, 'under air' painfullyperceptible in the shade. 

'I feel roasted and frozen at once; don't you, Clayton?' said Jacinthlaughingly, as they crossed the road to get into the warmth, such as itwas, again. 

'Yes, indeed, Miss Mildmay, ' the maid agreed. 'It's a day when you needboth a parasol and a muff together. For there is such a glare. '

A glare there was, truly. Snow had been falling now and then during thelast day or two, and though but in light and short showers, the groundwas sufficiently frozen for it to 'lie;' so that the sunshine, notpowerful enough to melt it, save here and there very superficially, wasreflected from the gleaming surface with extraordinary brilliancy. 

'We really should have snow spectacles, ' Jacinth was saying, when asudden shock made her aware that in her dazzled state she had run foulof some one or something standing on the pathway just in front of her. 

'I beg your pardon, ' she exclaimed instinctively, and the strangerturning sharply--for she had been looking in the forwarddirection--almost at the same moment made the same apology, addingquickly, when she heard Jacinth's English voice, 'I should not beblocking up the'----But her sentence was never completed. 'Oh, can it beyou? Jacinth--Jacinth Mildmay? Is Frances here? Oh, howdelightful. --Camilla, ' as an older girl came across the road in herdirection, 'Camilla, just fancy--this is Jacinth. I can scarcely believeit, ' and before Jacinth had had time to say a word, she felt twoclinging arms thrown round her neck, and kisses pressed on her burningcheeks, by the sweet, loving lips of Bessie Harper. 

The blood had rushed to Jacinth's face in a torrent, and for a momentshe almost gasped for breath. 

'Bessie, Bessie dear, you are such a whirlwind. You have startled MissMildmay terribly. '

'I am so sorry, ' said Bessie penitently, and then at last Jacinth wasable to answer the girl's inquiries, and explain how it had come aboutthat she alone of her family was here so far from home. 

'And are _you_ all here?' she asked in return. 

'Yes, ' Miss Harper answered, 'all of us except my eldest brother. Thetwo others are here temporarily; the little one who is going into thenavy got his Christmas holidays, and the other has his long leave justnow. And my father is so wonderfully better; you heard, you saw Bessie'sletter to Frances?' and Camilla's face grew rosy in its turn. 

'Oh yes, ' Jacinth replied. 'We were very, very glad. Frances wrotealmost at once. '

Bessie shook her head. 

'I never got the letter, ' she said; 'but we have missed several, I amafraid. We have been moving about so. Cannot you come to see us, Jacinth? Mother, and father too, would love to see you. We are living alittle way out in the country at the village of St Rémi; we have got adear little house there. Camilla and I came in for shopping thismorning. Couldn't you come back with us to luncheon? We could bring youhome this afternoon, and your maid would take back word to--to LadyMyrtle Goodacre. '

'I am afraid I cannot, ' said Jacinth, with some constraint in her voice. 'I never go out anywhere without asking Lady Myrtle's leave. '

'Of course not, ' Camilla interposed. 'It would not do at all. You mustdo as you think best, Miss Mildmay, about getting permission to come tosee us. I beg you to believe that, if you think it better not to askit, ' she spoke in a lowered tone, so as to be unheard by Clayton, 'weshall neither blame you nor misunderstand you. And now, perhaps, we hadbest not keep you waiting longer. '

She held out her hand with the same quiet friendliness as appeared inher words; not perhaps _quite_ without a touch of dignity almostapproaching to _hauteur_ in the pose of her pretty head as she gave theunasked assurance. Jacinth thanked her--what else could she do?--feelingcuriously small. There was something refreshing in the parting hugwhich Bessie bestowed upon her, ere they separated to follow theirrespective roads, but Jacinth was very silent all the way home. 

'Nice young ladies, ' remarked Clayton. 'They are old friends of yours, Miss Jacinth, no doubt?'

'The younger one was at school with my sister and me, ' the girl replied, for Clayton's position as a very old and valued servant removed allflavour of freedom or presumingness from her observations. 'But Iscarcely know the older one. '

And for the rest of the way home she was unusually silent. Her mind washard at work. Jacinth was passing through a crisis. Should she tell LadyMyrtle of the Harpers being in the near neighbourhood, or should shenot? There was no obligation upon her to do so; their name had not beenalluded to, even if Clayton should mention to her mistress the meetingwith the young ladies, nothing would be easier than for Jacinth to passit off with some light remark. And with the temptation to act thisnegatively unfriendly part awoke again the sort of jealous irritation atthe whole position, which she believed herself to have quite overcome. 

'They perfectly haunt us, ' she said to herself: 'why in the world shouldthey have chosen Basse out of all the quantity of places there are? Andto think'--this was a very ugly thought--'that but for mamma theywouldn't have been able to come abroad at all! Why should they spoil mylittle happy time with Lady Myrtle? And very likely no good would cometo them of my telling her that they are here. She would be sure torefuse to see them. '

But what if it were so? Did that affect her own present duty?

'It might annoy Lady Myrtle, ' whispered an insidious voice; but had notMrs Mildmay risked far more in her outspoken appeal, when still almost astranger to her mother's friend? Would not the concealment of so simplea circumstance as her meeting the Harper girls be more than negativeunfriendliness? would it not savour of want of candour and selfishcalculation, such as in after years Jacinth would blush to remember? Andagain there sounded in her ears the old north-country woman's quaintwords: 'It do seem to me, ma'am, as there's two kinds of honesty. '

And Jacinth lifted her head and took her resolution. 

That afternoon there was to be no drive, as the old lady had caught aslight cold. And after luncheon Jacinth came and sat beside her in herfavourite position, a low stool beside Lady Myrtle's chair, whence shecould rest one elbow on her friend's knee and look up into her kind oldface with the strangely familiar dark eyes, which were dearer to RobinRedbreast's owner than even the girl herself suspected. 

'I want to talk to you, dear Lady Myrtle, ' she began. 'I want to tellyou whom I met this morning, ' and she related simply what had occurred. 

The old lady started a little as Jacinth spoke the names 'Camilla andBessie Harper. ' But then she answered quietly: 'It was right of you totell me, dear, ' she said. 'And you need not fear its annoying me. It isstrange that they should have chosen Basse, but really it does notmatter to us in the least. I am very glad the father is so much better. Now let us talk of something else, dear. '

Now came the hard bit of Jacinth's task. 

'Dear Lady Myrtle, that isn't all; it's only the first part of what Ihave to say, ' she began tremulously. 'I want to tell you _everything_, more even than I told mamma, for till to-day I don't think I saw itquite so plainly. I have not been as good and true as you have thoughtme; nothing like Frances, or mamma, of course. And I feel now that youmust know the worst of me. I shall never be happy till you do, eventhough it is horrible to own how mean I have been. '

Lady Myrtle sat silent, too bewildered at first to speak. What had cometo Jacinth, so quiet and self-controlled as she usually was? But sheheld the girl's hand and said gently, 'Tell me anything that is on yourmind, dear child, though I think--I cannot help thinking--that you areexaggerating whatever it is that you think you have done wrong. '

Then out it all came: the confession that many would hardly haveunderstood--would have called morbid and fanciful, perhaps. But LadyMyrtle's perceptions were keen, her moral ideal very high, her sympathygreat; and she did not make the mistake of crushing back the girl'sconfidence by making light of the feelings and even actions whichJacinth's own conscience told her had been wrong. One thing only shecould not resist suggesting as a touch of comfort. 

'I think, latterly at any rate, dear, you _were_ influenced by the fearof troubling me. You must allow that. '

'Well, yes, ' Jacinth agreed. 'But even then I should not have let eventhat make me uncandid and--and--almost plotting against them. '

'No, no, dear; don't say such things of yourself. And now you may put itquite out of your mind for ever. You have been only too severe onyourself. But try to understand one thing, dear; _no_ child could be tome what you are. Even--even if these young people had been in happyrelations with me, as of course, but for past miseries, might have beenthe case, they would not have been _Jacinth_. '

'No; I know it is for grandmother's sake you care for me so much morethan I deserve, ' said the girl, as she wiped away her tears, 'and evenin that way I should not have been jealous. I did not know it wasjealousy. I have never realised before that I could be jealous. But Icannot put it quite off my mind till you let me feel I have donesomething to make up. Lady Myrtle, dear Lady Myrtle, _may_ I ask them tocome to see you? I know they are longing to thank you. And oh, it wouldmake me so happy!'

'I will think it over, my dear, ' was all Lady Myrtle would commitherself to. But even that was something. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

UNCLE MARMY'S GATES. 

When people really and thoroughly want to do right, and do not contentthemselves by _saying_ they want to do so, I doubt if they are ever forlong left in perplexity. Jacinth Mildmay had found it so. She hadcourageously dismissed all the specious arguments about 'troubling LadyMyrtle, ' 'not going out of her way to dictate to her elders, ' or'interfering in their affairs, ' and had simply and honestly done whather innermost conscience dictated. And now, as to how she was to actabout and towards the Harpers, she was content to wait. 

But Lady Myrtle did not keep her very long in suspense. She too had putaside every consideration but the one--what was her duty to the Harperfamily?--and she had found solid ground. 

'My dear Jacinth, ' she said, the second morning after the unexpectedmeeting of the former school-fellows, 'I have decided that it would beunkind and ungracious to keep Captain and Mrs Harper and their childrenat arm's length, if--if it would be any satisfaction to them to see me, as they like to think I have been of help to them. So I intend to driveout to St Rémi to call upon them. '

Jacinth looked up with a bright smile. 

'I am so glad, Lady Myrtle, ' she added impulsively; 'I do think you areso very good. '

The old lady shook her head sadly. 

'My dear, ' she said, 'the bitterest part of approaching the end of lifeis the realising how terribly, how overwhelmingly other than "good" onehas been, and how little time remains in which to make amends. Asregards one's self the recognising this is salutary; the more one feelsit, the more thankful one should be. But it is about others: it isterrible to think of the harm one has done, the good one has leftundone. If I had been more patient--more pitiful--more ready to makeallowance for their strange weakness of character--with--with my poorbrothers'----

Her voice broke; the last words were almost inaudible: it was verywonderful for her to say so much. And a new ray of light seemed to flashon Jacinth's path as she listened. If such a thing were possible, if itcould come to pass that Lady Myrtle should reinstate her nephew and hisfamily in their natural place in her affection and regard, whathappiness, what softening of past sorrows might such a change not bringto the sorely tried heart of her old friend. And a rush of unselfishenthusiasm came over the young girl. 

'Anything _I_ can do to further it, I shall do, ' she determined, and atthat moment died away the last fast-withering remains of jealousy in herheart that the Harpers might in any way replace her in Lady Myrtle'sregard. 

It seemed like an encouragement--an endorsement of this secretlyregistered vow--when Lady Myrtle spoke again. 

'Does it make you happy, dear child, to hear what I have resolved to do?I hope so; for your feelings, your self-blame so honestly avowed, though I think you exaggerate the need of it, have helped to influenceme. I know how bitter such self-blame may grow to be, and my darlingJacinth, I want to feel, when I come to die, that at least I havebrought nothing but good into _your_ young life. '

'Dear Lady Myrtle, ' said Jacinth, 'what you tell me makes me happierthan I can express; far, far happier than I have deserved to be. '

 * * * * *

They went the next day. Lady Myrtle's cold was better, and for theseason, the weather was wonderfully mild. Jacinth had hesitated aboutaccompanying her old friend, but Lady Myrtle insisted upon her doing so. 

'It will make it far easier and less constrained for me, ' she said, 'andconsidering everything it seems to me only natural. '

They had luncheon early, and set off immediately after. Less than halfan hour's drive brought them to the picturesque little village, whichwas in fact scarcely more than a suburb of the town of Basse. 

'Villa Malmaison' was the direction, and soon the coachman drew up at agate opening on to the road, for there was no drive up to the house. Thefootman was preparing to enter, but when he came round for hisinstructions, Lady Myrtle stopped him. 

'No, ' she said, 'you can wait here. We will get out at once. --I have afancy, ' she said to Jacinth, 'for going straight up to the house withoutbeing announced. '

It was a small and simple place; a balcony ran round the ground floor, and there in a long chair--a deck chair--a gentleman was half lying, half sitting, for the day was mild, and the house had a south exposure. At the sound of their slow footsteps--for Lady Myrtle was feebler thanof yore--he looked up, then rose courteously, and came forward to meetthem. He was a tall thin man with gray hair, and with evident traces ofdelicate health and suffering upon him, and he walked lame. But hissmile was both bright and sweet; his keen dark eyes not unlike LadyMyrtle's own. 

'Can I'----he began, for the first instant's glance revealed to him thatthe new-comers were English, but a sort of exclamation from Lady Myrtlearrested him. 

'Jacinth, ' she had just whispered, and for a second she leant so heavilyon the girl's arm that Jacinth feared she was going to faint, 'it mustbe he--my nephew--he is so, so _wonderfully_ like my father. '

And before Jacinth could reply, the old lady straightened herself again, and drawing her arm away from her young guide, seemed to hurry forwardwith a little cry. 

'Are you Reginald?' she said. 'My nephew? You must be. Oh Reginald, I amyour old Aunt Myrtle. '

And then--all the plans and formalities were set at naught. The two tallfigures enfolded each other in an embrace like that of an aged motherand a long absent son. 

'Aunt Myrtle, my dear aunt!' Jacinth heard the kind, cheery voiceexclaim, though in accents broken by sudden emotion. 'You who have beenso good to us, to whom I owe my life. But this--this coming yourself isthe kindest of all. '

Then Jacinth turned and fled--fled down a path leading somewhere ornowhere, till she found herself at the other side of the house, and ranfull tilt against Bessie, who was coming out to see what was happening. For sounds carried far in the clear frosty air, and visitors were anevent at the little St Rémi villa. 

'Jacinth, ' she exclaimed, catching hold of the flying girl, 'what isit?'

'Oh Bessie, it's everything--everything beautiful and wonderful. But wemustn't interrupt them. Take me into the house and call Camilla and yourmother, and I'll explain it all. '

 * * * * *

That was the beginning, but by no means the end. Far from it indeed. Foreven if Jacinth lives to be a very old woman, I think she will alwayslook back upon the next few weeks at Basse--the weeks before the Harpersreturned to England, which they did before the doctors considered itquite safe for Lady Myrtle to face the northern spring--as among thehappiest she ever knew. There were several reasons for this. There wasthe great and unselfish pleasure of seeing the quiet restful content onher dear old friend's face, and knowing that in some measure she hadbeen the means of bringing it there; there was the delight of writinghome with the news of the happy state of things that had come about, andreceiving her full meed of sympathy and appreciation from her father andmother and faithful little Frances; and lastly, there was the, toJacinth, really new pleasure of thoroughly congenial companionship ofher own age. For at school her habit of reserve and self-dependence hadcome in the way of her making friends, and she was so accustomed totaking the lead and being the elder, that she was slow to enter into thegive and take on more or less equal ground that is an essentialcondition of pleasant and profitable intercourse between the young. 

And her ideal friend--much as she learned to love and esteem heartygenerous Bessie and gentle little Margaret--Jacinth's friend of friendscame to be Camilla, whose two or three years' seniority seemed only tobring them closer, for Jacinth was in many ways 'old for her age. '

Yes, it was a happy time, even though now and then some twinges ofself-reproach made Jacinth feel how little she had at one time meritedthe loving confidence with which her new friends treated her. 

'But that you must bear, my dear, ' said Lady Myrtle, when on one or twooccasions this feeling grew so acute that she had to express it to someone. 'Take it as your punishment if you think you deserve it. For itwould be cruel to distress these candid, unselfish girls by confessionsof ill-will or prejudice which no longer exist. For my sake, dearJacinth, for my sake too, try now to "let the dead past bury its dead. "'

And the girl did so. 

 * * * * *

Some happy years followed this good beginning. Years not untouched bytrouble and trials, but with an undercurrent of good. Barmettle neverbecame a congenial home, but Jacinth as she grew older lost her extremedislike to it, in the happiness of being all together, and knowing thatnot only was her father satisfied with his work, but that manyopportunities for helping others were open to herself and Frances, aswell as to their active unselfish mother. 

And bright holidays with Lady Myrtle, when old Robin Redbreast stretchedhis wings in some wonderful way so as to take in his kind owner'sgrand-nephews and nieces as well as the Mildmay party, went far toreconcile Jacinth and Frances to the gloom and chill of their home inthe north. 

Perhaps Christmas was the most trying time. For a merry family partywould have been something to look forward to at that season. But thedear old lady, alas! had spent her last Christmas in England thatyear--that first year at Thetford--when Jacinth and Frances and Eugenewere her guests. For her health grew more and more fragile, and everyseason her time at Robin Redbreast had to be cut shorter and shorter, till at length barely six months of the twelve could be spent by her inEngland. 

Most winters Jacinth spent some part of with her at Basse, and sometimesCamilla or Bessie replaced her. One year the whole Mildmay family joinedher for two months. So there were many pleasant mitigations of herenforced banishment, though it gradually became impossible for those whohad learned to love her so dearly to blind themselves to the fact thatthe gentle old woman was not far from the end of her chequered and atone time lonely life. 

And one day in the early spring-time, when the sunshine was already warmand the sky already deeply blue in the genial south, when the snowdropswere raising their pretty timid heads in the garden at Robin Redbreast, and the birds were beginning to hope that the winter was over and gone, Lady Myrtle died. There was no one with her at the time. Captain Harperhad left her but the week before, and Jacinth Mildmay was to have joinedher a few days later. 

'If I could but have been with her, mamma, ' said the girl among hertears. 

But perhaps it was better not. To some natures the sorrow of others isvery hard to see, and I think Lady Myrtle was one of those. Jacinth wasnineteen at the time of her old friend's death. Two years of ColonelMildmay's time at Barmettle had yet to expire. 

'We shall miss our summers at Robin Redbreast sadly, mamma, shall wenot?' she said one day. 'What is to be done about it? Is it to be sold, or are the Harpers to have it? I hope so. Does papa know?'

'He has only heard about it recently, ' said her mother. 'He and CaptainHarper are Lady Myrtle's executors, but there has been a good deal oftrouble and delay, for owing to her death having taken place abroad, some difficulties occurred about proving the will. But now I believe allis right, and your father is going to tell you about it. '

At that moment the door opened and Colonel Mildmay came in. He glancedat his wife with a half-inquiry in his eyes when he saw that she and hisdaughter were talking seriously. 

'Yes, ' replied Mrs Mildmay to his unspoken question, 'I was just sayingto Jacinth that you were going to explain to her about our dear oldfriend's disposal of things. '

'I happened to ask mamma if the Harpers were going to live at RobinRedbreast, ' said Jacinth. 'Somehow I hadn't thought about it before. '

'It must have been a "brain wave, "' said her father, 'for only thismorning I decided to have a talk with you about it. '

Jacinth looked up with a slight feeling of apprehension. ColonelMildmay's tone was very grave. But she had no reason for misgiving: sheknew she had never--since her eyes had been awakened to the prejudiceand jealousy she was in danger of yielding to--never felt or expressedanything but sincere esteem and affection for Lady Myrtle's relations. 

'I don't want to hear anything in particular, papa, ' she said gently, 'but just as you like, of course. It was only, ' and her voice faltered alittle, 'the associations with Robin Redbreast. We have been so happythere: I shouldn't like strangers to have it. '

'Strangers are not going to have it, ' Colonel Mildmay replied. 'But itis not left to the Harpers. They did not wish it. They have no specialliking for that neighbourhood, and it suits them far better to maketheir headquarters farther south. But I know you will be glad to hear, Jacinth, that their aunt has left them a most fair and equitableproportion of the property at her disposal. They have no cause forfuture anxiety at all. Captain Harper is more than satisfied; he hadexpected nothing of the kind, and I perfectly believe that if, as hesays, "just a little token of her restored goodwill" had been all thatwas to come to them, he would have been content. I never met with moretruly unworldly and unselfish people. '

He stopped for a moment. 

'I am so glad, so very glad, ' said Jacinth. 

'And the Elvedons too are very grateful, ' continued her father, 'forbesides what they knew was to be theirs, she has left them her townhouse--a much better one than they have had hitherto. Then her favouritecharities have no reason to complain; she has forgotten nothing and noone'----

Again he hesitated, and for some undefined reason Jacinth's heart beganto beat faster. 

'And Robin Redbreast, my dear child; Robin Redbreast is--is to beyours. '

'Oh, papa, ' exclaimed the girl with a curious choking sensation. 'Oh, papa; is it right? Do you and mamma think it is?'

'Yes, dear. I think it is right. It is depriving no one of anything theyhad a claim upon. For Lady Myrtle had considerable savings: some part ofthose she surely had every right to leave as her own feelings prompted. Some of the land is to be sold; just enough kept to make the littleplace complete of its kind and not too expensive to manage. Enough moneywill be yours--or ours--Lady Myrtle wished it to be considered our homein the meantime, anyway, and she has managed all so that, if or when youmarry, a certain separation of income can be easily made--for realcomfort without extravagance or display. And some of her privatecharities she has left in your hands, trusting to your good judgment andunselfishness. All has been excellently thought over and wiselyarranged. '

'Oh, papa; oh, mamma!' was still all that Jacinth could say. But after amoment or two she asked the question which she had so much at heart, 'Shall we all go to live there?'

'Part of the year certainly. And when my time here is out--you will beof age by then, Jass--perhaps I may feel that the day for taking iteasier has come, and I may get some less onerous post nearer Thetford. But there is time enough for these details. Now run and tell Francie. Iknow you are longing to do so. '

So the curious prevision of the future which had come over them all at'Uncle Marmy's gates' was actually fulfilled. And kind Uncle Marmyhimself came home before very long to find it so. 

There is talk of his leaving off soldiering--he has seen some activeservice in the East of late--and taking up his abode in his own home atStannesley. For he has been economical to some purpose. And Jacinth, whostill builds castles in the air in her quiet way, has one underconstruction on the completed roof of which a flag _may_ fly some day. It is that the very nicest and most entirely delightful wife MarmadukeDenison could possibly find, were he to search all the four quarters ofthe globe, would be Camilla Harper. 

THE END. 

Edinburgh:Printed by W. & R. Chambers, Limited.