THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD

BY

CHARLOTTE M YONGE

PREFACE

It is sometimes treated as an impertinence to revive the personages ofone story in another, even though it is after the example ofShakespeare, who revived Falstaff, after his death, at the behest ofQueen Elizabeth. This precedent is, however, a true impertinence incalling on the very great to justify the very small!

Yet many a letter in youthful handwriting has begged for furtherinformation on the fate of the beings that had become favourites of theschool-room; and this has induced me to believe that the following outof my own notions as to the careers of former heroes and heroines mightnot be unwelcome; while I have tried to make the story standindependently for new readers, unacquainted with the tale in which LadyMerrifield and her brothers and sisters first appeared. 

'Scenes and Characters' was, however, published so long ago, that theyoung readers of this generation certainly will only know it if it hashad the good fortune to have been preserved by their mothers. It wasonly my second book, and in looking back at it so as to preserveconsistency, I have been astonished at its crudeness. 

It will explain a few illusions to state that it is the story of themotherless family of Mohuns of Beechcroft, with a kindly deaf father atthe head, Mr. Mohun, whose pet name was the Baron of Beechcroft, owingto a romantic notion of his daughters made fun of by his sons. Theeldest sister, a stiff, sensible, dry woman, had just married and goneto India, leaving her post to the next in age, Emily, who was much tooindolent for the charge. Lilies, the third in age, with her head fullof the kind of high romance and sentiment more prevalent thirty orforty years ago than now, imagined that whereas the household hadformerly been ruled by duty, it now might be so by love. Of course, confusion dire was the consequence, chiefly with the younger boys, thescientific, cross-grained Maurice, and the high-spirited, turbulentReginald, all the mischief being fomented by Jane's pertness andcuriosity, and only mitigated by the honest simplicity and dutifulnessof eight years old Phyllis. The remedy was found at last in themarriage of the eldest son William with Alethea Weston, alreadyLilias's favourite friend and model. 

That in a youthful composition there should be a cavalier ancestry, afamily much given to dying of consumption, and a young marquess cousinis, perhaps, inevitable. Lord Rotherwood was Mr. Mohun's ward, andhaving a dull home of his own, found his chief happiness as well as allthe best influences of his life, in the merry, highly-principled, though easy-going life at his uncle's, whom he revered like a father, while his eager, somewhat shatter-brained nature often made him a buttto his cousins. All this may account for the tone of camaraderie withwhich the scattered members of the family meet again, especially aroundLilias, who had, with her cleverness and enthusiasm, always been theleading member of the group. 

It should, perhaps, also be mentioned that Lord Rotherwood's greatestfriend was also Lilias's favourite brother, Claude, who had become aclergyman and died early. Aunt Adeline had been the spoilt child andbeauty of the family, the youngest of all. 

C. M. YONGE. 

March 8th, 1885. 

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I. WHAT WILL BECOME OF ME?CHAPTER II. THE MERRIFIELDSCHAPTER III. GOOD BYECHAPTER IV. TURNED IN AMONG THEMCHAPTER V. THE FIRST WALKCHAPTER VI. PERSECUTIONCHAPTER VII. G. F. S. CHAPTER VIII. MY PERSECUTED UNCLECHAPTER IX. LETTERSCHAPTER X. THE EVENING STARCHAPTER XI. SECRET EXPEDITIONSCHAPTER XII. A HUNTCHAPTER XIII. AN EGYPTIAN SPHINXCHAPTER XIV. A CYPHER AND A TYCHAPTER XV. THE BUTTERFLY'S BALLCHAPTER XVI. THE INCONSTANCY OF CONSTANCECHAPTER XVII. THE STONE MELTINGCHAPTER XVIII. MYSIE AND DOLORESCHAPTER XIX. A SADDER AND A WISER AUTHORESSCHAPTER XX. CONFESSIONS OF A COUNTRY MOUSECHAPTER XXI. IN COURT AND OUTCHAPTER XXII. NAY

THE TWO SIDES OF THE SHIELD

CHAPTER I

WHAT WILL BECOME OF ME?

A London dining-room was lighted with gas, which showed a table ofsmall dimensions, with a vase of somewhat dirty and dilapidated grassesin the centre, and at one end a soup tureen, from which a gentleman hadhelped himself and a young girl of about thirteen, without muchapparent consciousness of what he was about, being absorbed in a pileof papers, pamphlets, and letters, while she on her side kept a bookpinned open by a gravy spoon. The elderly maid-servant, who set thedishes before them, handed the vegetables and changed the plates, really came as near to feeding the pair as was possible with peopleabove three years old. 

The one was a dark, thin man, with a good deal of white in his thickbeard and scanty hair, the absence of which made the breadth of hisforehead the more remarkable. The girl would have shown an equallyremarkable brow, but that her dark hair was cut square over it, so asto take off from its height, and give a heavy over-hanging look to theupper part of the face, which below was tin and sallow, well-featured, but with a want of glow and colour. The thick masses of dark hair wereplaited into a very long thick tail behind, hanging down over a blackevening frock, whose white trimmings were, like everything else aboutthe place, rather dingy. She was far less absorbed than her father, and raised a quick, wistful brown eye whenever he made the least sound, or shuffled his papers. Indeed, it seemed that she was reading inorder to distract her anxiety rather than for the sake of occupation. 

It was not till after the last pieces of cheese had been offered andrefused, and the maid had retired, leaving some dull crackers andveteran biscuits, with two decanters and a claret-jug, that he spoke. 

'Dolores!'

'Yes, father. '

But he only cleared his throat, and looked at his letter again, whileshe fixed her eager eyes upon him so earnestly that he let his fallagain, and looked once more over his letters before he spoke again. 

'Dolores, ' and the tone was dry, as if all feeling were driven from it. 

'Yes, father. '

'You know that I have accepted this appointment?'

'Yes, father. '

'And that I shall be absent three years at the least?'

'Yes. '

'Then comes the question, how you are to be disposed of in themeantime?'

'Could not I go with you?' she said, under her breath. 

'No, my dear. ' And somehow the tone had more tenderness in it, thoughit was so explicit. 'I shall have no fixed residence, no one with whomto leave you; and the climate is not fit for you. Your Aunt Lilias haskindly offered to take charge of you. '

'Oh, father!'

'Well?'

'If you would only let me stay here with Caroline and Fraulein. I likeit so much better. '

'That cannot be, Dolly. I have this morning promised to let the houseas it is to Mr. Smithson. '

'And Caroline?'

'If Caroline takes my advice, she will remain here as his housekeeper, and I think she will. Well, what is it? You do not mean that youwould prefer going to your Aunts Jane and Ada?'

'Oh no, no; only if I might go to school. '

'This is nonsense, Dolores. It will be much better for you on allaccounts to be with your aunt at Silverfold. I have no fear that sheand her girls will not do their best to make you happy and good, and togive you what you have sadly wanted, my poor child. I have alwayswished you could have seen more of her. '

There could be no doubt from the tone, in the mind of any one who knewMr. Maurine Mohun, that the decision was final; but perhaps Doloreswould have asked more if the door-bell had not rung at the moment andMr. Smithson had not been announced. Fate was closing in on her. Sheretired into her book, and remained as long as she possibly could, forthe sake of seeing her father and hearing his voice; but after a timeshe was desired to call Caroline, and to go to bed herself, for it wasa good deal past nine o'clock. 

She had been aware, she could hardly tell how, that her father had beenoffered a government appointment connected with the Fiji Islands, andthen that, glad to escape from the dreariness which had settled down onthe house since his wife's death, about eighteen months previously, hehad accepted it, and she had speculated much on her probable fate; buthad never before been officially informed of his designs for himself orfor her. 

He was a barrister, who spent all his leisure time on scientificstudies, and his wife had been equally devoted to the same pursuits. Dolores had been her constant companion; but after the mother's death, from an accident on a glacier, a strange barrier of throwing himselfinto the ways of a girl past the charms of infancy. It was as if theyhad lost their interpreter. 

The German governess, chosen by Mrs. Mohun, was very German indeed, andgreatly occupied in her own studies. When she found that the armes-liebes Madchen shrank from being wept over and caressed on the mournfulreturn, she decided that the English had no feeling, and acquiesced inthe routine of lessons and expeditions to classes. She was neverunkind, but she did not try to be a companion; and old Caroline wasexcellent in the attention she paid to the comforts of her master andhis daughter, but had no love of children, and would not haveencouraged familiarities, even if Dolores had not been too entirely adrawing-room child to offer them. 

The morning came, and everything went on as usual; Dolores poured outthe coffee, Mr. Mohun read his Times, Fraulein ate as usual, butafterwards he asked for a few minutes' conversation with Fraulein. Allthat Dolores heard of the result of it was 'So, ' and then lessons wenton until twelve o'clock, when it was the custom that the girl shouldhave an hour's recreation, which was, in any tolerable weather, spentin the gardens of the far west Crescent, where she lived. There shewas nearly certain of meeting her one great friend, Maude Sefton, whowas always sent out for her airing at the same time. 

They spied each other issuing from their doors, met, linked their arms, and entered together. Maude was a tall, rosy girl, with a great yellowbush down her back, half a year older than Dolores, and a great dealbigger. 

'My dearest Doll!'

'Oh yes, it is come. '

'Then he is really going? I heard the pater and mater talking about ityesterday, and they said it would be an excellent thing for him. '

'Oh, Maude! Then they did not say anything about what we hoped?'

'What, the mater's offering for you to come and live with us, darling?Oh no; and I's afraid it is of no use to ask her, for she said ofherself, that she knew Mr. Mohun had sisters, and--'

'And what? Tell me, Maude. You must!'

'Well, then, you know you made me, and I think it is a shame. She saidshe was glad she wasn't one of them, for you were such a peculiarchild. '

'Dear me, Maude, you needn't mind telling me that! I'm sure I don'twant to be like everybody else. '

'And are you going to one of your aunts?'

'Yes, to Aunt Lilias. Oh, Maude, he would not hear a word against it, and I know it will be so horrid! Aunts are always nasty!'

'Kate is very fond of her aunt, ' said Maude, who did not happen to haveany personal experiences to oppose to this sweeping assertion. 

'Oh, I don't mean proper aunts, but aunts that have orphans left tothem. '

'But you are not an orphan, darling. '

'I dare say I shall be. 'Tis a horrible climate, and there are no endof cannibals there, so that he would not take me out for anything, --andsharks, and volcanoes, and hurricanes. '

'I don't think they eat people there now. '

'It's bad enough if they don't! And you know those aunts begin prettywell, while they are in fear of the father, but then they get worse. '

'There was Ada Morton, ' said Maude, in a tone of conviction, 'and AnnaRoss. '

'Oh yes, and another book, 'Rose Turquand. ' It was a grown-up book, that I read once--long ago, ' said Dolores, who had in her mother's timebeen allowed a pretty free range of 'book-box. '

"And there's 'Under the Shield, ' but that was a boy. "

'There are lots and lots, ' said Dolores. 'They are ever so much worsethan the stepmothers! Not that there is any fear of that!' she addedquickly. 

'But isn't this Aunt Lilias nice? It's a pretty name. Which is she?You have one aunt a Lady Something, haven't you?'

'Yes, it is this one, Lady Merrifield. Her husband is a general, SirJasper Merrifield, and he is gone out to command in some place inIndia; but she cannot stand the climate, and is living at home at aplace called Silverfold, with a whole lot of children. I think two aregone out with their father, but there are a great many more. '

'Don't you know them at all?'

'No, and don't want to! I think my aunts were unkind to mother!'

'Oh!' exclaimed Maude. 

'I am sure of it. They were horrid, stuck-up, fine ladies, and lookeddown on her, though she was ever so much nicer, and cleverer, and moreintellectual than they; and she looked down on them. '

'Are you sure?' asked Maude, to whom it was as good as a story. 

'Yes, indeed. She was civil, of course, because they were father'ssisters, but I know she couldn't bear them. If any of them came toLondon, there was a calling, but all very stupid, and a dining at LordRotherwood's; but she never would, except once, when I can hardlyremember, go to stay at their slow places in the country. I've heardfather try to persuade her when they didn't think I understood. Youknow we always went abroad, or to the sea or something, except lastyear, when we were at Beechcroft. That wasn't so bad, for there werelots of books, and Uncle Reginald was there, and he is jolly. '

'Can't you get Mr. Mohun to send you there?'

'No, I don't think they would have me, for every body there is grownup, and father seems to have a wish for me to be with this Aunt Lilias, because she has a schoolroom. '

'I wonder he should wish it, if she was unkind to Mrs. Mohun. '

'Well, she was out of the way most of the time. They have lived atMalta and Gibraltar, and Belfast, and all sorts of places, so they willall have regular garrison frivolous manner, and think of nothing butofficers and balls. I know she was a beauty, and wants to be onestill. '

'Maude, whose father was a professor, looked quite appalled and said--

'You will be the one to infuse better things. ' She felt quite proud ofthe word. 

'Perhaps, ' returned Dolores; 'they always do that in time, but nottill they've been awfully bullied. All the cousins are jealous, andthe aunt spites them because they are nicer and prettier than her own. '

'Yes, ' said Maude, 'but then there's always some tremendously nice boy-cousin, or uncle, or something, that makes up for it all. Will SirJasper Merrifield's eldest son be a Sir?'

'Oh no; he's not a baronet, but a G. C. B. , Knight Grand Cross of theBath, that is. Besides, I don't care for love, and titles, and allthat nonsense, though father is first cousin to Lord Rotherwood. '

'And you never saw any of them?'

'Yes, Aunt Lilias was at the Charing Cross Hotel with Uncle Jasper andthe two eldest daughters, Alethea and Phyllis, and some more of them, just before they sailed; and father took me there on Sunday toluncheon; but there were so many people, and such a talk, and such abustle, that I hardly knew which was which. Aunt Jane and Aunt Adawere a talking that it made my head turn round; but I saw how affectedAunt Lilias is, and I knew that whenever they looked at me they said'poor child, ' and I always hate any one who does that! All I wasafraid of then was that father would let Aunt Jane and Aunt Ada comeand live with us; but this is ever so much worse. '

'You have such a lot of aunts and uncles!' said Maude, 'and I have notgot anything but one old uncle. '

'Uncles are all very well, ' said Dolores, said Maude. 'There are thetwo Miss Mohuns--'

'Oh, that's beginning at the wrong end. Aunt Ada is the youngest ofthem all, and she thinks she is a young lady still, and wears littlecurls on her forehead, and a tennis pinafore, and makes her waist justlike a wasp. She and Aunt Jane live together at Rockquay, because shehas bad health--at least she has whenever she likes; and Aunt Jane doesall sorts of charities and worries, and sets everybody to rights, ' saidDolly, in a very grown-up voice, speaking partly from her ownobservation, and partly repeating what she had caught from her elders. 

'Oh yes, I know her, ' said Maude. 'She asked me questions about all Idid, and she did bother mamma so about a maid she recommended that weare never going to take another from her. '

'Aunt Phyllis comes between them, I believe; but she has married asailor captain and gone to settle in New Zealand, and I have not seenher since I was a very little girl. Then there's Aunt Emily, who is avery great swell indeed. Her husband was a canon, Lord Henry Grey; buthe is dead, and she lives at Brighton, a regular fat, comfortable down-pillow of a woman, who isn't bad to lunch with, only she sends one outto the Parade with her maid, as if one was a baby. Mother used tolaugh at her. And I think there was an older one who went to India anddied long ago. '

'I have seen your two uncles. There's Major Mohun. Oh! he is fun!'

'Yes, dear old Uncle Regie! I wish he was not in Ireland. He will beso sorry to miss seeing father off, but he can't get leave. And therewas a clergyman who is dead, and father grieved for very much. I thinkhe did something to make them all nicer to mother, for it was justafter that we went to stay at Beechcroft with Uncle William. You knowhim, and how mother used to call him the very model of a countrysquire; and I like his wife, Aunt Alethea. Only it is very pokey andslow down there, and they are always after flannel petticoats and soupkitchens, and all the old fads that are exploded. I should get awfullytired of it before a year was out, only I should not be teased withstrange children, and there would be no one to be jealous of me. '

'Can't you get your father to change and send you there?'

'Not a chance. You see Aunt Lilias had offered, and they haven't, andI must go on with my education. I hope, though I shall have noadvantages, I shall still be able to go up for the Cambridgeexamination, if Aunt Lilias has not prejudices, as I dare say she has, since of course none of her own will be able to try. '

'You'll come up to us for the examination, Dolly dear, and we shall doit together, and that will be nice!'

'If they will let me; but I don't expect to be allowed to do anythingthat I wish. Only perhaps father may be come home by that time. '

'Is it three years?'

'Yes. It is a terrible time, isn't it? However, when I'm seventeenperhaps he will talk to me, and I can really keep house. '

'And then you'll come back here?'

'Do you know, Maudie--listen--I've another uncle, belonging to mother. '

'Oh, Dolly! I thought she had no one!'

'He told me he was my Uncle Alfred once when he met me in the park withFraulein, and gave me a note for mother. He is called Mr. Flinders. '

'But I thought your mother was daughter to Professor Hay?'

'But this is a half-brother; my grandmother was married before. UncleAlfrey has an immense light beard, and I think he is very poor. Hecame once or twice to see mother, and they always sent me out of theroom; but I am sure she gave him money--not father's housekeepingmoney, but what she got for herself by writing. Once I heard father goout of the house, saying, 'Well, it's your own to do as you pleasewith. ' And then mother went to her room, and I know she cried. It wasthe only time that ever mother cried!' And as Maude listened, muchimpressed--'Once when she had got eleven pounds, and we were going tohave bought father such a binocular for a secret as a birthday present, Mr. Flinders came, and she gave him ten of it, and we could only buyjust a few slides for father. And she told me she was grieved, but shecould not help it, and it would be time for me to understand when I wasolder. '

'I don't think this Uncle Alfrey can be nice, ' said Maude. 

''Tis quite disgusting if he kisses me, ' said Dolly; 'but you see he ispoor, and all the Mohuns are stuck up, except father, and they wantedmother to despise him, and not help him. And you see, she stuck tohim. I don't like him much; but you see nobody ever was like her! Oh, Maude, if she wasn't dead!'

And poor Dolores cried as she had not done even at the time of theaccident, or in the terrible week that followed, or at the desolatehome coming. 

CHAPTER II

THE MERRIFIELDS. 

The cool twilight of a long sunny summer's day was freshening thepleasant garden of a country house, and three people were walkingslowly along a garden path enjoying the contrast with the heat, glare, and noise of the day. The central one was a tall, slender lady, with alight shawl hung round her shoulders. On one side was a youth who hadbegun to overtop her, on the other a girl of shorter and sturdiermould, who only reached up to her shoulder. 

'So she is coming!' the girl said. 

'Yes, Uncle Maurice has answered my letter very kindly. '

'I should think he would be very much obliged, ' observed the boy. 

'Please, mamma, do tell us all about it, ' said the girl. 'You know Istopped directly when you made me a sign not to go on asking questionsbefore the little ones. And you said you should have to make us yourfriends while papa and the grown-ups are away. '

'Well, Gillian, I know you can be discreet when you are warned, andperhaps it is best that you should know how things stand. Do youremember anything about it, Hal?'

'Only a general perception that there were tempests in the higherregions, but I think that was more from hearing Alley and Phyl talkthan from my native sagacity. '

'So I should suppose, since you were only six years old, at theutmost. '

'But Uncle Maurice always was under a cloud, wasn't he, especially atBeechcroft, where I never saw him or his wife in the holidays exceptonce, when I believe she was not at all liked, and was thought to bevery proud, and stuck-up, and pretentious. '

'But was she just nobody? not a lady?' cried Gillian. 'Aunt Emilyalways called her, '"Poor thing. "'

'Perhaps she did the same by Aunt Emily, ' returned Hal. 

'And I am sure I have heard Aunt Ada say that she wasn't a lady; andAunt Jane that she had all sorts of discreditable connections. '

'Come now, Gill, if you chatter so, how is mamma to get a word inbetween?'

'I'm afraid we have all been hard on her, poor thing!'

'There now, mamma has done it, just like Aunt Emily!'

'Anybody would be poor who got killed in a glacier!'

'No, but one doesn't say poor when people are--nice. '

'When I said poor, ' now put in Lady Merrifield, 'it was not so muchthat I was thinking of her death as of her having come into a familywhere nobody welcomed her, and I really do not suppose it was herfault. '

'Moreover, she seemed to do very well without a welcome, ' added Hal. 

'Who is interrupting now?' cried Gillian, 'but was she a lady?'

'I never saw her, you know, ' said the mother; 'but from all I everheard of her, I should think she was, and cleverer and more highlyeducated than any of us. '

'Yes, ' said Hal, 'that was the kind of pretension that exasperated themall at Beechcroft, especially Uncle William. '

'I wonder if Dolores will have it!' said Gillian. 'I suppose she willknow much more than we do. '

'Probably, being the only child of such parents, and with everyadvantage London can give. Maurice was always much the cleverest of usall, and with a very strong mechanical and scientific turn, so that Inow think it might have been better to have let him follow his bent. But when we were young there was a good deal of mistrust of anythingoutside the beaten tracks of gentlemanlike professions, and my dear oldfather did not like what he heard of the course of study for thoselines. Things were not as they are now. So Maurice went to Cambridge, and was fifth wrangler of his year, and then had to go to the bar. Itsomehow always gave him a thwarted, injured feeling of working againstthe grain, and he cultivated all these scientific pursuits to theutmost, getting more and more into opinions and society that distressedgrandpapa and Uncle William. So he fell in with Mr. Hay, a professorat a German university. I can hear William's tone of utter contemptand disgust. I believe this poor man was exceedingly learned, and hadmade some remarkable discoveries, but he was very poor, and lived inlodgings at Bonn with his daughter in the small way people are contentto do in Germany. As to his opinions, we all took it for granted thathe was a freethinker; but I can't tell how that might be. Mauricelodged in the same house one year when he went to learn German andattend lectures, and he went back again every long vacation. At lastcame your dear grandfather's death. Maurice hurried away fromBeechcroft immediately after the funeral, and the next thing that washeard of him was that he had married Miss Hay. It was no wonder thatyour Uncle William was bitterly hurt and offended at the apparentdisrespect to our father, and would make no move towards Maurice. '

'It was when we were at the Cape, wasn't it?' asked Hal. 

'Yes, the year Gillian was born. Well, your dear Uncle Claude went tosee Maurice in London, and found there was much excuse. Maurice hadlearnt that the old professor was dying, and his daughter had nothing, and would have had to be a governess, so that Maurice had married herin haste in order to be able to help them. '

'Then it really was very kind and noble in him!' exclaimed Gillian. 

'And I believe every one would have felt it so; but for hisunfortunately reserved way of concealing the extent of theacquaintance, and showing that he would not be interfered with. Claudedid his best to close the breach, but there had been something toforgive on both sides, and perhaps SHE was prouder than the Mohunsthemselves. Oh! my dears, I hope you will never have a family quarrelamong you! It is so sad to look back upon a change after the happyyears when we were all together, and were laughing and making fun ofone another!'

'But you were quite out of it, mamma. '

'So I was in a way, but I knew nothing of the justification till toolate for any advances from us to take much effect. I am four yearsolder than Maurice, we had never been a pair, and had nevercorresponded. And when I wrote to him and to his wife, I only receivedstiff, formal answers. They were abroad when we were in London oncoming home, and they would not come to see us at Belfast, so that Icould never make acquaintance with her; but I believe she was anexcellent wife, suiting him admirably in every way, and I expect tofind this little daughter of theirs very well brought up, and muchforwarder than honest old Mysie. '

'Mysie is in perfect raptures at the notion of having a cousin hereexactly of her own age, ' said Gillian. 'What she would wish is thatthe two should be so much alike as to be taken for twins. I have beentrying to remember Dolores on that dreadful Sunday at the hotel, whenUncle Maurice came to see us, just when papa was setting off forBombay, but it all seems confusion. I can think of nothing but alittle black, shy figure. I remember Phyllis telling me that shethought I ought to do something to entertain her, but I could not thinkof a word to say to her. '

'For which perhaps she was thankful, ' said her brother. 

'I am not sure. You are all too apt, when you are shy, to consoleyourself with fancying that you are doing as you would be done by. Itmight have worried her then perhaps, but it would have made it easierfor her to begin among us now! I am very glad her father consents tomy having her! I do hope we may make her happy. '

'Happy!' said Gillian. 'Anybody must be happy with such a number toplay with, and with you to mother her, mamma. '

'I am afraid she will not feel me much like her own mother, poor child!But it will not be for want of the will. When I look back now I feelsorry for myself for the early loss of my mother, for though we wereall merry enough as children and young people, there always seems tohave been a lack of something fostering and repressing. There was akind of desolateness in our life, though we did not understand it atthe time. I am thankful you have not known it, my dears. ' There was astrange rush of tears nearly choking her voice, and she shook them awaywith a sort of laugh. 'That I should cry for that at this time ofday!'

Gillian raised her face for a kiss, and even Harry did the same. Theirhearts were very full, as the perception swept over them in one flashwhat their lives would have been without mamma. It seemed like thesolid earth giving way under their feet!

'I am very sorry for poor Dolores, ' said Gillian presently. 'It seemsas if we could never be kind enough to her. '

'Yes. Indeed I hope we may do something towards supplying her with areal home, wandering sprites as we have been, ' said Lady Merrifield. 

'What a name it is! Dolores! It is as bad as Peter Grievous! How didshe get it?' grumbled Harry. 

'That I cannot tell, but I think we must call her Dora or Dolly, as Ifancy your Aunt Jane told me she was called at home. I hope Wilfredwill not get hold of it and tease her about it. You must defend herfrom that. '

'If we can, ' said Gillian; 'but Wilfred is rather an imp. '

'Yes, ' said Harry. 'I found Primrose reduced to the verge ofdistraction yesterday because 'Willie would call her Leg of Mutton. ''

'I hope you boxed his ears!' cried Gillian. 

'I did give it to him well, ' said Hal, laughing. 

'Thank you, ' said his mother. 'A big brother is more effective in suchcases than any one else can be. Wilfred is the only one of you all whoever seemed to take pleasure in causing pain--and I hardly know how tomeet the propensity. '

'He is the only one who is not quite certain to be nice with Dolores, 'said Gillian. 

'And I really don't quite see how to manage, ' said the mother. 'If weshow him our anxiety to shield her, it is very likely to direct hisattention that way. '

'She must take her chance, ' said Hal, 'and if she is any way rational, she can soon put a stop to it. '

'But, oh dear! I wish he could go to school, ' said Gillian. 

'So do I, my dear, ' returned her mother; 'but you know the doctors saywe must not risk it for another year, and I can only hope that as hegrows stronger, he may become more manly. Meantime we must be patientwith him, and Hal can help more than any one else. There--what's thatstriking?'

'Three quarters. '

'Then we must make haste in, or we shall not have finished supperbefore ten. '

Lilias Mohun had married a soldier, and after many wanderings throughmilitary stations, the health and education of a large proportion ofher family had necessitated her remaining at home with them, while herhusband held a command in India, taking out with him the two grown-updaughters and the second son, who was on his staff. She wasestablished in a large house not far from a country town, for theconvenience of daily governess, tutor, and masters. She herself hadgrown up on the old system which made education depend more on thefamily than on the governess, and she preferred honestly the companyand training of her children to going into society in her husband'sabsence. Therefore she arranged her habits with a view to beingconstantly with them, and though exchanging calls, and occasionallyaccepting invitations in the neighbourhood, it was an understood thingthat she went out very little. The chief exceptions were when hereldest son, Harry, was at home from Oxford. He was devotedly fond ofher, and all the more pleased and proud to take her about with himbecause it had not always been possible that his holidays in his schoollife should be spent at home, and thus the privilege was doubly prized. 

The two sisters above and one brother below him were in India withtheir father, and Gillian was not yet out of the schoolroom, thoughthis did not cut her off from being her mother's prime companion. Thenfollowed a schoolboy at Wellington, named Jasper, two more girls, abrace of boys, and the five-year-old baby of the establishment--sufficient reasons to detain Lady Merrifield in England after more thantwenty years of travels as a soldier's wife, so that scarcely three ofher children had the same birthplace. She had been able to see verylittle of her English relations, being much tied by the number of herchildren while all were very young, and the expense of journeys; butshe was now within easy reach of her two unmarried sisters, and afterthe Cape, Gibraltar, Malta, and Dublin, the homes of her eldest sister, and of her eldest brother did not seem very far off. 

Indeed Beechcroft, the home of her childhood, had always been theheadquarters of herself and her children on their rare visits toEngland. Her elder boys had been sure of a welcome there in theholidays, and loved it scarcely less than she did herself; and whenlooking for her present abode, the whole family had stayed there forthree months. Her brother Maurice, however, she had scarcely seen, andshe had been much pained at being included in his persistent avoidanceof the whole family, who felt that he resented their displeasure at hismarriage even more since his wife's death than he had done during herlifetime, as if he felt doubly bound, for her sake, not to forgive andforget. At least so said some of the family, while others hoped thathis distaste to all intercourse with them only arose from the apathysucceeding a great blow. 

CHAPTER III

GOOD-BYE

A passage was offered to Mr. Mohun in a Queen's ship, and this hurriedthe preparations so much that to Dolores it appeared that there wasnothing but bustle and confusion, from the day of her conversation withMaude, until she found herself in the railway carriage returning fromPlymouth with her eldest uncle. Her father had intended to take herhimself to Silverfold; but detentions at the office in London, and thena telegram from Plymouth, had disconcerted his plans, and when he foundthat his eldest brother would come and meet him at the last, he wasglad to yield to his little daughter's earnest desire to be with him aslong as possible. 

Shy and reserved as both were, and almost incapable of findingexpression for their feelings, they still clung closely together, though the only tears the girl was seen to shed came in church on thelast Sunday evening, blinding and choking, and she could barelyrestrain her sobs. Her father would have taken her out, but sheresisted, and leant against him, while he put his arm round her. Afterthis, whenever it was possible, she crept up to him, and he held herclose. 

There had been no further discussion on her home. Lady Merrifield hadwritten kindly to her, as well as to her father, but that was smallconsolation to one so well instructed by story books in the hypocrisyof aunts until fathers were at a distance. And her father was somanifestly gratified by the letter, that it would be of no use to say aword to him now. Her fate was determined, and, as she heroically toldMaude in their last interview, she was determined to make the best ofit. She would endure the unjust aunt, and jealous, silly cousins, andbe so clever, and wise, and superior, that she would force them toadmire and respect her, and by-and-by follow her example, and be goodand sensible, so that when father came home, he would find themacknowledging that they owed everything to her; she had saved two orthree of their lives, nursed half of them when the other half werehelpless, fainting, and hysterical, and, in short, been the Providenceof the household. Then father would look at her, and say, 'My Maryagain!' and he would take her home, and talk to her with the freeconfidence he had shown her mother, and would be comforted. 

This was the hope that had carried her through the last parting, whenshe went on board with her uncle and saw her father's cabin, and lookedwith a dull kind of entertainment at all the curious arrangements ofthe big ship. It seemed more like sight-seeing than good-bye, when atlast they were sent on shore, and hurried up to the station just intime for the train. 

Uncle William was a very unapproachable person. He did not profess tounderstand little girls. He looked at Dolores rather anxiously, afraid, perhaps, that she was crying, and put her into the carriage, thenrushed out and brought back a handful of newspapers, giving her theGraphic, and hiding himself in the Times. 

She felt too dull and stunned to read, or to look at the pictures, though she held the paper in her hands, and she gazed out dreamily atthe Ton's and rocks and woody ravines of Dartmoor as they flew pasther, the leaves and ferns all golden brown with autumn colouring. Shehad had little sleep that night; her little legs had all the morningbeen keeping up with the two men's hasty steps, and though an excellentmeal had been set before her in the ship, she had not been able toswallow much, and she was a good deal worn out. So when at last theyreached Exeter, and finding there would be two hours to wait, her uncleasked whether she would come down into the town with him and see theCathedral, she much preferred to stay where she was. He put her underthe care of the woman in the waiting-room, who gave her some tea, tookoff her hat, and made her lie down on a couch, where she slept quitesound for more than an hour, until she was roused by some ladies comingin with a crying baby. 

It was, she thought, nearly time to go on, for the gas was beinglighted. She put on her hat, and went out to look for her uncle on theplatform, so as to get into a better light to see the face of hermother's little Swiss watch, which her father had just made over toher. She had just made out that there was not more than a quarter of anhour to spare, when she heard an exclamation. 

'By Jove! if that ain't Mary's little girl!' and, looking up she sawMr. Flinders' huge, bushy, light-coloured beard. 'Is your father here?'he asked. 

'No; he sailed this afternoon. '

'Always my luck! Ticket wasted! Sailed--really?'

'Oh yes. We did not come back till the ship was out of harbour. '

He muttered some exclamation, and asked--

'Whom are you with?'

'Uncle William. Mr. Mohun--my eldest uncle. He will be backdirectly. '

Mr. Flinders whistled a note of discontent. 

'Going to rusticate with him, poor little mite?' he asked. 

'No. I'm to live with my Aunt Lilias--Lady Merrifield. '

'Where?'

'At Silverfold Grange, near Silverfold. '

'Well, you'll get among the swells. They'll make you cut all your poormother's connections. So there's an end of it. She was a goodcreature--she was!'

'I'll never forget any one that belongs to her, ' said Dolores. 'Oh, there's Uncle William!' as on the top of the stairs she spied thewelcome sight of his grey locks and burly figure. Before he haddescended, her other uncle had vanished, and she fancied she had heardsomething about, 'Mum about our meeting. Ta ta!'

Uncle William's eyes being less sharp than hers, he was on his way tothe waiting-room before she joined him, and as he had not seen herencounter, she would not tell him. They were settled in the carriageagain, and she was tolerably refreshed. Mr. Mohun fell asleep, and she, after reading by the lamp-light as long as she could find anything toread, gazed at the odd reflections in the windows till she, too, noddedand dozed, half waking at every station. 

At last, she was aware of a stop in earnest, voices, and being called. There was her uncle saying, 'Well, Hal, here we are!' and she waslifted out and set on the platform, with gas all round. Her uncle wassaying, 'We didn't get away in time for the express, ' and a young manwas answering, 'We'd better put Dolly into the waggonette at once. Then I'll see to the luggage. '

Very like a parcel, so stiff were her legs, she was bundled into thedark cavern of a closed waggonette, and, after a little lumbering, heruncle and the young man got in after her, saying something about eleveno'clock. 

She was more awake now, and knew that they were driving through lightedstreets, and then, after an interval, turned into darkness, upongravel, and stopped at last before a door full of light, with figuresstanding up dark in it. She heard a 'Well, William!' 'Well Lily, herewe are at last!' Then there were arms embracing her, and a kiss on eachcheek, as a soft voice said, 'My poor little girl! They wanted to situp for you, but it was too late, and I dare say you had rather bequiet. '

She was led into a lamp-lit room, which dazzled her. It was spreadwith food, but she was too much tired to eat, and her aunt saw how itwas, and telling Harry to take care of his uncle, she took the hand--though it did not close on hers--and, climbing up what seemed toDolores an endless number of stairs, she said--

'You are up high, my dear; but I thought you would like a room toyourself. '

'Poked away in an attic, ' was Dolores's dreamy thought; while her auntadded, to a tall, thin woman, who came out with a lamp in her hand--

'She is so tired that she had better go to bed directly, Mrs. Halfpenny. You will make her comfortable, and don't let her bedisturbed in the morning till she has had her sleep out. '

Dolly found herself undressed, without many words, till it came to--'Your prayers, Miss Dora. I am sure you've need not to miss them. '

She did not like to be told, besides, poor child, prayers were not muchmore than a form to her. She did not contest the point, but knelt downand muttered something, then laid her weary head on the pillow, wastucked up by Mrs. Halfpenny, and left in the dark. It was a drearyhalf sleep into which she fell. The noise of the train seemed to bestill in her ears, and at the same time she was always being driven up--up--up endless stairs, by tall, cruel aunts; or they were shutting herup to do all their children's work, and keeping away father's lettersfrom her. Then she awoke and told herself it was a dream, but shemissed the noises of the street, and the patch of light on the wallfrom the gas lamps, and recollected that father was gone, and she wasreally in the power of one of these cruel aunts; and she felt likescreaming, only then she might have been heard; and a great horridclock went on making a noise like a church bell, and striking so manyodd quarters that there was no guessing when morning was coming. Andafter all, why should she wish it to come? Oh, if she could but sleepthe three years while father was away!

At last, however, she fell into a really calm sleep, and when sheawoke, the room was full of light, but her watch had stopped; she hadbeen too much tired to remember to wind it; and she lay a little whilehearing sounds that made it clear that the world was astir, and shecould see that preparations had been made for her getting up. 

'They shan't begin by scolding me for being late, ' she thought, and shebegan her toilette. 

Just as she came to her hair, the old nurse knocked and asked whethershe wanted help. 

'Thank you, I've been used to dress myself, ' said Dolores, ratherproudly. 

'I'll help you now, missy, for prayers are over, and they are all goneto breakfast, only my lady said you were not to be disturbed, and MissMysie will be up presently again to bring you down. '

She spoke low, and in an accent that Dolores afterwards learnt wasScotch; and she was a tall, thin, bony woman, with sandy hair, wholooked as if she had never been young. She brushed and plaited thedark hair in a manner that seemed to the owner more wearisome and lesstender than Caroline's fashion; and did not talk more than to inquireinto the fashion of wearing it, and to say that Miss Mohun's boxes hadbeen sent from London, demanding the keys that they might be unpacked. 

'I can do that myself, ' said Dolores, who did not like any stranger tomeddle with her things. 

'Ye could tak them oot, nae doubt, but I must sort them. It's mylady's orders, ' said Mrs. Halfpenny, with all the determination of thesergeant, her husband, and Dolores, with a sense of despair, and a sortof expectation that she should be deprived of all her treasures on oneplea or another, gave up the keys. 

Mrs. Halfpenny then observed that the frock which had been worn for thelast two days on the railway, and evening and morning, needed a betterbrushing and setting to rights than she had had time to give it. Shehad better take out another. Which box were her frocks in?

Dolores expected her heartless relations to insist on her leaving offher mourning, and she knew she ought to struggle and shed tears overit; but, to tell the truth, she was a good deal tired of her hot andfusty black; and when she had followed Mrs. Halfpenny into a passagewhere the boxes stood uncorded; and the first dress that came to lightwas a pretty fresh-looking holland that had been sent home just beforethe accident, she exclaimed--

'Oh, let me put that on. '

'Bless me, miss, it has blue braid, and you in mourning for your poormamma!'

Dolores stood abashed, but a grey alpaca, which she had always muchdisliked, came out next, and Mrs. Halfpenny decided that with her blackribbons that would do, though it turned out to be rather shockinglyshort, and to show a great display of black legs; but as the boxcontaining the clothes in present wear had not come to hand, this muststand for the present--and besides, a voice was heard, saying, 'Is Doraready?' and a young person darted up, put her arms round her neck, andkissed her before she knew what she was about. 'Mamma said I shouldcome because I am just your age, thirteen and a half, ' she said. 'I'mMysie, though my proper name is Maria Millicent. '

Dolores looked her over. She was a good deal taller than herself, andhad rich-looking shining brown hair, dark brown eyes full of merriment, and a bright rosy colour, and she danced on her active feet as if shewere full of perpetual life. 'All happy and not caring, ' thoughtDolores. 

'Now don't fash Miss Mohun with your tricks. She has stood like alamb, ' said Mrs. Halfpenny reprovingly. 'There, we'll not keep her tofind an apron. '

'I don't wear pinafores, ' said Mysie, 'but I don't mind pretty apronslike this. 'Why, my sisters had them for tennis, before they went outto India. Come along, Dora, ' grasping her hand. 

'My name isn't Dora, ' said the new-comer, as they went down thepassage. 

'No, ' said Mysie, in a low voice; 'but mamma told Gill--that's Gillian, and me, that we had better not tell anybody, because if the boys heardthey might tease you so about it; for Wilfred is a tease, and there'sno stopping him when mamma isn't there. So she said she would call youDora, or Dolly, whichever you liked, and you are not a bit like aDolly. '

'They always called me Dolly, ' said Dolores; 'and if I am not to havemy name, I like that best; but I had rather have my proper name. '

'Oh, very well, ' said Mysie; 'it is more out of the way, only it isvery long. '

By this time they had descended a long narrow flight of uncarpetedstairs, 'the back ones, ' as Mysie explained, and had reached a slipperyoak hall with high-backed chairs, and all the odds and ends of afamily-garden hats, waterproofs, galoshes, bats, rackets, umbrellas, etc. , ranged round, and a great white cockatoo upon a stand, whoobserved--'Mysie, Cockie wants his breakfast, ' as they went by towardsthe door, whence proceeded a hubbub of voices and a clatter of knivesand jingle of teaspoons and cups, a room that as Mysie threw open thedoor seemed a blaze of sunshine, pouring in at the large window, andreflected in the glass and silver. Yes, and in the bright eyes andglossy hair of the party who sat round the breakfast-table, furtherbrightened by the fire, pleasant in the early autumn. 

Eyes, as it seemed to Dolores, eyes without number were levelled onher, as Mysie led her in, saying--

'Here's a place by mamma; she kept it for you, between her and UncleWilliam. '

'No, don't all jump up at once and rush at her, ' said Lady Merrifield. 'Give her a little time. Here, my dear;' and she held out her hand anddrew in the stranger to her, kissing her kindly, and placing her in achair close to herself, as she presided over the teacups--not at theend, but at the middle of the table--while all that could be desired toeat and drink found its way at once to Dolores, who had arrived atbeing hungry now, and was glad to have the employment for hands andeyes, instead of feeling herself gazed at. She was not so muchoccupied, however, as not to perceive that Uncle William's voice had afree, merry ring in it, such as she had never heard in his visits toher father, and that there was a great deal of fun and laughter goingon over the thin sheets of an Indian letter, which Aunt Lily wasreading aloud. 

No one seemed to be attending to anything else, when Dolores venturedto cast a glance around and endeavour to count heads as she sat betweenher uncle and aunt. Two boys and a girl were opposite. Harry, who hadcome to meet them last night, was at one end of the table, a tall girl, but still a schoolroom girl, was at the other, and Mysie had been lostsights of on her own side of the table; also there was a very tiny girlon a high chair on the other side of her mamma. 'Seven, ' thoughtDolores with sinking heart. 'Eight oppressors!'

They were mostly brown-eyed, well-grown creatures. One boy, at thefurther corner, had a cast in his eye, and was thin and wizen-looking, and when he saw her eyes on him, he made up an ugly face, which he gotrid of like a flash of lightning before any one else could see it, buther heart sank all the more for it. He must be Wilfred, the teaser. 

Aunt Lilias was a tall, slender woman, dressed in some kind of softgrey, with a little carnation colour at her throat, and a pretty lacecap on her still rich, abundant, dark brown hair, where diligent searchcould only detect a very few white threads. Her complexion was alwaysof a soft, paly, brunette tint, and though her cheeks showed signs thatshe was not young, her dark, soft, long-lashed eyes and sweet-lookinglips made her face full of life and freshness; and the figure and longslender hands had the kind of grace that some people call willowy, butwhich is perhaps more like the general air of a young birch tree, or, as Hal had once said, 'Early pointed architecture reminded him of hismother. '

The little one was getting restless, and two of the boys beganfilliping crumbs at one another. 

'Wilfred! Fergus!' said the mother quite low and gently; but theystopped directly. 'We will say grace, ' she said, lifting the littleone down. 'Now, Primrose. '

Every one stood up, to Dolores' surprise, a pair of little fat handswere put together, a little clear voice said a few words ofthanksgiving perfectly pronounced. 

'You may go, if you like, ' she said. 'Hal, take care of Prim. '

Up jumped the two boys and a sprite of a girl, who took the hand oflittle Primrose, a beautiful little maiden with rich chestnut wavycurls. They all paused at the door, the boys making a salute, thegirls a little curtsey. Primrose's was as pretty a little 'bob' asever was seen. 

'I am glad you keep that custom up, ' said Mr. Mohun. 

'Jasper had been brought up to it, and wished it to be the habit amongus; and I find it a great protection against bouncing and rudeness. '

But Dolly's blood boiled at such stupid, antiquated, military nonsense. She would never give in to it, if they made her live on bread andwater!

The uncle and aunt, who perhaps had lengthened out their breakfast frompoliteness to her, had finished when she had, and the pony-chaise cameto the door, in which Hal was to drive Uncle William to the station. Everybody flocked to the door to bid him good-bye, and then Aunt Liliasstooped down to ask Dolores if she were quite rested and felt quitewell, Mysie standing anxiously by as if she felt her a great charge. 

'Quite well, quite rested, thank you, ' the girl answered in her stiff, shy way. 

'There is half an hour to spare before Miss Vincent comes. Thechildren generally spend it in feeding the creatures. I am not goingto give a holiday, because I think people get more pleasantlyacquainted over something, than over nothing, to do, but you need notbegin lessons to-day if you had rather settle your thoughts and writeyour letters. '

'I had rather begin at once, ' said Dolores, who thought she would nowestablish her pre-eminence at the cost of any amount of jealousy. 

'Very well, then, when you hear the gong--'

'Mamma, ' said Mysie solemnly, after long waiting, 'she says she hadrather not be called out of her name. '

'I thought you had been called Dolly, my dear. '

'Yes, at home, ' with a strong emphasis. 

'Well, my dear, I dare say it may be better to keep to your proper nameat once. We won't take liberties with it, till you feel as if youcould call this home, ' said Lady Merrifield, looking as if she wouldhave kissed her niece on the slightest encouragement, but no one everlooked less kissable than Dolores Mohun at that moment. Was it notcruel and hypocritical to talk of this tiresome multitude as evermaking home?

CHAPTER IV. 

TURNED IN AMONG THEM

'Do you like pets?' asked Mysie eagerly, as her mother left the twogirls together. 

'I never had any, ' said Dolores. 

'Oh how dreadful! Why, old Cockie, and Aga and Begum, the two oldestpussies, have been everywhere with us. And, besides, there's Basto, the big Pyrenean dog, and, --oh, here comes little Quiz, mamma's littleMaltese--Quiz, Quiz. '

Dolores started, she did not like either dogs or cats; and the littlespun-glass looking dog smelt about her. 

'I must go and feed my guinea-pig, ' said Mysie; 'won't you come? Hereare some over shoes and Poncho. '

Dolores was afraid Poncho was another beast, but it turned out to be asort of cape, and she discovered that all the cloaks and most of thesticks had names of their own. She was afraid to be left standing onthe steps alone lest any amount of animals or boys should fall on herthere, so she consented to accompany Mysie, who shuffled along in apair of overshoes vastly too big for her, since she had put her cousininto the well-fitting ones. She chattered all the way. 

'We do like this place so. It is the nicest we have ever been in. Allthat is wanting is that papa will buy it, and then we shall never goaway again. '

It was a pleasant place, though not grand; a homely-looking, roomy, red-brick house, covered with creepers--the Virginian one with itsleaves just beginning to be painted. There was a bright sunny gardenfull of flowers in front, and then a paddock, with cows belonging to afarmer, Mysie said. It was her ambition to have them of their own'when papa came home, ' when all good things were to happen. Behindthere were large stable-yards and offices, too large for LadyMerrifield's one horse and one pony, and thus available for thechildren's menagerie of rabbits, guinea-pigs, magpie, and the like. Onthe way Mysie was only too happy to explain the family as she calledit, when she had recovered from her astonishment that Dolores, alwaysliving in England, could not 'count up her cousins. ' 'Why they alwayshad been shown their photographs on a Sunday evening after the Biblepictures, and even little Primrose knew all the likeness, even of thoseshe had never seen. '

The catalogue of names and ages followed. 

Dolores heard it with a feeling of bewilderment, and a sense that oneMaude was worth all the eight put together with whom she was called onto be familiar. She found herself standing in a court, rather grass-grown, where Gillian, with little Primrose by her side, was flingingpeas to a number of pigeons, grey, white, and brown, who flutteredround her. Valetta and Fergus were on the granary steps, throwing mealand sop mixed together to a host of cackling, struggling fowls, whotried to leap over each other's backs. Wilfred seemed busy at somehutches where some rabbits twitched their noses at cabbage leaves. Mysie proceeded to minister to some black and rust-coloured guinea-pigs, which Dolores thought very ugly, uninteresting, and odorous. 

Then there were dogs jumping about everywhere, and cats and kittensparading before people's feet, so that Dolores felt as if she had beenturned into a den of wild beasts, and resolved against ever againventuring into the court at 'feeding-time. ' A big bell gathered allthe children up together into a race to the house. There was anotherscurry to change shoes and wash hands, and then Mysie conducted hercousin into a large, cheerful, wainscoted room on the ground floor, with deep windows, and numerous little, solid-looking deal tables. There were Lady Merrifield and a young lady in spectacles, to whomDolores was presented as 'your new pupil, ' and every one sat down atone of the little tables, on which there were Bibles and Prayer-books. 

Lady Merrifield took the two youngest on each side of her. Doloresfound a table ready for her with the books. A passage in the NewTestament was given out and read verse by verse, to the end of thesubject, which was the Parable of the Tares, and then Lady Merrifieldgave a short lesson on it, asking questions, and causing references tobe found, according to a book of notes, she had ready at hand. 

'Just like a charity school, ' thought Dolores, when she was able toglance at the time-table, and saw that two days in the week there wasOld Testament, two days New, one day Catechism, one day Prayer-book. Only half an hour was thus appropriated, but to her mind it was an old-fashioned waste of time, and very tiresome. 

Then came a ring at the door-bell. 'Mr. Poulter, ' she heard, and toher amazement, she found that Gillian and Mysie, as well as theirbrothers, had Latin lessons in the dining-room with the curate. Thetwo girls and Fergus only went to him every other day, Wilfred everyday, as Gillian was learning Greek and mathematics. What was Doloresto do?

'Have you done any Latin, my dear?' asked her aunt. 

'Not yet. Father wished to be quite convinced that the professor was agood scholar, ' said Dolores. 

'Very well. We will wait a little, ' said Aunt Lilias, and Doloresindignantly thought that she was amused. 

Mysie was sent off to her music in the drawing-room, whither her motherfollowed with Primrose's little lessons, leaving the schoolroom pianoto Valetta, and Fergus to write copies and to do sums, while MissVincent examined the new-comer, which she did by giving her somequestions to answer in writing, and some French and German to translateand parse also in writing. 

The music was inconvenient to a girl who had always prepared her workalone. She could do the language work easily, but the questions teasedher. They seemed to her of no use, and quite out of her beat. Nodates, none of the subject she had specially got up. Why, if MissVincent did not know that people were not to be expected to answerstupid questions about history quite out of their own line, that washer fault. 

She did what she knew, and then sat biting the top of her pen till heraunt came back, and there was a change in occupations all round, resulting in her having to read French aloud, which she knew she didwell; but it was provoking to find that Gillian read quite as well, andknew a word at which she had made a shot, and a wrong one. 

She heard the observation pass between her aunt and the governess, 'Languages fair, but she seems to have very little generalinformation. '

General information, indeed! Just as if she who had lived in London, gone to lectures, and travelled on the Continent, must not know morethan these children cast up and down in a soldier's life; and as if herFraulein, with all her diplomas, must not be far superior to a merelittle daily governess, and a mother! It was all for the sake ofdepreciating her. 

At twelve o'clock, to her further indignation, she found there was tobe an hour of reading aloud and of needlework-actual plain needlework. The three girls were making under-garments for themselves; and onDolores proving to have no work of any sort, her aunt sent Gillian tothe drawer, and produced a child's pinafore, which she was desired tohem. Each, however, had a quarter of an hour's reading aloud ofhistory to do in turn, all from one big book, a history of Rome, andthere was a map hung up over the black board, where they were in turnto point to the places mentioned. Before Gillian began reading, thedate, and something about the former lesson was required to be told bythe children, and it came quite readily, Valetta especially declaringthat she did love Pyrrhus, which the others seemed to think very badtaste. 

Dolores knew nothing about ancient history, and thought it foolish tostudy anything that did not tell in a Cambridge examination; but shesupposed they knew no better down there; and when it came to her turnto read, she mangled the names so, that Val burst out laughing when shespoke of A-pious-Claudius. Lady Merrifield hushed this at once, andthe girl read in a bewildered manner, and as one affronted. She saw heaunt looking at her piece of hemming, which, to say the truth, wouldnot have done credit to Primrose, and the recollection came across herof all the oppressed orphans who had been made household drudges, sothat her reading did not become more intelligible. As the clock struckone, a warning gong was heard; everybody jumped up, the work was foldedaway, and with the obeisance at the door, Gillian and Val ran away. 

Mysie stayed a little longer, it being her turn to tidy the room; andLady Merrifield said to Dolores--

'I must teach you how to hold your needle tomorrow, my dear. '

'I hate work, ' responded Dolores. 

'Val does not like it, ' said her aunt; 'nor indeed did I at your age;but one cannot be an independent woman without being able to take careof one's own clothes, so I resolved that these children should learnbetter than I did. Do you like a take a run with Mysie before dinner?Or there is the amusing shelf. Books may be taken out after oneo'clock, and they must be put back at eight, or they are confiscatedfor the ensuing day, ' she added, pointing to a paper below where thissentence was written. 

Dolores was still rather tired, and more inclined to make friends withthe books than with the cousins. There were fewer than she expected, and nothing like so many absolute stories as she was used to readingwith Maude Sefton. 

'Those are such grown-up books, ' she said to Mysie, who came to assisther choice, and pointed to the upper shelves. 

'Oh, but grown-up books are nicest!' returned Mysie; 'at least, whenthey don't begin being stupid and marrying too soon. They must do itat last to get out of the story, and it's nicer than dying, but theycan have lots of nice adventures first. But here are the 'Feats on theFiords' and the 'Crofton Boys' and 'Water Babies, ' and all the volumesof 'Aunt Judy, ' if you like the younger sort. Or the dear, dear 'ThornFortress;' that's good for young and old. '

'Haven't you any books of your own?'

'Oh yes; this 'Thorn Fortress' is Val's, and 'A York and a LancasterRose' is mine, but whenever any one gives us a book, if it is not aweeny little gem like Gill's 'Christian Year, ' or my 'Little Pillow, 'or Val's 'Children in the Wood, ' we bring it to mother, and if it isnice, we keep it here, for every one to read. If it is just rathersilly, and stupid, we may read it once, and then she keeps it; and ifit is very silly indeed, she puts it out of the way. '

Mysie said it as if it had been killing an animal. 

'Have you got many books?'

'Yes; but I don't mean to have them knocked about by all the boys, norput out of the way neither. '

'Mamma said we were to be all like sisters, ' said Mysie, with rather acraving for the new books; but Dolores tossed up her head and said--

'We can't be. It's nonsense to say so. '

To her surprise, Mysie turned round to Lady Merrifield, who was lookingat some exercises that Miss Vincent had laid before her. 

'Mamma, ' she said, 'is it fair that Dolores should read our books, ifshe won't give you up hers to look over, and be like ours?'

'Mysie, ' said Lady Merrifield, 'you can't expect Dolores to like allour home plans till she is used to them. No, my dear, you need not beafraid; you shall keep your books in your own room, and nobody shallmeddle with them. I am sure your cousins would not wish to be sounkind as to deprive you of the use of theirs. '

By the time Dolores had made up her mind to take 'Tom Brown, ' it wastime for the general flight to prepare for dinner, and she found herroom made to look very pleasant, and almost homelike, for her books andlittle knickknacks had been put out, not quite as she preferred, butstill so as to make the place seem like her own. She was pleasedenough to be quite gracious to Mysie and Val who came to visit her, andto offer to let them read any of her books; when they both thanked herand said--

'If mamma lets us. '

'Oh, then you won't have them, ' said Dolores; 'I'm not going to let herhave my books to take away. '

'You don't think she would take them away, when she said she wouldn't?'said Mysie, hotly. 

'Why, what would she do if she didn't happen to approve of them?'

'Only tell us not to read them. '

'And wouldn't you?'

'Why, Dolores!' in such a tone as made her ashamed of her question; andshe said, 'Well, father never makes any fuss about what I read. He hasother things to think of. '

'How do you get books, then?'

'I buy them. And Maude Sefton, she's my great friend, has lots givento her, but nobody bothers about reading them. They aren't grown-upbooks, you know. '

'How stupid, ' said Val. 'You had better read the 'Talisman, ' and thenyou'll see how nice a grown-up book is. '

'The 'Talisman!' Why, Maude Sefton's brother had to get it up for hisholiday task, and he said it was all rot and bosh. '

'What a horridly stupid boy he must be, ' returned Mysie. 'Why, Iremember when Jasper once had the 'Talisman' to do, and the big oneswere so delighted. Mamma read it out, and I was just old enough tolisten. I remembered all about Sir Kenneth and Roswal. '

'Tom Sefton's not stupid!' said Dolores, in wrath; 'but--but the bookis stupid and out of date! I heard father and the professor say it wasgone by. '

Mysie and Valetta looked perfectly astounded, and Dolores pursued heradvantage. 

'Of course it is all very well for you that have never lived in London, nor had any advantages. '

'But we have advantages!' cried Val. 

'You don't know what advantages are, ' said Dolores. 

'There's the gong, ' cried Mysie, and down they all plunged into thedining-room, where the family were again collected, with Hal at one endand his mother at the other. 

Dolores was amazed when, at the first pause, after every one was help, Valetta's voice arose. 

'Mamma, what are advantages?'

'Don't you know, Val?'

'Dolores says we haven't any. And I said we have. And she says Idon't know what advantages are. '

Hal and Gillian were both laughing with all their might. Their motherkept her countenance, and said--

'I suppose every one has advantages of some sort, and perhaps withoutknowing them. '

'I'm sure I know, ' cried Fergus. 

'Well, what are they?' asked Harry. 

'Having mamma!' cried the little boy. 

'Hear, hear! That's right, Fergy man! Couldn't be better!' criedHarry, and there was a general acclamation, which inspired gentle Mysiewith the fear that her motherless cousin might feel the contrast, and, though against rules, she whispered--

'She will make you like one of us. '

'That wasn't what I meant, ' returned Dolores, a little contemptuously. 

'What did you mean?' said Mysie. 

'Why, you've no classes, nor lectures, nor master, and only just a meredaily governess. '

Dolores did not mean this to be heard beyond her neighbour, but Mysiedemanded--

'What, do you want to be doing lessons all day long?'

'No, but good governesses never are daily!'

'That's a pity, ' said Gillian, turning round on her. 'Perhaps youdon't know that Miss Vincent has a First Class Cambridge Certificate ineverything, and is daily, because she likes to live with her mother. '

'I think, ' added Lady Merrifield, with a smile, 'that Dolores has beenin the way of seeing more clever people, and getting superior teachingof some kind, but we will do the best we can for her, and try not tolet her miss many advantages. '

Dolores felt a little abashed, and decidedly angry at being put in thewrong. 

The elders kindly turned away the general attention from her. Therewas a great deal of merry family fun going on, which was quite like anew language to her. Fergus and Primrose wanted to go out in search ofblackberries. Gillian undertook to drive them in the cart, but as thedonkey had once or twice refused to cross a little stream of water thattraversed the road, the brothers foretold that she would ignominiouslycome back again. 

'Gill and water are perilous!' observed Hal. 

'Jack's not here, ' said Gillian; 'besides, it is down, not up thehill, and I'm sure I don't want to draw a pail of water. '

'No--Sancho will do that. '

'The gong will sound and sound, buzz and roar, ' said Wilfred. 'NoGill! no little ones! We shall send out and find them stuck fast inthe lane, Sancho with his feet spread out wide, Gill with three or foursticks lying broken on the road round her, the kids reduced to eatingblackberries like the children in the wood. '

'Don't Fred, ' said Gillian. 'You'll frighten them. '

'Little donkeys!' said Wilfred. 

'If they were, we shouldn't want Sancho, ' said Val. 

It was not a very sublime bit of wit, but there was a great laugh at itall round the table. Val and Fergus declared they would go too, tillthey heard that Nurse Halfpenny said she would not let the little onesgo out without her to tear their clothes to pieces. 

Every one unanimously declared that would be no fun at all, and turnedto mamma to beg her to forbid nurse to come out and spoil everything. 

'That's just her view, ' said mamma, laughing; 'she thinks you spoileverything. '

'Oh, that's clothes! Spoiling fun is worse. '

'But were you really going with the old Halfpenny, Gill?' said Mysie, turning to her. 

'Yes, ' said Gillian. 'You know I can manage her pretty well when it isonly the little ones and they wouldn't have any pleasure otherwise. '

'Oh come, Gill, ' intreated Fergus, 'or nurse will make us sit in thedonkey-cart all the time while Lois picks the blackberries!'

'Mamma, do tell her not to come, ' intreated Valetta, and more of themjoined in with her. 

'No, my dears, I don't like to vex her when she thinks she is doing herduty. '

'She wouldn't come if you did, mamma, ' and there was a general outcryof intreaty that mamma would come with them, and defend them from Mrs. Halfpenny, as Fergus, who was rather a formal little fellow, expressedit, and mamma, after a little consideration, consented to drive thepony-carriage in that direction, and to announce to Nurse Halfpennythat she herself would take charge of the children. Whereupon therewas a whoop and a war-dance of jubilee, quite overwhelming to Dolores, who could not but privately ask Mysie if Nurse Halfpenny was so verycross. 

'Awfully, ' said Mysie, and Wilfred added--

'As savage as a bear with a sore head. '

'Like Mrs. Crabtree?' asked Dolores. 

'Exactly. Jasper called her so when he wanted to lash her up, till atlash she got hold of his 'Holiday House' and threw it into the sea, andit was in Malta and we couldn't get another, ' said Mysie. 

'And haven't you one?'

'Yes, Gill and I save for it; but mamma only let us have it oncondition we made a solemn promise never to tease nurse about it. '

'And does she go at you with that dreadful thing--what's it name--thetawse?'

'Ah! you'll soon know, ' said Wilfred. 

'No, no; nonsense, Fred, ' said Mysie, as Dolores' face worked withconsternation. 'She never hits us, not if we are ever so tiresome. Papa and mamma would not let her. '

'But why do they let her be so dreadful? Maude's nurse used to behorrid and slap her, and when her mother found it out the woman wassent away directly. '

Nurse Halfpenny isn't that sort, ' said Mysie. 'Her husband was papa'scolour-sergeant, and he got a sun-stroke and died, and then she camewhen Gillian was just born, and so weak and tiny that she would neverhave lived if nurse hadn't watched her day and night, and so Gillian'sher favourite, except the youngest, and she is ever so good, you know. I've heard the ladies, when we were with the dear old 111th, tellingmamma how they envied her her trustworthy treasure. '

'I'm sure they might have had her at half-price, ' said Wilfred. 'She'sbe dear at a farthing!'

At that moment Mrs. Halfpenny's voice was heard demanding if it werereally her ladyship's pleasure to go out, fatiguing herself to the verydeath with all the children rampaging about her and tearing themselvesto pieces, if not poisoning themselves with all sorts of nasty berries. 

'Indeed I'll take care of them and bring them back safe to you, 'responded her ladyship, very much in the tone of one of her ownchildren making promises. 'Put them on their brown hollands and theycan't come to much harm. '

'Well, if it's your wish, ma'am, my leddy; what must be, must, but Iknow how it will be--you'll come back tired out, fit to drop, and MissVal and Miss Primrose won't have a rag fit to be seen on them. But ifit's your will, what must be must, for you're no better than a bairnyourself, general's lady though you be, and G. C. B. '

'No, nurse, you'll be G. C. B. --Grand Commander of the Bath--when we comehome, ' called out Hall, who was leaning on the banister at the bottom, and there was a general laugh, during which Dolly tardily climbed thestairs, so tardily that her aunt, meeting her, asked whether she wasstill tired, and if she would rather have the afternoon to arrange herroom. 

She said 'yes, ' but not 'thank you, ' and went on, relieved that Mysiedid not offer to stay and help her, and yet rather offended at beingleft alone, while all the others went their own way. She heard thempattering and clattering, shouting and calling up and down thepassages, and then came a great silence, while they could be seen goingdown the drive, some on foot, some in the pony-chaise or donkey-cart. 

Her things had all been unpacked and put in order, and her room had avery cheerful window. It was prettily furnished with fresh pink andwhite dimity, and choice-looking earthenware, but to London eyes likethose of Dolores it seemed very old-fashioned and what she called'poked up. ' The paper was ugly, the chimney-piece was a narrow, painting thing, of the same dull, stone-colour as the door and thewindow-frame. And then the clear air, the perfect stillness, theabsence of anything moving in the view from the window gave the city-bred child a sense of dreadful loneliness and dreariness as she sat onthe side of her bed, with one foot under her, gazing dolefully roundher, and in he head composing her own memoirs. 

'Fully occupied with their own plans and amusements, the lonely orphanwas left in solitude. Her aunt knew not how her heart ached after thehome she had left, but the machine of the family went its own way andtrod her under its wheels. '

This was such a fine sentence that it was almost a comfort, and shethought of writing it to Maude Sefton, but as she got up to fetch herwriting-case from the schoolroom, she saw that her books were standingjust in the way she did not like, and with all the volumes mixed uptogether. So she tumbled them all out of the shelves on the floor, andat that moment Mrs. Halfpenny looked into the room. 

'Well, to be sure!' she exclaimed, 'when me and Lois have been workingat them books all the morning. '

'They were all nohow--as I don't like them, ' said Dolores. 

'Oh, very well, please yourself then, miss, if that's all the thanksyou have in your pocket, you may put them up your own way, for all Icare. Only my lady will have the young ladies' rooms kept neat andorderly, or they lose marks for it. '

'I don't want any help, ' said Dolores, crossly, and Mrs. Halfpenny shutthe door with a bang. 'The menials are insulting me, ' said Dolores toherself, and a tear came to her eye, while all the time there was acertain mournful satisfaction in being so entirely the heroine of abook. 

She went to work upon her books, at first hotly and sharply, and verycarefully putting the tallest in the centre so as to form a gradualascent with the tops and not for the world letting a second volumestand before its elder brother, but she soon got tired, took to peepingat one or two parting gifts which she had not yet been able to read, and at last got quite absorbed in the sorrows of a certain Clare, whosegolden hair was cut short by her wicked aunt, because it outshone hercousin's sandy locks. There was reason to think that a tress of thissame golden hair would lead to her recognition by some grandfather ofunknown magnificence, as exactly like that of his long-lost Claribel, and this might result in her assuming splendours that would annihilatethe aunt. Things seemed tending to a fracture of the ice under thecruellest cousin of all, and her rescue by Clare, when they would becarried senseless into the great house, and the recognition of Clareand the discomfiture of her foes would take place. How could Doloresshut the book at such a critical moment!

So there she was sitting in the midst of her scattered books, when thegalloping and scampering began again, and Mysie knocked at the door totell her there were pears, apples, biscuits, and milk in the dining-room, and that after consuming them, lessons had to be learnt for thenext day, and then would follow amusements, evening toilette, seveno'clock tea, and either games or reading aloud till bedtime. As to thebooks, Mysie stood aghast. 

'I thought nurse and Lois had done them all for you. '

'They did them all wrong, so I took them down. '

Oh, dear! We must put them in, or there'll be a report. '

'A report!'

'Yes, Nurse Halfpenny reports us whenever she doesn't find our roomstidy, and then we get a bad mark. Perhaps mamma wouldn't give you onethis first day, but it is best to make sure. Shall I help you, or youwon't have time to eat any pears?'

Dolores was thankful for help, and the books were scrambled in anyhowon the shelves; for Mysie's good nature was endangering her share ofthe afternoon's gouter, though perhaps it consoled her that hercuriosity was gratified by a hasty glance at the backs of her cousin'sstory-books. 

By the time the two girls got down to the dining-table, every one hadleft the room, and there only remained one doubtful pear, and threebaked apples, besides the loaf and the jug of milk. Mysie explainedthat not being a regular meal, no one was obliged to come punctually toit, or to come at all, but these who came tardily might fare the worse. As to the blackberries, for which Dolores inquired, the girls weregoing to make jam of them themselves the next day; but Mysie added, with an effort, she would fetch some, as her cousin had had none in thegathering. 

'Oh no, thank you; I hate blackberries, ' said Dolores, helping herselfto an apple. 

'Do you?' said Mysie, blankly. 'We don't. They are such fun. Youcan't think how delicious the great overhanging clusters are in thelane. Some was up so high that Hal had to stand up in the cart toreach them, and to take Fergus up on his shoulder. We never had such ablackberrying as with mamma and Hal to help us. And only think, agreat carriage came by, with some very grand people in it; we think itwas the Dean; and they looked down the lane and stared, so surprised tosee what great mind to call out, 'Fee, faw, fum. ' You know nothingmakes such a good giant as Fergus standing on Hal's shoulders, and acurtain over them to hide Hal's face. Oh dear, I wish I hadn't toldyou! You would have been a new person to show it to. '

Dolores made very little answer, finished her apple, and followed tothe schoolroom, where an irregular verb, some geography, and some datesawaited her. 

Then followed another rush of the populace for the evening meal of thelive stock, but in this Dolores was too wary to share. She made herway up to her retreat again, and tried to lose the sense of her troubleand loneliness in a book. Then came the warning bell, and a prodigiousscuffling, racing and chasing, accompanied by yells as of terror androars as of victory, all cut short by the growls of Mrs. Halfpenny. Everything then subsided. The world was dressing; Dolores dressed too, feeling hurt and forlorn at no one's coming to help her, and yetworried when Mysie arrived with orders from Mrs. Halfpenny to come toher to have her sash tied. 

'I think a servant ought to come to me. Caroline always does, ' saidthe only daughter with dignity. 

'She can't, for she is putting Primrose to bed. Oh, it's so deliciousto see Prim in her bath, ' said Mysie, with a little skip. 'Make haste, or we shall miss her, the darling. '

Dolores did not feel pressed to behold the spectacle, and not being inthe habit of dressing without assistance, she was tardy, and Mysiefidgeted about and nearly distracted her. Thus, when she reached thenursery, Primrose was already in her little white bed-gown, and wasbeing incited by Valetta to caper about on her cot, like a littleacrobat, as her sisters said, while Mrs. Halfpenny declared that 'theywere making the child that rampageous, she should not get her to sleeptill midnight. '

They would have been turned out much sooner, and Primrose hushed intosilence, if nurse's soul had not been horrified by the state ofDolores' hair and the general set of her garments. 

'My certie!' she exclaimed--a dreadful exclamation in the eyes of thefamily, who knew it implied that in all her experience Mrs. Halfpennyhad never known the like! And taking Dolores by the hand, she led thewrathful and indignant girl back into her bedroom, untied and tied, unbuttoned and buttoned, brushed and combed in spite of the second bellringing, the general scamper, and the sudden apparition of Mysie andVal, whom she bade run away and tell her leddyship that 'Miss Mohooneshould come as soon as she was sorted, but she ought to come up earlyto have her hair looked to, for 'twas shame to see how thae fine Londonservants sorted a motherless bairn. '

Dolores felt herself insulted; she turned red all over, with feelingsthe old Scotchwoman could not understand. She expected to hear themessage roared out to the whole assembly round the tea-table, but Mysiehad discretion enough to withhold her sister from making it public. 

The tea itself, though partaken of by Lady Merrifield, seemed anindignity to the young lady accustomed to late dinners. After it, thewhole family played at 'dumb crambo. ' Dolores was invited to join, andinstructed to 'do the thing you think it is;' but she was entirelyunused to social games, and thought it only ridiculous and stupid whenthe word being a rhyme to ite, Fergus gave rather too real a blow toWilfred, and Gillian answered, ''Tis not smite;' Wilfred held out ahand, and was told, ''Tis not right;' Val flourished in the air as ifholding a string, and was informed that 'kite' was wrong; when Hal ranaway as if pursued by Fergus by way of flight; and Mysie performedantics which she was finally obliged to explain were those of a sprite. Dolores could not recollect anything, and only felt annoyed at beingmade to feel stupid by such nonsense, when Mysie tried to make her apresent of a suggestion by pointing to the back of a letter. Neitherwrite nor white would come into her head, though little Fergussignalized himself, just before he was swept off to bed, by seizing apen and making strokes!

After his departure, Lady Merrifield read aloud 'The Old oakStaircase, ' which had been kept to begin when Dolores came, Hal takingthe book in turn with his mother. And so ended Dolores' first day ofbanishment. 

CHAPTER V. 

THE FIRST WALK

'What a lot of letters for you, mamma!' cried Mysie. 

'Papa!' exclaimed Fergus and Primrose. 

'No, it is not the right day, my dears. But here is a letter from AuntAda. '

'Oh!' in a different tone. 

'She writes for Aunt Jane. They will come down here next Mondaybecause Aunt Jane is wanted to address the girls at the G. F. S. Festivalon Tuesday. '

'Aunt Jane seems to have taken to public speaking, ' said Harry. 'Itwould be rather a lark to hear her. '

'You may have a chance, ' said Lady Merrifield, 'for here is a note fromMrs. Blackburn to ask if I will be so very kind as to let them have thefestival here. They had reckoned upon Tillington Park, where they havealways had it before, but they hear that all the little Tillingtonshave the measles, and they don't think it safe to venture there. '

'It will be great fun!' said Gillian. 'We will have all sorts ofgames, only I'm afraid they will be much stupider than the Irishgirls. '

'And ever so much stupider than the dear 111th children, ' sighed Mysie. 

'Aren't they all great big girls?' asked Valetta, disconsolately. 

'I believe twelve years old is the limit, ' said her mother. 'Twelve-year-old girls have plenty of play in them, Vals, haven't they, Mysie?Let me see--two hundred and thirty of them. '

'For you to feast?' asked Harry. 

'Oh, no--that cost comes out of their own funds, Mrs. Blackburn takescare to tell me, and Miss Hacket will find some one in Siverfold whowill provide tables and forms and crockery. I must go down and talk toMiss Hacket as soon as lessons are over. Or perhaps it would save timeand trouble if I wrote and asked her to come up to luncheon and see thecapabilities of the place. Why, what's the matter?' pausing at theblank looks. 

'The jam, mamma--the blackberry jam!' cried Valetta. 

'Well?'

'We can't do it without Gill, and she will have to be after that MissConstance, ' explained Val. 

'Oh! never mind. She won't stay all the afternoon, ' said Gillian, cheerfully. 'Luncheon people don't. '

'Yes, but then there will be lessons to be learnt. '

'Look here, Val, ' said Gillian, 'if you and Mysie will learn yourlessons for tomorrow while I'm bound to Miss Con. , I'll do mine sometime in the evening, and be free for the jam when she is gone. '

'The dear delicious jam!' cried Val, springing about upon her chair;and Lady Merrifield further said--

'I wonder whether Mysie and Dolores would like to take the note down. They could bring back a message by word of mouth. '

'Oh, thank you, mamma!' cried Mysie. 

'Then I will write the note as soon as we have done breakfast. Don'tdawdle, Fergus boy. '

'Mayn't I go?' demanded Wilfred. 

'No, my dear. It is your morning with Mr. Poulter. And you must takecare not to come back later than eleven, Mysie dear; I cannot have himkept waiting. Dolores, do you like to go?'

'Yes, please, ' said Dolores, partly because it was at any rate gain toescape from that charity-school lesson in the morning, and partlybecause Valetta was looking at her in the ardent hope that she wouldrefuse the privilege of the walk, and it therefore became valuable; butthere was so little alacrity in her voice that her aunt asked herwhether she were quite rested and really liked the walk, which would beonly half a mile to the outskirts of the town. 

Dolores hated personal inquiries beyond everything, and replied thatshe was quite well, and didn't mind. 

So soon as she and Mysie had finished, they were sent off to get ready, while Aunt Lilias wrote her note in pencil at the corner of the table, which she never left, while Fergus and Primrose were finishing theirmeal; but she had to silence a storm at the 'didn't mind'--Gillian evenventuring to ask how she could send one to whom it was evidently nopleasure to go. 'I think she likes it more than she shows, ' said themother, 'and she wants air, and will settle to her lessons the betterfor it. What's that, Val?'

'It was my turn, mamma, ' said Valetta, in an injured voice. 

'It will be your turn next, Val, ' said her mother, cheerfully. 'Dolores comes between you and Mysie, so she must take her placeaccordingly. And today we grant her the privilege of the new-comer. '

Dolores would have esteemed the privilege more, if, while she was goingupstairs to put on her hat, the recollection had not occurred to her ofone of the victim's of an aunt's cruelty who was always made to run onerrands while her favoured cousins were at their studies. Was this thebeginning? Somehow, though her better sense knew this was a foolishfancy, she had a secret pleasure in pitying herself, and posing toherself as a persecuted heroine. And then she was greatly fretted tofind the housemaid in her room, looking as if no one else had anybusiness there. What was worse, she could not find her jacket. Shepulled out all her drawers with fierce, noisy jerks, and then turnedround on the maid, sharply demanding--

'Who has taken my jacket?'

'I'm sure I don't know, Miss Dollars. You'd best ask Mrs. Halfpenny. '

'If--' but at that moment Mysie ran in, holding the jacket in her hand. 'I saw it in the nursery, ' she said, triumphantly. 'Nurse had taken itto mend! Come along. Where's your hat?'

But there was pursuit; Mrs. Halfpenny was at the door. 'Young ladies, you are not going out of the policy in that fashion. '

'Mamma sent us. Mamma wants us to take a note in a hurry. Only toMiss Hacket, ' pleaded Mysie, as Mrs. Halfpenny laid violent hands onher brown Holland jacket, observing--

'My leddy never bade ye run off mair like a wild worricow than ageneral officer's daughter, Miss Mysie. What's that? Only MissHacket, do you say? You should respect yourself and them you come ofmair than to show yourself to a blind beetle in an unbecoming way. 'Tis well that there's one in the house that knows what is befitting. Miss Dollars, you stand still; I must sort your necktie before you go. 'Tis all of a wisp. Miss Mysie, you tell your mamma that I should befain to know her pleasure about Miss Dollars' frocks. She've scarcegot one--coloured or mourning--that don't want altering. '

Mrs. Halfpenny always caused Dolores such extreme astonishment and awethat she obeyed her instantly, but to be turned about and tidied by anauthoritative hand was extremely disagreeable to the independent younglady. Caroline had never treated her thus, being more willing topermit untidiness than to endure her temper. She only durst, after thepair were released, remonstrate with Mysie on being termed MissDollars. 

'They can't make out your name, ' said Mysie. 'I tried to teach Lois, but nurse said she had no notion of new-fangled nonsense names. '

'I'm sure Valetta and Primrose are worse. '

'Ah! but Val was born at Malta, and mamma had always loved the GrandMaster La Valetta so much, and had written verses about him when shewas only sixteen. And Primrose was named after the first primrosemamma had seen for twelve years--the first one Val and I had everseen. '

'They called me Miss Mohun at home. '

'Yes, but we can't here, because of Aunt Jane. '

All this was chattered forth on the stairs before the two girls reachedthe dining-room, where Mysie committed the feeding of her pets to Val, and received the note, with fresh injunctions to come home by eleven, and bring word whether Miss Hacket and Miss Constance would both cometo luncheon. 

'Oh dear!' sighed Gillian, and there was a general groan round thetable. 

'It can't be helped, my dear. '

'Oh no, I know it can't, ' said Gillian, resignedly. 

'You see, ' said Mysie. 'Yes, come along, Basto dear. You see Gill hasto be--down, Basto, I say!--a young lady when-- Never mind him, Dolores, he won't hurt. When Miss Constance Hacket and--leave heralone, Basto, I say!--and she is such a goose. Not you, Dolores, butMiss Constance. '

'Oh that dog! I wish you would not take him. '

'Not take dear old Basto! Why 'tis such a treat for him to get a walkin the morning--the delight of his jolly old black heart. Isn't he adear old fellow? and he never hurt anybody in his life! It's onlysetting off! He will quiet down in a minute; but I couldn'tdisappoint him. Could I, my old man?'

Never having lived with animals nor entered into their feelings, Dolores could not understand how a dog's pleasure could be preferred toher comfort, and felt a good deal hurt, though Basto's antics subsidedas soon as they were past the inner gate shutting in the garden fromthe paddock, which was let out to a farmer. Mysie, however, ran on asusual with her stream of information--

'The Miss Hacket were sister or daughters or something to some old manwho used to be clergyman here, and they are all married up but thesetwo, and they've got the dearest little house you ever saw. They had anephew in the 111th, and so they came and called on us at once. MissHacket is a regular old dear, but we none of us can bear MissConstance, except that mamma says we ought to be sorry for her becauseshe leads such a confined life. Miss Hacket and Aunt Jane always do goon so about the G. F. S. They both are branch secretaries, you know. '

'I know! Aunt Jane did bother Mrs. Sefton so that she says she willnever have another of those G. F. S. Girls. She says it is a society forinterference. '

'Mamma likes it, ' said Mysie. 

'Oh! but she is only just come. '

'Yes; but she always looked after the school children at Beechcroftbefore she married, and she and Alethea and Phyllis had the soldiers'children up on Sunday. Alethea taught the little drummer boys, andthey were so funny. I wonder who teaches them now! Gill always goesdown to help Miss Hacket with her G. F. S. Classes. She has one onSunday afternoon, and one on Tuesday for sewing, and she is the onlyyoung lady in the place who can do plain needlework properly. '

'Sewing-machines can work. What the use of fussing about it!'

'They can't mend, ' said Mysie. 'Besides, do you know, in the Americanwar, all the sewing-machines in the Southern States got out of order, and as all the machinery people were in the north, the poor ladiesdidn't know what to do, and couldn't work without them. '

'Sewing-machines are a recent invention, ' said Dolores. 

'Oh! you didn't think I meant the great old War of Independence. No, Imeant the war about the slaves--secession they called it. '

'That is not in the history of England, ' said Dolores, as if Mysie hadno business to look beyond. 

'Why! of course not, when it happened in America. Papa told us aboutit. He read it in some paper, I think. Don't you like learning thingsin that way?'

'No. I don't approve of irregular unsystematic knowledge. '

Dolores has heard her mother say something of this kind, and it cameinto her head most opportunely as a defence of her father--for shewould not for the world have confessed that he did not talk to her asSir Jasper Merrifield seemed to have done to his children. In fact sherather despised the General for so doing. 

'Oh! but it is such fun picking up things out of lesson time!' saidMysie. 

'That is the Edge--, ' Dolores was not sure of the word Edgeworthian, soshe went on to 'system. Professor Sefton says he does not approve ofharassing children with cramming them with irregular information at allsorts of times. Let play be play and lessons be lessons, he says, notmixed up together, and so Rex and Maude never learnt anything--not aletter--till they were seven years old. '

'How stupid!' cried Mysie. 

'Maude's not stupid!' cried Dolores, 'nor the professor either! She'smy great friend. '

'I didn't say she was stupid, ' said Mysie, apologetically, 'only thatit must be very stupid not to be able to read till one was seven. Could you?'

'Oh, yes. I can't remember when I couldn't read. But Maude used toplay with a little girl who could read and talk French at five yearsold, and she died of water upon her brain. '

'Dear me! Primrose can read quite well, ' said Mysie, somewhat alarmed;'but then, ' she went on in a reassured voice, 'so could all of usexcept Jasper and Gillian, and they felt the heat so much at Gibraltarthat they were quite stupid while they were there. '

This discussion brought the two girls across the paddock out into aroad with a broad, neat footpath, where numerous little children werebeing exercised with nurses and perambulators. At first it wasbordered by fields on either side, but villas soon began to spring up, and presently the girls reached what looked like a long, low 'cottageresidence, ' but was really two, with a verandah along the front, and agarden divided in the middle by a paling covered with canarynasturtium shrubs. The verandah on one side was hung with a richpurple pall of the dark clematis, on the other by a Gloire de Dijonrose. There were bright flower beds, and the dormer windows over theverandah looked like smiling eyes under their deep brows of creeper-trimmed verge-board. What London-bred Dolores saw was a sight thatshocked her--a lady standing unbonnetted just beyond the verandah, talking to a girl whose black hat and jacket looked what Mysie called'very G. F. S. -y. '

The lady did not turn out to be young or beautiful. She was nearmiddle age, and looked as if she were far too busy to be ever plump;she had a very considerable amount of nose and rather thin, dark hair, done in a fashion which, like that of her navy blue linen dress, lookedperfectly antiquated to Dolores. As she saw the two girls at the gateshe came down the path eagerly to welcome them. 

'Ah! my dear Mysie! so kind of your dear mother! I thought I shouldhear from her. ' And as she kissed Mysie, she added, 'And this is thenew cousin. My dear, I am glad to see you here. '

Dolores thought her own dignified manner had kept off a kiss, notknowing that Miss Hacket was far too ladylike to be over-familiar, andthat there was no need to put on such a forbidding look. 

Mysie gave her message and note, but Miss Hacket could not give theverbal answer at once till she had consulted her sister. She was notsure whether Constance had not made an engagement to play lawn-tennis, so they must come in. 

There sounded 'coo-roo-oo coo-roo-oo' in the verandah, and Mysie cried--

'Oh, the dear doves!'

Miss Hacket said she had been just feeding them when the G. F. S. Girlarrived, and as Mysie came to a halt in delight at the aspect of ayoung one that had just crept out into public life, the sister wascalled to the window. She was a great deal younger and more of thepresent day in style than her sister, and had pensive-looking greyeyes, with a somewhat bored languid manner as she shook hands with theearly visitors. 

The sisters had a little consultation over the note, during whichDolores studied them, and Mysie studied the doves, longing to see thecurious process of feeding the young ones. 

When Miss Hacket turned back to her with the acceptance of theinvitation, she thought she might wait just to help Miss Hacket to putin the corn and the sop. Meantime Miss Constance talked to Dolores. 

'Did you arrive yesterday?'

'No, the day before. '

'Ah! it must be a great change to you. '

'Indeed it is. '

'This must be the dullest place in England, I think, ' said MissConstance. 'No variety, no advantages of any kind! And have not youlived in London?'

'Yes. '

'That is my ambition! I once spent six weeks in London, and it was anabsolute revelation--the opening of another world. And I understandthat Mr. Maurice Mohun is such a clever man, and that you saw a greatdeal of his friends. '

'I used, ' said Dolores, thinking of those days of her mother when shewas the pet and plaything of the guests, incited to say clever and pertthings, which then were passed round and embellished till she neitherknew them nor comprehended them. 

'That is what I pine for!' exclaimed Miss Constance. 'Nobody here hasany ideas. You can't conceive how borne and prejudiced every one herwho is used to something better! Don't you love art needlework?'

'Maude Sefton has been working Goosey Goosey Gander on a toilet-cover. '

'Oh! how sweet! We never get any new patterns here! Do come in andsee, I don't know which to take; I brought three beginnings home tochoose from, and I am quite undecided. '

'Mrs. Sefton draws her own patterns, ' said Dolores. 'Something shegets ideas from Lorenzo Dellman--he's an artist, you know, and aregular aesthete! He made her do a dado all sunflowers last year, butthey are a little gone out now, and are very staring besides, and Ithink she will have some nymphs dancing among almond-trees in bluevases instead, as soon as she has designed it. '

'Isn't that lovely! Oh! what would I not give for such opportunities?Do let me have your opinion. '

So Dolores went in with her, and looked at three patterns, one of talldaisies; another of odd-looking doves, one on each side of a redEtruscan vase, where the water must have been as much out of theirreach as that in the pitcher was beyond the crow's; and a third, ofLittle Bo Peep. Having given her opinion in favour of Bo Peep, she wastaken upstairs to inspect the young lady's store of crewels, and choosethe colours. 

Dolores neither knew nor cared anything about fancy work, but to betreated as an authority was quite soothing, and she fully believed thatthe mere glimpses she had had of Mrs. Sefton's work and the shopwindows, enabled her to give great enlightenment to this poor countrymouse; so she gladly went to the bedroom, with a muslin-worked toilet-cover, embroidered curtains, plates fastened against the wall, andtable all over knick-knacks, which Miss Constance called her littleden, where she could study beauty after her own bent, while her sisterMary was wholly engrossed with the useful, and could endure nothing butthe prose of the last century. 

Meantime Mysie had forgotten how time flew in her belief that in oneminute more the young doves would want to be fed, and then in amusementat seeing them pursue their parents with low squeaks and flutterings, watching, too, the airs and graces, bowing, cooing, and laughing of theold ones. When at last she was startled by hearing eleven struck, there had to be a great hunt for Dolores in the drawing-room andgarden, and when at last Miss Hacket's calls for her sister brought thetow downstairs more than ten minutes had passed! Mysie was too muchdismayed, and in too great a hurry to do anything but cry, 'Come along, Dolores, ' and set off at such a gallop as to scandalize the Londoner, even when Mysie recollected that it was too public a place for running, and slackened her pace. Dolores was soon gasping, and with a stitch inher side. Mysie would have exclaimed, 'What were you doing with MissConstance?' but breathlessness happily prevented it. The way acrossthe paddock seemed endless, and Mysie was chafed at having to hold backfor her companion, who panted in distress, leant against a tree, declared she could not go on, she did not care, and then when, Mysieset off running, was seized with fright at being left alone in thisvast unknown space, cried after her and made a rush, soon ending insobbing breath. 

At last they were at the door, and Wilfred just coming out of thedining-room greeted them with, 'A quarter to twelve. Won't you catchit? Oh my!'

'Are they come?' said Lady Merrifield, looking out of the schoolroom. 'My dear children! Did Miss Hacket keep you?'

'No, mamma, ' gasped Mysie. 'At least it was my fault for watching thedoves. '

'Ah! Mysie, I must not send you on a message next time. Mr. Poulterhas been waiting these twenty minutes, and I am afraid you are not fitto take a lesson now. Dolores looks quite done up! I shall send youboth to lie down on your beds and learn your poetry for an hour. Andyou must write an apology to Mr. Poulter this afternoon. No, don't goin now. Go up at once, Gillian shall bring your books. Does MissHacket come?'

'Yes, mamma, ' said Mysie humbly, looking at Dolores all the time. Shewas too generous to say that part of the delay had been caused bylooking for her cousin, and having to adapt her pace to the slower one, but she decidedly expected the avowal from Dolores, and thought it meannot to make it. 'And, oh, the jam!' she mourned as she went upstairs. While, on the other hand, Dolores considered what she called 'beingsent to bed' an unmerited and unjust sentence given without a hearing;when their tardiness had been all Mysie's fault, not hers. She had nonotion that her aunt only sent them to lie down, because they lookedheated, tired, and spent, and was really letting them off theirmorning's lessons. It was a pity that she felt too forlorn and sulleneven to complain when Gillian brought up Macaulay's 'Armada' for her tolearn the first twelve lines, or she might have come to anunderstanding, but all that was elicited from her was a glum 'No, 'when asked if she knew it already. Gillian told her not to keep herdusty boots on the bed, and she vouchsafed no answer, for she did notconsider Gillian her mistress, though, after she was left to herself, she found them so tight and hot that she took them off. Then shelooked over the verses rather contemptuously--she who always learntGerman poetry; and she had a great mind to assert her independence bygetting off the bed, and writing a letter to Maude Sefton, describingthe narrow stupidity of the whole family, and how her aunt, withouthearing her, had send her to be for Mysie's fault. However she felt soshaky and tired that she thought she had better rest a little first, and somehow she fell fast asleep, and was only awakened by the gong. She jumped up in haste, recollecting that the delightful sympathizingMiss Constance was coming to luncheon, and set her hair and dress torights eagerly, observing, however, to herself, that her horrid auntwas quite capable of imprisoning her all the time for not having learntthat stupid poetry. 

She hesitated a little where to go when she reached the hall, but theschoolroom door was open, and she heard a mournful voice concludingwith a gasp--

 'Our glorious semper eadem, the banner of our pride. '

And Miss Vincent saying, 'Now, my dear, go and wash your face, and trynot to be such a dismal spectacle. '

And then Mysie came out, with heavy eyes and a mottled face, showingthat she had been crying all the time she had been learning, over herown fault certainly, but likewise over mamma's displeasure and Dolly'sshabbiness. 

'Well, Dora, ' said Miss Vincent, 'have you come to repeat your poetry?'

'No, ' said Dolores. 'I went to sleep instead. '

'Oh! I'm glad of that. I wish poor Mysie had done the same. Ibelieve it was what Lady Merrifield intended, you both looked soknocked up. '

Dolores cleared up a little at this, especially as Miss Vincent was norelation, and she thought it a good time to make her protest againstmere English. 

'Oh!' she said. 'I supposed that was the reason she gave me such astupid, childish, sing-song nursery rhyme to learn. I can say lots ofSchiller and some Goethe. '

'I advise you not to let any one hear you call Lord Macaulay's poem anursery rhyme, or it might never be forgotten, ' said Miss Vincentgaily. Then seeing the cloud return to Dolores's face, she added, 'Youhave been brought forward in German, I see. We must try to bring yourknowledge of English literature up to be even with it. '

Dolores liked this better than anything she had yet heard, chieflybecause she had learnt from her books that governesses were notuniformly so cruel as aunts. And besides, she felt that she had beenspared a public humiliation. 

By this time the guests were ringing at the door, and Miss Vincent, with her had on, only waiting till their entrance was made to depart. Dolores asked whether to go into the drawing-room, and was told thatLady Merrifield preferred that the children should only appear in thedining-room on the sound of the gong, which was not long in beingheard. 

The Merrifields were trained not to chatter when there was company attable, besides Mysie and Val were in low spirits about the chance ofthe blackberry cookery. Miss Hacket sat on one side of Lady Merrifield, and talked about what associates had answered her letters, and whatvillages would send contingents of girls, and it sounded very dull tothe young people. Miss Constance was next to Hal. She looked amiableand sympathetic at Dolores on the opposite side of the table, butdiscussed lawn-tennis tournaments with her neighbour, which was quiteas little interesting to the general public as was the G. F. S. However, as soon as Primrose had said grace, Lady Merrifield proposed to takeMiss Hacket down to the stable-yard; and the whole train followedexcepting the two girls, who trusted Hal to see whether their petswould suffer inconvenience. However it soon was made evident toGillian that she was not wanted, and that Dolores and Constance had nonotion of wandering about the paved courts and bare coach-houses, amongthe dogs and cats, guinea-pigs, and fowls. Indeed, Constance, who wasat least seven years older than Gillian, and a full-blown young lady, dismissed her by saying 'that she was going to see Miss Mohun's books. '

'Oh, certainly, ' said Gillian, in a voice as though she were rathersurprised, though much relieved. 

So off the friends went together--for of course they were to befriends. The Miss Mohun had been uttered in a tone that clearly meantto be asked to drop it, so they were to be Dolores and Constancehenceforth, if not Dolly and Cons. Dolores was such a lovely name thatConstance could not mangle it, and was sure there was some reason forit. The girl had, in fact, been named after a Spanish lady, whom hermother had known and admired in early girlhood, and to whom she hadmade a promise of naming her first daughter after her. No doubtDolores did not know that Mrs. Mohun had regretted the childish promisewhich she had felt bound to keep in spite of her husband's dislike tothe name, which he declared would be a misfortune to the child. 

Dolores was really proud of its peculiarity, and delighted to have anyone to sympathize with her, in that and a great deal besides, which shecommunicated to her new friend in the window-seat of her room. Whenthe two ladies went home, Constance told her sister that 'dear littleDolores was a remarkable character, sadly misunderstood among thosecommon-place people, the Merrifields, and unjustly used, too, and sheshould do her best for her!'

Meantime Gillian, finding herself not wanted, had repaired to theschoolroom. 

'Oh, it is of no use, ' sighed Mysie, disconsolately. 'I've ever somuch morning's work to make up, too. And I never shall! I've muzzledmy head!'

By which remarkable expression Mysie signified that fatigue, crying, and dinner had made her brains dull and heavy; but Gillian was asensible elder sister. 

'Don't try your sum yet, then, ' she said. 'Practise your scales forhalf an hour, while I do my algebra, and then we'll go over your Germanverbs together. I'll tell Miss Vincent, and she wont' mind, and Ithink mamma will be pleased if you try. '

Gillian was too much used to noises not to be able to work an equation, and prepare her Virgil, to the sound of scales, and Mysie was a gooddeal restored by them and by hope. 

So when at length Constance had been summoned by her sister, who toreherself away from the arrangements, being bound to five-o'clock teaelsewhere, Mysie was discovered with a face still rather woe-begone, but hopeful and persevering, and though there still was a 'bill ofparcels' where 11 and 3/4 lbs. Of mutton at 13 and 1/2d. Per lb. Refused to come right, Lady Merrifield kissed her, said she had been adiligent child, and sent her off prancing in bliss to the old 'still-room' stove, where they were allowed a fire, basins, spoons, andstrainers, and where the sugar lay in a snowy heap, and theblackberries in a sanguine pile. 

'There's partiality!' thought Dolores, and scowled, as she stood at thefront door still gazing after Constance. 

'Won't you come, Dolly?' said Mysie. 'Or haven't you learnt yourlessons?'

'No, ' said Dolly, making one answer serve for both questions. 

'Oh! then you can't. Shall I ask mamma to let you off?'

'No, I don't care. I don't like messes! And what's the use if youhaven't a cookery class?'

'It's such fun, ' said Val. 

'And our sisters did go to a cookery class at Dublin and taught Gill, 'added Mysie. 

'But if you haven't done your lessons, you can't go, ' said Valettadecidedly. 

Off they went, and Lady Merrifield presently crossed the hall, and sawDolores' attitude. 

'My dear, are you waiting to say those verses?' she said kindly. 

'I hadn't time to learn them, I went to sleep, ' said Dolores. 

'A very good thing too, my dear. Suppose we go over them together. '

Aunt Lilias took the unwilling hand, led Dolores into the schoolroom, and for half an hour she went over the verses with her, explaining whatwas new to the girl, and vividly describing the agitation of Plymouth, and the flocks of people thronging in. 'I must show her that I will beminded, but I will make it pleasant to her, poor child, ' she thought. 

And it could not have been otherwise than pleasant to her, but that shewas reflecting all this time that she was being punished while Mysiewas enjoying herself. Therefore she put the lid on her intellect, andwas inconceivably stupid. 

CHAPTER VI. 

PERSECUTION

On Monday afternoon Dolores was sitting at the end of the long gardenwalk, upon a green garden-bench, with a crocodile's head and tailroughly carved. The shouts of the others were audible in the distancebeyond the belt of trees. Aunt Lily had driven into the town to meether sisters, taking Fergus with her, whereas Dolores had never been outin the carriage. There was partiality! Though, to be sure, Fergus wasto have a tooth out! Harry and Gillian were playing with the rest, andshe had been invited to join, but she had made answer that she hatedromping, and on being assured that no romping was necessary, shereplied that she only wanted to read in peace. She had refused the"Thorn Fortress, ' which she was told would explain the game, and hadhunted out "Clare, or No Home, ' to compare her lot with that of thehomeless one. 

Certainly, she had not yet been sent to bed with a box on the earbecause a countess had shown symptoms of noticing her more than herugly, over-dressed cousin. But then Aunt Lily would not allow her towalk down alone to the Casement Villas to see dear Constance, and wouldlet that farmer keep all those dreadful cows in the paddock, so thateven going escorted was a terror to her. 

Nor had her handsome mourning been taken from her and old clothes ofher cousin substituted for it. No, but she had been cruelly pulledabout between Mrs. Halfpenny and the Silverton dressmaker with amouthful of pins; and Aunt Lily had insisted on her dress being trimmedwith velvet, instead of the jingling jet she preferred. 

Did they intercept her letters? She had had one from her father, sentfrom Falmouth, but only one from Maude Sefton in ten days! Moreover, she had one from Constance in her apron pocket, arrived that veryafternoon, asking her to come down with Gillian on the Sundays, thatthe friends might enjoy themselves together while the classes weregoing on; but she made sure that all were so jealous of her friendshipwith Constance that no consent would be given. 

She did not hear or notice the whisperings in the laurels behind her--

'Do you see that sulky old Croat, smoking his pipe under the tree?'

'No, he is a Black Brunswicker. '

'Nonsense, Willie; the Black Brunswickers weren't till Bonaparte'stime. '

'I don't care, he is anything black and nasty; here goes!'

'Oh stop; don't shoot. I believe he is only a vivandiere. Besides, it's treacherous--'

'I tell you he is laying a train to blow up the tower. There!'

An arrow struck the bench beside Dolores, who, more angry than she hadever been in her life, snatched it up, unheeding that it had no pointto speak of, rushed headlong in pursuit, while, with a tremendousshout, Valetta and Wilfred flew before her to a waste overgrown placeat the end of the kitchen garden. 

'We've shot a Croat!'

'No, a Black Brunswicker. '

'Oh ah! They are coming--the enemy! Into the fortress! Bar thewolf's passage!'

And as Dolores struggled through the bushes, she saw the whole familydashing into an outhouse, and the door slammed. She pushed against it, but an unearthly compound of howls, yells, shouts and bangs replied. 

'Gillian! Harry, I say, ' she cried in great anger; 'come out, I wantto speak to you. '

But her voice was lost in the war-whoops within, and the louder sheknocked, the louder grew the din, till she walked off, swelling withgrief and indignation. Mysie, after all her professions of friendship, to use her in this way! And Harry and Gillian, who should have keptthe others within bounds!

Slowly she crossed the lawn, just as Lady Merrifield, the other twoaunts, and Fergus, all came out from the glass door of the drawing-room. Aunt Jane, a trim little dark-eyed woman, looking at two andforty much the same as she might have done at five and twenty; and AuntAdeline, pretty and delicately fair, with somewhat of the same grace asLady Merrifield, but more languor, and an air as if everything abouther were for effect. Though not specially fond of theses aunts, Dolores was glad to have them as witnesses of her ill-usage. 

'There stands Dolly, like a statue of Diana, dart in hand, ' exclaimedAunt Adeline. 

'Yes, ' said Dolores; 'I wish to know, Aunt Lilias, if Wilfred andValetta are to call me names, and shoot arrows at me?'

'What do you mean, my dear?'

'They came at me while I was sitting quietly reading--there--and shotat me, and called me such horrid names I can't repeat them, and ranaway. Then the others, Gillian and Harry and all, would not listen tome, but shut themselves up in an out-house and shouted at me. '

'I think there must be some mistake, Dolores, ' said her aunt. 'Whereare they?'

'Out beyond there, ' said Dolores, pointing in the direction in whichFergus was running. 

Lady Merrifield set off with her, and the other two ladies followedmore slowly. 

'I thought it would not do, ' said Aunt Jane. 

'Lily's children are so rough, ' added Aunt Adeline. 

'I am not so sure that the fault is theirs, ' was the reply. 'She is apriggish little puss, who wants shaking up. '

'Ah! here come the hordes, ' sighed Adeline, shrinking a little, as theentire population, summoned by Fergus, came pouring forth to meet theadvancing mother. 

'How is this, Wilfred? Have you been shooting arrows at your cousin?'

'Mama!' cried Valetta, indignantly, 'he did not shoot at her; he onlypretended, and shot the old crocodile-bench. He never meant any more. It was only play. '

'Have you not been forbidden to shoot in the direction of any person?'

'Nor I didn't!' said Wilfred. 'I only shot the crocodile. I nevertried to hit her. She is quite big enough to miss. '

'And she did look such a nice Croat, mamma, ' added Valetta. 'We werescouts out of the Thorn Fortress, Willie and I, and it was such a jollydodge to steal upon one of the enemy. '

'You should have warned her. '

Then it would not have been a surprise, ' said Val, seriously. 

'Was she not at play with you?'

'No, mamma, ' said Mysie. 'We asked her, and she would not. I say, 'pausing in consternation, 'Dolores, was it you that came and called atthe door of the Wolf's passage?'

'Of course. I wanted to show Gillian how Wilfred behaved to me. '

I thought it was Fergus come home to be the enemy. '

'Didn't you know her voice?' asked the mother

'We were all making such a noise ourselves in the dark, ' saidGillian, 'that there was no hearing any one; and Primrose was ratherfrightened, so that Hal was attending to her. Indeed, Dolores, I amvery sorry. If we had guessed that it was you, we would have openedthe door at once, and then you would have known that it was all fun andplay, and not have troubled mamma about it. '

'Wilfred and Valetta knew, ' said Dolores, rather sullenly. 

'Oh! but it was such fun, ' said Val. 

'It was fun that became unkindness on your part, ' said her mother. 'You ought not to have kept it up without warning to her. And what doI hear about names? I hope that was also misunderstanding of the game. What did you call her?'

'Only a Croat, ' said Valetta, indignantly, 'and a Black Brunswicker. '

'Was that it, Dolores?'

'Perhaps, ' she muttered, disconcerted by a laugh from her Aunt Jane. 

'I do not know what you took them for, ' said Lady Merrifield, 'but yousee some part of this trouble arose from a mistake on you part. Now, Wilfred and Valetta, remember that is not right to force a person intoplay against her will. And as to the shooting near, but not at her, you both know perfectly well that it is forbidden. So give me yourbow, Wilfred. I shall keep it for a week, that you may rememberobedience. '

Wilfred looked sullen, but obeyed. Dolores could not call her auntunjust, but as she look round, she met glances that made her think itprudent to shelter herself among the elders. Aunt Jane asked what thegame was. 

'The Thorn Fortress, ' said Gillian. 'It comes out of that delightfulS. P. C. K. Book so called, where, in the 'Thirty Years' War, ' all thepeople of a village took refuge from the soldiers in a field in themiddle of a forest guarded by a tremendous hedge of thorns. Val had itfor a birthday present, and the children have been acting it eversince. '

'It has quite put out the Desert Island passion, which used to be aregular stage in these children's lives. Every voyage we have taken, somebody has come to ask whether there was any hope of being wrecked onone. '

'Fergus even asked when we crossed from Dublin, ' said Gillian. 

'He was put up to that, to keep up the tradition, ' observed Harry. 

On reaching the house, the elders proceeded to five o'clock tea in thedrawing-room, the juniors to gouter in the dining-room. As Doloresentered, she beheld a row of all her five younger cousins drawn uplooking at her as if se had committed high treason, and she wasinstantly addressed--

'Tell-take tit!' began Valetta. 

'Sneak!' cried Wilfred. 

'I will call her Croat!' added Fergus. 

'Worse than Croat! Bashi Bazouk!' exclaimed Valetta. 

'Worse than Crow!' chimed in Primrose. 

'Oh, Dolores! How could you?' said Mysie. 

'To get poor Willie punished!' said Val. 

Dolores stood her ground. 'It was time to speak when it came toshooting arrows at me. '

'Hush! hush! Willie, ' cried Mysie. 'I told you so. Now Dolores, listen. Nobody ever tells of anybody when it is only being tiresomeand they don't mean it, or there never would be any peace at all. That's honour! Do you see? One may go to Gill sometimes. '

'One's a sneak if one does, ' put in Wilfred; but Mysie, unheeding wenton--

'And Gill can help without a fuss or going to mamma. '

'Mamma always knows, ' said Val. 

'Mamma knows all about everything, ' said Mysie. 'I think it's nature;ad if she does not always take notice at the time, she will have it outsooner or later. ' Then resuming the thread of her discourse: 'So yousee, Dolly, we have made up our minds that we will forgive you thistime, because you are an only child and don't know what's what, andthat's some excuse. Only you mustn't go on telling tales whenever anevident happens. '

Dolores thought it was she who ought to forgive, but the force againsther was overpowering, though still she hesitated. 'But if I promisenot to tell, ' she said, 'how do I know what may be done to me?'

'You might trust us, ' cried Mysie, with flashing eyes. 

'And I can tell you, ' added Wilfred, 'that if you do tell, it will beever so much the worse for you--girl that you are. '

'War to the knife! Cried Valetta, and everybody except Mysie joined inthe outcry. 'War to the knife with traitors in the camp. '

Mysie managed to produce a pause, and again acted orator. 'You see, Dolores, if you did tell, it would not be possible for mamma or Gill tobe always looking after you, and I couldn't do you much good--and ifall these three are set against you, and are horrid to you, and Icouldn't do you much good--horrid to you, you'll have no peace in yourlife; and, after all, we only ask of you to give and take in a good-natured sort of way, and not to be always making a fuss abouteverything you don't like. It is the only way, I assure you. '

Dolores saw the fates were against her, and said--

'Very well. '

'You promise?'

'Yes. '

'Then we forgive you, and here's the box of chocolate things Aunt Adabrought. We'll have a cigar all round and be friends. Smoke the pipeof peace. '

Dolores afterwards thought how grand it would have been to havereplied, 'Dolores Mohun will never be intimidated;' but the fact wasthat her spirit did quail at the thought of the tortures which the twoboys might inflict on her if Mysie abandoned her to their mercy, andshe was relieved, as well as surprised to find that her offence wascondoned, and she was treated as if nothing had happened. 

Meantime Aunt Jane was asking in the drawing-room, 'How do you get on?'

'Fairly well, ' was Lady Merrifield's answer. 'We shall work together intime. '

'What does Gill say?' asked the aunt, rather mischievously. 

'Well, ' said the young lady, 'I don't think we get on at all, not evenpoor Mysie, who works steadily on at her, gets snubbed a dozen times aday, and never seems to feel it. '

I hoped her father would have sent her to school, ' said Aunt Adeline. 'I knew she would be troublesome. She has all her mother's pride. '

'The proudest people are those who have least to be proud of, ' saidAunt Jane. 

'School would have hardened the crust and kept up the alienation, ' saidLady Merrifield. 

'Perhaps not. It might teach her to value the holidays, and learn thatblood is thicker than water, ' said Miss Jane. 

'It is always in reserve, ' added Miss Adeline. 

'Yes, Maurice told her to send her if I grew tired of her, as he said, 'replied Lady Merrifield, 'but of course I should not think of thatunless for very strong reasons. '

'Oh, mamma!' and Gillian remained with her mouth open. 

'Well?' said Aunt Jane. 

'I meant to have told you mamma, but Mr. Leadbitter came in about theG. F. S. And stopped me, and I have never seen you to speak to since. Yesterday you know, I stayed from evensong to look after the littleones, and you said Dolores might do as she pleased, so she stayed athome. The children were looking at the book of Bible Pictures, and itcame out that Dolly knew nothing at all about Joshua and the walls ofJericho, nor Gideon and the lamps in the pitchers, nor anything else. Then, when I was surprised, she said that it was not the present systemto perplex children with the myths of ancient Jewish history. '

Gillian was speaking rapidly, in the growing consciousness that hermother had rather have had this communication reserved for her privateear--and her answer was, 'Poor child!'

'Just what I should expect!' said Aunt Jane. 

'Probably it was jargon half understood, and repeated in defence of herignorance, ' said Lady Merrifield. 'She is an odd mixture of defiantloyalty and self-defence. '

'What shall you do about this kind of talk?' asked her sister. 

'One must hear it sooner or later, ' said Harry. 

'That is true, ' returned his mother, 'but I suppose Fergus and Primrosedid not hear or understand. '

'Oh no, mamma. I know they did not, for they were squabbling becausePrimrose wanted to turn over before Fergus had done with Gideon. '

'Then I don't think there is any harm done. If it comes before Mysieor Val I will talk to them, and I mean to take this poor child alonefor a little while each day in the week and try to get at her. '

'There's another thing, ' said Gillian. 'Is she to go down with mealways to Casement Cottages on Sunday afternoons when I take theclass?'

'To teach or to learn?' ironically exclaimed Aunt Jane. 

'Neither, ' said Gillian. 'To chatter to Constance Hacket. They bothspoke to me about it yesterday before I went home, and I believeConstance has written a note to her to ask her today! Fancy, thatgoose told me my sweet cousin was a dear, and that we didn't appreciateher. Even Miss Hacket gave me quite a lecture on kindness andconsideration to an orphan stranger. '

'Not uncalled for, perhaps, ' said Aunt Jane. 'I hope you received itin an edifying manner. '

'Now, Aunt Jane! Well, I believe I said we were as kind as she wouldlet us be, especially Mysie. '

Lady Merrifield here made the move to conduct her sisters to theirrooms; Miss Mohun detained her when they had reached hers, and had leftAdeline to rest on her sofa. The two, though very unlike, had stillthe habits of absolute confidential intimacy belonging to sisters nextin age. 

'Lily, ' said Miss Mohun, 'Gillian spoke of a note. Did Maurice giveyou any directions about this child's correspondence?'

'You know I did not see him. I was so much disappointed. I would giveanything to have talked her over with him. '

'I am not sure that you would have gained much. I doubt whether heknows much about her, poor fellow. But the letters?'

'He wrote that she had been a good deal with Professor Sefton's family, and he thought they might like to keep up their intercourse. '

'Nothing about Flinders? He ought to have warned you. '

'No. Who is he?'

'A half-brother--no, a step-brother to poor Mary. He was the son by aformer marriage of her father's first wife, and has been always a thornin their sides. He is a low, dissipated kind of creature; writestheatrical criticisms for third-rate papers, or something of that kind, when he is at his best. I believe Mary was really fond of him, andhelped him more than Maurice could well bear, and since her death theman has perfectly pestered him with appeals to her memory. I reallybelieve one reason he welcomed this post was to get out of his reach. '

'You always know everything Jenny. Now how did you know this?'

'I called once in the midst of an interview between him and Mary. Andafterwards I came on poor Maurice when he was really very muchprovoked, and had it all out; ad since her death--well, I saw him get abegging letter from the man, and he spoke of it again. I wish I hadadvised him to warn you against the wretch. '

'I don't suppose he knows where the child is. He is no relation toher, you say?'

'None at all, happily. But on that occasion, when I was anuncomfortable third, Maurice was very angry that she should have beenallowed to call him Uncle Alfred; and Mary screwed up her little mouth, and evidently rather liked the aggravation to Mohun pride. '

'Poor Maurice, so he had a skeleton! Well, I don't see how it can hurtus. The man probably knows nothing about us, and even if he couldtrace the girl, he must know that she can do nothing for him. '

'You had better keep an eye on her letters. He is quite capable ofasking for the poor child's half sovereigns. I wish Maurice had givenyou authority. '

'Perhaps he spoke to her about it. At any rate, what he said of theSeftons is quite sufficient to imply that there is no sanction to anyother correspondence. '

'That is true. Really, Lily, I believe you are the most likely personto do some good with her, though I don't think you know what you are infor. But Gillian does!'

'I believe it is very good for the children to have to exercise alittle forbearance. In spite of all our knocking about the world, ourfamily exclusiveness is pretty much what ours was in the old Beechcroftdays--'

'When Rotherwood and Robert Mohun were out only outsiders and theWestons came on us like new revelations!'

'It is curious to look back on, ' said Lady Merrifield. 'It seems to methat the system, or no system, on which we were brought up was ratherpassing away even then. '

'Specks we growed, ' said Jane. 'What do you call the system?'

'Just that people thought it their own business to bring up theirchildren themselves, and let the actual technical teaching depend uponopportunities, whereas now they get them taught, but let the bringingup take it chance. '

'People lived with their children then--yes, I see what you mean, Lily. Poor Eleanor, intending with all her might to be a mother to us, brought us up, as you call it, with all her powers; but public opinionwould never have suffered us to get merely the odd sort of teachingthat she could give us. It was regular, or course; but oh! do youremember the old atlas, with Germany divided into circles, andeverything as it was before the Congress of Vienna?'

'You liked geography; I hated it. '

'Yes, I was young enough to come in for the elder boys' old schoolatlases, which had some sense in them. It seems to me that we had morethe spirit of working for ourselves according to our individual tastesthan people have now. We learnt, they are taught. '

'Well! and what did we learn?'

'As much as we could carry, ' said Aunt Jane, laughing. 'Assimilate, ifyou like it better; and I doubt if people will turn out to have donemore now. What becomes of all the German that is crammed down girl'sthroats, whether they have a turn for languages or not? Do they everread a German book? Now you learnt it for love of Fouque and MaxPiccolomini, and you have kept it up ever since. '

'Yes, by cramming it down my children's throats. But what I complainof, Jane, in the young folk that come across me is not over-knowledge, but want of knowledge--want of general culture. This Dolores, forinstance, can do what she has been taught better than Mysie, some tingsbetter than Gillian, but she has absolutely no interest in generalknowledge, not even in the glaciers which she has seen; she does notknow whether Homer wrote in Greek or Latin, considers "Marmion' alesson, cannot tell a planet from a star, and neither knows nor caresanything about the two Napoleons. Now we seem to have breathed in suchthings. Why! I remember being made into Astyanax for a very unwillingAndromache (poor Eleanor) for caress, and being told to shudder at thebright copper coal-scuttle, before Harry went to school. '

'Of course poor Maurice could not cultivate his child. Yet, after all, we grew up without a mother; but then the dear old Baron lived amongus, and knew what we were doing, instead of shutting us up in aschoolroom with some one, with only knowledge, not culture. Those verylate dinners have quite upset all the intelligent intercourse betweenfathers and children not come out. '

'Yes, Jasper and I have felt that difficulty. But after all, Jenny, when I look back, I cannot say I think ours was a model bringing up. What a strange year that was after Eleanor's marriage!'

'Ah! you felt responsible and were too young for it, but to me it wasa very jolly time, though I suppose I was an ingredient in yourtroubles. Yes, we brought ourselves up; but I maintain that it wasbetter alternative than being drilled so hard as never to think ofanything but arrant idling out of lesson-time. '

'Lessons should be lessons, and play, play, is one of the professor'smaxims to which that poor child has treated us. '

'Ah! on that system, where would have been all your grand heraldicpedigrees? I've got them still. '

'Oh! Jenny, you good old Brownie, have you? How I should like to lookat them again and show them the Gillian and Mysie. Do you remember thelittle scalloped line we drew round all the true knights?'

'Ay! and where would have been all your romancing about Sir Maurice deMohun, the pride of his name? For my part, I much prefer a cavalierdead two hundred years ago as the object of a girl's enthusiasm--ifenthusiasm she must have--to the existing lieutenant, or even curate. '

'Certainly; I should be sorry to have been bred up to history withindividual interest and romance squeezed out of it. You see whenJasper came home from the Crimea he exactly continued mine. '

'You have fulfilled your ideal better than falls to the lot of mostpeople, even to the item of knighthood. '

'Ah! you should have heard us grumble over the expense of it. And, after all, I dare say Sir Maurice found his knight's fee quite asinconvenient! Oh!' with a start, 'there's the first bell, and herehave I been dawdling here instead of minding my business! But it is sonice to have you! I day, Jenny, we will have one of our good old gamesat threadpaper verses and all the rest tonight. I want you to show thechildren how we used to play at them. '

And the party played at paper games for nearly two hours that evening, to the extreme delight of Gillian, Mysie, and Harry, to say nothing oftheir mother and aunts, who played with all their might, even AuntAdeline lighting up into droll, quiet humour. Only Dolores was firstbewildered, then believed herself affronted, and soon gave upaltogether, wondering that grown-up people could be so foolish. 

CHAPTER VII. 

G. F. S. 

The first thought of Dolores was that she should see Constance Hacket, when she heard 'Hurrah for a holiday!' resounding over the house. 

As she came out of her room Mysie met her. 'Hurrah! Aunt Jane has gotus a holiday that we may help get ready for the G. F. S. ! Mamma has sentdown notes to Miss Vincent and Mr. Pollock. Oh! jolly, jolly!'

And, obvious of past offences, Mysie caught her cousin's arms, andwhirled her round and round in an exulting dance, extremely unpleasantto so quiet a personage. 'Don't!' she cried. 'You hurt! You make medizzy!'

'My certie, Miss Mysie!' exclaimed Mrs. Halfpenny at the same time, 'ye're daft! Gae doon canny, and keep your apron on, for if I see astain on that clean dress--'

Mysie hopped downstairs without waiting to hear the terribleconsequences. '

Aunt Adeline did not come down to breakfast, but Aunt Jane appeared, fresh and glowing, just in time for prayers, having been with Gillianand Harry to survey the scene of operations, and to judge of the day, which threatened showers, the grass being dank and sparkling withsomething more than September dews. 

'The tables must be in the coach-house, ' said Lady Merrifield. 'Happily, our equipages are not on a large scale, and we must not getthe poor girls' best things drenched. '

'No; and it is rather disheartening to have to address double ranks ofumbrellas, ' said Aunt Jane. 'Is the post come?'

'It is always infamously late here, ' said Harry. 'We complained, asthe appointed hour is eight, but we were told 'all the other ladieswere satisfied. ' I do believe they think no one not in business has aright to wish for letters before nine. '

'Here it comes, though, ' said Gillian; and in due time the lockedletter-bag was delivered to Lady Merrifield, and Primrose waitedeagerly to act as postman. 

It was not the day for the Indian mail, but Aunt Jane expected somelast directions, and Lady Merrifield the final intelligence as to thenumbers of each contingent of girls. Dolores was on the qui vive for aletter from Maude Sefton, and devoured her aunt and the bag with hereyes. She was quite sure that among the bundle of post-cards that weretaken out there was a letter. Also she saw her aunt give a littlestart, and put it aside, and when she demanded. 'Is there no letterfor me?' Lady Merrifield's answer was, ' None, my dear, from MissSefton. '

Hot indignation glowed in Dolores's cheeks and eyes, more especially asshe perceived a look pass between the two aunts. She sat swellingwhile talk about the chances of rain was passing round her, theforecasts in the paper, the cats washing their faces, the swallowsflying low, the upshot being that it might be fine, but thatemergencies were to be prepared for. All the time that Lady Merrifieldwas giving orders to children and servants for the preparations, Dolores kept her station, and the instant there was a vacant moment, she said fiercely--

'Aunt Lilias, I know there is a letter for me. Let me have it. '

'Your father told me you might have letter from Miss Sefton, and thereis none from her, ' said Lady Merrifield, with a somewhat perplexed air. 

'I may have letters from whom I choose. '

'My dear, that is not the custom in general with girls of your age, andI know your father would not wish it. Tell me, is there any one youhave reason to expect to hear from?'

Dolores had an instinct that all the Mohuns were set against the personshe was thinking of, but she had an answer ready, true, but which wouldserve her purpose. 

'There was a person, Herr Muhlwausser, that father ordered somescientific plates from--of microscopic zoophytes. He said he did notknow whether anything would come of it, but, in case it should, he gavemy address, and left me a cheque to pay him with. I have it in my deskupstairs. '

'Very well, my dear, ' said Lady Merrifield, 'you shall have the letterwhen it comes. '

'The men are come, my lady, to put up the tables. Miss Mohun says willyou come down?' came the information at that moment, sweeping away AuntLilias and everybody else into the whirl of preparation; while Doloresremained, feeling absolutely certain that a letter was being withheldfrom her, and she stood on the garden steps burning with hotindignation, when Mysie, armed with the key of the linen-press, flashedpast her breathlessly, exclaiming--

'Aren't you coming down, Dolly? 'Tis such fun! I'm come for sometable-cloths. '

This didn't stir Dolores, but presently Mysie returned again, followedby Mrs. Halfpenny, grumbling that 'A' the bonnie napery that she hadpacked and carried sae mony miles by sea and land should be waured on awheen silly feckless taupies that 'tis the leddies' wull to cocker uptill not a lass of 'em will do a stroke of wark, nor gie a ceevilanswer to her elders. '

Mysie, with a bundle of damask cloths under her arm, paused to repeat, 'Are you not coming Dolly? Your dear Miss Constance is there lookingfor you?'

This did move Dolores, and she followed to the coach-house, whereeverybody was buzzing about like bees, the tables and forms beingarranged, and upon them dishes with piles of fruit and cakes, contributions from other associates. All the vases, great and small, were brought out, and raids were made on the flower garden to fillthem. Little scarlet flags, with the name of each parish in white, were placed to direct the parties of guests to their places, and Harry, Macrae, and the little groom were adorning the beams with festoons. The men from the coffee-tavern supplied the essentials, but the ladiesundertook the decoration, and Aunt Adeline, in a basket-chair, with herfeet on a box, directed the ornamentation with great taste and ability. Constance Hacket had been told off to make up a little bouquet to laybeside each plate, and Dolores volunteered to help her. 

'Well, dearest, will you come to me on Sunday?'

'I don't know. I have not been able to ask Aunt Lilias yet, andGillian was very cross about it. '

'What did she say?'

'She said she did not think Aunt Lilias approved of visiting andgossiping on Sunday. '

'Oh! now. What does Gillian do herself?' said Constance in a hurtvoice. 'She does come and teach, certainly, but she stays ever so longtalking after the class is over. Why should we gossip more than shedoes?'

'Yes; but people's own children can do no wrong. '

There Constance became inattentive. Mr. Poulter had come up, andwanted to be useful, so she jumped up with a handful of nosegays toinstruct him in laying them by each plate, leaving Dolores to herself, which she found dull. The other two, however, came back again, and thework continued, but the talk was entirely between the gentleman andlady, chiefly about music for the choral society, and the voices of thesingers, about which Dolores neither knew nor cared. 

By one o'clock the long tables were a pretty sight, covered with pilesof fruit and cakes, vases of flowers and little flags, establishmentsof teacups at intervals, and a bouquet and pretty card at every one ofthe plates. 

Then came early dinner at the house, and such rest as could be hadafter it, till the pony-chaise, waggonette, and Mrs. Blackburne'scarriage came to the door to convey to church all whom they couldcarry, the rest walking. 

The church was a sea of neat round hats, mostly black, with aconsiderable proportion of feathers, tufts, and flowers. On their darkdresses were pinned rosettes of different-coloured ribbon, to show towhich parish they belonged. There was a bright, short service, inwhich the clear, high voices of the multitudinous maidens quiteovercame those of the choir boys, and then an address, respecting whichConstance pronounced that 'Canon Fremont was always so sweet, ' andDolores assented, without in the least knowing what it had been about. 

Constance, who had driven down, was to have kept guard, in the walkfrom church, over the white-rosed Silverton detachment; but anothershower was impending, and Miss Hacket, declaring that Conny must notget wet, rushed up and packed her into the waggonette, where Doloreswas climbing after, when at a touch from Gillian, Lady Merrifieldlooked round. 

'Dolores, ' she said, 'you forget that Miss Hacket walked to church. '

Dolores turned on the step, her face looking as black as thunder, andMiss Hacket protested that she was not tired, and could not leave hergirls. 

'Never mind the girls, I will look after them; I meant to walk. Don'tstand on the step. Come down, ' she added sharply, but not in time, for the horses gave a jerk, and, with a scream from Constance, downtumbled Dolores, or would have tumbled, but that she was caught betweenher aunt and Miss Hacket, who with one voice admonished her never to dothat again, for there was nothing more dangerous. Indeed, there wasmore anger in Lady Merrifield's tone than her niece had yet heard, andas there was no making out that there was the least injury to the girl, she was forced to walk home, in spite of all Miss Hacket'sprotestations and refusals, which had nearly ended in her exposingherself to the same peril as Dolores, only that Lady Merrifield fairlypushed her in and shut the door on her. Nothing would have compensatedto Dolores but that her Constance should have jumped out to accompanyher and bewail her aunt's cruelty, but devotion did not reach to suchan extent. Her aunt, however, said in a tone that might be eitherapology or reproof--

'My dear, I could not let poor Miss Hacket walk after all she has doneand with all she has to do today. '

Dolores vouchsafed no answer, but Aunt Jane said--

'All which applies doubly to you, Lily. '

'Not a bit; I am not run about like all of you, ' she answered, brightly. 'Besides, it is such fun! I feel like Whit Monday atBeechcroft! Don't you remember the pink and blue glazed calico bannerscrowned with summer snowballs? And the big drum? What a nice-lookingset of girls! How pleasant to see rosy, English faces tidily got up!They were rosy enough in Ireland, but a great deal too picturesque. Now these are a sort of flower of maidenhood--'

'You are getting quite poetical, Lily. '

'It's the effect of walking in procession--there's something quiteexhilarating in it; ay, and of having a bit of old Beechcroft aboutme. Do tell me who that lady is; I ought to know her, I'm sure! Oh, Miss Smith, good morning. How many girls have you brought? Oh! thecrimson rosettes, are they? York and Lancaster?--indeed. I'm glad wehave some shelter for them; I'm afraid there is another shower. Haveyou no umbrella, my dear? Come under mine. '

It was a fierce scud of hail, hitting rather than wetting, but Doloreshad the satisfaction of declaring the edges of her dress to be damp andgoing off to change it, though Aunt Jane pinched the kilting and saidthe damp was imperceptible, and Wilfred muttered, 'Made of sugar, onlynot so sweet. '

In fact, she hoped that Constance, who had told of her hatred to thesegreat functions and willingness to do anything to avoid them, wouldavail herself of the excuse; but though the young lady must have seenher go, she never attempted to follow; and Dolores, feeling her ownroom dull, came down again to find the drawing-room empty, and on thenext gleam of sunshine, she decided on going to seek her friend. 

What a hum and buzz pervaded the stable-yard! There was a coach-housewith all its great doors open, and the rows of girls awakening fromtheir first shy and hungry silence into laughter and talking. Therewere big urns and fountains steaming, active hands filling cups, allthe cousins, all their congeners, and four or five clergymen acting aswaiters, Aunt Adeline pouring out tea a the upper table for anyassociate who had time to swallow it, and Constance Hacket talking awayto a sandy-haired curate, without so much as seeing her friend! OnlyWilfred, at sight of his cousin again, getting up a violent mock cough, declaring that he thought she had gone to bed with congealed lungs orelse Brown Titus, as the old women called it. His mother, however, heard the cough--which, indeed, was too remarkable a sound not toattract any one--and with a short, sharp word to him to take care, sheput Dolores down under Aunt Ada's wing, and provided her with a lovelypeach and a delicious Bath bun. Constance just looked up and nodded, saying, 'You dear little thing, I couldn't think what was become ofyou, ' and then went on with her sandy curate, about--what was it?--Dolores know not, only that it seemed very interesting, and she wasleft out of it. 

Down came the rain, a hopeless downpour, and there was a consultationamong the elders, some laughing, some doubtful looks, and at lastHarry, with Macrae and one of the curates, disappeared. Then grace wassung, and speeches followed--one by the rector, Mr. Leadbitter, fatherly and prosy;--a paper read by the Branch Secretary, aboutaffairs in general; and a very amusing speech by Miss Mohun, full ofanecdotes of example and warning. 'You know, ' she said, 'all theschool story-books end--when the grown up books marry their people--with the good girl going out to service under her young lady, and thereshe lives happy ever after! But some of us know better! We don't knowhow far the marrying ones always do live very happy ever after--'

'For shame, Jenny!' muttered Lady Merrifield. 

'But, ' went on Miss Mohun, 'even you that have been lucky enough to getunder your own young ladies know that life here is all new beginningsat the bottom, just as when you were very proud of yourselves forgetting out of the infant school, you found it was only being at thebottom of the upper one; and I can tell the twelve-year-olds--I seesome of them--that it is often a finer thing to be at the head of theschool than the last in the house. Ay, you've got to work up thereagain, and it is a long business and a steady business, but it is to bedone. I knew a girl, thirty-five years ago, that my sister-in-law tookfrom school, and she was not a genius either, and I am quite sure shecould not do rule-of-three, nor tell what is the capital of Dahomey, asI dare say every one here can do, but I'll tell you what she did, andthat was, her best, and there she has been ever since; and the lasttime I saw her was sitting up in her housekeeper's room, in her silkgown, with her master's grandchildren hanging about her, respected andloved by us all. And I knew another, a much clever girl at school, with prettier ways to begin with, but--I'm sorry to say, her fingerwere too clever, and it was not very happy ever after, though she didright herself. ' And then Aunt Jane went on to the difficulties ofhaving to deal with such quantities of pots and pans, and knives andforks, and cloths and brushes, each with a use of its very own, just asif she had been a scullery-maid herself; telling how sense and memorymust be brought to bear on these things just as much as in analyzing asentence, and how even those would not do without the higher motive offaithfulness to Him whose servants we all are. Her finish was apicture of the roving servant girl, always saying, 'I don't like it, 'and always seeking novelty, illustrated by her experience of a littlemaid who left one place because she could not sleep alone, and anotherbecause the little girl slept with her, a third because it was solonesome, and a fourth because it was so noisy, and quitted her fifthwithin a half year because she could not eat twice cooked meat. 

Aunt Jane varied her voice in the most comical way, and the girls, aswell as all her audience, laughed heartily. 

'Bravo, Jenny!' said a voice close to her, and a gentleman with arather bald head, a fluffy, light beard touched with white, dancingeyes, and a slim, youthful figure, was seen standing in the group. 

Lady Merrifield and her sisters cried with one glad voice, 'Oh!Rotherwood!' holding out their hands. 

'Yes. I found I'd a few hours between the trains, so I ran down tolook you up. I met Harry at the house, and he told me I should findJane qualifying for the female parliament. '

'It's such a pity you should fall on all this turmoil, ' said Aunt Ada. 

'Pity! I wouldn't have missed Jenny's wisdom for the world. What isit, Lily? Temperance, or have you set up a Salvation Army?

'G. F. S. , of course, you Rotherwood of old! And now you are come, youshall save me from what has been my bugbear for the last week. Youshall give the premiums. '

'Come, it's no use making faces and pretending you know nothing aboutit, ' added Miss Mohun. 'I know very well that Florence is deep in it!'

'Ay, they'll have you over to repeat that splendid harangue about potsand pans!' said he, bowing at Lady Merrifield's introductions of himto the bystanders, and obediently accepting the sheaf of envelopes, while Mr. Leadbitter made it known that the premiums would be given bythe Marquess of Rotherwood. Certainly it was a much more livelybusiness than if Lady Merrifield had performed it, for he had somethingdroll to observe to each girl. One he pretended to envy, telling herhe had worked hard for may a year, and never got such a card as thatfor it--far less five shillings. Another he was sure kept her pansbright, and always knew which was which; a very little one was asked ifshe had gone from her cradle, and so on, always sending them away witha broad smile, and professing great respect for the three seven-year-card maidens who came up last. Then in a concluding speech hedemanded--where were the premiums for the mistresses, who, he was quitesure, deserved them quite as much or more than the maids!

While everybody was still laughing, Lady Merrifield asked Mr. Leadbitter to explain that as it was still raining hard, she must askall to adjourn to the great loft over the stable, where they couldenjoy themselves. Each associate was to gather her own flock and bringthem in order. Lady Merrifield said she would lead the way, LordRotherwood coming with her, picking up little Primrose in his arms tocarry her upstairs to the loft. 

Every one was moving. Dolores was among a crowd of strangers. Sheheard them saying how delightful Lord Rotherwood was, and charming andhandsome and graceful Lady Merrifield, with her beautiful eyes. Itworried Dolores, who thought it rather foolish to be pretty, except inthe case of persecuted orphan, and, moreover, admiration of her auntalways seemed to her disparagement of her mother. And where wasConstance?

She followed the stream, and, climbing some stairs, came out into alarge, long, empty hay-loft, over what had once been hunting stables--the children's wet-day play-place. The deputation dispatched to thehouse had managed to get up there the schoolroom piano, and one of thecurates sat down to it, and began playing dance music, while MissMohun, Miss Hacket, and the other ladies began arranging couples for acountry dance--all girls, of course, except that Lord Rotherwood dancedwith the tiny premium girl, and Harry with Primrose. Wilfred andFergus could not be incited to make the attempt; Mysie offered herselfto Dolores, but in vain. 'I hate dancing, ' was all the answer she got, and she went off to persuade Lois, the nursery girl. Constance Hacketarranged herself on a chair, and looked out from between two curates;there was no getting at her. 

Then there came a pause; Lord Rotherwood spoke to Gillian, and musthave asked her to point Dolores out, for presently he made his way tothe little dark figure in the window, and, kindly laying his hand onher shoulder, asked whether she had heard from her father yet. 

'No, I suppose you can't, ' he added. 'It is a great break-up for you;but you are a lucky girl to be taken in here! It reminds me of whatBeechcroft used to be to me when I was a stray fish, though not quiteso lonely as you are. Make the most of it, for there aren't many inthese days like Aunt Lily there!'

'He little knows, ' thought Dolores, as a waltz began to be played. 

'They want an example, ' he said. 'Come along. You know how, I'm sure--a Londoner like you!'

Pairs were whirling about the floor in full career in a short time, tothe astonishment of other maidens who had never seen dancing in theirlives. Dolores, afraid to refuse, and certainly flattered, really waswonderfully exhilarated and brightened by her career wither good-natured cousin. 

'I do believe Cousin Rotherwood has shaken her out of the dumps, 'observed Gillian to Aunt Jane, who returned--

'He can do it if any one can. '

The funny thing was the effect upon Constance, who, in the next pause, shook off her curates, advanced to Dolores, who was recovering herbreath under the window, called her a dear thing whom she had not beenable to get to all this time, sat rather forward with an arm round herwaist for the next half-hour, and, when Sir Roger de Coverley wasgetting up, proposed that they should be partners, but not till she hadseen Lord Rotherwood pair himself off with Mysie. 

'I must, ' said he to Lady Merrifield, 'it's so like dancing with honestPhyl. '

'The greatest compliment you could have, Mysie, ' said her mother, looking very much pleased. 

The last yellow patches of evening sunshine on the sloping roof faded;watches were looked at, the music turned to the National Anthem, everybody stood up, or stood still, and sung it. Then at the close, Mr. Leadbitter stood by the piano and said--

'One word more, my young friends. Some of you may have been surprisedat this evening's amusement, but we want you to understand that thereis no harm in dancing itself, provided that the place, the manner, andthe companions are fit. I hope that you will all prove the truth of mywords, by not taking this pleasant evening as an excuse for runninginto places of temptation. Now, good night, with many thanks to LadyMerrifield for the happy day she has given us. '

A voice added, 'Three cheers for Lady Merrifield!' and the G. F. S. Showed itself by no means backward in the matter of cheering. Therewas a hunting up of ulsters and umbrellas; one associate after anothergot her flock together, and clattered downstairs, either to get intovans, to walk to the station, or to disperse to their homes in thetown. 

Meantime Lord Rotherwood had time to explain that he was on his way tofetch his wife home from some German baths, where she had gone torecruit after the season; and, as he meant to cross at night, had cometo spend a few hours with his cousin. There was still an hour tospare, during which Lady Merrifield insisted that he must have moresolid food than G. F. S. Provided. 

'Lily, ' said Miss Mohun, as the elders walked to the house together, 'it strikes me that Rotherwood could satisfy your mind about thatletter. He would know the handwriting. You remember a certainbrother--very much in law--of Maurice's?'

'I have reason to do so, ' said Lord Rotherwood. 'You don't mean thathe has been troubling Lily?'

'No; but from the nature of the animal it is much to be apprehendedthat he will, ' said Miss Mohun, 'if he knows that the child is here. '

'In fact, ' said Lady Merrifield, 'Jane has made me suppress, tillexamination, a letter to her, in case it should be from him. It is ahorrid thing to do. What do you think, Rotherwood?'

'There should be no correspondence. Did not Maurice warn you? Then heought. Look here, Lily. His wife--under strong compulsion from thefellow, I should think--begged me to find some employment for him. Igot him a secretaryship to our Board of--what d'ye call it? I'll doMaurice the justice to say that he was considerably cool about it; butthe end of it was that there was an unaccountable deficit, and my ladysaid it served me right. I was a fool, as I always am, and gave way tothe poor woman about not bringing it home to him. And she insisted onmaking it up to me by degrees--out of her literary work, I fancy--for Idon't think Maurice knew the extent of the peculation. Ever since I'vebeen getting begging letters from the fellow at intervals. If he hadthe impertinence to molest you, Lily, simply refer him to me. '

'And if he writes to the child?'

'Return him the letter. Say she can have no such thing without herfather's consent. '

'Is this a case in point?' said Lady Merrifield, producing the letter. 

'No, ' said he, holding it up in the waning light. 'I know the fellow'sfist too well! This is a gentleman's hand. '

'What a relief!' said Lady Merrifield. 

'Nay, don't be in a hurry, ' said Miss Mohun. 'Don't give it to herunopened. Your only safety is in maintaining your right to see all thechild's letters, except what her father specified. '

'Don't you wish it was you, Brownie?' asked her cousin. 

'I hate it!' said Lady Merrifield; 'but I suppose I ought! However, there's no harm in this, that's a comfort; it is simply that thegentleman that the house is let to has found this note to her somewhereabout, and thinks she would wish to have it. I think it is hermother's hand. How nice of him!'

'Now, Lily, don't go and be too apologetic, ' said Jane. 'Assert yourright, or you'll have it all over again. '

'Without Jenny to do prudence, ' said Lord Rotherwood, while LadyMerrifield, hardly hearing either of them, hurried on in search of herniece, but they would have been satisfied if they could have heard her. 

'My dear, here's your letter. I am so sorry to have been too muchhindered to look at it before. You must not mind, Dolly. I know it isvery disagreeable; but every one who has the care of precious articleslike young ladies is bound to look after them. '

Dolores took the letter with a kind of acknowledgement, but no more, for its detention offended her, and she was aggrieved at the prospectof future inspection, as another cruel stroke inflicted upon her. 

Aunt Adeline was found in the drawing-room, where she had entertainedsuch ladies as were afraid of the damp, or who did not approve of thedancing, and would not look on at it. Thence all went off to a merrymeal, where the elders plunged into old stories, and went on cappingeach others' recollections and making fun, to the extreme delight ofthe young folk, who had often been entertained with tales ofBeechcroft. Aunt Ada declared that she had not laughed so much for tenyears, and Aunt Jane declared that it was too bad to lower theirdignity and be so absurd before all these young things. 

'It's having four of the old set together!' said Lord Rotherwood; 'achance one doesn't get every day. I wonder how soon Maurice andPhyllis will meet. '

'It depends on whether the Zenobia touches at Auckland before going tothe Fijis, ' said Lady Merrifield. 

'There is at least a sort of neighbourhood between them, ' said MissMohun, 'though it may be about as close as between us and Sicily. '

'She is looking out for Maurice, ' said Aunt Ada. 'She wrote, only itwas too late, to propose his bringing Dolores to be at least nearer tohim. '

'Just like Phyllis!' ejaculated the marquess. 'You have one of yourflock with something of her countenance, Lily. '

'I am so glad you see it, Rotherwood. It is what I am always trying tobelieve in, and I hope the likeness is a little within as well aswithout--but we poor creatures who have been tumbled about the worldget sophisticated, and can't attain to the sweet, blundering freshnessof "Honest Simplicity. "'

'It is a plant that must be spontaneous--can't be grown to order. '

'His lordship's carriage at the door, ' announced Macrae. 

'Ah, well! Trains must be caught, I suppose. I'm glad you're settledhere, Lilias. I feel as if a sort of reflex of old Beechcroft wereattainable now. '

'I hope it won't be a G. F. S. Day next time you come!'

'Oh, it was very jolly. I shall bring my child next time, if I can gether out of the clutches of the governesses for a day, but it is a hardmatter. They look daggers at me if I put my head into the schoolroom. '

'You always were a dangerous element there, you know. '

'Poor dear Eleanor! What did I not make her go through! But she neverwent the length of one of my lady's governesses, who declared that shehad as much call to interfere in my stable, as I had with herschoolroom. '

'What mischief were you doing there?'

'Well, if you must know, I was enlivening a very dry and Cromwellianabridgement with some of Lily's old cavalier anecdotes, so Lily was atthe bottom of it, you see. '

'But did she fall on you then and there?'

'No, no. I trust my beard is too grey for that. But she looked at mewith impressive dignity such as neither poor little Fly nor I couldstand, and afterwards betook herself to Victoria, who, I am happy tosay, sent her to the right about. '

'As I am about to do, ' said Lady Merrifield; 'for if you don't missyour train, it will be by cruelty to animals. No, you've not got timeto shake hands with all that rabble. Be off with you. '

'Ah! I shall tell Victoria that if she sees me tomorrow it's all owingto your unpitying punctuality, ' said he, shaking himself into hisovercoat. 

'Dear old fellow!' said Lady Merrifield, as she turned from the frontdoor, while he drove off. 'He is like a gust of old Beechcroft air!But I should think Victoria had a handful. '

'She knew what she was doing, ' said Aunt Ada. 'I always thought shemarried him for the sake of breaking him in. '

'And very well she has done it, too, ' returned Aunt Jane. 'Only nowand then he gets a holiday, and then the real creature breaks outagain. But it is much better so. He would not have been of half somuch good otherwise. '

Lady Merrifield looked from one to the other, but said no more, for allthe young folks were round her; but every one was so much tired, children, servants, and all, that prayers were read early, and all wentto their rooms. Yet, tired as she was, Lady Merrifield sat on in hersister Jane's room, in her dressing-gown, talking according to anotherrevival of olden time. 

'What did Ada mean about Rotherwood? Isn't he happy?'

'Oh yes, very happy; and it is much the best thing that could havehappened. It is only another of the proofs that life is very long, especially for men. '

'Come, now, tell me all about it. You don't know how often I feel asif I had been buried and dug up again. '

'There are things one can't write about. Poor fellow! he never reallywanted to marry anybody but Phyllis. '

'No! you don't mean it! I never knew it. '

'No, for you were in the utmost parts of the earth; and he was verygood, so that I don't believe honest Phyl herself, or any one withouteyes, guessed it; but he had it all out with our father, who beggedhim, almost on that allegiance he had always shown, to abstain frombeginning about it. You see, not only are they first cousins, but ourmother and his father both were consumptive, and there was dear Claudeeven then regularly breaking down every winter, and Ada needing to belooked after like a hothouse plan. I'm sure, when I think of the lastgeneration of Devereuxes, I wonder so many of us have been tough enoughto weather the dangerous age; and there had been an alarm or two aboutRotherwood himself. Well, he was very good, half from obedience, halffrom being convinced that it would be a selfish thing, and especiallyfrom being wholly convinced that Phyl's feelings were not stirred. That was the way I came to know about it, for papa took me out for adrive in the old gig to ask what I thought about her heart, and I couldtruly and honestly say she had never found it, cared for Rotherwoodjust as she did for Reggie, and was not the sort to think whether a manwas attentive to her. Besides, she was eighteen, and he thirty-one, and she thought him venerable. I believe, if he had asked her then, she might have taken him (because Cousin Rotherwood wished it), but shewould have had to fall in love in the second place instead of thefirst. Well, he was very good, poor old fellow, except that by way oftaking himself off, and diverting his mind, he went dear-stalking withsuch unnecessary vehemence that a Scotch mist was very nearly the deathof him, and he discovered that he had as many lungs as other people. If you could only have seen our dear old father then, how distressedand how guilty he felt, and how he used to watch Phyllis, and examineAlethea and me as to whether she seemed more than reasonably concernedfor Rotherwood had come and hit the right nail on the head he mighthave carried her off. '

'But he didn't. '

'No; for, you see, he was ill enough to convince himself, as well asother people, that he was a consumptive Devereux after all. '

'Oh yes! I remember the shock with which I heard like a doom that hewas going the way of the others; and hen he and the dear Claude cameout in his yacht to us at Gibraltar, and were so bright! We had awonderful little journey into Spain together, and how Jasper enjoyedit! Little did I think I was never to see Claude here again. But itwas true, was it not, that all Rotherwood's care gave the dear fellowmuch more comfort--perhaps kept him longer?'

'I am sure it was so. Rotherwood soon got over his own attachment--themissing an English winter was all he needed; but he would hear ofnothing but devoting himself to Claude. Papa and Claude were bothuneasy at his going off from all his cares and duties, but I believe--and Claude knew it--that he actually could not settle down quietlywhile Phyllis remained unmarried, and that having Claude to nurse andcarry about from climate was the comfort of his life. Or, I believe, dear Claude would have been glad to have been left in peace to do whathe could. Well, then Phyllis and Ada went to stay in the Close withEmily, and Ada wrote conscious letters and came home bridling andblushing about Captain May, so that we were quite prepared for histurning up at Beechcroft, but not at all for what I saw before he hadbeen ten minutes in the house, that it was Phyllis that he meant, andhad meant all along! Dear Harry! it almost made up for its not beingRotherwood. Well, poor Ada! It hadn't gone too deep, happily, and Iopened her eyes in time to hinder any demonstration that could haveleft pain and shame--at least, I think so; but poor Ada has had toomany little fits for one to have told much more than another. Ibelieve Phyl did tell Harry that he meant Ada, but she let herself beconvinced to the contrary; and the only objection I have to it is hishaving taken that appointment at Auckland, and carried her out of reachof any of us. However, it was better for Rotherwood, and when she wasgone, and his occupation over with our dear Claude, his mother wasalways at him to let her see him married before she died. And so helet her have her way. No, don't look concerned. Lady Rotherwood is anexcellent, good woman, just the wife for him, and he knows it, and doesas she tells him most faithfully and gratefully. They are pattern-folkfrom top to toe, and so is the boy. But the girl! He would have hisway, and named her Phyllis--Fly he calls her. She is a little skittishelf--Rotherwood himself all over; and doesn't he worship her! anddoesn't he think it a holiday to carry her off to play pranks with!and isn't he happy to get amongst a good lot of us, and be his old selfagain!'

CHAPTER VIII

MY PERSECUTED UNCLE

Dolores was allowed to go to Casement Cottage on Sunday. It was alwaysrather an awful thing to her to get through the paddock when thefarmer's cattle turned out there. She did not mind it so much in thebroad road and in the midst of a large party, with Hal among them, andno dogs; but alone with only one companion, and in the easy path whichwas the shortest way to the cottage, she winced and trembled at thelittle black, shaggy Scotch oxen, with white horns and faces thatlooked to her very wild and fierce. 

'Oh, Gillian, those creatures! Can't we go the other way?'

'No; it is a great deal further round, and there's no time. They won'thurt. The farmer engaged not to turn out anything vicious here. '

'But how can he be sure?'

'Well, don't come if you don't like it, ' said Gillian, impatiently. 'It is your own concern. I must go. '

Dolores did not like the notion of Constance being told that she wouldnot come because she was afraid of the oxen. She thought it veryunkind of Gillian, but she came, and kept carefully on the sidefurthest from the formidable animals. And Gillian really wasforbearing. She did make allowances for the London-bred girl's fears;and the only thing she did was, that when one of the animals lifted upits head and looked, and Dolores made a spring as if to run away, shecaught the girl's arm, crying, 'Don't! That's the very way to make himrun after you. '

They got safe out of the paddock at last, and rang at the door. Theywere both kissed, Dolores with especial affectionateness, because thegood ladies pitied her so much; and then while Miss Hacket and Gillianwent off to their class, Constance took Dolores up into her own room, and began to tell her how disappointed she was not to have seen more ofher at the Festival. 

'But those curates would not let me alone. I was obliged to attend tothem. '

And then she was very eager to know all about Lord Rotherwood, whichrather amazed Dolores, who had been in the habit of hearing her fathermention him as 'that mad fellow Rotherwood, ' while her mother alwaysspoke with contempt of people who ran after lords and ladies, and hadbeen heard to say that Lord Rotherwood himself was well enough, but hiswife was a mere fine lady. 

But Dolores had a matter on which she was very anxious. 

'Connie, do they always read one's letters first? I mean the oldpeople, like Aunt Lily. '

'What! has she been reading your letters?'

'She says she always shall, except father's and Maude Sefton's, becausepapa spoke to her about that. She took a letter of mine the other day, and never let me have it till the evening, and I am sure Aunt Jane puther up to it. '

'You poor darling!' exclaimed Constance. 'Was it anything you caredabout?'

'Oh no--not that--but there might be. And I want to know whether shehas the right. '

'I should not have thought Lady Merrifield would have been so like anold schoolmistress. Miss Dormer always did, the old cat! where I wentto school, ' said Constance. 'We did hate it so! She looked over everyone's letters, except parents', so that we never could have anythingnice, except by a chance or so. '

'It is tyranny, ' said Dolores, solemnly. 'I do not see why one shouldsubmit to it. '

'We had dodges, ' continued Constance, warming with the history of herschool-days, and far too eager to talk to think of the harm she mightbe doing to the younger girl. 'Sometimes, when a lot of us went to ashop with one of the governesses, one would slip out and post a letter. Fraulein was so short-sighted, she never guessed. We used to call herthe jolly old Kafer. But Mademoiselle was very sharp. She once caughtAlice Bell, so that she had to make an excuse and say she had droppedsomething. You see, she really had--the letter into the slit. '

'But that was an equivocation. '

'Oh, you darling scrupulous, long-worded child! You aren't like thegirls at Miss Dormer's, only she drove us to it, you know. You'll behorribly shocked, but I'll tell you what Louie Preston did. There wasa young man in the town whom she had met at a picnic in the holidays--aclerk, he was, at the bank--and he used to put notes to her under thecushions at church; but one unlucky Sunday, Louie had a cold and didn'tgo, and she told Mabel Blisset to bring it, and Mabel didn't understandthe right place, and went poking about, so that Miss Dormer found itout, and there was such a row!'

'Wasn't that rather vulgar?' said Dolores. 

'Well, he was only a clerk, but he was a duck of a man, with regularauburn hair, you know. And he sang! We used to go to the ChoralSociety concerts, and he sang ballads so beautifully, and always lookedat Louie!'

'I should not care for anything of that sort, ' said Dolores. 'I thinkit is bad form. '

'So it is, ' said Constance, seriously, 'only one can't helprecollecting the fun of the thing, and what one was driven to in thosedays. Is there any one you are anxious to correspond with?'

'Not in particular, only I can't bear to have Aunt Lilias meddling withmy letters; and there's a poor uncle of mine that I know would not likeher, or any of the Mohuns, to see his letters. 

'Indeed! Your poor mamma's brother?' cried Constance, full ofcuriosity. 

'Mind, it is in confidence. You must never tell any one. '

'Never. Oh, you may trust me!' cried Constance. 

'Her half-brother, ' said Dolores; and the girl proceeded to tellConstance what she had told Maude Sefton about Mr. Flinders, and howher mother had been used to assist him out of her own earnings, andhow he had met her at Exeter station, and was so disappointed to havemissed her father. Constance listened most eagerly, greatly delightedto have a secret confided to her, and promising to keep it with all hermight. 

'And now, ' said Dolores, 'what shall I do? If poor Uncle Alfred writesto me, Aunt Lilias will have the letter and read it, and the Mohuns areall so stuck up; they will despise him, and very likely she will neverlet me have the letter. '

'Yes, but, dear, couldn't you write here, with my things, and tell himhow it is, and tell him to write under cover to me?'

'Dear Connie! How good you are! Yes, that would be quite delightful!'

All the confidences and all the caresses had, however, taken quite aslong as the G. F. S. Class, and before Constance had cleared a space onthe table for Dolores's letter, there was a summons to say that Gillianwas ready to go home. 

'So early!' said Constance. 'I thought you would have had tea andstayed to evening service. '

'I should like it so much, ' cried Dolores, remembering that it wouldspare her the black oxen in the cross-path, as well as giving her thetime with her friend. 

So they went down with the invitation, but Gillian replied that mammaalways liked to have all together for the Catechism, and that she couldnot venture to leave Dolores without special permission. 

'Quite right, my dear, ' said Miss Hacket. 'Connie would be very sorryto do anything against Lady Merrifield's rules. We shall see you againin a day or two. '

And this is the way in which Constance kept her friend's secret. WhenMiss Hacket had done her further work with a G. F. S. Young woman whoneeded private instruction to prepare her for baptism, the two sisterssat down to a leisurely tea before starting for evensong; in the firstplace, Constance detailed all she had discovered as to the connectionwith Lord Rotherwood, in which subject, it must be confessed, good MissHacket took a lively interest, having never so closely encountered alive marquess, 'and so affable, ' she contended; upon which Constancedeclared that they were all stuck-up, and were very unkind and hard topoor darling Dolores. 

'I don't know. I cannot fancy dear Lady Merrifield being unkind to anyone, especially a dear girl as good as an orphan, ' said Miss Hacket, who, if not the cleverest of women, was one of the best and most warm-hearted. 'And, indeed, Connie, I don't think dear Gillian and Mysiefeel at all unkindly to their cousin. '

'Ah! that's just like you, Mary. You never see more than the outside, but then I am in dear Dolly's confidence. '

'What do you mean, Connie?' said Miss Hacket, eagerly. 

Constance had come home from school with the reputation of being muchmore accomplished than her elder sister, who had grown up while herfather was a curate of very straitened means, and thus, though herjunior, she was thought wonderfully superior in discernment andeverything else. 

'Well, ' said Constance, 'what do you think of Lady Merrifield sendingher to bed for staying late here that morning?'

'That was strict, certainly; but you know she sent Mysie too. It wasall my own thoughtlessness for detaining them, ' said the good eldersister. 'I was so grieved!'

'Yes, ' said Constance, 'it sounds all very well to say Mysie wastreated in the same way, but in the afternoon Mysie was allowed to goand make messes with blackberry jam, while poor Dolly was kept shut upin the schoolroom!'

Constance did not like Lady Merrifield, who had unconsciously snubbedsome of her affectations, and nipped in the bud a flirtation withHarry, besides calling off some of the curates to be helpful. But MissHacket admired her neighbour as much as her sister would permit, andmade answer--

'It is so hard to judge, my dear, without knowing all. Perhaps Mysiehad finished her lessons. '

'Ah! I know you always are for Lady Merrifield! But what do you say, then, to her prying into all that poor child's correspondence?'

'My dear, I think most people do think it advisable to have some checkon young girl's letters. Perhaps Dolores's father desired it. '

'He never put on any restrictions, ' said Constance. 'I am sure henever would. Men don't. It is always women, with their nasty, prying, tyrannous instincts. '

'I am sure, ' returned Mary, 'one would not think a child like DoloresMohun could have anything to conceal. '

'But she has!' cried Constance. 

'No, my dear! Impossible!' exclaimed Miss Hacket, looking very muchshocked. 'Why, she can't be fourteen!'

'Oh! it is nothing of that sort. Don't think about that, Mary. '

'No, no, I know, Connie dear; you would never listen to any younggirl's confidence of that kind--so improper and so vulgar, ' said MissHacket, and Constance did not think it necessary to reveal herknowledge of the post-office under the cushions at church, and otherlittle affairs of that sort. 

'It is her uncle, ' said Constance. 'Her mother, it seems, though quitea lady, was the daughter of a professor, a very learned man, verydistinguished, and all that, but not a high family enough to please theMohuns, and they never were friendly with her, or treated her as anequal. '

'That couldn't have been Lady Merrifield, ' persevered Miss Hacket. 'She lamented to me herself that she had been out of England for somany years that she had scarcely seen Mrs. Maurice Mohun. '

'Well, there were the Miss Mohuns and all the rest!' said Constance. 'Why, Dolores has only once been at the family place. And her motherhad a brother, an author and a journalist, a very clever man, and theMohuns have always regularly persecuted him. He has been veryunfortunate, and Mrs. Maurice Mohun has done her utmost to help him, writing in periodicals and giving the proceeds to him. Wasn't thatsweet? And now Dolores feels quite cut off from him; and she is sofond of him, poor darling for her mother's sake. '

Tender-hearted as Miss Hacket was, she had seen enough of life to havesome inkling of what being very unfortunate might sometimes mean. 

'I should think, ' she said, 'that Lady Merrifield would never withholdfrom the child any letter it was proper she should have, especiallyfrom a relation. '

'Yes, but I tell you she did keep back a letter on the festival daytill she had looked at it. Poor Dolores saw it come, and she saw aglance pass between her and Miss Mohun, and she is quite sure, shesays, her Aunt Jane had been poisoning her mind about this poorpersecuted uncle, and that she shall never be allowed to hear fromhim. '

'I don't suppose there can be much for him to say to her, ' said MissHacket. Then, after a little reflection, 'Connie, my dear, I reallythink you had better not interfere. There may be reasons that thispoor child knows nothing about for keeping her aloof from this uncle. '

'Oh! but her mother helped him. '

'She was his sister. That was quite another thing. Indeed, Connie, 'said Miss Hacket, more earnestly, 'I am quite sure that you will useyour influence--and you have a great deal of influence, you know--mostkindly by persuading this dear child to be happy with the Merrifieldsand submit to their arrangements. '

'You are infatuated with Lady Merrifield, ' muttered Constance. 'Ah!how little you know!'

Here the first warning note of the bell ended the discussion, andConstance did not think it necessary to tell her sister of the offershe had made to Dolores. In her eyes, Mary, who was the eldest of thefamily, had always been of the dull, grown-up, authoritative faction ofthe elders, while she herself was still one of the sweet junior party, full of antagonism to them, and ready to elude them in any way. Besides, she had promised her darling Dolores; and the thing was quiteromantic; nor could any one call it blame-worthy, since it was nothinglike a lover--not even a young man, but only a persecuted uncle indistress. 

So she awaited anxiously the next Sunday when Dolores's letter was tobe written in her room. To tell the truth, Dolores could quite aseasily have written in her own, and brought down the letter in herpocket, if she had been eager about the matter; but she was not, exceptunder the influence of making a grievance. She had never written toUncle Alfred in her life, nor he to her; and his visits to her motherhad always led to something uncomfortable. Nor would she have thoughtabout the subject at all if it had not been for the sore sense that shewas cut off from him, as she fancied, because he belonged to hermother. 

Nothing particular had happened that week. There had been no verystriking offences one way or the other; she was working better with herlessons and understanding more of Miss Vincent's methods. Sheperceived that they were thorough, and respected them accordingly, andshe had had the great satisfaction of getting more good marks forFrench and German than Mysie. She had become interested in 'The OldOak Staircase, ' and began to look forward to Aunt Lily's readings asthe best part of the day. But she had not drawn in the least nearer toany of the family. She absolutely disliked, almost hated, the quarterof an hour which Aunt Lily devoted to her religious teaching everymorning, though nobody was present, not even Primrose. She nearlyrefused to learn, and said as badly as possible the very small portionsshe was bidden to learn by heart, and she closed her mind up againsttaking in the sense of the very short readings and her aunt's commentson them. It seemed to her to be treating her like a Sunday-schoolchild, and insulting her mother, who had never troubled her in thismanner. Her aunt said no word of reproach, except to insist onattention and accuracy of repetition; but there came to be an unusualgravity and gentleness about her in these lessons, as if she werekeeping a guard over herself, and often a greatly disappointed look, which exasperated Dolores much more than a scolding. 

Mysie had left off courting her cousin, finding that it only broughther rebuffs, and went her own way as before, pleased and honoured whenGillian would consort with her, but generally paring with her youngersister. 

Dolores, though hitherto ungracious, missed her attentions, and decidedthat they were 'all falseness. ' Wilfred absolutely did tease and annoyher whenever he could, Fergus imitated him, and Valetta enjoyed andabetted him. These three had all been against her ever since theaffair of the arrow; but Wilfred had not many opportunities oftormenting her, for in the house there was a perpetual quietsupervision and influence. Mrs. Halfpenny was sure to detect traps inthe passage, or bounces at the door. Miss Vincent looked daggers ifother people's lesson books were interfered with. Mamma had eyes allround, and nobody dared to tease or play tricks in her presence. Hal, Gillian, and even Mysie always thwarted such amiable acts as putting adead wasp into a shoe, or snapping a book in the reader's face; while, as to venturing into the general family active games, Dolores wouldhave felt it like rushing into a corobboree of savages!

There was one wet afternoon when they could not even get as far as tothe loft over the stables; at least the little ones could not have doneso, and it was decided that it would be very cruel to them for all theothers to run off, and leave them to Mrs. Halfpenny; so the plan wasgiven up. 

Partly because Lady Merrifield thought it very amiable in Mysie andValetta to make the sacrifice, and partly to disperse the thundercloudshe saw gathering on Wilfred's brow, she not only consented to amagnificent and extraordinary game at wolves and bears all over thehouse, but even devoted herself to keeping Mrs. Halfpenny quiet byshutting herself into the nursery to look over all the wardrobes, anddecide what was to 'go down' in the family, and what was to be givenaway, and what must be absolutely renewed. It was an operation thatMrs. Halfpenny enjoyed so much, that it warranted her to be deaf toshrieks and trampling, and almost to forget the chances of gathers andkilting being torn out, and trap-doors appearing in skirts andpinafores. 

All that time Dolores sat hunched up in her own room, reading 'Clare, or No Home, ' and realizing the persecutions suffered by that afflictedchild, who had just been nearly drowned in rescuing her wickedestcousin, and was being carried into her noble grandfather's house, thereto be recognized by her golden hair being exactly the colour it waswhen she was a baby. 

There were horrible growlings at times outside her door, and she boltedit by way of precaution. Once there was a bounce against it, butGillian's voice might be heard in the distance calling off the wolves. 

Then came a lull. The wolves and bears had rushed up and down stairstill they were quite exhausted and out of breath, especially asPrimrose had always been a cub, and gone in the arms of Hal or Gillian;Fergus at last had rolled down three steps, and been caught by Wilfred, who, in his character of bear, hugged and mauled him till his screamsgrew violent. Harry had come to the rescue, and it was decided thatthere had been enough of this, and that there should be a grandexhibition of tableaux from the history of England in the dining-room, which of course mamma was to guess, with the assistance of any one whowas not required to act. 

Mama, ever obliging, hastily condemned two or three sunburnt hats andancient pairs of shoes, to be added to the bundle for Miss Hacket'sdistribution, and let herself be hauled off to act audience. 

'But where's Dolly?' she asked, as she looked at the assemblage on thestairs. 

'Bolted into her room, like a donkey, ' said Wilfred, the last clauseunder his breath. 

'Indeed, mamma, we did ask her, and gave her the choice between wolvesand bears, ' said Mysie. 

'Unfortunately she is bear without choosing, ' said Gill. 

'A sucking of her paws in a hollow tree, ' chimed in Hal. 

'Hush! hush!' said Lady Merrifield, looking pained; 'perhaps the choiceseemed very terrible to a poor only child like that. We, who had theluck to be one of many, don't know what wild cats you may all seem toher. '

'She never will play at anything, ' said Val. 

'She doesn't know how to, ' said Mysie. 

'And won't be taught, ' added Wilfred. 

'But that's very dreadful, ' exclaimed Lady Merrifield. 'Fancy a poorchild of thirteen not knowing how to play. I shall go and dig herout!'

So there came a gentle tap at the closed door, to which Doloresanswered--

'Can't you let me alone? Go away, ' thinking it a treacherous ruse ofthe enemy to effect an entrance; but when her aunt said--

'Is there anything the matter, my dear? Won't you let me in?' she wasobliged to open it. 

'No, there's nothing the matter, ' she allowed. 'Only I wanted them tolet me alone. '

'They have not been rude to you, I hope. '

Dolores was too much afraid of Wilfred to mention the bouncing, so sheallowed that no one had been rude to her, but she hated romping, whichshe managed to say in the tone of a rebuke to her aunt for sufferingit. 

However, Aunt Lily only smiled and said--

'Ah! you have not been used to wholesome exercise in large families. Idare say it seems formidable; but, my dear, you are looking quite pale. I can't allow you to stay stuffed up there, poking over a book all theafternoon. It is very bad for you. We are going to have somehistorical tableaux. They are to have one set, and I thought perhapsyou and I would get up some for them to guess in turn. '

Dolores was not in a mood to be pleased, but she did not quite dare tosay she did not choose to make herself ridiculous, and she knew therewas authority in the tone, so she followed and endured. 

So they beheld Alfred watching the cakes before the bright grate in thedining-room, and having his ears beautifully boxed. Also Knut and thewaves, which were graphically represented by letting the wind in underthe drugget, and pulling it up gradually over his feet, but these, Mysie explained, were only for the little ones. Rollo and hissubstitute doing homage to Charles the Simple, were much moreeffective; as Gillian in that old military cloak of her father's, whichhad seen as much service in the play-room as in the field, stood andscowled at Wilfred in the crown and mamma's ermine mantle, beingoverthrown by Harry at his full height. 

The excitement was immense when it was announced that mamma had atableau to represent with the help of Dolores, who was really warming alittle to the interest of the thing, and did not at all dislike beingdressed up with one of the boy's caps with three ostrich feathers, toaccompany her aunt in hood and cloak, and be challenged by Hal, whohad, together with the bow and papa's old regimental sword, beenborrowed to personate the robber of Hexham. Everybody screamed withecstasy except Fergus, who thought it very hard that he should not havebeen Prince Edward instead of a stupid girl. 

So, to content all parties, mama undertook to bring in as many aspossible, and a series from the life of Elizabeth Woodville wasaccordingly arranged. 

She stood under the oak, represented by the hall chandelier, withFergus and Primrose as her infant sons, and fascinated King Edward onthe rocking-horse, which was much too vivant, for it reared asperpendicularly as it could, and then nearly descended on its nose, tomark the rider's feelings. 

Then, with her hair let down, which was stipulated for, though, as sheobserved, nothing would make it the right colour, she sat desolate onthe hearth, surrounded by as many daughters as could be spared frombeing spectators, as her youngest son was born off from her maternalarms by a being as like a cardinal as a Galway cloak, disposed tippetfashion, could make him. 

She could not be spared to put up her hair again before she had toforget her maternal feelings and be mere audience, while her two sonswere smothered by Mysie and Dolores, converted into murderers one andtwo by slouched hats. Fergus, a little afraid of being actuallysuffocated, began to struggle, setting off Wilfred, and the adventurewas having a conclusion, which would have accounted for the authenticexistence of Perkin Warbeck, when--oh horror! there was a peal at thedoor-bell, and before there was a moment for the general scurry, Herbert the button-boy popped out of the pantry passage and admittedMr. Leadbitter, to whom, as a late sixth standard boy, he had a specialallegiance, and, having spied him coming, hurried to let him in out ofthe rain instantly. 

At least, such was the charitable interpretation. Harry stronglysuspected that the imp had been a concealed spectator all the time, andhad particularly relished the mischief of the discomfiture, which, after all, was much greater on the part of the Vicar than any one else, as he was a rather stiff, old-fashioned gentleman. Lady Merrifieldonly laughed, said she had been beguiled into wet day sports with thechildren, begged him to excuse her for a moment or two, and trippedaway, followed by Gillian to help her, quickly reappearing in her lacecap as the graceful matron, even before Mr. Leadbitter had quite doneblushing and quoting to Harry 'desipere in loco, ' as he was assistedoff with his dripping, shiny waterproof. 

After all no harm would have been done if--Harry and Gillian being bothoff guard--Valetta had not exclaimed most unreasonably in herdisappointment--

'I knew the fun would be spoilt the instant Dolores came in for it. '

'Yes, Mr. Murderer, you squashed my little finger and all but smotheredme, ' cried Fergus, throwing himself on Dolores and dropping her down. 

'Don't! don't! you know you mustn't, ' screamed valiant Mysie, flying tothe rescue. 

'Murderers! Murderers must be done for, ' shouted Wilfred, falling uponMysie. 

'You shan't hurt my Mysie, ' bellowed Valetta, hurling herself uponWilfred. 

And there they were all in a heap, when Gillian, summoned by theshrieks, came down from helping her mother, pulled Valetta off Wilfred, Wilfred off Mysie, Mysie off Fergus, and Fergus off Dolores, who wasdiscovered at the bottom with an angry, frightened face, and all herhair standing on end. 

'Are you hurt, Dolores? I am very sorry, ' said Gillian. 'It was verynaughty. Go up to the nursery, Fergus and Val, and be made fit to beseen. '

They obeyed, crestfallen. Dolores felt herself all over. It wouldhave been gratifying to have had some injury to complain of, but shehad fallen on the prince's cushions, and there really was none. So sheonly said, 'No, I'm not hurt, though it is a wonder;' and off shewalked to bolt herself into her own room again, there to brood onValetta's speech. 

It worked up into a very telling and pathetic history for Constance'ssympathizing ears on Sunday, especially as it turned out to be one ofthe things not reported to mamma. 

And on that day, Dolores, being reminded of it by her friend, sent aletter to Mr. Flinders to the office of the paper for which he workedin London, to tell him that if he wished to write to her as he hadpromised he must address under cover to Miss Constance Hacket, CasementCottage, as otherwise Aunt Lilias would certainly read all his letters. 

CHAPTER IX. 

LETTERS

Constance Hacket was very much excited about the address to Dolores'sletter to her uncle. She had not noticed it at the moment that it waswritten, but she did when she posted it; and the next time she couldget her young friend alone, she eagerly demanded what Mr. Flinders hadto do with the Many Tongues, and why her niece wrote to him at theoffice. 

'He writes the criticisms, ' said Dolores, magnificently; for though shedespised pluming herself on any connection with a marquess, she didgreatly esteem that with the world of letters. 'You know we are allliterary. '

'Oh yes, I know! But what kind of criticisms do you mean? I supposeit is a very clever paper?'

'Of course it it, ' said Dolores, 'but I don't think I ever saw it. Father never takes in society papers. I believe he does criticisms onplays and novels. I know he always has tickets for all the theatresand exhibitions. 

She did not say how she did know it, for a pang smote her as sheremembered dimly a scene, when her father had forbidden her mother toavail herself of escort thus obtained. Nor was she sure that the wordall was accurately the fact; but it was delightful to impressConstance, who cried, 'How perfectly delicious! I suppose he can getany article into his paper!'

'Oh yes, of course, ' said Dolores. 

'Did your dear mother write in it?'

'No; it was not her line. She used to write metaphysical and scientificarticles in the first-class reviews and magazines, and the Many Tonguesis what they call a society paper, you know. '

'Oh yes, I know. There are charming things about the Upper TenThousand. They tell all that is going on, but I hardly ever can seeone. Mary won't take in anything about Church Bells, and we get theGuardian when it is a week old, and my brother James has done with it. '

'Dear me! How dreadful!' said Dolores, who had been used to see allmanner of papers come in as regularly as hot rolls. 'Why, you nevercan know anything! We didn't take in society papers, because fatherdoes not care for gossip or grandees. He has other pursuits. I canshow you some of dear mother's articles. There's one called'Unconscious Volition, ' and another on the 'Progress of Species. ' I'llbring them down next time I come. '

'Have you read them?'

'No; they are too difficult. Mother was so very clever, you know. '

'She must have been, ' said Constance, with a sigh; 'but how did she getthem published?'

'Sent them to the editor, of course, ' said Dolores. 'They all knewher, and were glad to get anything that she wrote. '

'Ah! that is what it is to have an introduction, ' sighed Constance. 

'What! have you written anything?' cried Dolores. 

'Only a few little trifles, ' said Constance, modestly. 'It is a greatsecret, you know, a dead secret. '

'Oh! I'll keep it. I told you my secret, you know, so you might tellme yours. '

And so to Dolores were confided sundry verses and tales on whichConstance had been wont to spend a good deal of her time in that prettysitting-room. She had actually sent her manuscripts to magazines, butshe had heard no more of one, and the other had been returned declinedwith thanks--all for want of an introduction. Dolores was delighted topromise that as soon as she heard from Uncle Alfred, she would get himto patronize them, and the reading occupied several Sunday afternoons. Dolores suggested, however, that a goody-goody story about a choir-boylost in the snow would never do for the Many Tongues, and a far moreexciting one was taken up, called 'The Waif of the Moorland, ' being thestory of a maiden, whom a wicked step-mother was suspected ofmurdering, but who walked from time to time like the 'Woman in White. 'There was only too much time for the romance; for weeks passed andthere was no answer from Mr. Flinders. It was possible that he mighthave broken off his connection with the paper, only then the letterwould probably have been returned; and the other alternative was lessagreeable, that it was not worth his while to write to his niece. While as to Maude Sefton, nothing was heard of her. Were her lettersintercepted? And so the winter side of autumn set in. Hal was gone toOxford, and there had been time for letters to come from Mr. Mohun, posted from Auckland, New Zealand, where he had made a halt with hissister, Mrs. Harry May, otherwise Aunt Phyllis. Dolores was very muchpleased to receive her letter, and to have it all to herself; but, after all, she was somewhat disappointed in it, for there was reallynothing in it that might not have been proclaimed round the breakfast-table, like the public letters from that quarter of the family who wereat Rawul Pindee. It told of deep-sea soundings and investigations intothe creatures at the bottom of the sea, of Portuguese men-of-war, andalbatrosses; and there were some orders to scientific-instrument makersfor her to send to them--a very improving letter, but a good deal likea book of travels. Only at the end did the writer say, 'I hope mylittle daughter is happy among her cousins, and takes care to give heraunt no trouble, and to profit by her kind care. Your three cousinshere, Mary, Lily, and Maggie, are exceedingly nice girls, and muchinterested about you; indeed, they wish I had brought you with me. '

Dolores read her letter over and over and over, for the pleasure ofhaving something all to herself, and never communicated a word aboutthe miscroscopic monsters her father had described, but she drew herhead back and reflected, 'He little knows, ' when he spoke of her beinghappy among her cousins. 

Lady Merrifield likewise received a letter, about which she did not saymuch to her children, but Miss Mohun, who had had a much longer one, came over for the day to read this to her sister. In point of fact, she had paired in childhood with her brother Maurice. She had been hiscorrespondent in school and college days, and being a person nevereasily rebuffed, she had kept up more intercourse with him and his wifethan any others of the family had done, and he had preserved the habitof writing to her much more freely and unreservedly than to any oneelse. So the day after the New Zealand letters came, just as thehistorical reading and needlework were in full force, the schoolroomdoor was opened, and a brisk little figure stood there in sealskin coatand hat. 

Up jumped mamma. 'Oh! Jenny! Brownie indeed! How did you come? Youdidn't walk from the station?'

'Yes, why not? Otherwise I should have been too soon, and havedisturbed the lessons, ' said Aunt Jane, in the intervals of thegreeting kisses. 'All well with the Indian folks?'

'Oh yes; they've come back from the emerald valleys of Cashmere, andAlethea has actually sent me a primrose--just like an English one--thatthey found growing there. They did enjoy it so. Have you heard fromMaurice?'

'Yes, I thought you would like to hear about Phyllis, so, havingenjoyed it with Ada, I brought it over for further enjoyment with you. '

'That's a dear old Brownie! We've a good hour before dinner. Shall weread it to the general public, or shall we adjourn to the drawing-room?'

"Oh! I assure you it is very instructive. Quite as much so as MissSewell's 'Rome. '"

And Aunt Jane, whom Gillian had aided in disrobing herself of heroutdoor garments, was installed by the fire, and unfolded a wholevolume of thin, mauve sheets in Mr. Mohun's tiny Greek-lookinghandwriting. 

It was a sort of journal of his voyage. There were all the sameaccounts of the minute creatures that are incipient chalk, and theirexquisite cells, made, some of coral, some of silex spicule fromsponges; the some descriptions of phosphorescent animals, meduse, andthe like, that Dolores had thought her own special treasure andprivilege, only a great deal fuller, and with the scientific termsuntranslated--indeed, Aunt Jane had now and then to stop and explain, since she had always kept up with the course of modern discovery. There was also much more about his shipmates, with one or two of whomMr. Mohun had evidently made great friends. He told his sister a greatdeal about them, and his conversations with them, whereas he had onlytold Dolores abut one little midshipman getting into a scrape. Perhapsnothing else was to be expected, but it made her feel the contrastbetween being treated with real confidence and as a mere child, and itseemed to put her father further away from her than ever. 

Then came the conclusion, written on shore--

'Harry May came on board to take me home with him. He is a fine, genial fellow and his welcome did one's heart good. I never did himjustice before; but I see his good sense and superiority called intoplay out here. Depend upon it, there's nothing like going to the otherend of the world to teach the value of home ties. '

'Well done, Maurice, ' exclaimed Lady Merrifield; but she glanced atDolores and checked herself. 

Miss Mohun went on, 'Phyllis met me at the door of a pleasant, English-looking house, with all her tribe about her. She has the true 'honestPhyl' face still, carrying me back over some thirty or forty years oflife, and as you would imagine, she is a capital mother, with all herflock well in hand, and making themselves thoroughly useful in thescarcity of servants; though the other matters do not seem neglected. The eldest can talk like a well informed girl, and shows reasonableinterest in things in general; but Phyllis wants to put finishingtouches to their education, and her husband talks of throwing up hisappointment before long, as he is anxious to go home while his fatherlives. I wish I had gone to Stoneborough before coming out here, nowthat I see what a gratification it would have been if I could havebrought a fresh report of old Dr. May. (Somehow, I think there has beena numbness or obtuseness about me all these last two years whichhindered me from perceiving or doing much that I now regret, sinceeither the change or the wholesome atmosphere of this house has wakenedme as it were. Among these ungracious omissions is what I now am muchconcerned to think of, that I never went to see Lilias when I committedmy child to her charge; nor talked over her disposition. Not that Ireally understand it as I ought to have done when the poor child wasleft to me. I take shame to myself when Phyllis questions me abouther), but as I watch these children with their parents I am quiteconvinced that the being taken under Lily's motherly wing is by far thebest thing that could have befallen Dolores, and that my absence is forher real benefit as well as mine. '

The part between brackets was omitted by Miss Mohun in the publicreading, but the last sentence she did read, thinking it good for bothparties to hear it. However, Dolores both disliked the conclusion towhich her father had come, and still more that her aunt and cousinsshould hear it, though, after all, it was only Gillian and Mysie whoremained to listen by the time the end of the letter was reached. Thelong words had frightened away Valetta as soon as her appointed task ofwork was finished. 

Aunt Lily did not see the omitted sentence till the two sisters werealone together later in the afternoon. It filled her eyes with tears. 'Poor Maurice, ' she said; 'he wrote something of the same kind to me. '

'I expect we shall see him wonderfully shaken up and brightened when hecomes home. The numbness he talks of was half of it Mary's dislike tous all, only I never would let her keep me aloof from him. '

'I almost wish he had taken Dolores out to Phyllis. I am not in theleast fulfilling his ideal towards her. '

'Nor would Phyllis, unless the voyage had had as much effect on her asit seems to have had upon Maurice. So you don't get on any better?'

'Not a bit. It is a case of parallel lines. We don't often havecollisions--unless Wilfred gets an opportunity of provoking her. '

'Why don't you send that boy to school?'

'I shall after Christmas. He is quite well now, and to have him athome is bad both for himself and the others. He needs licking intoshape as only boys can do to one another, and he is not a model forFergus, especially since Harry has been away. '

'What does he do?'

'Nothing very brilliant, nor of the kind one half forgives for thedrollery of it. Putting mustard into the custard was the worst, Ithink; inciting the dogs to bring the cattle down on the girls whenthey cross the paddock; shutting up their books when the places arefound--those are the sort of things; putting that very life-like wildcat chauffe-pied with glaring eyes in Dolly's bed. I believe he doessuch things to all, but his sisters would let him torture them ratherthan complain, whereas Dolores does her best to bring them under mynotice without actually laying an information, which she is evidentlyafraid to do. It is very unlucky that her coming should have been justwhen we had such an element about--for it really gives her some justcause of complaint. '

'But you say he is impartial?'

'Teasing is unfortunately his delight. He will even frighten Primrose, but I am afraid there is active dislike making Dolores his favouritevictim; and then Val and Fergus, who don't tease actively on their ownaccount, have come to enjoy her discomfiture. '

"And you go on the principle of 'tolerer beaucoup?'"

'I do; hoping that it is not laziness and weakness that makes meabstain from nagging about what is not brought before my eyes by thechildren or the police--I mean Gill, Halfpenny, and Miss Vincent. ThenI scold, or I punish, and that I think maintains the principle, withoutdanger to truth or forbearance. At least, I hope it does. I am prettysure that if I punished Wilfred for every teasing trick I know, orguess at, he would--in his present mood--only become deceitful, andesprit de corps might make Val and Fergus the same, though I don'tthink Mysie's truth could be shaken any more than honest Phyl's. '

'Besides, mutual discipline is not a thing to upset. Lily, I revereyou! I never thought you were going to turn out such a sensiblemother. '

'Well, you see, the difficulty is, that what may work for one's ownchildren may not work for other people's. And I confess I don'tunderstand her persistent repulse of Mysie. '

'Nor of you, the nasty little cat!' said Aunt Jane, with a littlefierce shake of the head. 

'I do understand that a little. I am too unlike Mary for her to standbeing mothered by me. '

'There must be some other influence at work for this perverseness tokeep on so long. Tell me, did she take up with that very goosey girl, that Miss Hacket?'

'Oh yes; she goes there every Sunday afternoon. It is the only thingthe poor child seem much to care about, and I don't think there can beany harm in it. '

'Humph! the folly of girl is unfathomable! Oh! you may say what youlike--you who have thrown yourself into your daughters and kept themone with you. You little know in your innocence the product of an ill-managed boarding-school!'

'Nay, ' said Lady Merrifield, a little hotly, 'I do know that MissHacket is one of the most excellent people in the world, a littletiresome and borne, perhaps, but thoroughly good, and every inch alady. '

'Granted, but that's not the other one--Constance is her name? Mydear, I saw her goings on at the G. F. S. Affair--If she had only been amember, wouldn't I have been at her. '

'My dear Jenny, you always had more eyes to your share than otherpeople. '

'And you think that being an old maid has not lessened their sharpness, eh! Lily? Well, I can't help it, but my notion is that the sweetConstance--whatever her sister may be--is the boarding-school miss alittle further developed into sentiment and flirtation. '

'Nay, but that would be so utterly uncongenial to a grave, reserved, intellectual girl, brought up as Dolores has been. '

'Don't trust to that! Dolores is an interesting orphan, and the noticeof a grown-up young lady is so flattering that it carries off a greatdeal of folly. '

'Well, Jenny, I must think about it. I hope I have done no harm byallowing the friendship--the only indulgence she has seemed to wishfor; and I am afraid checking it would only alienate he still more!Poor Maurice, when he is trusting and hoping in vain!'

'Three year is a long time, Lily; and you have no had three months ofher yet--'

The door opened at that moment for the afternoon tea, which was earlierthan usual, to follow of Miss Mohun's reaching the station in time forher train. Lady Merrifield was to drive her, and it was the turn ofDolores to go out, so that she shared the refection instead of waitingfor gouter. In the midst the Miss Hackets were announced, and therewere exclamations of great joy at the sight of Miss Mohun; as she andMiss Hacket flew upon each other, and to the very last moment, discussed the all-engrossing subject of G. F. S. Politics. 

Nevertheless, while Miss Mohun was hurrying on her sealskin in hersister's room, she found an opportunity of saying, 'Take care, Lily, Isaw a note pass between those two. '

'My dear Jenny, how could you? You were going on the whole time aboutcards and premiums and associates. Oh! yes, I know a peacock or a lynxis nothing to you, but how was it possible? Why, I was making talk toConstance all along, and trying to make Dolly speak of her father'sletter. '

'I might retort by talking of moles and bats! Did you never hear ofthe London clergyman whose silver cream-jug, full of cream too, wasabstracted by the penitent Sunday school boy whom he was exhorting overhis breakfast-table?'

'I don't believe London curates have silver jugs or cream either!'

'A relic of past wealth, like St. Gregory's one silver dish, andperhaps it was milk. Well, to descend to particulars. It was donewith a meaning glance, as Dolores was helping her on with her cloud, and was instantly disposed of in the pocket. '

'I wonder what I ought to do about it, ' sighed Lady Merrifield, 'If Ihad seen it myself I should have no doubts. Oh! if Jasper were buthere! And yet it is hardly a thing to worry him about. It is mostlikely to be quite innocent. '

'Well, then you can speak of the appearance of secrecy as bad manners. You will have her all to yourself as you go home. '

But when the aunts came downstairs, Dolores was not there. On beingcalled, she sent a voice down, over the balusters, that she was notgoing. 

Aunt Jane shrugged her shoulders. There was barely time to reach thetrain, so that it was impossible to do anything at the moment; but inthe Merrifield family bad manners and disrespect were never passedover, Sir Jasper having made his wife very particular in that respect;and as soon as she came home in the twilight, she looked into theschool-room, but Dolores was not there, and then into the drawing-room, where she was found learning her lessons by firelight. 

'My dear, why did you not go with your Aunt Jane and me?'

'I did not want to go. It was so cold, ' said Dolores in a glum tone. 

'Would it not have been kinder to have found that out sooner? If I hadnot met the others in the paddock, and picked up Valetta, the chancewould have been missed, and you knew she wanted to go. '

Dolores knew it well enough. The reason she was in this room was thatall the returning party had fallen upon her; Wilfred had called her adog in the manger, and Gillian herself had not gainsayed him--but thegeneral indignation had only made her feel, 'what a fuss about thedarling. '

'Another time, too, ' added Lady Merrifield, 'remember that it would beproper to come down and speak to me instead of shouting over thebalusters in that unmannerly way; without so much as taking leave ofyour Aunt Jane. If she had not been almost late for her train, I shouldhave insisted. '

'You might, and I should not have come if you had dragged me, ' thought, but did not say, Dolores. She only stood looking dogged, and notattempting the 'I beg your pardon, ' for which her aunt was waiting. 

'I think, ' said Lady Merrifield, gently, 'that when you consider it alittle, you will see that it would be well to be more considerate andgracious. And one thing more, my dear, I can have no passing of privatenotes between you and Constance Hacket. You see a good deal of eachother openly, and such doings are very silly and missish, and have anunderhand appearance such as I am sure your father would not like. '

Dolores burst out with, 'I didn't, ' and as Primrose at this instant ranin to help mamma take off her things, she turned on her heel and wentaway, leaving Lady Merrifield trusting to a word never hitherto in thathouse proved to be false, rather than to those glances of Aunt Jane, which had been always held in the Mohun family to be a little toodiscerning and ubiquitous to be always relied on; and it was asatisfactory recollection that at the farewell moment when Miss Janeprofessed to have observed the transaction, she had been heard saying, 'Yes, it will never do to be too slack in inquiring into antecedents, or the whole character of the society will be given up, ' and with herblack eyes fixed full upon Miss Hacket's face. 

CHAPTER X. 

THE EVENING STAR

'Oh, Connie dear, I had such a fright! Do you know you must neverventure to give me anything when any one is there--especially AuntJane. I am sure it was her. She is always spying about?'

'Well, but dearest Dolly, I couldn't tell that she would be there, andwhen I got your letter I could not keep it back, you know, so I madeMary come up and call on Lady Merrifield for the chance of being ableto give it to you--and I thought it was so lucky Miss Mohun was there, for she and Mary were quite swallowed up in their dear G. F. S. '

'You don't know Aunt Jane! And the worst of it is she always makesAunt Lilias twice as cross! I did get into such a row only because Ididn't want to go driving with the two old aunts in the dark and cold, and be scolded all the way there and back. '

'When you had a letter to read too!'

'And then Aunt Lily said all manner of cross things about giving notesbetween us. I was so glad I could say I didn't, for you know I didn'tgive it to you, and it wasn't between us. '

'You cunning child!' laughed Constance, rather amused at the sophistry. 

'Besides, ' argued Dolores, 'what right has she to interfere between myuncle and my friends and me?

'You dear! Yes, it is all jealousy!'

'I have heard--or I have read, ' said Dolores, 'that when people askquestions they have no right to put, it is quite fair to give them adenial, or at least to go as near the wind as one can. '

'To be sure, ' assented Constance, 'or one would not get on at all! Butyou have no told me a word about your letters. '

'Father's letter? Oh, he tells me a great deal about his voyage, andall the funny creatures they get up with the dredge. I think he willbe sure to write a book about them, and make great discoveries. Andnow he is staying with Aunt Phyllis in New Zealand, and he is thinking, poor father, how well off I must be with Aunt Lilias. He littleknows!'

'Oh, but you could write to him, dearest!'

'He wouldn't get the letter for so long. Besides, I don't think Icould say anything he would care about. Gentlemen don't, you know. '

'No! gentlemen can't enter into our feelings, or know what it is to berubbed against and never appreciated. But your uncle! Was the letterfrom him?'

'Oh yes! And where do you think he is? At Darminster--editing a paperthere. It is called the Darminster Politician. He said he sent a copyhere. '

"Oh yes, I know; Mary and I could not think where it came from. It hada piece of a story in it, and some poetry. I wonder if he would put inmy 'Evening Star. '"

'You may read his letter if you like; you see he says he would run overto see me if it were not for the dragons. '

'I wish he could come and meet you here. It would be so romantic, butyou see Mary is half a dragon herself, and would be afraid of LadyMerrifield'--then, reading the letter, --'How droll! How clever! Whata delightful man he must be! How very strange that all your familyshould be so prejudiced against him! I'll tell you what, Dolores, Iwill write and subscribe for the Darminster Politician my own self--Imust see the rest of that story--and then Mary can't make anyobjection; I can't stand never seeing anything but Church Bells, andthen you can read it too, darling. '

'Oh, thank you, Connie. Then I shall have got him one subscriber, ashe asks me to do. I am afraid I shan't get any more, for I thought AuntLily was in a good humour yesterday, and I put one of the littleadvertisement papers he sent out on the table, and she found it, andonly said something about wondering who had sent the advertisement ofthat paper that Mr. Leadbitter didn't approve of. She is so dreadfullyfussy and particular. She won't let even Gillian read anything shehasn't looked over, and she doesn't like anything that isn't goodygoody. '

'My poor darling! But couldn't you write and get your uncle to look atsome of my poor little verses that have never seen the light?'

'I dare say I could, ' said Dolores, pleased to be able to patronize. 'Oh, but you must not write on both sides of the paper, I know, forfather and mother were always writing for the press. '

'Oh, I'll copy them out fresh! Here's the 'Evening Star. ' It wassuggested by the sound of the guns firing at the autumn manoevres;here's the 'Bereaved Mother's Address to her Infant:'

 'Sweet little bud of stainless white, Thou'lt blossom in the garden of light. '

'Mary thought that so sweet she asked Miss Mohun to send it to FriendlyLeaves, but she wouldn't--Miss Mohun I mean; she said she didn't thinkthey would accept it, and that the lines didn't scan. Now I'm sure itsonly Latin and Greek that scan! English rhymes, and doesn't scan!That's the difference!'

'To be sure!' said Dolores, 'but Aunt Jane always does look out forwhat nobody else cares about. Still I wouldn't send the baby-verses toUncle Alfred, for they do sound a little bit goody, and the 'EveningStar' would be better. '

The verses were turned over and discussed until the summons came totea, poured out by kind old Miss Hacket, who had delighted in providingher young guests with buttered toast and tea cakes. 

Dolores went home quite exhilarated and unusually amiable. 

Her letter to her father was finished the next day. It contained thefollowing information. 

'Uncle Alfred is at Darminster. He is sub-editor to the Politician, the Liberal county paper. I do not suppose Aunt Lilias will let mesee him, for she does not like anything that dear mother did. There isa childish obsolete tone of mind here; I suppose it is because theyhave never lived in London, and the children are all so young of theirage, and so rude, Wilfred most especially. Even Gillian, who issixteen, likes quite childish games, and Mysie, who is my age, is amere child in tastes, and no companion. I do wish I could have gonewith you. '

Lady Merrifield wrote by the same mail, 'Your Dolores is quite well, and shows herself both clever and well taught. Miss Vincent thinkshighly of her abilities, and gets on with her better than any one else, except the daughter of our late Vicar, for whom she has set up a stronggirlish friendship. She plainly has very deep affections, which arenot readily transferred to new claimants, but I feel sure that we shallget on in time. '

Miss Mohun wrote, 'Lily and I enjoyed your letter together. Dollylooks all the better for country life, though I am afraid she has notlearnt to relish it, nor to assimilate with the Merrifield children asI expected. I don't think Lily has quite fathomed her as yet, but'cela viendra' with patience, only mayhap not without a previousexplosion. I fancy it takes a long time for an only child to settle inamong a large family. It was a great pity you could not see Lilyyourself. To my dismay I encountered Flinders in the street atDarminster last week. I believe he is on the staff of a paper there, happily Dolly does not know it, nor do I think he knows where she is. '

In another three weeks, Constance was in the utmost elation, for 'Onhearing the cannonade of the Autumn Manoeuvres' was in print, and MissHacket was so much delighted that justice should be done to hersister's abilities, that she forgot Mr. Leadbitter's disapproval, andordered half a dozen copies of the Politician for the present, and onefor the future. 

Dolores, walking home in the twilight, could not help showing Gillian, in confidence, the precious slip, though it was almost too dark to readthe small type. 

'Newspaper poetry, I thought that always was trumpery, ' said Gillian, making a youthfully sweeping assertion. 

'Many great poets have begun with a periodical press, ' said Dolores, picking up a sentence which she had somewhere read. 

'I thought you hated English poetry, Dolly! You always grumble athaving to learn it. '

'Oh, that is lessons. '

"'Il Penseroso, ' for instance. "

'This is a very different thing. '

'That it certainly is, ' said Gillian, beginning to read--

 'How lovely mounts the evening star Climbing the sunset skies afar. '

'What a wonderful evening! Why, the evening star was going upbackward!'

'You only want to make nonsense of it. '

'It is not I that make nonsense!' said Gillian, 'why, don't you see, Dolly, which way the sun and everything moves?'

'This is the evening star, ' said Dolores, sulkily. 'It was justrising. '

'I do believe you think it rises in the west. '

'You always see it there. You showed it to me only last Sunday. '

'Do you think it had just risen?'

'Of course the stars rise when the sun sets. '

Gillian could hardly move for laughing. 'My dear Dolores, you to bedaughter to a scientific man! Don't you know that the stars are in thesky, going on all the time, only we can't see them till the sunlight isgone?'

But Dolores was too much offended to attend, and only grunted. Shewanted to get the cutting away from Gillian, but there was no doing so. 

 'The mist is rising o'er the mead, With silver hiding grass and reed; 'Tis silent all, on hill and heath, The evening winds, they hardly breathe; What sudden breaks the silent charm, The echo wakes with wild alarm. With rapid, loud, and furious rattle, Sure 'tis the voice of deadly battle, Bidding the rustic swain to fly Before his country's enemy. '

'Did anybody ever hear of a sham fight in the evening?' cried thesoldier's daughter indignantly. 'There, I can't see any more of it. '

'Give it to me, then. '

'You are welcome! Where did it come from? Let me look. C. H. Oh, didConstance Hacket write it? Nobody else could be so delicious, or sofar superior to Milton. '

'You knew it all the time, and that was the reason you made game ofit. '

'No, indeed it was not, Dolores. I did not guess. You should havetold me at first. '

'You would have gone on about it all the same. '

'No, indeed, I hope not. I did not mean to vex you; but how was I toknow it was so near your heart?'

'I ought to have known better than to have shown it to you! You arealways laughing at her and me all over the house--and now--'

'Come, Dolly. I never meant to hurt your feelings. I will promise notto tell the others about it. '

No answer. There was something hard and swelling in Dolores's throat. 

'Won't that do?' said Gillian. 'You know I can't say that I admire it, but I'm sorry I hurt you, and I'll take care the others don't tease youabout it. '

Dolores made hardly any answer, but it was a sort of pacification, andGillian said not a word to the younger ones. Still she thought it nobreach of her promise, when they were all gone to bed, and she the solesurvivor, to tell her mother how inadvertently she had affrontedDolores by cutting up the verses, before she knew whose they were. 

'I am sorry, ' said Lady Merrifield. 'Anything that tends to keepDolores aloof from us is a pity. '

'But, mama, I had no notion whose they were. '

'You saw that she was pleased with them. '

'Yes, but that was the more ridiculous. Fancy the evening starclimbing up--up--you know in the sunset!'

'Portentous, certainly! Yet still I wish you could have found it inyour heart to take advantage of any feeler towards sympathy. '

'How could I pretend to admire such stuff?'

'You need not pretend; but there are two ways of taking hold of a thingwithout being untrue. If you had been a little wiser and moreforbearing you need not have given Dolores such a shock as would driveher in upon herself. Depend upon it, the older you grow, the moredangerous you will find it to begin by hitting the blots. '

Gillian looked on in some curiosity when the next day good Miss Hacket, enchanted with her dear Connie's success, trotted up to display thelines to Lady Merrifield, who on her side felt bound to set an examplealike of tenderness and sincerity, and was glad to be able to observe, 'The lines run very smoothly. This must be a great pleasure to her. '

'Indeed it is! Connie is so clever. I always say I can't think whereshe got it from; but we always tried to give her very advantage, andshe was quite a favourite pupil at Miss Dormer's. Is not it a sweetidea, the stillness of the evening broken by the sounds of battle, andthen it proving to be only our brave defenders?'

'Yes, ' was the answer. 'I have often thought of that, and of what itmight be to hear those volleys of musketry in earnest. It has made mevery thankful. '

So Miss Hacket went away gratified, and Gillian owned that it wouldhave been useless to wound the good lady's feelings by criticism, though her mother made her understand that if her opinion had beenasked, or Connie herself had shown the verses, it would have beendesirable to point out the faults, in a kindly spirit. The wonder was, how they could have found their way into the paper, and they werefollowed by more with the like signature. 

Indeed, the great sensational tale, 'The Waif of the Moorland, ' wasbeing copied out of the books where it had been first written. Doloreshad sounded Mr. Flinders on the subject, and he had replied that hecould ensure its consideration by a publisher, but that her fair friendmust be aware that an untried author must be prepared for some risk. 

Constance could hardly abstain from communicating her hopes to hersister; but Mr. Leadbitter--to whom the poetry was duly shown--hadgiven such a character of the Darminster Politician that Miss Hacketbesought Constance to have no more to do with it. Besides, she was soentirely a lady, and so conscientious, that all her tender blindnesswould not have prevented her from being shocked at encouraging, orprofiting by, a surreptitious correspondence. 

Constance declared that Mr. Leadbitter's objection to the paper wasmerely political, and her sister was too willing that she should begratified to protest any further. The copying had to be done insecret, since it was impossible to confess the hopes founded on Mr. Flinders, and it therefore lasted several weeks, each fresh portionbeing communicated to Dolores on Sunday afternoons. There were atfirst a few scruples on Constance's part whether this were exactly aSunday occupation; but Dolores pronounced that 'the Sabbatarian systemwas gone out, ' and after Constance had introduced the ghostly double ofher vanished waif walking in a surpliced procession, she persuadedherself that there was a sufficient aroma of religion about the storyto bring it within the pale of Sunday books. 

The days were shortening so that Lady Merrifield had doubts as to thefitness of letting the girls return in the dark, but Gillian would havebeen grieved to relinquish her class, and the matter was adjusted bythe two remaining till evensong, when there was sure to be sufficientescort for them to come home with. 

Therewith arrived the holidays and Jasper, whose age came between thoseof Gillian and Mysie. Dolores had looked forward to his coming, for, by all the laws of fiction, he was bound to be the champion of theorphan niece, and finally to develop into her lover and hero. In 'NoHome, ' when Clare's aunt locked her up and fed her on bread and waterfor playing the piano better than her spiteful cousin Augusta, Eric, the boy of the family, had solaced her with cold pie and ice-creamsdrawn up in a basket by a cord from the window. He had likewise forcedfrom his cruel mother the locket which proved Clare's identity with themourning countess's golden-haired grandchild and heiress, and he hadfinally been rewarded with her hand, becoming in some mysterious mannerLord Eric. 

Jasper, however, or Japs, as his family preferred to call him, provedto be a big, shy boy, not at all delighted with the introduction of astranger among his sisters, neither golden-haired nor all-accomplished, only making him feel his home invaded, and looking at him with hergreat eyes. 

'Is that girl here for good?' he asked, when he found himself withHarry and Gillian. 

'Yes, of course, ' said the cousin, 'while her father is away, and thatis for three years. '

Jasper whistled. 

'Aunt Ada said, ' added Gillian, 'that if she got too tiresome, mammahad Uncle Maurice's leave to send her to school. '

'That would be no good to me, ' said Jasper, 'for she would still behere in the holidays. '

'Has she been getting worse?' asked Harry. 

'No, I don't know that she has, ' said Gillian, 'except that she runsafter that Constance more than ever. But, I say, Jasper, mamma saysshe is particularly anxious that there should be no teasing of her; andyou can hinder Wilfred better than anybody can. She wants her to bereally at home, and one--'

But though Jasper was very fond both of mother and sister, he would notstand a second-hand lecture, and broke in with an inquiry about chancesof rabbit-shooting. 

Among his juniors he heard more opinions and more undisguised, when thewhole party had rushed out together to the stable-yard to inspect therabbits and other live-stock. 

'And Dolly says you are a fright, ' sighed Mysie, condoling with a veryawkward-looking puppy which she was nursing. 

'She! she thinks everything a fright!' said Valetta. 

'Except Constance, ' added Wilfred. 

'Who is ugliest of all!' politely chimed in Fergus. 

'Oh, Japs, she is such a nasty girl--Dolly, I mean!' cried Valetta. 

"You know you ought not to say 'nasty, '" exclaimed Mysie. 

'Well, but she is!' insisted Val. 'She squashed a dear little lady-bird, and said it would sting!'

'She really thought it would, ' said Mysie. 

At which the young barbarians shouted aloud with contempt, and Valettaadded. 'She is afraid of everything--cows and dogs and frogs. '

'I got a whole match-box full of grasshoppers to shut up in her deskand make her squall, ' said Wilfred, 'only the girls went and turnedthem out. '

'It was so cruel to the poor grasshoppers, ' said Mysie. 'One had hishorn broken, and dragged his leg. '

'What does she do?' asked Jasper. 

'She's always cross, ' said Fergus. 

'And she won't play, ' added Valetta. 'And never will lend us anythingof hers. '

'And she's a regular sneak, ' said Wilfred. 'She wants to tell ofeverything--only we stopped that and she doesn't dare now. '

'You see, ' said Mysie, gravely, 'she has always lived alone and inLondon, and that makes her horribly stupid about everything sensible. We thought we should soon teach her to be nice; and mamma says we shallif we are patient. '

'We'll teach her, won't we, Japs!' said Wilfred, aside, in an ominousvoice. 

'She is only thirteen, ' added Valetta, 'and she pretends to be grownup, and only to care for a grown-up young lady--that Constance Hacket. '

'Yes, ' added Mysie, 'only think--they write poetry!'

'What rot it must be!' said Jasper. 'There's a man in my house thatwrites poetry, and don't they chaff him! And this must be ever so muchworse. '

'Oh, that it is, ' said Valetta. 'I heard Mr. Poulter and Miss Vincentlaughing about it like anything. '

'But they get it put into print, ' said Mysie, still impressed. 'MissHacket brought it up to give to mamma, and there's ever so much of itshut up in the drawing-room blotting-book with the malachite knobs. Ican't think why they laugh--I think it is very pretty. Old Miss Hacketread me the one about "My Lost Dove. "'

'Mysie always will stick up for Dolores, ' said Valetta in a grumblingvoice. 

'I always meant her to be my friend, ' said Mysie, disconsolately. 

'Well, I'm glad she's not, ' said Jasper. 'What a sell it would havebeen for me to find you chummy with a stupid, poetry-writing, good-for-nothing girl like that, instead of my jolly old Mice!'

And at that minute all Dolly's slights were fully compensated for!

There was a lurking purpose in the boys' minds that if Dolores wouldnot join in fun, yet still fun should be extracted from her. Jasper hadbrought home a box of Japanese fireworks, and Wilfred, who wassuperintending his unpacking, proposed to light the serpent and placeit in Dolores's path as she was going up to bed; but Jasper was oldenough to reply that he would have no concern with anything so low andsnobbish as such a trick. In fact, there was in Jasper's mind a decidedline between bullying and teasing, which did not exist as yet inWilfred's conscience. And, altogether, Dolores was in a state of mindthat made her stiff letters to her father betray low spirits anddiscontent. 

On Sunday, while waiting for the early dinner, Jasper and Mysiehappened to be together in the drawing-room, and Mysie took theopportunity of showing her brother the different cuttings of poetry. The lines were smooth, and some had a certain swing in them such asMysie, with an unformed taste, a love for Miss Hacket, and amazementthat the words of a familiar acquaintance of her own should appear inprint, genuinely admired. But the eyes of a youth exercised in'chaffing' the productions of one of his fellow 'men' were infinitelymore critical. Besides, what could be more shocking to the General'sson than the confusion between the evening gun and the sham fight? AndMysie had been reduced to confusion for not detecting the faults, andthen pardoned in consideration of being only a girl, by the time thegong summoned them to the Sunday roast beef. 

The dinner over, the female part of the family, scampered headlongupstairs, while Harry repaired with his mother to her room to talk overa letter from his father respecting his plans on leaving Oxford. Theother boys hung about the hall, until Gillian and Dolores came downequipped for walking. 'Hollo, Gill! All right! Where's Mysie? We'llbe off! Mysie! Mice! Mouse! Val!'

'You must wait for them, Japs, ' said Gillian. 'They are having theirdresses changed; and, don't you remember, I always go to MissHacket's. '

'Botheration! What for?'

'You know very well. '

'Oh yes. To help her to write touching verses about the sweet deaddove, with voice and plumage soft as love, eh? Only, Gill, I'm afraidyour memory is failing, if you don't know the evening gun from riflepractice. '

'Nonsense! that's no concern of mine, ' said Gillian, opening the frontdoor, very anxious to get Dolores away from hearing anything worse. 

'Oh, that's your modesty. Only such a conjunction could have producedsuch a scene that the evening star came up backwards to look at it!'

'For shame, Jasper! How in the world did you get hold of that?'

'Too sweet a thing not to meet with universal fame, ' said Jasper, towhom it was exquisite fun to assume that Gillian devoted her Sundayafternoons to the concoction of such poetry with Constance Hacket, andthus to revenge himself for his disgust and jealousy at having hisfavourite companion and slave engrossed. Wilfred hopped about like animp in ecstasy, grinning in the face of Dolores, whom Gillian longed tofree from her tormentors. The shout was welcome, as Mysie and Valettacame tearing down the drive after them. 

'Japs! Japs! Oh, we couldn't come before because nurse would make ustake off our Sunday serges. Come and let out the dogs. Mamma says wemay see if there are any nice fir cones in the plantation to gild forthe Christmas-tree. '

'And you won't come?' said Jasper. 'The Muses must meet. What a poemyou will produce!

 'Hear I a cannon or a rifle, That is an unessential trifle!'

'What nonsense boys do talk!' said Gillian, turning her back on themwith regret; for much as she loved her class, she better loved a walkwith Jasper, and here was Dolores on her hands in a state ofexasperation, believing her to have broken her promise, and muttering, 'You set him on. '

'No, indeed I never did! You know I promised. '

'There are plenty of ways of getting out of a promise. '

'Speak for yourself, Dolores. '

There were ten minutes of offended silence, and then Gillian said, 'This is nonsense! You may believe me, I was sorry I laughed at thefirst verses you showed me, and mamma said I ought not. We never spokeof it, but Miss Hacket has been giving mamma all the poems, and Jaspermust have got at them. Don't you see?'

'Oh yes, you say so, ' said Dolores, sulkily. 

'You don't believe me!'

'You promised that your brothers should never hear of it. '

'I promised for myself. I couldn't promise for what was put into anewspaper and trumpeted all over the place, ' said Gillian, really angrynow. 

Dolores could not deny this, but she was hurt by the word trumpeted;and besides, her own slippery behaviour was weakening her trust inother people's sincerity, and she only gave a kind of grunt; butGillian, recovering herself a little, and remembering her mother'swords, proceeded to argue. 'Besides, it was me whom Jasper meant totease, not you. '

'I don't care which it was. He is as bad as the rest of them!'

Gillian attempted no more conciliation, and they arrived in silence atthe Casement Cottages, where Constance was awaiting her friend in thegreatest excitement; for she had despatched 'The Waif of the Moorland'to Mr. Flinders in the course of the week, and had received a letterfrom him in return, saying that a personal interview with the giftedauthoress would be desirable. 

'And I do long to see him; don't you, darling?

'It is very hard that he should be kept away from me, ' said Dolores, trying to stir up some tender feelings. 

'That it is, my poor sweet! I thought whether he could come to me for amerely literary consultation without Mary's knowing anything furtherabout it, and then we could contrive for you to come down and meet him;but there are so many horrid prejudices that I suppose it would not besafe. '

'I don't see how I could come down here without the others. Aunt Lilywon't let me come alone, and though it is holiday time, that is nogood, for those horrid boys are always about, and I see that Jasper isgoing to be worse even than Wilfred. 

Various ways and means were discussed, but no excuse seemed availablefor either Constance's going to Darminster, or for Mr. Flinders comingto Silverton, without exciting suspicion. 

CHAPTER XI. 

SECRET EXPEDITION

'The Christmas-tree! Oh, mamma, do let it be the Christmas-tree. Itis quite well. We've been to look at it. '

'Christmas-trees have got so stale, Val, ' said Gillian. 

'Rot!' put in Jasper. 

'Oh, please, please, mamma, ' implored Valetta, 'please let it be thedear old Christmas-tree! You said I should choose because it will bemy birthday. '

'There is no need to whine, Val; you shall have your tree. '

'I'm so glad!' cried Mysie. 'The dear old tree is best of all. Icould never get tired of it if I lived to be a hundred years old. '

'Such are institutions, ' said their mother. 'I never heard of aChristmas-tree till I was twice your age. '

'Oh, mamma! How dreadful! What did you do?'

'I suppose it is all very well for you kids, ' said Jasper, loftily, putting his hands in his pockets. 

'Perhaps something may be found interesting eve: to the high and mightyelders, ' observed Lady Merrifield. 

'Oh! What, mamma?'

Mamma, of course, only looked mysterious. 

'And, ' added Val, 'mayn't we all go on a secret expedition and buythings for it?'

'We've all been saving up, ' added Mysie; 'and everybody knows everysingle thing in all the shop at Silverton. '

'Besides, ' added Gillian, 'the sconces will none of them hold, andalmost all the golden globes got smashed in coming from Dublin, and oneof the birds has its head off, and another has lost its spun-glasstail, and another its legs. '

'A bird of Paradise, ' said Lady Merrifield, laughing; 'but wasn't therea tree at Malta decked with no apparatus at all?'

'Yes, but Alley and Phyl can do anything!'

'I think we must ask Aunt Jane---'

There was a howl. 'Oh, please, mamma, don't let Aunt Jane get all thethings! We do so want to choose. '

'You impatient monsters! You haven't heard me out, and you don'tdeserve it. '

'Oh, mamma, I beg your pardon!' 'Oh, mamma, please!' 'Oh, mamma, pray!' cried the most impatient howlers, dancing round her. 

'What I was about to observe, before the interruption by the honourablemembers, was, that we might perhaps ask Aunt Jane and Aunt Ada toreceive at luncheon a party of caterers for this same tree. '

'Oh! oh! oh!' 'How delicious!' 'Hooray!' 'That's what I call jollyfun!'

'And, mamma, ' added Gillian, 'perhaps we might let Miss Hacket join. Iknow she wants to get up something for a G. F. S. Class; but mamma wasattending to Primrose, and the brothers burst in. 

'There goes Gill, spoiling it all!' exclaimed Wilfred. 

'That's always the way, ' said Jasper. 'Girls must puzzle everything upwith some philanthropic Great Fuss Society dodge. '

'I am sure, Jasper, ' said Gillian, 'I don't see why it should spoilanything to make other people happy. I thought we were told to makefeasts not only for our own friends--'

'Gill's getting just like old Miss Hacket, ' said Wilfred. 

'Or sweet Constance, ' put in Jasper. 'She'll be writing poems next. '

'Hush! hush! boys, ' said Lady Merrifield. 'I do not mean to interferewith your pleasure, 'but I had rather our discussions were not entirelyselfish. Suppose, Gillian, we walked down to Casement Cottages, andconsulted Miss Hacket. '

This was done, in the company of all the little girls, for MissHacket's cats, doves, and gingerbread were highly popular; moreover, Dolores was glad of a chance sight of Constance. 

'My dear, ' said Lady Merrifield, as Gillian walked beside her, 'youmust be satisfied with giving Miss Hacket the reversion of our tree, and you and Mysie can go and help her. It will not do to make thesekind of works a nuisance to your brothers. '

'I did not think Jasper would have been so selfish as to object, ' saidGillian, almost tearfully. 

'Remember that boys have a very short time at home, and cannot beexpected to care for these things like those who work in them, ' saidLady Merrifield. 'It will not make them do so, to bore them, and takeaway their sense of home and liberty. At the same time, they must notexpect to have everything sacrificed to them, and so I shall makeJasper understand. '

'You won't scold him, mamma?'

'Can't you, any of you, trust me, Gill?'

'Oh! mamma! Only I didn't want him to think. I wouldn't do everythinghe liked, except that I don't want him to be unkind about those poorgirls. '

Miss Hacket was perfectly enraptured at the offer of the reversion ofthe Christmas-tree and its trapping. Valetta's birthday was on the 28thof December and the tree was to be lighted on the ensuing evening forG. F. S. Moreover, the party would go to Rockstone as soon as anappointment could be made with Miss Mohun, to make selections at agreat German fancy shop, recently opened there, and in full glory; andthe Hacket sisters were invited to join the party, starting at aquarter to eight, and returning at a few minutes after seven, theelement of darkness at each end only adding to the charm in the eyes ofthe children, and Valetta, with a little leap, repeated that it wouldbe a real secret expedition. 

'Very secret indeed, ' said her mother, 'considering how many it isknown to--'

'Yes, but it is, mamma, for everybody has a secret from everybody. '

The words made Constance and Dolores look round with a start from theircolloquy under the shade of the window-curtains, but no one wasthinking of them. Just as the plans were settled, Constance cameforward, saying, 'Lady Merrifield, may I have dear Dolores to spend theday with me? We neithe of us wish to join your kind party toRockstone, and we should so enjoy being together. '

'I had much rather stay, ' added Dolores. 

'Very well, ' said Lady Merrifield, reflecting that her sisters would begrateful for the diminution of the party, and that it would be easierto keep the peace without Dolores. 

The defection was hailed with joy by her cousins, though they werestruck dumb at her extraordinary taste in not liking shopping. 

Jasper did look rather small when his mother assured him in private hemight have trusted her to see that he was not to be incommoded withGillian's girls, and he only observed, in excuse for his murmurs, thatit made a man mad to see his sisters always off after some charity fador other. 

"'Always' being a few hours once a week, " she said. 

'Just when one wants her. '

'Look here, my boy, ' she said, 'you don't want your sisters to beselfish, useless, fine ladies--never doing any one any good. If theytake up good works, they can't drop them entirely to wait on you. Gillian does give up a great deal, and it would be kinder to forbear alittle, and not treat all she does as an injury to yourself. '

'I only meant to get a rise out of her. '

'You are quite welcome to do that, provided it is done in good nature. Gill is quite sound stuff enough to be laughed at! But, I say, myJaps, I should prefer your letting Dolores alone; she has not learnedto be laughed at yet, and has not come even to the stage for beingtaught to bear it. '

'She looks fit to turn the cream sour, ' observed Jasper. 'I say, mamma, you don't want me to go on this shopping business, do you?'

'Not by any means, sir. '

Happily, the chance of a day's rabbit shooting presented itself at awarren some miles off, and Harry undertook the care of Wilfred, whogave his word of honour to obey implicitly and take no liberties withthe guns. Fergus would gladly have gone with them, but he was stillyoung enough to be sensible of the attractions of toy-shops. OnlyPrimrose had to be left to the nursery, and there was no need to wastepity on her, for on such an occasion Mrs. Halfpenny would relax hermood, and lay herself out to be agreeable, when she had exhausted herforebodings about her leddyship making herself ill for a week gaunrampaging about with all the bairns, as if she was no better than oneherself. 

'I shall let Miss Mohun do most of the rampaging, nurse; but, if it isfine, will you take Miss Primrose into the town and let her choose herown cards. I have given her a florin, and if you make the most of thatfor her, she will be as happy as going with us. '

'That I will, my leddy. Bairns is easy content when ye ken how to sort'em. '

'And, nurse, I believe there will be a box from Sir Jasper at thestation. It may come home in the waggonette that takes us. Will youand Macrae get it safe into the store-room, for I don't want thechildren to see it too soon?'

There was nothing but satisfaction in the house on the morning of theexpedition. The untimely candle-light breakfast was only a freshelement of delight, and so was the paling gas at the station, theround, red sun peeping out through a yellow break between grey sky andgreyer woods; the meeting Miss Hacket in her fur cloak, the taking ofthe tickets, the coughing of the train, the tumbling into one of themany empty carriages, the triumphant start, --all seemed as fresh anddelicious as if the young people had never taken a journey before inall their lives. The fog in the valleys, the sleepy villages, thehalf-roused stations, all gave rise to exclamations, and nothing wasregretted but that the windows would get clouded over. 

Even the waiting at the junction had its charms, for it was enlivenedby a supplementary breakfast on rolls and milk! and at a few minutespast eleven the train was drawing up at Rockstone, and Aunt Jane, sealskins and all, was beckoning from the platform, hurrying after thecarriage as it swept past, and holding out a hand to jump the partyfrom the door. 

There she was, ready to take them to the most charming and cheapestshops, where the coins burning in those five pockets would go thefurthest. Go in a cab? No, I thank you, it is far more delightful towalk. So mamma and Miss Hacket were stowed away in the despisedvehicle, to make the purchases that nobody cared about, or which wereto be unseen and unknown till the great day; while Aunt Jane undertookto guide the young people through the town, for her house was at theother end of it securing the Christmas-cards on the way, if nothin'else. For, though all the cards and gifts to mamma, and a good manybesides, were of domestic manufacture, some had to be purchased, andshe knew, this wonderful woman, where to get cards of former seasons atreduced prices to suit their youthful finances. 

Considerable patience was requisite before all the choices were made, and the balance cast between cards and presents, and Miss Mohun got herquartette past all the shop windows, to the seaside villa, shut in bytamarisks, which Aunt Adeline believed to be the only place that suitedher health. Mamma and Miss Hacket had already arrived, and filled thelittle vestibule with parcels and boxes. 

Then the early dinner! The aunts had anticipated their Christmasturkey for that goodly company to help them eat it, but afterwardsthere was only time for a mince pie all round; for more than half thework remained to be done by all except mamma, who would stay and restwith Aunt Ada, having finished all that could not be deputed. 

However, first she had a conference in private with Aunt Jane, whoundertook therein to come to Silverton for Valetta's birthday, and addastonishment and mystery sufficient to satisfy such of the public aswere weary of Christmas-trees. She added, however, 'You will think Iam always at you. Lily, but did you know that Flinders is living atDarminster?'

'No; but it is five and twenty miles off, and he has never troubledus. '

'Don't be too secure. He is in connection with that low paper--thePolitician--which methinks, is the place where those remarkable poemsof Miss Constance's have appeared. '

'Is it not the way of poetry of that calibre to see the light in countypapers?'

'This seems to me of a lower calibre than is likely to get in withoutprivate interest. '

'But to my certain knowledge the child has neither written to, norheard of the man all this time, '

'You don't know what goes on with her bosom friend. '

'I am certain Miss Hacket would connive at nothing underhand. Besides, I have never seen any thing sly or deceitful in poor Dolores. She willnot make friends with us, that is all, and that may be our fault. '

'I only say, look out, you unsuspicious dame!'

'Now, Jenny, satisfy my curiosity as to how you know all this. I amsure I never showed you those effusions. We have had trouble enoughabout them, for the children cut them up in a way Dolores has neverforgiven. '

'Oh! Miss Hacket sent them to me, to ask if 'Mollsey to her Babe' and'The Canary' might not be passed on to Friendly Leaves. And as toFlinders, when I went to the G. F. S. Conference at Darminster I met theman full in the street, and, of course, I inquired afterwards how hecame there. So there's nothing preternatural about it. '

'It is well you did not live two hundred years ago, or you wouldcertainly have been burnt for a witch. '

'See what a witch I shall make on the 28th! But I hear thoseunfortunate children dancing and prancing with impatience on thestairs. I must go, before they have driven Ada distracted. '

What would the two aunts have said, could they have seen Dolores andConstance, at that moment partaking of the most elaborate meal theDarminster refreshment-room could supply, at a little round marbletable, in company with Mr. Flinders! They had not been obliged tostart nearly so early as the other party, as the journey was muchshorter, and with no change of line, so they had quietly walked to thestation by ten o'clock, arrived at Darminster at half-past eleven, andhave been met by the personage whom Dolores recognized as Uncle Alfred. Constance was a little disappointed not to see something moredistinguished, and less flashy in style, but he was so polite andcomplimentary, and made such touching allusions to his misfortunes andhis dear sister, that she soon began to think him exceedinglyinteresting, and pitied him greatly when he said he could not take themto his lodgings--they were not fit for his niece or her friend, who haddone him a kindness for which he could never be sufficiently grateful, in affording him a glimpse of his dear sister's child. It made Doloreswince, for she never could bear the mention of her mother, it was liketouching a wound, and the old sensation of discomfort and dislike toher uncle's company began to grow over her again, now that she was notstruggling against Mohun opposition to her meeting him. He lionizedthem about the town, but it was a foggy, drizzly day, one of those whenthe fringe of sea-coast often enjoys finer weather than inland places;the streets were very sloppy, and Dolores and Constance did not do muchbeyond purchasing a few cards and some presents at a fancy shop, asthey had agreed to do, to serve as an excuse for their expedition incase it could not be kept a secret, and most of the visit was made inthe waiting-room at the station, or walking up and down the platform. As to the grand point, Mr. Flinders told Constance that her tale wastalented and striking, full of great excellence; she might hope forsuccess equal to Ouida's--but that he had found it quite impossible toinduce a publisher to accept a work by an unknown author, unless sheadvanced something. He could guarantee the return, but she mustentrust him with thirty pounds. Poor Constance! it was a fatal blow;she had not thirty pounds in the world; she doubted if she could raisethe sum, even by her sister's help. Then Mr. Flinders sighed, andthought that if he represented the circumstances, the firm might becontent with twenty--nay, even fifteen. Constance cheered up a little. She did think she could make up fifteen, after the 21st, when certainmoneys became due, which she shared with her sister. She would be leftvery bare all the spring--but what was that to the return she waspromised? Only Mr. Flinders impressed on her the necessity of secrecy--even from her sister--since, he said, if he were once known to haveobtained such terms for a young authoress, he should be besieged forever!

'But, Uncle Alfred, ' said Dolores, 'surely my father and mother, andall the other people I have known, did not pay to get their thingspublished. '

'My dear niece, you speak as one who has been with persons of high andestablished fame--the literary aristocracy, in fact. The doors onceopened, Miss Hacket will, like them, make her own terms; but suchdoors, like many others, are only to be opened by a silver key. '

There were other particulars which he talked over with the authoress ina promenade on the platform while Dolores was left in the waiting-room;but afterwards he indulged his niece with a tete-a-tete, asking herfather's address, and mourning over the length of time it would take toobtain an answer from Fiji. Mr. Mohun had promised to help him, solemnly and kindly promised, for the sake of her whom they had bothloved so much, and here he was, cut off and quite in extremity. Unfortunate as usual, through his determined enemies, a company inwhich he had shares had collapsed, he was penniless till his salaryfrom the Politician became due in March. Meanwhile, he should beexpelled from his lodging and brought to ruin if he could not raise afew pounds--even one. 

Dolores had nearly two pounds in her purse. Her father had left heramply provided, and she had not much opportunity of spending. She knewhe had seen the gold when she was shopping, and when she had paid forthe refreshments, which of course she had found she had to do. Withsome hesitation she said, 'If thirty shillings would be of any good toyou--'

'My dear, generous child, your dear mother's own daughter! It will bethe saving of me temporarily! But among all your wealthy relatives, surely, considering your father's promise, you could obtain someadvance until he can be communicated with!'

'If he is still in New Zealand, we could telegraph, and hear directly. He did not know how long he should be there, for the ship had somethingto be done to it. '

This did not suit Mr. Flinders. Such telegrams were very expensive, and it was too uncertain whether Mr. Mohun would be at Auckland. Surely, Lady Merrifield, whose husband was shaking the pagoda tree, would make an advance if she knew the circumstances. 

'I don't think she would, ' said Dolores, 'I don't think they are veryrich. There is only one horse and one little pony, and my cousins havesuch very tiny allowances. '

'Haughty and poor! Stuck up and skimping. Yes, I understand. But Iam not asking from her, only an advance, on your father's promise, which he would be certain to repay. Yes, quite certain! It is only amatter of time. It would save me at the present moment from utter ruinand destruction that would have broken your dear mother's heart. Oh!Mary, what I lost in you. ' Then, as perhaps he saw reflection onDolores's face, he added, 'She is gone, the only person who took aninterest in me, so it matters the less, and when you hear again of yourunhappy uncle you will know what drove him--'

'If it was only an advance--I have a cheque, ' began Dolores. 'If sevenpounds would do you any good--'

'It would be salvation!' he exclaimed. 

'Father left it with me, ' pursued Dolores, considering, 'in caseProfessor Muhlwasser went on with his great book of coloured plates ofmicroscopic marine zoophytes, and sent it in. I was to keep this andpay with it--'

'Oh! Muhlwasser! you need not trouble about him. I saw his death inthe paper a month ago. '

'Then I really think I might send you the cheque, and write to myfather why I did so. '

'Ah! Dolly, I knew that your mother's daughter could never desert me. '

More followed of the same kind, tending to make Dolores feel that shewas doing a heroically generous thing, and stifling the lurking sensein her mind that she had no right to dispose of her father's moneywithout his consent. The December day began to close in, the gas waslighted, Constance was seen disconsolately peeping out at the waiting-room door to see whether the private conference were over. They joinedher again, and Mr. Flinders discoursed about the envy and jealousy ofcritics, and success being only attained by getting into a certainclique, till she began to look rather frightened; but reassured by thevoluble list of names and papers to which he assured her ofrecommendations. Then he began to be complimentary, and she, to put onthe silly tituppy kind of face and tone wherewith she had talked to thecurates at the festival. Dolores began to find this very dull, and tofeel neglected, perhaps also cross, and doubts came across her whethershe might not get into a dreadful scrape about the money, which shecertainly had no right to dispose of. She at last broke in with, 'Uncle Alfred, are you quite sure Professor Muhlwasser is dead?'

'Bless your heart, child, he's as dead as Harry the Eighth, ' said Mr. Flinders in haste;' died at Berlin, of fatty degeneration of the heart!Well, as I was saying, Miss Constance--'

'But, uncle, I was thinking--'

'Hush!' as a couple of ladies and a whole train of nurses and childreninvaded the waiting-room, 'it won't do to talk of such little mattersin public places, you know. Would you not like a cup of tea, MissConstance. Will you allow me to be your cavalier?'

People were beginning to arrive in expectation of the coming train, andtalk was not possible in the throng; at least, Mr. Flinders did notmake it so. At last the train swept up, and he was hurrying to findplaces for the ladies, when there was a moment's glimpse of a handsomemoustached face at a smoking-carriage window. Dolores started, and hadalmost exclaimed, 'Uncle Reginald;' but before the words were out ofher mouth, Mr. Flinders had drawn her on swiftly, among all the numbersof people getting out and getting in, hurled her into a distantcarriage, handed Constance in after her, and muttering something aboutforgetting an appointment, he vanished, without any of the arrangementsabout foot-warmers that he had promised. 

'Uncle Reginald!' again exclaimed Dolores, 'I am sure it was he!'

'Oh dear! What an escape!' answered Constance, breathless withsurprise, and settling herself with disgust and difficulty next to afat old farmer, as three or four more people entered and jammed themclose together. 

'Who is he?' she presently whispered. 

'Colonel Mohun. His regiment is at Galway. I know he talked ofgetting over this winter if he possibly could; but Aunt Lily went awaybefore the post was come in. '

'We shall have to take great care when we get out. '

Here the train started, and conversation in undertones becameimpossible, more especially as two of the farmers in the carriage werecoming back from the Smithfield Cattle Show, and were discussing theprize oxen with all their might. It was very stuffy and close. Constance looked ineffably fastidious and uncomfortable, and Doloresgazed at the clouded window, and dull little lamp overhead, put in toenliven the deepening twilight. This avoiding of Uncle Reginaldbrought more before her mind a sense of wrong-doing than anything thathad gone before. She was fond of this uncle, who always made herfather's house his headquarters when in London, and used to play withher when she was a small child, and always to take her to theZoological Gardens, till she declared she was too old to care for sucha childish show, and then he and her father both laughed at her so muchthat she would never have forgiven anybody else; and she found heenjoyed it for his own sake far more than she did. However, he alwaysdid take her out for walks and sights that were sure to be amusing withhim. Father, too, was quite bright and alive when he was in the house, and thus Dolores had nothing but pleasant associations connected withthis uncle, and had heard of the chances of his coming like a ray oflight, though without much hope, since the state of Ireland hadprevented him from being able even to run over to take leave of herfather. And now he was come, she must hide from him like a guiltything! There was no spirit of opposition against him in her mind, andthus she could feel that she was doing something sad and strange. Moreover, she began to feel that her promise about the cheque had beena rash one, and the echo of her father's voice came back on her, saying, 'Surely, Mary, you know better than to believe a word out ofFlinders's mouth. '

But then she thought of her mother's rare tears glistening in her eyes, and the answer, 'Poor Alfred! I cannot give him up. Everything hasbeen against him. '

It was quite dark before Silverton was reached, at half-past five, withthree quarters of an hour to spare before the other travellers wereexpected. Most of their fellow passengers had got out at previousstations, so that Constance was able to open the door and jump out soperilously before the train had quite stopped, that a porter caught herwith a sharp word of reproof. She grasped Dolores's hand and scuddedacross the platform, giving the return tickets almost before thecollector was ready. A cautious guard even exclaimed, 'What's thosetwo young women up to?' but was answered at once, 'They're all right!That's nought but one of the old parson's daughters, as have been outwith a return to Darminster. '

'A sweetheartin'?' demanded one of the bystanders, and there was alaugh. 

Constance heard the tones and vulgar laugh, though not the words, andshe was in such a panic as she hurried down the steps that she did notstop to look out for a cab. The place was small, and they were not veryplentiful at any time, and she was mortally afraid, though she hardlyknew why, of being over-taken and questioned by Colonel Mohun, whomight know his niece, though he would not know her; but Dolores wastired, and had a headache, and did not at all like the walk in thedirt, and fog, and dark, after turning from the gas lit station. 

'We were to have a cab, Constance. '

'We can't, ' was the answer, still hurrying on. 'He would come out uponus. '

'He is much more likely to overtake us this way!' said Dolores, thinking of her uncle's long strides. 

'Well, we can't turn back now!' said Constance, getting almost into arun, which lasted till they were past the paddock gate. Dolores, panting to keep up with her, had half a mind to turn up there and gostraight home; but there might be any number of oxen in the way, andalmost worse, she might meet Jasper and Wilfred, or if Uncle Reginaldovertook her, what would he think?

The pair slackened their pace a little when they had satisfiedthemselves that the break in the dark hedge beside them was the gate. They heard wheels, and presently saw the lamps of a cab, bearing down, halt at the gate they had left behind, and turn in. 

'We should have been off first, ' said Dolores. 

'If we could have got a cab in time?'

'One can always get cabs. '

'Oh! no, not at all for certain. '

'This is a nasty, stupid, out-of-the-way place, ' said Dolores, wantingto say something cross. 

'It isn't a vulgar place, full of traffic, ' returned Constance, equallycross. 

'Well, I never meant to walk home in this way! I'm sure my feet arewet. I wish I had waited and gone with Uncle Regie. '

'Now, Dolly, what do you mean? You would not have it all betrayed?'

'I've a great mind to tell Uncle Regie all about it. '

'Now, Dolly! When you said so much about the Mohun pride and scorn ofyour poor, dear uncle. '

'Uncle Regie is not proud. And he would know what to do. '

'But, ' cried Constance, in a fright, 'you would never tell him! Youpromised that it should be a secret, and I should be in such a dreadfulscrape with Lady Merrifield and Mary. '

'Well! it was your doing, and you had all the pleasure of it, flourishing about the platform with him. '

'How can you be so disagreeable, Dolores, when you know it was all onbusiness. Though I do think he is the most interesting man I ever didsee. '

'Just because he flattered you. '

However, there is no need to tell how many cross and quarrelsome thingsthe two tired friends said to each other. They were sitting onopposite sides of the fire, one very gloomy, and the other verypettish, when the waggonette stopped at the gate, to put out MissHacket and take up Dolores. Hands pulled her up the step, and a hubbubof merry voices received her in the dark. 

'Good girl, not to keep us waiting. '

'Oh, Dolly, Dolly, Macrae says Uncle Regie's come!'

'Oh, Dolly, it has been such fun!'

'Take care of my parcel!'

'Ah, ha! you don't know what is in there. '

'Here's something under my feet!'

'Oh! take care! 'Tisn't my--'

'Hush, hush, Val--'

And so it went on till on the steps was seen in full light among theboys, Uncle Reginald, ready to lift every one out with a kiss. '

'Ha! Dolly, is that you?' he said, as they came into the hall. 'I sawsuch a likeness of you at one station that I was as near as possiblejumping out to speak to her. She had on just that fur tippet!'

'That comes of living in Ireland, Regie, ' said Aunt Lily. 'Once in ashop at Belfast, a lady darted up to me with "And it's I that am gladto see you, me dear. And how's me sweet little god-daughter? Oh! andit isn't yourself. And aren't you Mrs. Phelim O'Shaugnessy?'" Andunder cover of this, Dolores retreated to her own room. She took offher things, and then looked at the cheque. 

Professor Muhlwasser was a clever German, always at work on science, counting, in the most minute and accurate manner, such details as therays in a sea anemone's tentacles, or the eggs in a shrimp's roe. Hewas engaged on a huge book, in numbers, of which Mr. Maurice Mohun hadpromised to take two copies--but whereas extravagances upon peculiarhobbies were apt not to be tolerated in the family, and it was reallyuncertain whether the work would ever be completed, Mr. Mohun hadpreferred leaving a cheque for the payment in his little daughter'shand, rather than entrust it to one of the brothers, who would havehowled and growled at such a waste of good money on such a subject. Thus he had told Dolores to back the draft, get it changed, and sendthe amount by a postal order to Germany, if the books and accountshould come, which he thought very doubtful. 

And now the professor was dead, Dolores looked at the cheque, andsupposed she could do as she pleased with it. Mother helped UncleAlfred. Yes, but mother earned all she sent him herself! Perhaps hewould not ask again. How much more he had talked to Constance than toherself. Dolly wished she had not seen him to get into thisdifficulty. She was tired, cold, and damp. Oh! if she had never gone, and not been half caught by Uncle Regie!

CHAPTER XII. 

A HUNT

Dolores was glad to recollect, when she awoke, that Uncle Reginald wasin the house. It was as if she had a friend of her own there who mightenter into all the ill-usage she suffered, and whom she could evenconsult about Uncle Alfred, so far as she could do so withoutdisclosing all the underhand correspondence. She called doing sobetraying Constance, but, in truth, she shrank more from shocking himwith what he might think very wrong--since, after all, he belonged tothat hard-hearted generation of grown-up people who had no feeling norunderstanding of one's troubles. 

As she went downstairs she was aware of an increasing hubbub, andfrequently looking over the balusters, perceived the top of Primrose'swavy head above the close-cropped one of Uncle Regie, as, with hermounted on his shoulder, he careered round the hall, with a pack ofothers vociferating behind him;

There was a lull, for Lady Merrifield came out of her room just asDolores had paused; Primrose was put down, the morning salutations tookplace, and Dolores had her full share of them. She was even allowed tosit next her uncle at breakfast; but her rasher of bacon had not beenhalf eaten, before she had perceived that, as to possessing him as sheused to do at home, he was just as much everybody else's Uncle Regie ashers, for during the time of their being stationed at Belfast, he hadbeen so often with them, that he was quite established as the prince ofplayfellows. 

'Uncle Regie, will you have a crack at the rabbits tomorrow? Brownsaid we might have a day, and we have been keeping it for you. '

'Uncle Regie, the hounds meet at the Bugle this morning, won't you comeand see them throw off?'

'Oh, let me come too!' 'And me!' 'And me!'

'My dear children, ' exclaimed their mother, 'I can't have the wholetribe of little ones and girls going galloping after your uncle. Youwill only hinder him. '

'No, no, Lily! the more Merrifields, the merrier the field. I'll drillthem well. How far off is this Bugle?'

'Not two miles over Furzy Common. '

'Oh! not so far, Hal!'

'That's nothing. Who is coming?'

A general outbreak of 'Me's' ensued, but mamma laid an embargo onPrimrose, who must stay at home and 'help her, ' while Gillian lookedwistful and doubtful, knowing that more efficient help than the littleone's might be desirable. 

'You had better go, my dear, ' said her mother, 'if you are not tired. I don't like to send Mysie and Val without some one to turn back withthem if your uncle and the boys want to go further. '

But whereas it was not nearly time to start, Uncle Reginald was draggeddown to inspect all the live stock in the stable-yard, at theirfeeding-time, and went off with Val and Primrose clinging to his hands, and the general rabble surrounding him. 

Nothing could have been more alien to Dolores's taste than going out toa meet on foot through mud and mire--she who hated the being driven outto take a constitutional walk on the gravel road or the paved path! Butshe had some hope that while all the others ran off madly, as was theirwont, she might secure a little rational conversation with UncleReginald. So she came down in hat and ulster, and was rewarded with'That's right, Doll; I'm glad to see they have taught you to takecountry walks. '

'It is all compliment to you, Uncle Regie, ' said Gillian. 'She hatesthem generally. '

'Are we all ready? Where are Japs and Will?'

'Gone to shut up the dogs; and Hal is not coming. '

'Beneath his dignity, eh?'

'I think he has some reading to do, ' said Gillian. 

'Now mind, Reginald, ' said Aunt Lily, coming on the scene, 'you are notto let those imps drag you farther than you like. It is a verydifferent thing, remember, children, from going out with the houndslike a gentleman. '

'Yes, mamma, ' returned Fergus. 'If you would only let me have thepony!'

'And send home the girls as soon as you find them in the way, ' sheadded. 

'All right, ' answered he, and off plunged the party; but Dolores soonfound that she was not to be allowed much of Uncle Reginald's exclusivesociety. He did begin talking to her about her father's voyage, lastletters, and intended departure from Auckland, but Valetta kept fasthold of his other hand, and the others were all round, every momentpointing out something--to them noticeable--and telling the story ofsome exploit, delighted when their uncle capped it with some boyishtales of Beechcroft, or with some droll, Irish story. 

With such talk, the strong, healthy young folk little heeded thesurface mud or the lanes. Even Dolores when she heard her father'sname in the reminiscences, ' was interested for a time, and was alwayshoping that the others would fly off and leave her to her uncle; butshe was much less used to country mud and stout boots than the others, and she had been very much tired by her expedition on the previous day, so that she had begun to find the way very long before they came out onan open green, with a few cottages standing a good way back in theirgardens, and as their centre, one of the great old coaching inns ofpast days, now chiefly farmhouse, though a sign, bearing a goldenbugle-horn upon a blue ground, stood aloft in front of it, over theheads of the speckled mass of tan, black, and white, pervaded withcurved tails, over which the scarlet-coated whips kept guard, whileshining horses, bearing red coats and black coats, boys, and a fewladies, were moving about, and carriages drew up from time to time. 

There was a long standing about, and Colonel Mohun, being a strangerthere himself, kept his flock on the outskirts, only Jasper plungingin, at sight of a mounted schoolfellow, while Gillian and Mysie toldthe names of the few they recognized. At last there was a move, andJasper came back to point out the wood they were going to draw, closeat hand. Should they not all go on and see it?

'Oh! let us! do come, Uncle Regie, ' cried Mysie and Val. 

'Look here, Gill, ' said the uncle, 'this child doesn't look fit to goany farther. '

'I'm very tired, and so cold, ' said Dolores. 

'Yes, ' said Gillian, 'we ought to go home now. '

Not me! not me;' cried the other two girls; 'Uncle Regie will take careof us. '

'I think you must come, ' said Gillian, 'mamma said you had better comehome when I do. '

'Yes, ' said Wilfred, 'we don't want a pack of girls to go and gettired. '

'We shall go into all sorts of places not fit for you, ' said Jasper;'you wouldn't come back with a whole petticoat among you. '

'And Val would be left stodged in a ditch for a month of Sundays, 'added Wilfred. 

'I am afraid we had better part company, Gill, ' said the colonel. 'Iwould take you on a little further, but this poor little Londoner won'thave a leg to stand upon by the time she gets home. '

'More shame for her to come out to spoil our fun, ' muttered Valetta, too low for her uncle to hear. 

'Mamma will think we have gone quite far enough, thank you, uncle, 'said the sage Gillian, 'and I think Fergus had better come too. '

'That he had, ' said Jasper. 'Fancy him over Peat Hill. '

'He'll be left behind to be picked up as we come back, ' said Wilfred. 

'No, no, no! I can keep up better than you can, Wil! Take me, UncleRegie. ' The little boy was so near a howl that good-natured ColonelMohun's heart was touched, and he consented to let him come on, thoughJasper argued, 'You'll have to carry him, uncle. '

'No, I'll make you, master! Tell your mother not to wait luncheon forus, Gillian; we'll pick up something somewhere. '

'Hurrah!' cried Wilfred and Fergus, to whom this was an immenseadditional pleasure. 

The girls turned away into the lane, Valetta indulging in an outrageousgrumble. 'Why should Dolores have come out to spoil everything?'

Dolores did not speak. 

'Just our one chance, ' sighed Mysie, 'and perhaps we should have seenthe fox. '

'We may do that yet, ' said Gillian; 'he may come this way. '

'I don't care if he does, ' said Valetta. 'I wanted to see them drawthe copse. I believe Dolores did it on purpose to spoil our pleasure. '

'Don't be so cross, Val, ' said Mysie. 'She can't help being tired. '

'Why did she come, then, when nobody wanted her?'

'For shame, Val, ' said Gillian, 'you know mamma would be very angry tohear you say anything so unkind. '

'It's quite true, though, ' muttered Valetta. 

'Never mind, Dolly, dear, ' said Mysie, shocked. 'Val doesn't reallymean it, you know. '

'Yes, she does, ' said Dolores, shaking her comforter off; 'you all do!I wish I had never come here. '

Mysie tried in her own persevering way to argue again that Val was onlyput out, and disappointed at having to turn back, to which Valetta, inspite of Gillian's endeavour to silence her, added, 'So stupid of herto come out! What did she do it for?'

Dolores, who hardly ever cried, was tired into crying now. 'You grudgeme everything; you wouldn't let me speak one single word to UncleRegie, and kept bothering about! I'll never do anything with youagain! I won't. '

'Did you want to speak to Uncle Regie?' asked Mysie. 

'To be sure I did! He is my uncle, that I knew ever so long before youdid, and you never let him speak to me. '

'Mrs. Halfpenny always put us on the high chair, with our faces to thewall when we were jealous, ' remarked Valetta. 

'But did you want to say anything to him in particular?' said Mysie, revolving means of contriving a private interview. 

'That's no business of yours! I wish you would let me alone!' brokeout Dolores, in a fretful fright lest any one should guess that she hadanything on her mind. 

'To make up stories of us, of course, ' growled Valetta, but Gillianhere interposed, declaring with authority that if she heard anotherword before they reached the paddock gate, she should certainly tellmother how disgracefully they had been behaving. When Gillian saidsuch things she kept her word. Besides, by way of precaution, shemarched down the muddy middle of the road, with Dolores limping alongthe footpath on one side, and Val as far off as possible on the borderof the ditch, on the other; the more inoffensive Mysie keeping by herside. They were all weary, and Dolores was very footsore also, by thetime they reached home, at the very moment that the two Misses Hacketappeared coming up the drive. Lady Merrifield, having the day beforeinvited the elder, as the purchases needed to be looked over, andpreparations set in hand, and she did not then know that her brotherwas coming. 

Dolores scarcely knew whether she was glad to see Constance. She hadmany doubts and qualms about that cheque. And if she had spent anyquiet time alone with her uncle, she might have laid enough of hertrouble before him to get some advice or help; but to ask for aninterview, especially when 'everybody' thought it was to makecomplaints, was too uncomfortable and alarming; and she was inclined toescape from thought of the whole subject altogether by taking actionquickly. 

Gillian gave her uncle's message about not waiting; the dirty bootswere taken off in the hall, and Constance followed her friend up to herroom to take off her things. 

Dolores sat on the side of her bed, too much tired at first to bewilling to move, Constance's pity elicited tears, and that they had allbeen so very unkind to her; they were angry at her getting tired, andthey were jealous of her even speaking to Uncle Regie. Again thisalarmed Constance, 'You weren't going to tell him about Mr. Flinders--you know you promised. '

'He knows about him already, and he would tell me what to do. '

'Oh! but that would never do, darling Dolly. You told me all thefamily were hard and unjust, and he would tell Lady Merrifield, and weshould never be allowed to see each other again. And only think of mypoor little secret! I didn't think you would have turned from yourpoor relation in misfortune for the sake of this grand Colonel. '

The end of it was, that just as the gong was sounding, Dolores handedover to Constance an envelope directed to Mr. Flinders, and containingMr. Maurice Mohun's cheque. It was off her mind now, she thought, asshe shuffled down to dinner, lookup so pale and uneasy that her auntmade her have a glass of wine and some gravy soup to begin with, and, when dinner was over, turned all the parcels off the school-room sofa, and made her lie upon it during the grand unpacking, which was almostas charming as the purchasing, perhaps more so, since there was nocomparison with costlier articles. 

There was not very much time. This was Friday and Christmas Day was onMonday, so there were only two more clear week-days before the birthdayand Miss Hacket would be church-decorating on the morrow; but LadyMerrifield would not send her daughters to help, as there were plentyof hands without them, and they were too young to trust in a mixed set, who were not always sure to be reverent. 

Dinner had rested and refreshed them; they rejoiced in the absence ofthe man-kind, and Primrose was sent out for her walk while the numerousboxes and packages were opened, and displayed sconces and tapers, giltballs and glass birds, oranges and bon-bons, disguised in everyimaginable fashion. There was a double set of the tapers, and tworelays of devices in sweets, for the benefit of the party of the secondnight, a list of whom Miss Hacket had brought, that heads might becounted, and any deficiency supplied in time through Aunt Jane. ForLady Merrifield had commissioned Gillian to lay in--unknown to the goodlady--a stock of such treasures as are valuable indeed to the littlemaid: shell pin-cushions, Cinderella slippers holding thimbles, casesof hair-pins, queer housewives, and the like things, wonderfully prettyfor the price, and which filled the kind heart of Miss Hacket withrapture and gratitude at such brilliant additions to her own home-madecontrivances in the way of cuffs, comforters, and illuminated workbags, all beautifully neat; I though it was hard to persuade her of what LadyMerrifield averred, that such things ought to be far more precious thanbrilliant, shop-bought, ready-made ware, 'with no love-seed in it. '

'It is very hard, ' she said; 'how fancy shops try to spoil all one usedto be able to do for one's friends. The purses, and the penwipers, andthe needle-cases that were one's choicest presents in my youth, are allturned out now smart and tight and fashioned, but without a scrap ofthe honest old labour and love that went into them. '

'But papa and mamma do care still, ' cried Gillian; 'papa never willhave any purse but the long ones mamma nets for him. '

'And mamma always will have the old brown and blue carriage-bag thatAunt Phyllis worked, ' chimed in Mysie, 'though Claude did say he wouldthrow it into the sea when we crossed from Dublin for it looked like anold housekeeper's. '

'Claude was in a superfine condition then--in awe of an old Sandhurstcomrade. He would be gild enough to see the old brown bag now, poorfellow, ' said Lady Merrifield, tenderly. 

So it went on, with merry chat and a good deal of real preparation, till the early darkness came on, and a great noise in the haulannounced the return of 'the boys, ' among whom Lady Merrifield stillclassed her colonel brother. They were muddy up to the eyes, but theyhad seen a great deal more than was easy to understand in theirincoherent accounts. Wilfed had rolled into a wet ditch, and beenpicked out by his uncle and hung up to dry at a little village inn, where--this seemed to have been the supreme glory--they had made a mealon pigs'-liver and bread-and-cheese before plodding home again--losingtheir way under Wilfred's confident pilotage--finding themselves fivemiles from home--getting a cast in a cart for the two little boys justas Fergus was almost ready to cry--Colonel Mohun and Jasper walkingalongside of the carter for two miles, and conversing in a friendlymanner, though the man said he knew the soldier by his step, andthought it was a pool-trade. Finally, he directed them by a short cut, which proved to be through a lane of clay and pools of such an adhesivenature that Fergus had to be pulled out step by step by main force byhis uncle, who deposited him on some stones at the other end, and thencame back to assist the struggles of Wilfred, who was slowly proceedingwith Jasper's help. 

'And that's the way we make you spend your Christmas holiday, Regie, 'said Lady Merrifield. 

'Never mind. Lily; mud was a congenial element to us both in old times, you know, so no wonder your brood take to it like ducks orhippopotamuses. I say, we ought to have come in by the rear. Couldn'tthat imp of a buttons of yours come and scrape us before we goupstairs?'

'You are certainly grown older, Regie. You never would have thought ofthat once. '

'No more would you, Lily--so do yourself justice. '

However, when five o'clock tea was spread in the drawing-room, and theHacket ladies came in, Constance beheld such a splendid vision of afine, fair, though sunburnt face, long, light moustaches, and tallfigure, that she instantly assumed her most affected graces, and didnot wonder the less that the Mohuns were all so very high. 

Dolores's strong desire for a private interview with her uncle diedaway when Constance carried off the cheque. She knew he would tell hershe had no right to give it, and she did not want to be told so, nor tohave any special inquiries made. She was not sorry that an invitationfrom a neighbour kept him and Hal out shooting all Saturday, and, onthe other hand, she so far shrank from Constance's talk about Mr. Flinders as not to be vexed that it was too wet on Sunday afternoon forany going down to Casement Cottages. 

It was on that wet afternoon, however, that Uncle Reginald, crossingthe hall for once without his tail of followers, saw her slowlydragging downstairs with a book in her hand. 

'Well, Miss Doll, ' he said; 'you don't look very jolly! What's thematter?'

'Nothing, Uncle Regie. '

'I don't believe in nothing. Here, ' sitting down on the stairs, withan arm round her, 'tell me all about it, Dolly, we are old chums, youknow. Have you got into a row?'

'Oh no!'

'Is there anything I can put straight?'

'No, thank you, Uncle Regie. '

'There's something amiss!' said the good-natured, puzzled uncle. 'Whatis it? I should have thought you would have got on with these youngfolks like--like a house on fire. '

'That's all you know about it, ' thought Dolly. What she said was, 'Onenever does. '

'I don't understand that generalization, ' answered her uncle; then, asshe did not answer, he added, 'I am sure your Aunt Lily is very anxiousto make you happy. Have you anything to complain of?'

'No, ' said Dolores, 'I don't complain of anything. '

She was thinking of Valetta's notion that she wanted to 'make upstories of them, ' and therefore she said it in a manner which conveyedthat she had a good deal to complain of, if she would, though reallyshe would have been a good deal puzzled to produce a grievance that aman like Uncle Reginald would understand, though she had plenty forsympathy like Constance's. 

However, it was not to be expected that a private conference shouldlast long in that house, and Mysie appeared at that moment, looking forher cousin, to say that 'Mamma was ready for her. ' Dolores went offwith more alacrity than usual, and Uncle Reginald beckoned up his otherniece, and observed: 'I say, Mysie, what's the matter with Dolly?'

'She is always like that, uncle, ' answered Mysie. 

'Don't you hit it off with her, then?'

'I can't, uncle, ' said Mysie, looking up, with a sudden wink now andthen to stop her tears. 'I thought we should have been such friends;but she won't let me. I didn't mean to be stupid and disagreeable, like the girls in 'Ashenden Schoolroom, ' but she doesn't care foranybody but Miss Constance and Maude Sefton. '

'I hope you are all very kind to her, ' said Uncle Reginald, ratherwistfully. 

'We try, ' said Mysie, who was not going to betray Wilfred and Valetta, and could honestly say so of herself and Gillian. 

And there again came an interruption, in the shape of Gillian. 'Mysie, mamma says we may finish up our sacred illuminated cards, for it willbe Sunday work. '

'Oh, jolly!' cried Mysie, jumping up. 'And will you give me one rub ofyour real good carmine Gilly-flower, dear. '

'And of my ultramarine, too, ' responded Gillian, wherewith the twosisters disappeared, radiant with goodwill and gratitude; while poorUncle Reginald, who had intended to devote this wet Sunday afternoon towriting to his brother that Dolores was perfectly happy and thriving inLily's care, and like a sister to his other favourite, Mysie, remaineddisappointed and perplexed, wondering whether the poor little maidenwere homesick, or whether no children could be depended on for kindnesswhen out of sight, and deciding that he should defer his letter till hehad seen a little more, and talked to his sister Jane, who could seethrough a milestone any day. 

It was understood that mamma preferred home-made cards to bought ones, so there was always a great manufacture of them in the weeks previousto Christmas, the comparative failures being exchanged among theyounger members. 

The presents were always reserved for Valetta's birthday and the tree, and this rendered the circulation of the cards doubly interesting. Inthe immediate family alone, there were thirteen times thirteen, besidesthose coming from, and going to outsiders, so that it was as well thata good many should be of domestic manufacture, either with pencil andbrush, or of tiny leaves carefully dried and gummed. And mamma hadkept an album, with names and dates, into which all these home effortswere inserted, and nothing else! This year's series began with alittle chestnut curl of Primrose's hair, fastened down on a card byGillian, and rose to a beautiful drawing of a blue Indian Lotus lily, with a gorgeous dragon-fly on it, sent by Alethea. The Indian partyhad sent a card for every one--the girls, beautiful drawings of birds, insects, and scenery; the brother, a bundle of rice-paper figured withcostumes, and papa, some clever pen-and-ink outlines of odd figures, which his daughters beguiled from him in his leisure moments!

As to the home circle, it is enough to say that their performances werehighly satisfactory to the makers, and were rewarded by mamma's kisses, and the text or verse she had secretly illuminated for each. She hadno time to do more, and the series were infinitely prized and laid upas treasures. There were plenty of ornamental cards from without to beadmired: the Brighton and Beechcroft aunts; the Stokesley cousins, andwhole multitudes of friends pouring them in as usual; so that theentire review seemed to occupy all those free moments of the ChristmasDay, when the young folks were neither at church, nor at meals, norsinging carols themselves, nor hearing the choir sing in the hall, norlooking over photograph books and hearing old family stories. This lastoccupation was received in the family as the regular evening pleasure, ending in all singing, 'When shepherds watch their flocks by night. '

Dolores had a card from her aunt and each of her cousins, besides oneof the parcel Uncle Reginald had brought. She did not think enough ofthe very bad drawing and smeared painting of the ambitious attempts shereceived, to feel at all disconcerted at having no reciprocity tooffer. The only cards she had sent were to Constance Hacket, toFraulein, and to Maude Sefton--the last with a sore sense of the longinterval since she had heard. 

However, there was a card from Maude, but it was a very poor one, looking very much like a last year's possession, and the letter was notmuch better, being chiefly an apology for having been too busy towrite. Maude was going to lectures with Nona Styles--Nona was such adarling girl--and breaking off because she was wanted to rehearseCinderella with this same darling Nona. 

It made Dolores's heart go down farther, though there was a beautifuland unexpected card from Mrs. Sefton, one from her former servant, Caroline, also from Fraulein, and three or four from old friends of hermother, who had remembered the solitary girl. In truth, she had morebeautiful ones than anybody else, but she kept these in theirenvelopes, and showed herself so much averse to free fingering andadmiration of them that Lady Merrifield had to call off Valetta, remindher that her cousin had a right to her own cards, and hear in returnthat Dolores was so cross. 

'Dolly, ' said Uncle Reginald, in a low voice, since he was permitted tolook over the cards with her, 'I think I have found out part of yourtroubles. '

She looked at him in alarm. 

He put his finger on a card bearing the words, 'Goodwill to men. '

'Umph, ' said she. 'I don't want everything of mine messed and spoilt. '

And as his eye fell on Fergus's cards, he felt there was reason in whatshe said. 

Aunt Lily had taken her for a quarter of an hour that morning, tryingto infuse the real thought underlying the joy that makes it Christmas, not only yule-tide. But it all fell flat--it was all lessons to her--imposed on her on a day that she had not been used to see made what shecalled 'goody. ' Last year her father had shut himself up after church, and she had spent the evening in noisy mirth with the Seftons. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

AN EGYPTIAN SPHYNX

Aunt Adeline was afraid of winter journeys as well as of the tumultuousfestivities of Silverton; so at twelve o'clock. Colonel Mohun drovethe pony-carriage to meet the little trim Brownie who stepped out ofthe station, the porter carrying behind her a huge thing, long, andswathed in brown paper. 'It is quite light; it won't hurt, ' she said, 'It must go with us. Put your legs across it, Regie. That's right. '

'Then what becomes of yours?'

'Mine can go anywhere, ' said Miss Mohun, crumpling herself up in somemysterious manner under the fur rug, while they drove off, her luggagesticking far off on either side of the splashboard. 

'What, in the name of wonder, are you smuggling in there?'

'If you must know, it is the body of a mummy over whose dissection youwill have to assist. '

'Ah! Rotherwood is coming. '

'Rotherwood!'

'And his little girl. Just like him. Lily gets a note this morningfrom London, telling her to telegraph if she can't have them by the5. 20 train. I've just been ordering a fly. It seems that LadyRotherwood, going to meet Ivinghoe at the station, coming from school, found he had measles coming out! So they packed off his sister toBeechcroft without having seen him, and thence Rotherwood took her toLondon. '

'And is having a fine frolic with her, no doubt; but he might as wellhave given Lily more notice, considering that a marquess or two makesmore difference to her household than it does to his. '

'Oh! she is glad enough, only in some trepidation as to how Mrs. Halfpenny may receive the unspecified maid that the child may bring. '

'How jolly we shall be! I wish Ada had come. '

'I tried to drag her out, but it gets harder and harder to shake herup. You must come back with me and see her. '

'I say, Jane, have you seen Maurice's child lately?'

'Not very. She wouldn't come with the others last week. '

'What do you think about her? I thought leaving her with Lily wouldhave been the making of her. Indeed, I told Maurice there could not bea better brought up set anywhere than the Merrifields, and that Lilywould mother her like one of her own; and now I find her moping about, looking regularly down in the mouth. I got hold of her one day andtried to find out what was the matter, but she only said she would notcomplain. Can they bully her?'

'I'll tell you what, Maurice, Lily is a great deal too kind to her. Shehas a kind of temper that won't let them make friends with her. '

'Come now! She was a nice jolly little girl at home. She and I have hadno end of larks together, and it is hard to blame her for frettingafter her home, poor child--Aye! I know you never liked her, or shemight have done better with you and Ada than turned in among a lot ofimps. '

'I'm thankful it was otherwise!'

'Now do, Jane, set your mind to it. Don't be prejudiced, but make thosesharp eyes of some use. I really feel bound to give Maurice an accountof Dolly, and tell him what is best for her. '

'I believe, ' said Jane, 'that there is some counter-influence at work, and I am trying to find it out; but, after all, I believe patience isthe only thing, and that Lily will conquer her if nobody meddles. '

''Tis not Lily I am afraid of, but her children. '

'Nonsense, Regie; one would think you had never been turned loose intoschool to be licked into shape. '

'She is a girl, not a cub like me. '

'A worse cub, for she has not your temper, sir, and, moreover, you hadhad the wholesome discipline of a large family. Besides, nobody teasesbut Wilfred. Gillian and Mysie behave like angels to the tiresomepuss. '

'Well, I'm bound to believe you, Jenny, but I don't like the looks ofit. '

Aunt Jane's mysterious parcel was greeted rapturously, and conveyedinto the dining-room, which had a semi-circular end, filled with glass, and capable of being shut off with heavy curtains when the season madesnugness desirable. This bay had been set apart from the first for heroperations, the tree, whose second season it was, having been taken upand already erected in the centre of the room, not much the worse forlast year's excursion, for, if rather stunted, that was all the better. No one was excluded from the decoration thereof, since that was thebest part of the sport to those too old for the mystery--and yet youngenough to fasten sconces where their candles would infallibly set fireto the twigs above them. The only defaulters were Jasper, who hadpreferred going down to the meadows with his gun; and Dolores, who hadretired to the drawing-room with a book, on having a paper star removedfrom immediate risk of conflagration. 'They were determined not to lether help, ' she said. 

So she only emerged when the workers halted for a merry, hurried mealin the schoolroom, where Jasper appeared, very late, very cross athaving had to make himself fit to be seen, and, likewise, at havingbrought home no spoil, the snipes having been so malicious as to escapehim. Having sallied forth before the post came in, it was only now thatit broke on him that visitors were expected, and he did not like it atall. 

'I thought we had got rid of a11 the enemy!' he growled, at his end ofthe table. 

'That's what he calls Constance. ' thought Dolores. 

'Polite, ' observed Gillian. 

'This will be worse still, being lord and ladies grumbled on Jasper, 'Ihate swells. '

'Oh! but these aren't like horrid, common, fine lords and ladies, 'cried Mysie; 'why, you know all mamma's old stories about the fun theyhad with cousin Rotherwood. 

'What's the good of that! That's a hundred years ago. He'll just makemamma and Uncle Regie of no good at all! And then there's a girl too--'(in a tone of inconceivable disgust) 'I don't want strange girls--anawful stuck-up swell of a Londoner, not able to do anything! I wish Ihad gone to spend Christmas with Bruce! I would if I had known it wasto be like this. '

The speech brought Mysie to the verge of tears. Aunt Jane's sharp earsheard it, and she looked at the head of the table, expecting to hear arebuke; but Lady Merrifield turned a deaf ear on that side. Only afterthe meal, she called her son, 'Jasper, ' she said, 'I want to send anote to Redford, if you like to ride over with it. You need not comehome till eight o'clock, if it is moonlight, it the boys aredisengaged, and if you do really wish to keep out of the way. '

Jasper's eyes fell under hers. 

'Mamma, I don't want that. '

'Only you said more than you meant, Japs. If it relieves your mind, ithurts other people. But I do want the note taken, so go and come backin time for the sports; which I don't think you will find muchdamaged. '

Meantime, Aunt Jane had ensconced herself behind the curtains; whereshe admitted no one but Miss Vincent and Uncle Reginald, and in processof time, mamma and Macrae. The others were still fully employed ingarnishing the tree, though it was only to bear lights, ornaments andsweets. All solid articles had been for some time past committed to ahuge box, or ottoman, the veteran companion of the family travels, which stood in the centre of the bay. Into its capacious interioreverybody had been dropping parcels of various sizes and shapes, withaddresses in all sorts of hands, which were to find their destinationon this great evening. This was part of the mystery that kept Mysieand Valetta in one continual dance and caper. It was all they could donot to peep between the curtains when the privileged mortals went inand out, bearing all sorts of mysterious loads well covered up from alleyes. Wilfred did make one attempt, but something extraordinarysnapped at his nose, with a sharp crack, and drove him back with astart. 

A lamp had been taken thither, and there really was nothing more to doto the tree, the scraps of packing had been picked up, and the hands, tingling from fir-needle pricks, had been washed, though not withoutprotest from Valetta that it wasn't worth while, and from Wilfred thatit was all along of these horrid swells--!

The sound of wheels summoned Lady Merrifield and her brother from theplace of mystery, and they were in the hall when a fresh gust of keenair came in from the door, an ulstered figure hurried in, and somethingsmall and furred was put into the lady's embrace. 

'Here's my Fly, Lily--! Look, Fly, here they all are--all the cousins. Off with the hat. Let us see your funny little face. '

It was a funny little smiling face, set in short, light, wavy hair, notexactly pretty, but with a bright, quaint, confiding look, as if usedto be shown off by her father, and ready to make friends on the spot. 'And how is your boy?' as the round of greetings was completed, and thewraps thrown off. 

'Going on capitally, better than he deserves, the young scamp, forsuppressing all symptoms for fear he should be hindered from cominghome. His mother was in a proper fright, she showed him to the doctoron the way, who told her to put him to bed at once, and send his sisterout of the house. She never set eyes on him, or I would not havebrought her here. '

'I am exceedingly glad you have, ' said Lady Merrifield, bending foranother kiss. 

'And Lily, I've done another awful thing. Victoria kept old nurse tohelp with Ivinghoe, and we brought the Swiss bonne, Louise, away withus, but the poor thing found her sister very ill in London, and Ihadn't the heart to bring her away, so Phyllis said she would do forherself, if your maid, or some of them, would have an eye to her. '

'There! I'm doubly glad, Rotherwood! If I had any fears it was not ofyou, or Phyllis; but that like Vich Ian Vhor, she should have her tailon. And, oh! Rotherwood, do you know what you are in for?'

'High jinks of some sort, I've no doubt. We picked up a couple of boxesat Gunter's and Miller's with a view thereto. Who is master of therevels?'

'Jane. She's too deep in preparations to come forth at present. Gillian, will you take Phyllis to the nursery, and take care of her. Weare to have a very high tea at half-past six; but, Rotherwood, Ipromise that another day you shall have a respectable dinner in thishouse. '

'Return to the prose of life, eh, Lily? Well, Fly, what do you think ofit?'

'Oh, daddy, aren't you glad we came?' she cried, dancing off, inGillian's wake, arm-in-arm with Mysie and Valetta, while he calledafter her, 'Find the boxes, and make them over to the right quarter. '

This was enough to make the whole bevy of children rush away, and onlythe three elders remained. Lord Rotherwood said, 'This is short notice. Lily; but I did not know Reginald was here, and I thought you mightwant help. Don't be frightened, only a queer thing has happened. I wentto W. 's bank yesterday. I thought they looked at me as if something wasup, and by-and-by one of the partners came and took me into his privateroom. There he showed me a cheque, and asked my opinion whether thewriting was Maurice's. And I should say it decidedly was, but it wasactually for seventy pounds, payable to order of Miss Dolores M. Mohun. '

'Seventy!'

'Yes, and dated the 19th of August. '

'Just before Maurice went. '

There was a sudden silence, for the door opened; but it was to admitMiss Mohun, who began, 'Oh! Rotherwood, you are too munificent. Why, what's the matter?' Lady Merrifield hastily explained, as far as sheyet understood, what had brought him. 

'How did they get the cheque?' she asked. 

'Sent up from the country bank where it had been cashed--Darminster. '

'Ah!' came from both the aunts. 

Lord Rotherwood went on. 'They asked me who Miss Dolores Mohun was, andI could do no otherwise than tell them, and likewise where to find her, but I explained that she is a mere child; and I told them I would comedown here, so I hope you will have as little annoyance as possible. '

'It is very good of you, Rotherwood, but I can't understand it at all. Was her name on the back?'

'Certainly; I told them I thought the whole thing must be a well got upforgery, and a confidential clerk was to go down today to Darminster totry to find out who gave it in there. '

'Darminster! Flinders!' ejaculated Miss Mohun. 

'Regie, ' exclaimed Lady Merrifield; 'what did you say about having seensome one like Dolores at Darminster station?'

'I was nearly jumping out after her. I should have said it was herself, if it had not been impossible. Why she was with you at Rockstone, andit was a pouring, dripping day, ' said the colonel. 

'No, she was not. She begged to spend the day with Constance Hacket, and we picked her up as we came home. Poor child, what has she beendoing? I have not looked after her properly. '

'But need she have had anything to do with it?' said Colonel Mohun. 'How should a cheque of Maurice's come into her possession?'

'She did tell me, ' said Lady Merrifield, ' that her father had left onewith her to pay for some German scientific book that might be sent forhim. '

'I see, then!' cried Miss Mohun. 'That wretch Flinders must have gotinto communication with her, and induced her to fill up her father'scheque for him. '

'But why should it be Flinders?' said Lord Rotherwood. 

'Jane found out that he is living at Darminster, and has been trying toput me on my guard, ' returned Lady Merrifield. 

'It is all that fellow Flinders, depend upon it, ' said Colonel Mohun. 'He is quite capable of it, and you'll find poor Dolly has nothing todo with it. Quite preposterous. And look here, Lily, let the poor childalone to enjoy herself tonight. Most likely Rotherwood's clerk, ordetective, or whatever he may be, will have ferreted out the rights ofthe matter at Darminster. I sincerely hope he will, and have Flindersin custody, and then you would have upset her and accused her all fornothing. '

'I am glad you think so, Regie, ' said Lady Merrifield. 'I am thankfulenough to wait, and hope it will be explained without spoiling thechildren's evening. '

'All right, ' said the visitor; 'I only hope I have not spoilt yours. '

'Oh! one learns to throw things off. I shall believe it is allFlinders, and none of it the child's, ' said Lady Merrifield, carefullyavoiding a glance that could show her any gesture of dissent on thepart of her sister, and only looking up for her brother's nod ofapproval. 'Besides, how foolish it would be to worry myself when I havetwo such protectors! It was very good in you, Rotherwood, I only hopewe shall take good care of your Fly, and that her mother will besatisfied about her. '

'She knew the little woman and I should have a lark together, ' said he. 'The governess was safe out of reach, holiday-making, so I could haveher all to myself. Victoria suggested her brother's, and we must gothere before we have done, but business and the pantomime by good lucktook us to London first. So when I wrote to you from the bank, I alsolet her know that I was obliged to take the little woman down herefirst. I couldn't take her to High Court till Louise is availableagain. '

'So much the better, I'm sure. '

'And what I was going to say is, that Rotherwood has been startlinglymunificent and splendid, ' said Aunt Jane. 'We shall have a set of newsurprises. '

'I don't in the least know what I brought. I only told each of them toput up such a box as they sent out for Christmas concerns. Do preciselywhat you please with them. '

'Come and see, Lily, for I think there will be enough to reserve afresh lot of things for Miss Hacket's affair. By-the-by, Regie, did yousay it rained at Darminster?'

'Poured all the way down. '

'Well, we had it quite fine. '

'Was it fine here?'

'Yes, certainly, ' said Lady Merrifield, ' or Primrose would not havegone out. Take care of Rotherwood, Regie. You know his room. '

And the two sisters crossed the hall, where the 'very high tea' wasbeing laid; hearing from the regions above sounds of exquisite glee andmerriment, as perfect and almost as inexpressive of anything else asthe singing of birds, so that they themselves could not help answeringwith a laugh, before they vanished into the chamber of mystery. 

Indeed, Phyllis's conversation was like a fairy tale. Her brother'sillness, which was not enough to damp any one's spirits, had preventedor hindered a grand children's party as the Butterfly's Ball, where shewas to have been the Butterfly, and Lord Ivinghoe the Grasshopper, andall the children were to appear as one of the characters in Roscoe'spretty poem. Never was anything more delightful to the imagination ofthe little cousins, and they could not marvel enough at her seeming solittle uneasy about anything so charming, and quite ready and eager tothrow herself headlong into all their present enjoyments, makingwonderful surmises as to the mystery in preparation. 

Dolores heard the laughing, and it did not suit with her vaguely uneasyand injured frame of mind; feeling dreadfully lonely too, as she camedownstairs, dressed for the evening, but not knowing where to go, forthe dining-room was engrossed, the schoolroom was dark and the fireout, the drawing-room occupied by the two gentlemen. She crouched downin one of the big arm-chairs on either side of the hearth in the hall, and began to read by the firelight. Presently Jasper came in from hisride, and began taking off his greatcoat, leggings, and boots, whistling as he did so, then, perceiving the tempting object of a blackleg sticking out of the chair, he stole up across the soft carpet, andcaught hold of the ankle. He received a vigorous kick in return (whichperhaps he expected) but what he did not expect was the black figurethat rose up in outraged dignity and indignation. 'For shame! I won'tbe insulted!'

'Whew! I thought 'twas Val! I beg your pardon. '

'I shall ask my aunt if I am to be insulted. '

'Well, if you choose to take it in that way--A man can't do more thanbeg pardon! I'm sure I would never have presumed to touch you if I hadknown it was your Dolorousness. '

And he turned to walk away, just as the babbling ripple of laughterbegan to flow downstairs, and a whole mass of little girls intertwinedtogether was descending. 'I always hop, ' said a voice new to him, 'except on the great staircase, and mother doesn't like it there. Butthis is such a jolly stair. Can't you hop?'

Hopping in a threefold embrace on a slippery stair was hardly a safepastime, and before Jasper had time to utter more than' Holloa there!take care!' there descended suddenly on him an avalanche of littlegirls, 'knocking him off his feet, so that all promiscuously rolleddown two or three steps together. Fergus and Primrose, who had somehowbeen holding on behind, ' remained upright, but nevertheless screaming. The shrieks of the fallen were, however, laughter. There was a soft rugbelow, and by the time the gentlemen had rushed out of the dining-room, and the ladies from the curtained recess, giggling below and legs abovewere chiefly apparent. 

'Any one hurt?' was of course Lady Merrifield's cry. 

'Oh no, mamma. Only we are so mixed up we can't get up, ' called outMysie. 

'Is this arm you or me?' exclaimed Phyllis, following up the joke. 

'Come, sort yourselves, ladies and gentlemen, ' said Lord Rotherwood. 'What's this, a Fly's wing?'

'No, it's mine, ' cried Val, as his hand pulled her out, and the othersextricated themselves, still laughing, go that they could hardly stand, and Fly declaring, 'Oh, daddy, daddy, it is such fun! I am so glad wecame, ' and taking a gratuitous leap into the air. 

'Every one to her taste, ' said Lady Merrifield, 'I congratulate thoseto whom a compound tumble-down-stairs is felicity. '

'She has found her congenial element, you see, ' said her father, as theelders proceeded upstairs to their toilette. ' 'Tis laughing-gas withher to be with other children, and the most laughingest of all arenaturally yours, old Lily. '

Meanwhile Jasper, risen on his stocking soles, looked all over at thelittle figure, dressed old picture fashion, in the simplest white frockwith blue sash, and short-cut hair tied back with blue. 

'Well, you are a jolly little girl, ' he said, 'and a cool customer, too! What do you mean by knocking a fellow over the first time you seehim?'

'And what do you mean by coming like a great--huge--big elephant in ourway to stop up the stairs?' demanded Fly, in return. 

'Do you mean to insinivate that 'twas I that made you fall?' saidJasper--'I, that was quietly walking up the stairs, when down therecame on me a shower--not cats and dogs, but worserer, far worserer!Why, I'm kilt! my nose is flat as a pancake, I shan't recover my beautyall the evening for the great swells that are coming. '

'Jasper, Japs, ' called his mother's warning voice, 'you must come upand dress, for tea is going in. '

He obeyed, rushing two steps at a time; but meeting, at the bottom ofthe attic flight, his sister Gillian, he demanded, 'Gill, what awfullyjolly little girl have they got down there?'

'Why, Fly, of course, Lady Phyllis Devereux--'

'No, no, nothing swell, a comical little soul, with no nonsense abouther, in a white thing. '

'Well, that's Phyllis. There's no one else there. '

'I say. Gill, 'tis like sunshine and clouds. She and the other, I mean. Why, I gave a little pull to a foot I saw in the armchair, thinking itbelonged to Val, and out breaks my Lady of the Rueful Countenance, vowing she'll complain that I've insulted her; and as to the other, thewhole lot of them tumbled over me together on the stairs, and she didnothing but laugh and chaff. '

'I hope she is not a romp, ' said the staid Gillian, sagely, as she wentdownstairs. 

But on that score she was soon satisfied. Phyllis Devereux was athorough little lady, wild and merry as she was, and enchanted to be inthe rare fairyland of child companionship. And that indeed she had, Mysie and Valetta, between whose ages she stood, hung to herinseparably, and Jasper was quite transformed from his grimsuperciliousness into her devoted knight. At tea-time there was acompetition for the seats next to her, determined by Valetta's takingone side, in right of the birthday, and Jasper the other, because hesecured it, and Mysie gave way to him because he was Japs, and shealways did. While Dolores laid up a store of moralizings on theadulation paid to the little lady of title, and at the same timespeculated what concatenation of circumstances could ever make her LadyDolores Mohun. On the whole, it would be more likely that her fathershould gain a peerage by putting down a Fijian rebellion than that itshould be discovered that his mother, Lady Emily, had been the trueheiress of the marquessate, and even so, an uncomfortable number ofpeople must be disposed of before it could come to him. She had oneconsolation, however, for Uncle Reginald, always kind to her, wasparticularly affectionate this evening, as if he would not have thatlittle foolish Fly set up before her. 

The tea and the tree both went off joyously. There is no need todescribe the spectacle to folks who can count their Christmas-trees bythe years of their life and the memorable part of this one was thatmuch of the fruit that had been left hanging on it was nowmetamorphosed into something much more gorgeous--oranges had becomeeggs full of sugar-plums, gutta-percha monkeys grinned on the branches, golden flowers had sprung to life on the ends of the twigs, a lovelyjewel-like lantern crowned the whole, and as to sweets, everybody-servants and all--had some delightful devices containing them, whetherdrum, bird, or bird's nest. 

Before the distribution was over, it was observed that Aunt Jane andUncle Reginald, also Harry, had vanished from the scene. There was apause, during which such tapers as began to burn perilously low, wereextinguished, an operation as delightful apparently as the fixing them. Presently a horn was heard, and a start or shudder of mysteriousecstasy pervaded the audience, as a tall figure came through thecurtains, and announced:

'Ladies and gentlemen, I have the honour to inform you that a freshdiscovery has been made in the secret chambers of the Pyramid of Chops, otherwise known as Te-Gun-Ter-ra. A mummy has been disinterred, whichis about to be opened by the celebrated Egyptologist, Herr ProfessorFreudigfeldius, who has likewise discovered the means of making such aconjuration of the Sphynx that she will not only summon each of thepresent company by name, but will require of each of them to reply to aquestion. The penalty of a refusal is well known!'

Therewith the curtains were drawn back, and a scene was presented whichmade some of the spectators start. Behind was the semblance of a wallmarked with the joints of large stones, and lighted (apparently) withtwo brass lamps. On the floor lay extended an enormous mummy, with theregulation canvas case, and huge flaps of ears, between which appeareda small, painted face, and below lay a long, gaily coloured scroll inhieroglyphics. Exalted stiffly in a seat placed on a seeming block ofstone, was a figure, with elbows, as it were glued to its sides, andhands crossed, altogether stone-coloured and monumental, and with thetrue Sphynx head, surrounded with beetles, lizards, and other mysticcreatures (very chocolate-coloured). And beside her stood the HerrProfessor, in a red fez, long dark gown, and spectacles, a flowingbeard concealing the rest of his face. How delightful to see such anEgyptologist! Even though one perfectly knew the family beard and fez;also that the gown was papa's old dressing-gown, captured for thetheatrical wardrobe. And how grand to hear him speak, even though hisbroken English continually became more vernacular. 

'Liebes Herrschaft, ' he began, 'I would, nobles, gentry, and ladiessay. You here see the embalmed rests of the celebrated monarch Nic-nac-ci-no. Lately up have I them graben, and likewise his tutelar Sphynxhave found, and have even to give signs of animation compelled. '

Touching the effigy with his wand, she emitted certain growls andhisses, which made Primrose hide her face in alarm at anything souncanny, and Lord Rotherwood observe--

'Nearly related to the cat-goddess Pasht; I thought so. '

'There was something of the lion or cat in the Sphynx, ' said Gillian, gravely, while the three little girls clasped each other's hands withdelightful thrills of awe and expectation. 

'Observe, ' continued the Professor, 'the outer case with the featuresof the deceased is painted. I should conclude that King Nic-nac, etcetera, had been of a peculiarly jolly--I mean frolich--nature, judging by the grin on his face. We proceed--'

As he laid his hand on the wrapper, the Sphynx gave utterance to soundsso like the bad language of a cat that some looked round for one. TheProfessor waved at her, and she subsided. He turned back the covering, and demanded, 'Will the amiable Fraulein there. Mademoiselle Valetta, come and see what treasures she can discover in the secrets of thetomb?'

Val, who in right of her birthday, had expected the first call, jumpedup, but the Sphynx made awful noises as she advanced, and the Professorexplained that she would have to answer the Sphynx's question first. 

'But I don't know Egyptian, ' she observed. 

'Never mind, it will sound like English. '

It did so, for it was, 'How many months old art thou, maiden?'

Val's arithmetic was slightly scared. She clasped her hand nervously, and was indebted to the Professor for the sotto voce hint, 'twelvenines, ' before she uttered 'a hundred and eight. '

The Sphynx relapsed into stoniness, and the Herr Professor guided thehands, which trembled a little, to the interior of the mummy, whencethey drew out a basket, labelled (wonderful to relate) 'Val, ' andcontaining--oh! such treasures, a blue egg full of needleworkimplements, a new book, an Indian ivory case, a skipping-rope, ashuttlecock, and other delights past description. The exhibition ofthem was only beginning when the Professor called for Primrose, who wastoo much frightened to come alone, and therefore was permitted to bebrought by Mrs. Halfpenny. The Sphynx was particularly amiable on thisoccasion, and only asked 'When Primroses came?' and as the little one, in her shy fright did not reply, nurse did so, with, 'Come, missie, can't you find a word to tell that mamma's Primrose came in spring. 'This was allowed to pass, and Mrs. Halfpenny bore off her child, clutching a doll's cradle, stuffed with pretty things, and for herselfa bundle wrapped up in a shawl from Sir Jasper himself. 

After Primrose was gone to bed, the Sphynx became much more ill-tempered and demonstrative, snarling considerably at the approach ofsome of the party, some of whom replied with convulsive laughter, some, such as Jasper, with demonstrations of 'poking up the Sphynx. ' She hada question for everybody--Fly was asked, 'Which was best, a tree or aButterfly's ball?' and answered, with truthful politeness, that whereMysie and Val were was best of all. She carried off a collection thathad hastily been made of Indian curiosities, photographs of her twofriends, and a book; and her father, after being asked, 'What was thebest of insects?' and replying, 'On the whole, I think it is my house-fly, even when she isn't a butterfly, ' received a letter-weight ofbrass, fashioned like an enormous fly, which Lady Merrifield hadsnatched up from the table for the purpose. The maids giggled at thewell-known conundrums proposed to them, and Dolores had a very easyquestion --' What was the weather this day week?'

'A horrid wet day, ' she promptly answered, and found herself endowedwith a parcel containing some of the best presents of all, bangles fromthe Indian box, a beautiful pair of stork-like scissors, a writing-case, etc. 

'The Sphynx's invention is running low, ' observed Jasper to Gillian, when the creature put the same question about last week's weather toHerbert, the page-boy, as a prelude to his discovering the treasures ofthe mummy, as a knife and an umbrella. His view of the weather was thatit was 'A fine day ma'am! yes, a fine day. '

Macrae came last, and the Sphynx asked him which of the two contraryviews was right. 

'It was fine, ma'am, that I know. For I walked down with nurse, andlittle Miss Primrose into Silverton, to help to carry her in case shewas tired, and we never had occasion to put up an umbrella. '

Wherewith Macrae received his combination of gifts and retired; themummy being completely rifled, and the construction of the body, aframe of light, open wicker-work, revealed. Aunt Jane had had it madeat the basketmaker's, while as to the head and covering, her owningenious fingers had painted and fashioned them. Everybody had to lookat everybody's presents, a lengthened operation, and then there was asplendid game at blindman's-buff in the hall, in which all the eldersjoined, except mamma, who had to go and sit in the nursery with therestless and excited Primrose while Mrs. Halfpenny and Lots went downto the servants' festivity. 

When she came down again, it was to quiet the tempest of merriment, andsend off the younger folks in succession to bed, till only the fourelders and Hal remained on the scene, waiting till there was reason tothink the household would be ready for prayers. 

'It was Dolores that you saw at Darminster, Reginald, ' said Miss Mohun, quietly. 

'You Sphynx woman, how do you know?'

'You said it was raining at Darminster. '

'Yes, that it was, everywhere beyond the tunnel through the Darfieldhills. '

'Exactly, I know they make a line in the rainfall. Well, here it wasdry, but Dolores called it a wet day. '

'Now I call that too bad, Jane, to lay a trap for the poor child in thegame, ' cried Colonel Mohun, just as if they had still been boy and girltogether. 

'It was to satisfy my own mind, ' she said, colouring a little. 'Ididn't want any one to act on it. Indeed, I think there will be nooccasion. '

'Besides, ' he added, 'it is nothing to go upon! No doubt, if it wasn'training, it was the next thing to it here, and bow was she to recollectat this distance of time? I won't have her caught out in that way!'

'I am glad she has a champion, Regie, ' said Lady Merrifield. 'Here comethe servants. '

CHAPTER XIV. 

A CYPHER AND A TY. 

Dolores was coming down to breakfast the next morning when ColonelMohun's door opened. He exclaimed, 'My little Dolly, good morning!'stooped down and kissed her. 

Then, standing still a moment, and holding her hand, he said--

'Dolly, it was not you I saw at Darminster station?'

It was a terrible shock. Some one, no doubt, was trying to set himagainst her. And should she betray Constance and her uncle? At anyrate, almost before she knew what she was saying, 'No, Uncle Regie, 'was out of her mouth, and her conscience was being answered with 'Howdo I know it was me that he saw? these fur capes are very common. '

'I thought not, ' he answered, kindly. 'Look here, Dolly, I want oneword with you. Did your father ever leave anything in charge with youfor Mr. Flinders? Did he ever speak to you about him?'

'Never, ' Dolores truly answered. 

'Because, my dear, though it's a hard thing to say, and your poormother felt bound to him, he is a slippery fellow--a scamp, in fact, and if ever he writes to you here, you had better send the letterstraight off to me, and I'll see what's to be done. He never has, Isuppose?'

'No, ' said Dolores, answering the word here, and foolishly feeling theinvolvement too great, and Constance too much concerned in it for herto confess to her uncle what had really happened. Indeed, the firstfalsehood held her to the second; and there was no more time, for LordRotherwood was coming out of his room further down the passage. Andafter the greetings, as she went downstairs before the two gentlemen, she was sure she heard Uncle Regie say, 'She's all right. ' What couldit mean? Was a storm averted? or was it brewing? Could that spitefulAunt Jane and her questions about the weather be at the bottom of it?

The fun that was going on at breakfast seemed a mere roar of folly toher, and she had an instinct of nothing but getting away to Constance. She soon found that there would be opportunity enough, for the tree wasto be taken down in a barrow, and all the youthful world was to carrydown the decorations in baskets, and help to put them on. She dashedoff among the first to put on her things, and then was disappointed tofind that first all the pets were to be fed and shown off to Fly, whoappreciated them far more than she had done--knew how to lay hold of arabbit, nursed the guinea-pigs and puppies in turn, and was rapturousin her acceptance of two young guinea-pigs and one puppy. 

'I can keep them up in daddy's dressing-room while we are at HighCourt, and it will be such fun, ' she said. 

'Will he let you?' asked Gillian, in some doubt. 

'Oh! daddy will always let me, and so will Griffin--his man, you know, only we left him in London because daddy said he would be in yourbutler's way, but I can't think why. Griffin would have helped aboutthe tree and learnt to make a mummy when we have our party. Louisewould not let me have them in the nursery, I know, but daddy andGriffin would, and I could go and feed them in the morning beforebreakfast. Griffin would get me bran! That is, if we do go to HighCourt; I wish we were to stay on here. There's nobody to play with atHigh Court, and grandpapa always keeps daddy talking politics, so thatI can hardly ever get him! Mysie, whatever do you do with your fatheraway in India?'

'Yes, it is horrid. But then, there's mamma, ' said Mysie, whispering, however, as she saw Dolores near, and feared to hurt her feelings. 

'Ah!' said Fly, with a tender little shake of her head; ''tis worse forher to have no mother at all! Is that why she looks so sad?'

'Cross' is the word, ' said Wilfred. 'I can't think what she is comebothering down here for!'

'Oh! for shame, Wilfred!' said Fly. 'You should be sorry for her. 'And she went up to Dolores, and by way of doing the kindest thing inthe world, said--

'Here's my new puppy. Is not he a dear? I'll let you hold him, ' and sheattempted to deposit the fat, curly, satiny creature in Dolores's arms, which instantly hung down stiff, as she answered, half in fright, 'Ihate dogs!' The puppy fell down with a flop, and began to squeak, while the girls, crying, 'Oh! Dolly, how could you!' and 'Poor littlepup!' all crowded round in pity and indignation, and Wilfred observed, 'I told you so!'

'You'll get no change but that out of the Lady of the RuefulCountenance, ' said Jasper. 

Mysie had for once nothing to say in Dolores's defence, being equallyhurt for Fly's sake and the puppy's. Dolores found herself virtuallysent to Coventry, as she accompanied the party across the paddock, onlyjust near enough to benefit by their protection from the herd of half-grown calves which were there disporting themselves; and, as if to makethe contrast still more provoking, Fly, who had a natural affinity forall animals, insisted on trying to attract them, calling, 'Sukkey!sukkey!' and hold out bunches of grass, in vain, for they only gallopedaway, and she could only explain how tame those at home were, and howshe went out farming with daddy whenever he had time, and mother andFraulein would let her out. 

The tree meantime came trundling down, a wonderful spectacle, with allits gilt balls and fir-cones nodding and dangling wildly, and its otherembellishments turning upside down. There were greetings of delight atCasement Cottage, and Miss Hacket had kissed everybody all round beforeGillian had time to present the new-comer, and then the good lady wasshocked at her own presumption, and exclaimed--

'I beg your ladyship's pardon! Dear me! I had no notion who it was!'

'Then please kiss me again now you do know!' said Fly, holding up herfunny little face to that very lovable kind one, and they were all soonabsorbed in the difficulty of getting the tree in at the front door, and setting it up in the room that had been prepared for it. 

Dolores had hoped to confide her alarms to Constance's sympathetic ear, but her friend, who had written and dreamt of many a magnificentlytitled scion of the peerage, but had never before seen one in her ownhouse, had not a minute to spare for her, being far too much engrossedin observing the habits of the animal. These certainly were peculiar, since she insisted on a waltz round the room with the tabby cat, andascended a step-ladder, merrily spurning Jasper's protection, to insertthe circle of tapers on the crowning chandelier. There was nothing leftfor Dolores to do but to sit by in the window-seat, philosophizing onthe remarkable effects of a handle to one's name, and feeling cruellyneglected. 

Suddenly she saw a fly coming up to the gate. There was a generalpeeping and wondering. Then Uncle Reginald and a stranger got out andcame up to the door. There was a ring--everybody paused and wonderedfor a moment; then the maid tapped at the door and said, 'Would MissMohun come and speak to Colonel Mohun a minute in the drawing-room?'

There was a hush of dread throughout the room. 'Ah!' sighed MissHacket, looking at Gillian, and all the elders thought without sayingthat some terrible news of her father had to be told to the poor child. They let her go, frightened at the summons, but that idea not occurringto her. 

'There!' said Uncle Regie, 'she can set it straight. Don't befrightened, my dear; only tell this gentleman whether that is yourwriting. '

The stranger held a strip so that she could only just see 'Dolores M. Mohun, ' and she unhesitatingly answered 'Yes'--very much surprised. 

'You are sure?' said her uncle, in a tone of disappointment that madeher falter, as she added, 'I think so. ' At the same time the strangerturned the paper round, and she knew it for the cheque that had so longresided in her desk, but with dilated eyes, she exclaimed, 'But--but--that was for seven pounds!'

'That, ' said the stranger, 'then, Miss Mohun, you know this draft?'

'Only it was for seven, ' repeated Dolores. 

'You mean, I conclude, that it was drawn for seven pounds, and that itwas still for seven when it left your handy?'

'Yes, ' muttered Dolores, who was beginning to get very much frightened, at she knew not what, and to feel on her guard at all points. 

'There's nothing to be afraid of, my dear, ' said Uncle Reginald, tenderly; 'nobody suspects you of anything. Only tell us. Did yourfather give you this paper?'

'Yes. '

'And when did you cash it?' asked the clerk. 

Dolores hung her head. 'I didn't, ' she said. 

'But how did it get out of your possession?' said her uncle. 'You aresure this is your own writing at the back. It could surely not havebeen stolen from her?' he added to the stranger. 

'That could hardly be, ' said that person. 'Miss Mohun, you had betterspeak out. To whom did you give this cheque?'

There was a whirl of terror all round about Dolores, a horror ofbringing herself first, then Uncle Alfred, Constance, and everybodyelse into trouble. She took refuge in uttering not a word. 

'Dolores, ' said her uncle, and his tone was now much more grave andless tender, thus increasing her terror; 'this silence is of no use. Did you give this cheque to Mr. Flinders?'

In the silence, the ticks of the clock on the mantel-piece seemed likea hammer beating on her ears. Dolores thought of the morning's flatdenial of all intercourse with Flinders! Then the word give occurredto her as a loophole, and her mind did not embrace all the consequencesof the denial, she only saw one thing at a time, 'I didn't give it, 'she answered, almost inaudibly. 

'You did not give it?' repeated her uncle, getting angry and speakingloud. 'Then how did it get into his hands? Is there no truth in you?'he added, after a pause, which only terrified her more and more. 'Whomdid you give it to?'

'Constance!' The word came out she hardly knew how, as something whichat least was true. Colonel Mohun knocked at the door of the room shehad come from. It was instantly opened, and Miss Hacket began, 'Thepoor dear! Can I get anything for her, I am sure it is a terribleshock!' and as he stood, astonished, Gillian added, 'Oh! I see it isn'tthat. We were afraid it was something about Uncle Maurice. '

'No, my dear, no such thing. Only would Miss Constance Hacket be kindenough to come here a minute?'

'Oh! My apron! My fingers! Excuse me for being such a figure!'Constance ran on, as Colonel Mohun made her come across to the roomopposite, where she looked about her in amazement. Was the stranger apublisher about to make her an offer for the 'Waif of the Moorland. 'But Dolores's down-cast attitude and set, sullen face forbade the idea. 

'Miss Constance Hacket, ' said the colonel, 'here is an uncomfortablematter in which we want your assistance. Will you kindly answer aquestion or two from Mr. Ellis, the manager of the . . . . Bank?'

Then the manager politely asked her if she had seen the cheque before. 

'Yes--why--what's wrong about it? Oh! It is for seventy! Why, Dolores, I thought it was only for seven?'

'It was for seven when you parted with it, then, Miss Hacket, ' said themanager; 'let me ask whether you changed it yourself?'

'No, ' she said, 'I sent it to--' and there she came to a dead pause, inalarm. 

'Did you send it to Mr. Alfred Flinders?' said Mr. Ellis. 

'Yes--oh!' another little scream, 'He can't have done it. He can't besuch a villain! Your own uncle, Dolores. '

'He is no uncle of Dolores Mohun!' said the colonel. 'He is only theson of her mother's step-mother by her first marriage. '

'Oh, Dolores, then you deceived me!' exclaimed Constance; 'you told mehe was your own uncle, or I would never--and oh! my fifteen pounds. Where is he?'

'That, madam, ' said Mr. Ellis, gravely, 'I hope the police maydiscover. He has quitted Darminster after having cashed this cheque forseventy pounds. We have already telegraphed to the police to be on thelook out for him, but I much fear that it will be too late. '

'Oh! my fifteen pounds! What shall I do? Oh, Dolores, how could you? Ishall never trust any one again!'

Perhaps Uncle Reginald felt the same, but he only darted a look uponhis niece, which she felt in every nerve, though to his eyes she onlystood hard and stolid. The manager, who found Constance's torrent ofwords as hard to deal with as Dolores's silence, asked for pen and ink, and begged to take down Miss Hacket's statement to lay before amagistrate in case of Flinders's apprehension. It was not very easy tokeep her to the point, especially as her chief interest was in her ownfifteen pounds, of which Mr. Ellis only would say that she couldprosecute the man for obtaining money on false pretences, and this shetrusted meant getting it back again. As to the cheque in question, shetold how Dolores had entrusted it to her to send to her supposed uncle, Mr. Flinders, to whom it had been promised the day they went toDarminster, and she was quite ready to depose that when it left herhands, it was only for seven pounds. 

This was all that the bank manager wanted. He thanked her, told ColonelMohun they should hear from him, and went off in a hurry, both tocommunicate with the police, and to leave the young ladies to be dealtwith by their friends, who, he might well suppose, would rather that heremoved himself. 

'Put on your hat, Dolores, ' said Colonel Mohun, gravely; 'you hadbetter come home with me! Miss Hacket, excuse me, but I am afraid Imust ask whether you have been assisting in a correspondence between myniece and this Flinders?'

'Oh! Colonel Mohun, you will believe me, I was quite deceived. Doloresrepresented that he was her uncle, to whom she was much attached, andthat Lady Merrifield separated her from him out of mere familyprejudice. '

'I am afraid you have paid dearly for your sympathy, ' said the colonel. 'It certainly led you far when you assisted your friend to deceive theaunt who trusted you with her. '

The movement that was taking place seemed like licence to that roomful, burning with curiosity to break out. Mysie was running after Dolores toask if she could do anything for her, but Colonel Mohun called her backwith 'Not now, Mysie. ' Miss Hacket came forward with agitated hopesthat nothing was amiss, and, at sight of her, Constance collapsedquite. 'Oh, Mary, ' she cried out, 'I have been so deceived! Oh! thatman!' and she sunk upon a chair in a violent fit of crying, whichalarmed Miss Hacket so dreadfully that she looked imploringly up toColonel Mohun. He had meant to have left Miss Constance to explain, buthe saw it was necessary to relieve the poor elder sister's mind fromworse fears by saying, 'I am afraid it is my niece who deceived her, byleading her into forwarding letters and money to a person who callshimself a relation. He seems to have been guilty of a forgery, whichmay have unpleasant consequences. Children, I think you had betterfollow us home. '

Dolores had come down by this time, and Colonel Mohun walked home, atsome paces from her, very much as if he had been guarding a criminalunder arrest. Poor Uncle Reginald! He had put such absolute trust inthe two answers she had made him in the morning; and had been so sureof her good faith, that when the manager brought word that the chequehad been traced to Flinders, who had absconded, he still held that itwas a barefaced forgery, entirely due to Flinders himself, and thatDolores could show that she had no knowledge of it, and he had gonedown in the fly expecting to come home triumphant, and confute hissister Jane, who persisted in being mournfully sagacious. And he wasindignant in proportion to the confidence he had misplaced; grieved, too, for his brother's sake, and absolutely ashamed. 

Once he asked, when they were within the paddock, out of the way ofmeeting any one, 'Have you nothing to say to me, Dolores?'

It was not said in a manner to draw out an answer, and she made none atall. 

Again he spoke, as they came near the house:

'You had better go up to your room at once. I do not know how to thinkof the blow this will be to your father. '

It was so entirely what Dolores was thinking of, that it seemed to herbarbarous to tell her of it In fact she was stunned, scarcelyunderstanding what had happened, and too proud and miserable to ask foran explanation, for had not every one turned against her, even UncleReginald and Constance--and what had happened to that cheque?

She did not see Uncle Reginald turn into the drawing-room, and lettinghimself drop despairingly into an armchair, say, 'Well, Jane, you wereright, more's the pity!'

'She really gave him the cheque!'

'Yes, but at least it was only for seven. The rascal himself must havealtered it into seventy. She and the other girl both agree as to that. There's been a clandestine correspondence going on with that scamp eversince she has been here, under cover to that precious friend of hers--that Hacket girl. '

'Ah! you warned me, Jenny, ' said Lady Merrifield 'But I'm quite sureMiss Hacket knew nothing of it'

'I don't suppose she did. She seemed struck all of a heap. Any waythey've quarrelled now; the other one has turned King's evidence--haslost some money too, and says Dolores deceived her. She's deceivedevery one all round, that's the fact. Why she told me two flat liesthis very morning--lies--there's no other name for it. What will you dowith her, Lily?'

'I don't know, ' said Lady Merrifield, utterly shocked, andrecollecting, but not mentioning, the falsehood told to her about thenote. Lord Rotherwood said, 'Poor child, ' and Colonel Mohun groaned, 'Poor Maurice. '

'Then she did go to Darminster?' said Miss Mohun. 

'Yes; that came out from this Miss Constance, who seems to have beenproperly taken in about some publishing trash. Serve her right! But itseems Dolores beguiled her with stories about her dear uncle indistress. We left her nearly in hysterics, and I told the children tocome away. '

'What does Dolores say?' asked Jane. 

'Nothing! I could not get a word out of her after the first surprise atthe alteration of the cheque. Not a word nor a tear. She is as hard--ashard as a bit of stone. '

'Really, ' said Lady Merrifield, 'I can't help thinking there's a gooddeal of excuse for her. '

'What? That poor Maurice's wife was half a heathen, and afterwards thegirl was left to chance?' said Colonel Mohun. 'I see no other. And you, Lily, are the last person I should expect to excuse untruth. '

'I did not mean to do that, Regie; but you all say that poor Mary wasfond of this man and helped him. '

'That she did!' said Lord Rotherwood, 'and very much against the grainit went with Maurice. '

'Then don't you see that this poor child, who probably never had thematter explained to her, may have felt it a great hardship to be cutoff from the man her mother taught her to care for; and that may haveled her into concealments?'

'Well!' said Colonel Mohun, 'at that rate, at least one may be thankfulnever to have married. '

'One--or two, Regie?' said Jane, as they all laughed at his sally. 'Ithink I had better go up and see whether I can get anything out of thechild. Do you mean to have her down to dinner, Lily, ' she added, glancing at the clock. 

'Oh yes, certainly. I don't want to put her to disgrace before all thechildren and servants--that is, if she is not crying herself out ofcondition to appear, poor child. '

'Not she, ' said Uncle Reginald. 

On opening the door, the children were all discovered in the hall, inanxious curiosity, not venturing in uncalled, but very much puzzled. 

Gillian came forward and said, 'Mamma, may we know what is the matter?'

'I hardly understand it myself yet, my dear, only that Dolores andConstance Hacket have let themselves be taken in by a sort of relationof Dolores's mother, and Uncle Maurice has lost a good deal of moneythrough it. It would not have happened if there had been fair andupright dealing towards me; but we do not know the rights of it, andyou had better take no notice of it to her. '

'I thought, ' said Valetta, sagaciously, 'no good could come of runningafter that stupid Miss Constance. '

'Who can't pull a cracker, and screams at a daddy long-legs, ' addedFergus. 

'But, mamma, what shall we do?' said Gillian. 'I came away becauseUncle Regie told us, and Constance was crying so terribly; but what ispoor Miss Hacket to do? There is the tree only half dressed, and allthe girls coming to-night, unless she puts them off. '

'Yes, you had better go down alone as soon as dinner is over, and seewhat she would like, ' said Lady Merrifield. 'We must not leave her inthe lurch, as if we cast her off, though I am afraid Constance has beenvery foolish in this matter. Oh, Gillian, I wish we could have madeDolores happier amongst us, and then this would not have happened. '

'She would never let us, mamma, ' said Gillian. 

But Mysie, coming up close to her mother as they all went up the broadstaircase to prepare for the midday meal, confessed in a grave littlevoice, 'Mamma, I think I have sometimes been cross to Dolly-morelately, because it has been so very tiresome. '

Lady Merrifield drew the little girl into her own room, stooped down, and kissed her, saying, 'My dear child, these things need a great dealof patience. You will have to be doubly kind and forbearing now, forshe must be very unhappy, and perhaps not like to show it. You mightsay a little prayer for her, that God will help us to be kind to her, and soften her heart. '

'Oh yes, mamma; and, please, will you set it down for me?'

'Yes, my dear, and for myself too. You shall have it before bed-time. '

Aunt Jane had followed Dolores to her own room the girl, who wassitting on her bed, dazed, regretted that she had not bolted her door, as her aunt entered with the words, 'Oh, Dolores, I am very sorry Icould not have thought you would so have abused the confidence that wasplaced in you. '

To this Dolores did not answer. To her mind she was the person ill-usedby the prohibition of correspondence, but she could not say so. Everyone was falling on her; but Aunt Jane's questions could not well helpbeing answered. 

'What will your father think of if?'

'He never forbade me to write to Uncle Alfred' said Dolores. 

'Because he never thought of your doing such a thing. Did he give youthis cheque?'

'Yes. '

'For yourself?'

'N-n-o. But it was the same. '

'What do you mean by that?'

'It was to pay a man--a man's that's dead. '

'That may be; but what right did that give you to spend the moneyotherwise? Who was the man?'

'Professor Muhlwasser, for some books of plates. '

'How do you know he is dead! Who told you so? Eh! Was it Flinders? Ah!you see what comes of trusting to an unprincipled man like that. Ifyou had only been open and straightforward with Aunt Lily, or with anyof us, you would have been saved from this tissue of falsehood;forfeiting your Uncle Reginald's good opinion, and enabling Flinders todo your father this great injury. ' She paused, and, as Dolores made noanswer, she went on again--'Indeed, there is no saying what you havenot brought on yourself by your deceit and disobedience. If Flindersis apprehended, you will have to appear against him in court, andpublicly avow that you gave away what your father trusted to you. '

Dolores gave a little moan and start, and her aunt, perceiving that shehad touched an apparently vulnerable spot, proceeded--'The only thingleft for you to do is to tell the whole story frankly and honestly. Idon't say so only for the sake of showing Aunt Lily that you are sorryfor having abused her confidence. I wish I could think that you are;but, unless we know all, we cannot shield you from any furtherconsequences, and that of course we should wish to do, for yourfather's sake. '

Dolores did not feel drawn to confession, but she knew that when AuntJane once set herself to ask questions, there was no use in trying toconceal anything. So she made answers, chiefly 'Yes' or No, ' and heraunt, by severe and diligent pumping, had extracted bit by bit what itwas most essential should be known, before the gong summoned them. Dolores would rather have been a solitary prisoner, able to chafeagainst oppression, than have been obliged to come down and confronteverybody; but she crept into the place left for her between Mysie andWilfred. She had very little appetite, and never found out how Mysiewas fulfilling her resolution of kindness by baulking Wilfred of sundryattempts to tease; by substituting her own kissing-crust for Dolly'smore unpoetical piece of bread; and offering to exchange her deliciousstrawberry-jam tartlet for the black-currant one at which her cousinwas looking with reluctant eyes. 

Mysie and Valetta were grievously exercised about their chances ofreturning to the G. F. S. Tree. Indeed Gillian went the length of tellingthem that Fly was behaving far better in her disappointment as to theButterfly's Ball than they were as to this 'old second-hand tree. ' Flylaughed and observed, 'Dear me, things one would like are always beingstopped. If one was to mind every time, how horrid it would be! Andthere's always something to make up!'

Then it occurred to Gillian, though not to her younger sisters, thatLady Phyllis Devereux lived in general a much less indulged, and morefrequently disappointed, life than did herself and her sisters. 

However, there was great delight at that dinner-table. Jasper hadridden to get the letters of the second post, and Lord Rotherwood hadhis hands and his head full of them when he came in to luncheon--therebeing what Lady Merrifield called a respectable dinner in view. In thefirst place. Lord Ivinghoe was getting on very well, and was up, sitting by the fire, playing patience. Nobody was catching the measles, and quarantine would be over on the 9th of January. Secondly, 'Fly, shall you be very broken-hearted if I tell you. '

'Oh, daddy, you wouldn't look like that if it was anything very bad!Lion isn't dead?'

'No; but I grieve to say your unnatural grand-parents don't want you!Grandmamma is nervous about having you without mamma. What did we dolast time we were there, Fly?'

'Don't you remember, daddy? they said there was nothing for me to rideto the meet, and you and Griffin put the side-saddle on Crazy Kate, andwe went out with the hounds, and I've got the brush up in my room!'

'I don't wonder grandmamma is nervous, ' observed Lady Merrifield. 

'Will you be nervous, Lily, ' said Lord Rotherwood, 'if this sameflyaway mortal is left on your hands till the 9th?'

Dinner, manners, silence before company, and all, could not repress ageneral scream of ecstacy, which called forth the reply. 'I shouldthink you and her mother were the people to be nervous. 

'Oh! my lady has been duly instructed in Merrifield perfections, andesteems you a model mother. '

The children's nods and smiles said 'Hear, hear!'

'Well, you've got it all in her own letter, ' continued LordRotherwood. 'You see, they've got a caucus at High Court, and adinner, and I must go up there on Monday; but if you'll keep thisdangerous Fly--'

'I can answer for the pleasure it will give, '

'Well then, I'll come back for her by the 9th, and you've Victoria'sletter, haven't you?'

'Yes, it is very kind of her. '

'Then I shall expect you to be ready to start with me for theButterfly's Ball. Eh, young ladies, what will you come out as?'

'Oh daddy, daddy, is it? Has mamma asked them? Oh! it is moredelicious than anything ever was. Mysie, Mysie, what will you be?'

'The sly little dormouse crept out of his hole, ' quoted Mysie, in avery low, happy voice. 

'And I will be a jolly old frog, ' shouted Fergus, finding the ordinanceof silence broken and making the most of it, on the presumption thatthe whole family were invited. However, the tone, rather than theuncomprehended words of his mother's answer, 'Nobody asked you, sir, 'she said, reduced him to silence, and it became understood, throughFly's inquiries, that the invitation included Lady Merrifield must makeher acceptance doubtful. And besides, the question which three were togo was the unspoken drawback to full bliss, and yet the delight wasexceedingly great in the prospect, great enough to make the contrast ofgloom in poor Dolores's spirit all the darker, as she sat, left out ofeverything, and she could not now say, with absolute injustice, thoughshe still clung to the belief that there was more misfortune than faultin her disgrace. 

She crept away, shivering with unhappiness, to the schoolroom, whilethe others frisked off discussing the wonderful Butterfly's Ball. LadyMerrifield looked in on her, and she hardened herself to endure eitheranother probing or fresh reproaches, but all she heard was, 'My dear, I cannot talk over this sad affair now, as I have to go out. But, ifyou can, I think you had better write to your father about it, and lethim understand exactly how it happened. Or, if you had rather writethan speak in explaining it to me, you can do so, and we can considertomorrow what is to be done about it. '

Then she went out with her brother and cousin to drive to someIndustrial schools which Lord Rotherwood wanted to see. 

CHAPTER XV. 

THE BUTTERFLY'S BALL. 

Miss Mohun went to the Casement Cottages with Gillian to see what theelder Miss Hacket might wish and whether they could be of use to her;the young people being left to exercise themselves within call in casethe Tree was to be continued. 

This proved to be an act of great kindness, for poor Mary Hacket wassuffering all the distress of an upright and honourable woman at hersister's abuse of confidence; and had felt as if Colonel Mohun'ssummons to his nieces was the close of all intimacy with such anunworthy household. Moreover, the evenings entertainment could not begiven up and Gillian was despatched to summon the eager assistants, while Aunt Jane repeated her assurances that Lady Merrifield perfectlyunderstood Miss Hacket's ignorance of the doings in Constance's room--listening patiently even when the tender-hearted woman began to excuseher sister for having accepted Dolores's lamentations at being cut offfrom her so. Called uncle. 'Dear Connie is so romantic, and so easilytouched, ' she said, 'though, of course, it was very wrong of her tosuppose that Lady Merrifield could do anything harsh or unkind. She isin great grief now, poor darling, she feels so bitterly that her friendled her into it by deceiving her about the relationship and character. '

This, Aunt Jane did not think the worst part of the affair, and shesaid that the girl had been brought up to call the man Uncle Alfred, and very possibly did not understand that he was only so by courtesy, nor that he was so utterly untrustworthy. 

'I thought so, ' said Mary Hacket. 'I told Connie that such a childcould not possibly have been a willing party to his fraud--for fraud, Ifear, it was--Miss Mohun. Do you think there is any hope of herrecovering the sum she advanced. '

'I am afraid there is not, even if the wretched man is apprehended. '

'Ah! if she had only told me what she wanted it for!'

'I hope it was all her own. '

'Oh, Miss Mohun, no doubt you know that two sisters living togethermust accommodate one another a little, and Connie's dress expenses, ather age, are necessarily more than mine. But here come the dearchildren, and we ought to dismiss all painful subjects, though Ideclare I am so nervous I hardly know what I am about. '

However, by Miss Mohun's help, the good lady rose to the occasion, andwhen once busy, the trouble was thrown off, so that no guests wouldhave detected how unhappy she had been in the forenoon. Constance sooncame down, and confided to Gillian a parcel directed to Miss D. Mohun, containing all the notes written to her, and all the books lent to her, by the false friend whom she had cast off, after which she threwherself into the interests of the present. 

The London ornaments, and the residue of the gifts and bonbons, madethe Christmas-tree a most memorable one to the G. F. S. Mind. 

As to Fly, she fraternized to a great extent with a very small maid, ina very long, brown dress, and very thick boots, who did not taste asingle bonbon, and being asked whether she understood that they weregood to eat, replied that she was keeping them for 'our Bertie andMinnie;' and, on encouragement, launched into such a description ofher charges--the blacksmith's small children--that Lady Phyllis wentback, not without regrets that she could not be a little nurse who haddone with school at twelve years old, and spent her days at the back ofa perambulator. 

'Oh, daddy, ' she said, 'I do wish you had come down; it was such lovelyfun--the best tree I ever saw. Why wouldn't you come?'

'If thirty odd years should pass over that little head of yours, myLady Fly, and you should then meet with Mysie and Val, maybe you willthen learn the reason why. '

'We will recollect that in thirty years' time. '

'When our children go to a Christmas-tree. '

'And we sit over the fire instead. '

'Oh! but should we ever not care for a dear, delightful Christmas-tree?'

'If we had each other instead. '

'Then we would all go still together!'

'And tell our little boys and girls all about this one, and theButterfly's Ball!'

'Perhaps our husbands would want us, and not let us go. '

'Oh! I don't want a husband. He'd be in the way. We'd send him off toIndia or somewhere, like Aunt Lily's. '

'Don't, Fly; it is not at all nice to have papa away. '

'Oh yes, it would be ten hundred times better if he were at home. '

Such were the mingled sentiments of the triad, as they went upstairs tobed, linked together in their curious fashion. 

Some time later, a bedroom discussion of affairs was held by LadyMerrifield and Miss Mohun, who had not had a moment alone together allday, to converse upon the two versions of the disaster which the latterhad extracted from Dolores and Constance, and which fairly agreed, though Constance had been by far the most voluble, and somewhatungenerously violent against her former friend, at least so LadyMerrifield remarked. 

'You should take into account the authoress's disappointed vanity. '

'Yes, poor thing! How he must have nattered her!'

'Besides, there is the loss of the money, which, I fear, falls asseriously on good Miss Hacket as on the goose herself. '

'Does it, indeed? That must not be. How much is it?'

'Fifteen pounds; and that foolish Constance fancies that poor Doloresassisted in duping her. I really had to defend the girl; though I amjust as angry myself when I watch her adamantine sullenness. '

'I am the person to be angry with for having allowed the intimacy, inspite of your warnings, Jenny. '

'You were too innocent to know what girls are made of. Oh yes, you arevery welcome to have six of your own, but you might have six dozenwithout knowing what a girl brought up at a second-rate boarding-schoolis capable of, or what it is to have had no development of conscience. What shall you do? send her to school?'

'After that recommendation of yours?'

'I didn't propose a second-rate boarding-school, ma'am. There's a HighSchool starting after the holidays at Rockstone. Let me have her, andsend her there. '

'Ada would not like it. '

'Never mind Ada, I'll settle her. I would keep Dolly well up to herlessons, and prevent these friendships. '

'I suppose you would manage her better than I have been able to do, 'said Lady Merrifield, reluctantly. 'Yet I should like to try again; Idon't want to let her go. Is it the old story of duty and love, Jane?Have I failed again through negligence and ignorance, and deceivedmyself by calling weakness and blindness love?'

'You don't fail with your own, Lily. Rotherwood runs about admiringthem, and saying he never saw a better union of freedom and obedience. It was really a treat to see Gillian's ways tonight; she had so muchconsideration, and managed her sisters so well. '

'Ah, but there's their father! I do so dread spoiling them for himbefore he comes home; but then he is a present influence with us allthe time. '

'They would all clap their hands if I carried Dolly off. '

'Yes, and that is one reason I don't want to give her up; it seems sosad to send Maurice's child away leaving such an impression. One thingI am. Thankful for, that it will be all over before grandmamma andBessie Merrifield come. '

At that moment there was a knock at the door, and a small figureappeared in a scarlet robe, bare feet, and dishevelled hair. 

'Mysie, dear child! What's the matter? who is ill?'

'Oh, please come, mamma, Dolly is choking and crying in such a dreadfulway, and I can't stop her. '

'I give up, Lily. This is mother-work, ' said Miss Mohun. 

Hurrying upstairs, Lady Merrifield found very distressing soundsissuing from Dolores's room; sobs, not loud, but almost strangled intoa perfect agony of choking down by the resolute instinct, for it wasscarcely will. 

'My dear, my dear, don't stop it!' she exclaimed, lifting up the girlin her arms. 'Let it out; cry freely; never mind. She will be bettersoon, Mysie dear. Only get me a glass of water, and find a freshhandkerchief. There, there, that's right!' as Dolores let herselflean on the kind breast, and conscious that the utmost effects of thedisturbance had come, allowed her long-drawn sobs to come freely, andmoaned as they shook her whole frame, though without screaming. Heraunt propped her up on her own bosom, parted back her hair, kissed her, and saying she was getting better, sent Mysie back to her bed. Thefirst words that were gasped out between the rending sobs were, 'Oh! ismy--he--to be tried?'

'Most likely not, my dear. He has had full time to get away, and Ihope it is so. '

'But wasn't he there? Haven't they got him? Weren't they asking meabout him, and saying I must be tried for stealing father's cheque?'

'You were dreaming, my poor child. They have not taken him, and I amquite sure you will not be tried anyway. '

'They said--Aunt Jane and Uncle Reginald and all, and 'that dreadfulman that came--'

'Perhaps they said you might have to be examined, but only if he isapprehended, and I fully expect that he is out of reach, so that youneed not frighten yourself about that, my dear. '

'Oh, don't go!' cried Dolores, as her aunt stirred. 

'No, I'm not going. I was only reaching some water for you. Let mesponge your face. '

To this Dolores submitted gratefully, and then sighed, as if underheavy oppression, 'And did he really do it?'

'I am afraid he must have done so. '

'I never thought it. Mother always helped him. '

'Yes, my dear, that made it very hard for you to know what was right todo, and this is a most terrible shock for you, ' said her aunt, feelingunable to utter another reproach just then to one who had been soloaded with blame, and she was touched the more when Dolores moaned, 'Mother would have cared so much. '

She answered with a kiss, was glad to find her hand still held, andforgot that it was past eleven o'clock. 

'Please, will it quite ruin father?' asked Dolores, who had not out-grown childish confusion about large sums of money. 

'Not exactly, my dear. It was more than he had in the bank, and UncleRegie thinks the bankers will undertake part of the loss if he will letthem. It is more inconvenient than ruinous. '

'Ah!' There was a faintness and oppression in the sound which madeLady Merrifield think the girl ought not to be left, and before long, sickness came on. Nurse Halfpenny had to be called up, and it was oneo'clock before there was a quiet, comfortable sleep, which satisfiedthe aunt and nurse that it was safe to repair to their own beds again. 

The dreary, undefined self-reproach and vague alarms, intensified bythe sullen, reserved temper, and culminating in such a shock, alienating the only persons she cared for, and filling her with terrorfor the future, could not but have a physical effect, and Dolores wasfound on the morrow with a bad head-ache, and altogether in a state tobe kept in bed, with a fire in her room. 

Gillian and Mysie were much impressed by the intelligence of theircousin's illness when they came to their mother's room on the way tobreakfast, and Mysie turned to her sister, saying, 'There Gill, you seeshe did care, though she didn't cry like us. Being ill is more thancrying. '

'Well, ' said Gillian, 'it is a good deal more than such things as youand Val cry for, Mysie. '

'It was a trial such as you don't understand, my dears, ' said LadyMerrifield. 'I don't, of course, excuse much that she did, but she hadbeen used to see her mother make every exertion to help the man. '

'That does make a difference, ' said Gillian, 'but she shouldn't havetaken her father's money. And wasn't it dreadful of Constance tosmuggle her letters? I'm quite glad Constance gets part of thepunishment. '

'Certainly, that might be just, Gillian, but unfortunately the lossfalls infinitely more heavily upon Miss Hacket, who cannot afford theloss at all. '

'Oh dear!' cried Mysie. 

'I'm very sorry, ' said Gillian. 

'And, my dear girls, in all honour and honesty, we must make it up toher. '

'Can't we save it out of our allowance?' said Mysie. 

'Sixpence a month from you, a shilling perhaps from Gill, how longwould that take? No, my dear girls, I am going to put you to a heavytrial. '

'Oh, mamma, don't!' cried Gillian, seeing what she was driving at. 'Don't give up the Butterfly's Ball. '

'Oh, don't!' implored Mysie, tears starting in her eyes. 'We neversaw a costume ball, and Fly wishes it so. '

'And I thought you had promised, ' said Gillian. 

'Cousin Rotherwood assumes that I did; but I did not really accept. Itold him I could not tell, for you know your Grandmamma Merrifieldtalked of coming here, and I cannot put her off. And now I see that itmust be given up. '

'It need only be calico!' sighed Gillian, sticking pins in and out ofthe pincushion. 

'Fancy dresses even in calico are very expensive. Besides, I could notgo to a place like Rotherwood without at least two new dresses, and itis not right to put papa to more expense. '

'Oh, mamma! couldn't you? You always do look nicer than any one, ' saidMysie. 

'My dear, I am afraid nothing I have at present would be suitable for aGeneral's wife at Lady Rotherwood's party, and we must think of whatwould be fitting both towards our hostess and papa. Don't you see?'

'Ah! your velvet dress!' sighed Gillian. 

'My poor old faithful state apparel, ' smiled Lady Merrifield. 'PoorGill, you did not think again to have to mourn for it, but I don't knowthat even that could have been sufficiently revivified, though it wasmy cheval de bataille for so many years. 

For Lady Merrifield's black velvet of many years' usefulness, had beenput on for her p. P. C. Party at Belfast, when Gillian, in abettingJasper in roasting chestnuts over a paraffin-lamp, had set herself andthe tablecloth on fire, and had been extinguished with such damages assinged hair, a scar on Jasper's hands, and the destruction of hermother's 'front breadth. ' There had been such relief and thankfulnessat its being no worse that the 'state apparel' had not been muchmourned, especially as the remains made a charming pelisse forPrimrose; and in the retirement of Silverton, it had not been missedtill the present occasion. 

'Do gowns cost so very much?' said Mysie. 

'Indeed they do, my poor Mouse. The lamented cost more than twentypounds. I had been thinking whether I could afford the requisitegarments--not quite so costly--and thought I might get them for aboutsixteen, with contrivance; but you see I feel it my fault that I letDolores go and lead Constance to get cheated, and I cannot take themoney out of what papa gives for household expenses and your education, so it must come out of my own personal allowance. Don't you see?'

'Ye--es, ' said Gillian, apparently intent on getting a big, black-headed pin repeatedly into the same hole, while Mysie was trying withall her might not to cry. 

'You are thinking it is very hard that you should suffer for Dolly'sfaults. Perhaps it is, but such things may often happen to you, mydears. Christians bear them well for love's sake, you know. '

'And it is a little my fault, ' said Gillian, thoughtfully; 'for it wasI that let the chestnut fall into the lamp. '

'I--I don't think I should have minded so much, ' said Mysie, almostcrying, 'if we had done it our own selves--and Fly too--for some verypoor woman in the snow. '

'I know that very well, Mysie, and this is a much harder trial, as youdon't get the honour and glory of it; and, besides, you will have totake care to say not a word of this reason to Fly or Valetta, or anyone else. '

'Val will be awfully disappointed, ' said Gillian. 

'Poor Val! But I should not have taken her anyway, so that matters theless. I should have taken Jasper, for that would have been moreconvenient than so many girls. In fact, I did not mean anybody to haveheard of it till I had made up my mind, so that there would have beenno disappointment; but that naughty Cousin Rotherwood could not keep itto himself; and so, my poor maidens, you have to bear it with a goodgrace, and to be treated as my confidential friends. '

Mysie smiled and kissed her mother--Gillian cleared somewhat, butobserving, 'I only wish it wasn't clothes;' tried to dismiss thesubject as the gong began to sound, but Mysie caught her mother'sdress, and said, 'Mayn't I tell Fly, for a great secret?'

'No, my dear, certainly not. Fly is a dear little girl, but we don'tknow how she can keep secrets, and it would never do to let theRotherwoods know; papa and Uncle William would be exceedingly annoyed. And only think of Miss Hacket's feelings if it came round. It will behard enough to get her to take it now. '

'Perhaps she won't, ' flashed into the minds of both girls; but Mysiesaid entreatingly, 'One moment more, mamma, please! What can I say toFly that will be the truth?'

'Say that I find we cannot go, and that I had never promised, ' saidLady Merrifield. 'I trust you, my dears. '

And as she opened the door to hurry down to prayers, the two sistersfelt the words very precious and inspiriting. Mysie lingered on thestep and bravely asked Gillian whether her eyes looked like crying--

'No, only a little twinkly, ' answered the elder sister; 'they will beall right after prayers if you don't rub them. '

'No, I won't, said Mysie; "I'll try to mean 'Thy will be done. ' For Isuppose it is His will, though it is mamma's. "

'I'm glad you thought of that, Mysie, ' said Gillian; 'you see it ismamma's goodness. ' And Gillian added to herself, "dear little Mysietoo. If it had not been for her, I believe I should have 'grizzled'all prayer-time, and now I hope I shall attend instead. "

When everybody rose up from their knees, Lady Merrifield was glad tosee two fairly cheerful faces. She tried to lessen the responsibilityof the confidants, and to get the matter settled by telling LordRotherwood at once and publicly that she had thought his kindinvitation over, and that she found she must not accept it. Perhapsshe warily took the moment after she had seen the postman coming up thedrive, for he had only time to say, 'Now, that's too bad, Lily, youdon't mean it, ' and she to answer, 'Yes, in sad earnest, I do, ' beforethe letters came in, and the attention of the elders was taken off bythe distribution. 

But Valetta whispered to Gillian, 'Not going; oh why?'

'No; never mind, you wouldn't have gone, anyway--hush--' said Gillian, beginning, it may be, a little sharply, but then becoming dismayed asValetta, perhaps a little unhinged by the late pleasures, burst forthinto such a fit of crying as made everybody look up, and her mothertell her to go away if she could not behave better. Gillian, understanding a sign of the head as permission, led her away, hearingLord Rotherwood observe, --

'There, you cruel party!' before again becoming absorbed in his letter. 

'Oh dear!' sighed Fly, turning to Mysie as they rose from table, 'I amso sorry! It would have been so nice; and I thought we were safe, asmamma had written herself!'

'Ah! but my mamma hadn't accepted, ' said Mysie. 

Phyllis seemed to take this as final, and sighed, but Mysie presentlyexclaimed, 'I say! can't we all play at Butterfly's Ball in the hallafter lessons?'

'Lessons?' said Fly; 'but it's holiday-time?'

'Mamma always makes us do a sort of little lesson, even in theholidays, as she says we get naughty. But I suppose you need not; andperhaps she will not make us now you are here. '

Colonel Mohun and Lord Rotherwood were going to Darminster to see whatwas the state of the investigation about Mr. Flinders. They set outdirectly after breakfast, and after the feeding of the pets, whereValetta joined them, much consoled by the prospect of the extemporaryButterfly's Ball at home, Lady Phyllis, with her usual readyadaptability, repaired with the others to the schoolroom, where thePsalms and Lessons were read, and a small amount of French reading inturn from 'En Quarantaine' followed, with accompaniment of needleworkor drawing, after which the children were free. 

Aunt Jane was going home to her Sunday school and the Rockstonefestivities. She came down for her final talk with her sister just intime to perceive the folding up of three five-pound notes. 

'Lily, ' she said, with instant perception, 'I could beat myself forwhat I told you yesterday. '

Lady Merrifield laughed. 'The girls are very good about it!' she said. 'Now you have found it out, see whether that note will make MissHacket swallow it. '

'Can't be better! But oh. Lily, it is disgusting! Could not I rig upsomething fanciful for the children?'

'That's not so much the point. 'The General's lady, ' as Mrs. Halfpenny would say, is bound not to look like 'ane scrub, ' as shewould be unwelcome to Victoria, and what would be William's feelings?I could hardly have accomplished it even with this, and the catastrophesettles the matter. '

'You could not get into my black satin?'

'No, I thank you, my dear little Brownie, ' said Lady Merrifield, elongating herself like a girl measuring heights. 

'Ada has a larger assortment, as well as a taller person, ' continuedMiss Jane, 'but then they are rather 'henspeckle, ' and they have allmade their first appearance at Rotherwood. '

'No, no, thank you, my dear, Jasper would not like the notion--even ifthere was not more of me than of Ada. I have no doubt it is muchbetter for us. '

'Should you have liked it, Lily?'

'For once in a way. For Rotherwood's sake, dear old fellow. Yes, Ishould. '

'Ah, well! You are a bit of a grande dame yourself. Ada enjoys it, too, or I don't think I ever should go there. '

'Surely Victoria behaves well to you?'

'Far be it from me to say she is not exemplary in her perfect civilityto all her husband's relations. Ada thinks her charming; but oh. Lily, you've never found out what it is to be a little person in agreat person's house, and to feel one's self scrupulously made one ofthe family, because her husband is so much attached to all of them. There's nothing spontaneous about it! I dare say you would get onbetter, though You are not a country-town old maid; you would have anair of the world and of distinction even if you went in your old greypoplin. '

'Well, I thought better of my lady. '

'You ought not! She makes great efforts, I am sure, and is a pattern ofgraciousness and cordiality--only that's just what riles one, when oneknows one is just as well born, and all the rest of it. And then I'mprovided with the clever men, and the philanthropical folk to talk to. I know it's a great compliment, and they are very nice, but I'd tentimes rather take my chance among them. However, now I've made thegrapes sour for you, what do you think about Dolores? Will you sendher to us?'

'Not immediately, at any rate, dear Jane. It is very kind in you towish to take her off our hands, but I do want to try her a littlelonger. I thought she seemed to be softening last night. '

'She was as hard as ever when I went in to wish her good-bye. '

'I thought she had too much headache for conversation when I went inlast; I think this is a regular upset from unhappiness and reserve. '

'Alias temper and deceitfulness. '

'Something of both. You know the body often suffers when things arenot thrown out in a wholesome explosion at once, but go simmering on;and I mean to let this poor child alone till she is well. '

'Ah! here comes the pony-carriage. Well, Lily, send her to me if yourepent. '

The sisters came out to find the Butterfly's Ball in full action. Flyhad become a Butterfly by the help of a battered pair of fairy wings, stretched on wire, which were part of the theatrical stock. 'The shylittle Dormouse' was creeping about on all fours under a fur jacket, with a dilapidated boa for a long tail, but her 'blind brother theMole' had escaped from her, and had been transformed into the Frog, bymeans of a spotted handkerchief over his back, and tremendous leap-frogjumps. Primrose, in another pair of fairy wings, was personating theDragon-fly and all his relations, 'green, orange, and blue. ' Valetta, in perfect content with the present, with a queer pair of ears, and atail made of an old brush, sat up and nibbled as Squirrel. TheGrasshopper was performing antics which made him not easilydistinguishable from the Frog, and the Spider was actually descendingby a rope from the balusters, while his mother, standing somewhataghast, breathed a hope that 'poor Harlequin's' fall was not part ofthe programme. But she did not interfere, having trust in thegymnastics that were studied at school by Jasper, who had been beguiledinto the game by Fly's fascinations. 

'A far more realistic performance than the Rotherwood Butterfly's Ballis likely to be, ' said Aunt Jane, aside, as the various guests came upfor her departing kiss. 'And much more entertaining, if they couldonly think so. Where's Gillian?'

Gillian appeared on the stairs in her own person at the moment. Shesaid Mrs. Halfpenny had called her, and told her that 'Miss Dollars'was crying, and that she did not think the child ought to be left alonelong to fret herself, but Saturday morning needments called away nurseherself, so she had ordered in Miss Gillian as her substitute. Gillianwas reading to her, and had only come away to make her farewells toAunt Jane. 

'That is right, my dear, ' said her mother; 'I will come and sit withher after luncheon. '

For the whole youthful family were to turn out to superintend thereplantation of the much-enduring fir, which, it was hoped, mightsurvive for many another Christmas. 

However, Lady Merrifield could not keep her promise, for a whole partyof visitors arrived just after the children's dinner was over. 

'And it's old Mrs. Norgood, ' sighed Gillian, looking over thebalusters, 'and she always slays for ages!'

'One of you young ladies must bide with Miss Dollars, ' said NurseHalfpenny, decidedly, 'or we shall have her fretting herself illagain. '

'Oh, nursie, can't you?' entreated Gillian. 

'Me, Miss Gillian! How can I, when Miss Primrose is going out with thewhole clamjamfrie, and all the laddies, into the wet plantations? Na--one of ye maun keep the lassie company. Ye've had your turn, MissGillian, so it should be Miss Mysie. It winna hurt ye, bairn, ye thathae been rampaging ower the house all the morning. '

Mysie knew it was her turn, but she also knew that nurse alwaysfavoured Gillian and snubbed her. She had a devouring longing to bewith her dear Fly, and a certain sense that she was the preferred one. Must another pleasure be sacrificed to that very naughty Dolores, whosemisdemeanours had deprived them of the visit to Rotherwood. She lookedso dismal that Gillian said good-naturedly, 'Really, Mysie, I don'tthink mamma would mind Dolores's being left a little while; I must godown to see about the Tree, because mamma gave me a message to oldWebb, but I'll come back directly. Or perhaps Dolly is going tosleep, and does not want any one. Go and see. '

Mysie on this crept quietly into the room, full of hope of escape, butDolores was anything but asleep. 'Oh, are you come, Mysie? Now you'llgo on with the story. I tried, but my eyes ache at the back of them, and I can't. '

Mysie's fate was sealed. She sat down by the fire and took up thebook, 'A Story for the Schoolroom, ' one of the new ones given from theTree. It was the middle of the story, and she did not care about it atfirst, especially when she heard Fly's voice, and all the otherslaughing and chattering on the stairs. 

'Didn't they care for her absence?' and her voice grew thick, and hereyes dim; but Dolores must not think her cross and unwilling, and shemade a great effort, became interested in the girls there described, and wondered whether staying with Fly would have turned her head, afterthe example of the heroine of the book. 

Dolores did not seem to want to talk. In fact, she was clinging to thereading, because she could not bear to speak or think of the state ofaffairs, and the story seemed, as it were, to drown her misery. Sheknew that her aunt and cousins were far less severe with her than sheexpected, but that could only be because she was ill. Had not UncleReginald turned against her, and Constance? It would all come upon heras soon as she came out of her room, and she was rather sorry tobelieve that she should be up and. About to-morrow morning. 

Mysie read on till the short, winter day showed the first symptoms ofclosing in. Then Lady Merrifield came up. 'You here, little nurse?'she said. 'Run out now and meet the others. I'll stay with Dolly. 'Mysie knew by the kiss that her mother was pleased with her; butDolores dreaded the talk with her aunt, and made herself sleepy. 

CHAPTER XVI

THE INCONSTANCY OF CONSTANCE. 

The two gentlemen who had gone to Darminster brought home tidings thatthe police who had been put on the track of Flinders had telegraphedthat it was thought that a person answering to his description hadembarked at Liverpool in an American-bound steamer. 

This idea, though very uncertain, was a relief, at least to all exceptthe boys, who thought it a great shame that such a rascal shouldescape, and wanted to know whether the Americans could not be made togive him up. They did not at all understand their elders being glad, for the sake of Maurice Mohun and his dead wife, that the man shouldnot be publicly convicted, and above all that Dolores should not haveto bear testimony against him in court, and describe her own verydoubtful proceedings. Besides, there would have been other things totry him for, since he had cheated the publishing house which employedhim of all he had been able to get into his hands. There was reason tobelieve that he had heavy debts, especially gambling ones, and that hehad become desperate since he no longer had his step-sister to fallback upon. 

Looking into his room, among other papers, a half-burnt manuscript wasfound upon his grate among some exhausted cinders, as if he had beentrying to use the unfortunate 'Waif of the Moorland' to eke out hislast fire. Moreover, the proprietor of the Politician told ColonelMohun of having remonstrated with him on the exceeding weakness andpoorness of the 'Constantia' poetry, 'which, ' as that indignantpersonage added, 'was evidently done merely as a lure to theunfortunate young lady. '

The fifteen pounds had been accepted in an honourable and ladylikemanner by the elder sister--but without any overpowering expression ofgratitude. No doubt it was a bitter pill to her, forced down bynecessity, and without guessing that it cost the donors anything. 

Dolores's mind was set at rest as to Flinders's evasion before night, and on the Sunday morning even Nurse Halfpenny could find out nothingthe matter with her, so that she was obliged to make her appearance asusual. Uncle Reginald did not kiss her, he only gave a cold nod, andsaid 'Good morning. ' Otherwise all went on as usual, and it waspleasant to find that Fly was as entirely used as they were to learningCollect and hymn, and copying out texts illustrating Catechism, andthat she was expected to have them ready to repeat them to her mothersome time in the afternoon. There was something, too, that Mysie couldnot have described, but which she liked, in the manner in which, onthis morning, Dolores accepted small acts of good nature, such asfinding a book for her, getting a new pen and helping her to thewhereabouts of a Scriptural reference. It seemed for the first time asif she liked to receive a kindness, and her 'thank you' really had asound of thanks, instead of being much more like 'I wish you wouldnot. ' Mysie felt really encouraged to be kind, and when, on settingforth to church, everybody was crowding round trying to walk with Fly, and Dolores was going along lonely and deserted, Mysie resigned herchance of one side of the favourite Phyllis, and dropped back to giveher company to the solitary one. To her surprise and gratification, Dolores took hold of her hand, and listened quite willingly to herchatter about the schemes for the fortnight that Fly was to be leftwith them. Presently Constance was seen going markedly by the othergate of the churchyard, quite out of her usual way, and not evenlooking towards them. 

It was the last day of the old year, and, in the midst of the Christmasjoy, there were allusions to it in the services and hymns. Somethingin the tune of 'Days and moments quickly flying, ' touched some chord inDolores's spirit, and set her off crying. She would have done anythingto stop it, but there was no helping it, great round splashes camedown, and the more she was afraid of being noticed, the worse thechoking grew. At last, the very worst person--she thought--to takenotice. Uncle Reginald, did so, and, under cover of a general rising, said sternly, 'Stop that, or go out. '

Stop that! Much did the colonel know about a girl's tears, or how shewould have given anything to check them. But here was Aunt Lily edgingdown to her, taking her by the hand, leading her out, she did not knowhow, stopping all who would have come after them with help--thenpausing a little in the open, frosty air. 

'Oh, Aunt Lily! I am very sorry!'

'Never mind that, my dear. Do you feel poorly?'

'Oh no; I'm quite well--only--'

'Only overcome--I don't wonder--my dear--can you walk quietly home withme?'

'Yes, please. '

Nothing was said till they had passed the 'idle corner, ' where men andhalf-grown lads smoked their pipes in anything but Sunday trim; andstared at the lady making her exit, till they were through the shortstreet with shop windows closed, and a strong atmosphere of cooking, and had come into the quiet lane leading to the paddock. Then LadyMerrifield laid her hand on the girl's shoulder very gently, and said, 'It was too much for you, my dear, you are not quite strong yet. '

'Oh yes; I'm well. Only I am so very--very miserable, ' and the gust ofsobs and tears rushed on her again. 

'Dear child, I should like to be able to help you!'

'You can't! I've done it! And--and they'll all be against me always--Uncle Regie and all!'

'Uncle Regie was very much hurt, but I'm sure he will forgive you whenhe sees how sorry you are. You know we all hope this is going to be afresh start. I am sure you were deceived. '

'Yes, ' said Dolores. 'I never could have thought he--Uncle Alfred--wassuch a dreadful man'

'I expect that since he lost your mother's influence and help he mayhave sunk lower than when you had seen him before. Did your fathergive you any directions about him?'

'No. Father hated to hear of him' and never spoke about him if hecould help it; and we thought it was all Mohun high notions because hewasn't quite a gentleman. '

'I see. Indeed, my dear, though you have done very wrong, I havealready felt that there was great excuse for you in trying to keep upintercourse with a person who belonged to your mother. I wish you hadtold me, but I suppose you were afraid. '

'Yes' said Dolores. 'And I thought you were sure to be cross andharsh, ' she muttered. And then suddenly looking up, 'Oh, Aunt Lily!everybody is angry but you--you and Mysie! Please go on being kind! Ibelieve you've been good to me always. '

'My dear, I've tried, ' said Lady Merrifield, with fears in her browneyes and a choke in her voice caressing the hand that had been put intohers. 'I have wished very much to make you happy with us; but the waysof a large family must be a trial to a new-comer. '

Dolores raised her face for a kiss, and said, 'I see it now. But I didnot like everything always, and I thought aunts were sure to beunkind. '

'That was very hard. And why?'

She was heard to mutter something about aunts in books always beingcross. 

'Ah! my dear! I suppose there are some unkind aunts, but I am surethere are a great many more who wish with all their hearts to makehappy homes for their nieces. I hope now we may do so. I have morehope than ever I had, and so I shall write to your father. '

'And please--please, ' cried Dolores, 'don't let Uncle Regie write him avery dreadful letter! I know he will. '

'I think you can prevent that best yourself, by telling Uncle Regie howsorry you are. He was specially grieved because he thinks you told himtwo direct falsehoods. '

'Oh! I didn't think they were that, ' said Dolores, 'for it was truethat father did not leave anything with me for Uncle Alfred. And I didnot know whether it was me whom he saw at Darminster. I did tell youone once, Aunt Lily, when you asked if I gave Constance a note. Atleast, she gave it to me, and not I to her. Indeed, I don't tellfalsehoods, Aunt Lily--I mean I never did at home, but Constance saideverybody said those sort of things at school, and that one was drivento it when one was---'

'Was what, my dear?'

'Tyrannized over, ' Dolores got out. 

'Ah! Dolly, I am afraid Constance was no real friend. It was a greatmistake to think her like Miss Hacket. '

'And now she has sent back all my notes, and won't look at me or speakto me, ' and Dolores's tears began afresh. 

'It is very ungenerous of her, but very likely she will be very sorryto have done so when her first anger is over, and she understands thatyou were quite as much deceived as she was. '

'But I shall never care for her again. It is not like Mysie, who neverstopped being kind all the time--nor Gillian either. I shall cut hernext time!'

'You should remember that she has something to forgive. I don't wantyou to be intimate with her but I think it would be better if, insteadof quarrelling openly, you wrote a note to say that you were deceivedand that you are very sorry for what you brought on her. '

'I should not have gone on with it but for her and Her stupid poems!'

'Can you bear to tell me how it all was, my dear? I do not halfunderstand it. '

And on the way home, and in Lady Merrifield's own room Dolores found ita relief to pour forth an explanation of the whole affair, beginningwith that meeting with Mr. Flinders at Exeter, of which no one hadheard, and going on to her indignation at the inspection of herletters; and how Constance had undertaken to conduct hercorrespondence, 'and that made it seem as if she must write to someone, '--so she wrote to Uncle Alfred. And then Constance, becomingexcited at the prospect of a literary connection, all the restfollowed. It was a great relief to have told it all, and LadyMerrifield was glad to see that the sense of deceit was what weighedmost heavily upon her niece, and seemed to have depressed her allalong. Indeed, the aunt came to the conclusion that though Doloresalone might still have been sullen, morose and disagreeable, perhapsvery reserved, she never would have kept up the systematic deceit butfor Constance. The errors, regarded as sin, weighed on LadyMerrifield's mind, but she judged it wiser not to press that thought onan unprepared spirit, trusting that just as Dolores had wakened to thesense of the human love that surrounded her, hitherto disbelieved anddisregarded, so she might yet awake to the feeling of the Divine loveand her offence against it. 

The afternoon was tolerably free, for the gentlemen, including theelder boys, walked to evensong at a neighbouring church noted for itsmusical services, and Lady Merrifield, as she said, 'lashed herself up'to go with Gillian, carry back the remnant of the unhappy 'Waif, ' and'have it out' with Constance, who would, she feared, never otherwiseunderstand the measure of her own delinquency, and from whom, perhaps, evidence might be extracted which would palliate the poor child'soffence in the eyes of Colonel Mohun. Both the Hacket sisters lookedterribly frightened when she appeared, and the elder one made an excusefor getting her outside the door to beseech her to be careful, dearConstance was so nervous and so dreadfully upset by all she hadundergone. Lady Merrifield was not the least nervous of the two, andshe felt additionally displeased with Constance for not having said oneword of commiseration when her sister had inquired for Dolores. Onreturning to the drawing-room, Lady Merrifield found the young ladystanding by the window, playing with the blind, and looking as if shewanted to make her escape. 

'I do not know whether you will be sorry or glad to see this, ' saidLady Merrifield, producing a half-burnt roll of paper. 'It was foundin Mr. Flinders's grate, and my brother thought you would be glad thatit should not get into strange hands. '

'Oh, it was cruel! it was base! What a wicked man he is!' criedConstance, with hot tears, as she beheld the mutilated condition of herpoor 'Waif. '

'Yes, it was a most unfortunate thing that you. Should have run intointercourse with such an utterly untrustworthy person. '

'I was grossly deceived, Lady Merrifield!' said Constance, clasping herhands somewhat theatrically. 

'I shall never believe in any one again!'

'Not without better grounds, I hope, ' was the answer. 'Your poorlittle friend is terribly broken down by all this. '

'Don't call her my friend. Lady Merrifield. She has used meshamefully! What business had she to tell me he was her uncle when hewas no such thing?'

'She had been always used to call him so. '

'Don't tell me, Lady Merrifield, ' said Constance, who, after her firstfright, was working herself into a passion. 'You don't know what alittle viper you have been warming, nor what things she has beencontinually saying of you. She told me--'

Lady Merrifield held up her hand with authority. 

'Stay, Constance. Do you think it is generous in you to tell me this?'

'I am sure you ought to know. '

'Then why did you encourage her?'

'I pitied her--I believed her--I never thought she would have led meinto this!'

'How did she lead you?'

'Always talking about her precious, persecuted uncle. I believe shewas in league with him all the time!'

'That is nonsense, ' said Lady Merrifield, 'as you must see if youreflect a little. Dolores was too young to have been told this man'sreal character; she only knew that her mother, who had spent herchildhood with him, treated him as a brother, and did all she could forhim. Dolores did very wrongly and foolishly in keeping up a connectionwith him unknown to me; but I cannot help feeling there was greatexcuse for her, and she was quite as much deceived as you were. '

'Oh, of course, you stand by your own niece, Lady Merrifield. If youknew what horrid things she said about your pride and unkindness, asshe called it, you would not think she deserved it. '

'Nay, that is exactly what does most excuse her in my eyes. Herfancying such things of me was what did prevent her from confiding inme. '

Constance had believed herself romantic, but the Christian chivalry ofLady Merrifield's nature was something quite beyond her. She mutteredsomething about Dolores not deserving, which made her visitor reallyangry, and say, 'We had better not talk of deserts. Dolores is a merechild--a mother-less child, who had been a good deal left to herselffor many months. I let her come to you because she seemed shy andunhappy with us, and I did not like to deny her the one pleasure sheseemed to care for. I knew what an excellent person and thorough ladyyour sister is, and I thought I could perfectly trust her with you. Ilittle thought you would have encouraged her in concealment, and--Imust say--deceit, and thus made me fail in the trust her father reposedin me. '

'I would never have done it, ' Constance sobbed, 'but for what she saidabout you. Lady Merrifield!'

'Well, and even if I am such a hard, severe person, does that make ithonourable or right to help the child I trusted to you to carry on thisunderhand correspondence?'

Constance hung her head. Her sister had said the same to her, but shestill felt herself the most injured party, and thought it very hardthat she should be so severely blamed for what the girls at her schooltreated so lightly. She said, 'I am very sorry. Lady Merrifield, ' butit was not exactly the tone of repentance, and it ended with: 'If ithad not been for her, I should never have done it. '

'I suppose not, for there would have been no temptation. I was inhopes that you would have shown some kindlier and more generous feelingtowards the younger girl, who could not have gone so far wrong withoutyour assistance, and who feels your treatment of her very bitterly. But to find you incapable of understanding what you have done, makes meall the more glad that the friendship--if friendship it can be called--is broken off between you. Good-bye. I think when you are older andwiser, you will be very sorry to recollect the doings of the last fewmonths. '

Lady Merrifield walked away, and found on her return that Dolores hadsucceeded in writing to her father, and was so utterly tired out by thefeelings it had cost her that she was only fit to lie on the sofa andsleep. 

Gillian was, of course, not seen till she came home from eveningservice. 

'Oh, mamma, ' she said, 'what did you do to Constance?'

'Why?'

'Well, I heard you shut the front door. And presently after there camesuch a noise through the wall that all the girls pricked up their ears, and Miss Hacket jumped up in a fright. If it had been Val, one wouldhave called it a naughty child roaring. '

'What! did I send her into hysterics?'

'I suppose, as she is grown up, it must have the fine name, but itwasn't a bit like poor Dolly's choking. I am sure she did it to makeher sister come! Well, of course, Miss Hacket went away, and I did thebest I could, but what could one do with all these screeches andbellowings breaking out?'

'For shame. Gill!'

'I can't help it, mamma. If you had only seen their faces when theuproar came in a fresh gust! How they whispered, and some looked awe-struck. I thought I had better get rid of them, and come home myself;but Miss Hacket met me, and implored me to stay, and I was weak-mindedenough to do so. I wish I hadn't, for it was only to be provoked pastbearing. That horrid girl has poisoned even Miss Hacket's mind, andshe thinks you have been hard on her darling. You did not know hownervous and timid dear Connie is!'

'Well, Gill, I confess she made me very angry, and I told her what Ithought of her. '

'And that she didn't choose to hear!'

'Did you see her again?'

'No, I am thankful to say, I did not. But Miss Hacket would go on alltea-time, explaining and explaining for me to tell you how dear Connieis so affectionate and so easily led, and how Dolores came over herwith persuasions, and deceived her. I declare I never liked Dolly sowell before. At any rate, she doesn't make professions, and not a bitmore fuss than she can help. And there was Miss Hacket getting brandycherries and strong coffee, and I don't know what all, because dearConnie was so overcome, and dear Lady Merrifield was quite under amistake, and so deceived by Dolores. I told Miss Hacket you were neverunder a mistake nor deceived. '

'You didn't, Gillian!'

'Yes, I did, and the stupid woman only wanted to kiss me (but Iwouldn't let her) and said I was very right to stand up for my dearmamma. As if that had anything to do with it! What are you laughingat, mamma? Why, Uncle Regie is laughing, and Cousin Rotherwood! Whatis it?'

'At the two partisans who never stand up for their own families, ' saidUncle Regie. 

'But it's true!' cried Gillian. 

'What! that I am never mistaken nor deceived?' said Lady Merrifield. 

'Except when you took Miss Constance for a sensible woman, eh?' saidher brother. 

'That I never did! But I did take her for a moderately honourable one. '

'Well, that was a mistake, ' owned Gillian. 'And Miss Hacket is as bad!There's no gratitude---'

'Hush!' broke in her mother; and Gillian stopped abashed, while LadyMerrifield continued, 'I won't have Miss Hacket abused. She is onlyblinded by sisterly affection. '

'I don't think I can go there again, ' said Gillian, 'after what shesaid about you. '

'Nonsense!' said her mother. 'Don't be as bad as Constance in tryingto make me angry by telling me all poor Dolly's grumblings. '

'Follow your mother's example, Gillian, ' said Lord Rotherwood, 'and, ifpossible, never hear, certainly never attend to, what any one says ofyou behind your back. '

'Is said to have said of you, you should add, Rotherwood, ' put in thecolonel. 'It is a decree worse than eavesdropping. '

'Oh, Regie!' exclaimed his sister. 

'Well, not perhaps for your own honour and conscience, but the keyholeis a more trustworthy medium than the reporter. '

'That's a strong way of stating it, but, at any rate, the keyhole hasno temper nor imagination, or prejudice of its own, ' said LadyMerrifield. 

'No, and as far as it goes, it enables you to judge of the frame inwhich the words, even if correctly reported, were spoken, ' addedColonel Mohun. 

'The moral of which is, ' said Lord Rotherwood, drolly, 'that Gillian isnot to take notice of anyone's observations upon her unless she hasheard them through the keyhole. '

'And so one would never hear them at all. '

'Q. E. D. , ' said Lord Rotherwood. 'And now, Lily, do you. Ever singthe two evening-hymns. Ken and Keble, now, as the family used to do onSundays at the Old Court, long ere the days of 'Hymns Ancient andModern'?

'Don't we?' said Lady Merrifield. 'Only all our best voices will besinging it at Rawul Pindee!'

And, as she struck a note on the piano, all the younger people stillup, Mysie, Phyllis, Wilfred and Valetta, gathered round from the outerroom to join in their evening Sunday delight. Fly put her hand intoher father's and whispered, 'You told me about it, daddy. ' He began tosing, but his voice thickened as he missed the tones once associatedwith it. And Lady Merrifield, too, nearly broke down as with all herheart she sang, hopefully, 'Now Lord, the gracious work begin. '

CHAPTER XVII. 

THE STONE MELTING. 

It was with a strange feeling that Dolores woke on the New Year'smorning, that something was very sad and strange, and yet that therewas a sense of relief. For one thing, that terrible confession to herfather was written, and was no longer a weight hanging over her. Andthough his answer was still to come, that was months away. There wasUncle Regie greatly displeased with her; there was Constance treatingher as a traitor; there was the mischief done, and yet something hardand heavy was gone? Something sweet and precious had come in on her!Surely it was, that now she knew and felt that she could trust in AuntLilias--yes, and in Mysie. She got up, quite looking forward tomeeting those gentle, brown eyes of her aunt's, that she seemed neverbefore to have looked into, and to feeling the sweet, motherly kisswhich had so mud, more meaning in it now, as almost to make up forUncle Reginald's estrangement. 

She even anticipated gladly those ten minutes alone with her aunt, which she used to dislike so much, hoping that the holiday-time wouldnot hinder them. Really wishing to please her aunt, she had learnt herportion perfectly, and Lady Merrifield showed that she appreciated theeffort, though still it was more a lesson than a reality. 

'My dear!' she said, 'I am afraid this is another blow for you--it camethis morning. '

It was the account from Professor Muhlwasser's German publisher, amounting to a few shillings more than six pounds. And an announcementthat the books were on the way. 

'Oh, ' cried Dolores, 'I thought he was dead! He told me so! UncleAlfred, I mean! And it was only to get the money! How could he be sowicked?'

'I am afraid that was all he cared for. '

'And what shall I do. Aunt Lily? Will you pay it, please, and takeall my allowance till it is made up?'

'I think it will be more comfortable for you if I do something of thatsort, though I don't think you should go entirely without money. Youhave a pound a quarter. I was going to give you yours at once. '

'Oh, take it--pray--'

'Suppose I give you five shillings, instead of twenty. I do not thinkit well to leave you with nothing for a year and a half, and this isnearly what Mysie has. '

'A shilling a month--very well. I wish I could pay it all at once!'

'No doubt you do, my dear, but this will keep you in mind for a longtime what a dangerous thing you did in giving away money you had noright to dispose of. '

'Yes, ' said Dolores. 'Mother earned money for him. I know she nevertook father's without asking him; but I couldn't earn, and couldn'task. '

Lady Merrifield kissed her, for very joy, to hear no sullenness in hertone; and then all went to church together on the New Year's day thatwas to be the beginning of better things. Lord Rotherwood had justtime to go before meeting the train which was to take him to HighCourt, leaving his Fly too much used to his absences to be distressedabout them, and, in fact, somewhat crazy about a notion which Gillianhad started that morning, of getting up a little play to surprise himwhen he came back for Twelfth Day, as he promised to do. 

Mamma declared that if it was in French, and the words were learntevery morning before half-past eleven, it should supersede all otherlessons; but such was the hatred of the whole boy faction to French, that they declared they had rather do rational sensible lessons twiceover than learn such rot, and this carried the day. The drama proposedwas that one in an old number of 'Aunt Judy, ' where the village mayoris persuaded by the drummer to fine the girls for wearing lace caps. The French original existed in the house, and Fly started the idea thatthe male performers should speak English and the female French; butthis was laughed down. 

In the midst Uncle Reginald came to the door and called, 'Lilias, canyou speak to me a minute?'

Lady Merrifield went out into the hall to him. 

'Here's a policeman come over, Lily. They have got the fellow!''Flinders?'

'Yes; arrested him on board a steamer at Bristol. '

'Oh, I wish they had let it alone!'

'So do I. They are bringing him back. The Darminster City bench sitsto-day, and they want that unlucky child over there to make herdeposition for his committal. '

'Can't they commit him without her?'

'Not for the forgery. The bank people are bent on prosecuting forthat, and we can't stop them. I suppose she can be depended on?'

'Reginald, don't! I told you the deceit was an unnatural growth fromConstance's pseudo sentiment. '

'Well, get her ready to come with me, ' said the colonel, with a gestureof doubt; 'we must catch the 12. 50. The superintendent brought a fly. '

'You will frighten her out of her senses. I can't let her go alonewith you in this mood. '

'As you please, if you choose to knock yourself up. I'll tell thesuperintendent, and walk on to the station. You've not a moment tolose, so don't let her stand dawdling and crying. '

It was a hard task for Lady Merrifield. She called Dolores, whom Mysiewas inviting to be one of the village maidens, and bade her put on herthings quickly. She ordered cold meat and wine into the dining-room, called Gillian into her room, and explained while dressing, and badeher keep the others away. Then, meeting Dolores on the stairs took herinto the dining-room and made her swallow some cold beef, and drinksome sherry, before telling her that the magistrates at Darminsterwanted to ask her some questions. Dolores looked pale and frightened, and exclaimed, 'Oh, but he has got away!'

'My dear, I am grieved to say that he has not. '

Dolores understood, and submitted more quietly and resignedly than heraunt had feared. She was a barrister's daughter, and once or twice herfather had taken her and her mother part of the way on circuit withhim, and she had been in court, so that she had known from the firstthat if her uncle were arrested there was no choice but that she mustspeak out. So she only trembled very much and said--

'Aunt Lily, are you going with me?'

'Indeed I am, my poor child. Uncle Regie is gone on. '

No more was spoken then, but Dolores put her cold hand into her aunt'smuff. 

Gillian kept all the flock prisoned in the schoolroom. Wilfred, Val, and Fergus rushed to the window, and were greatly disappointed not tosee a policeman on the box, 'taking Dolores to be tried'--as Fergusdeclared, and Wilfred insisted, just because Gillian and Mysiecontradicted it with all their might. He continued to repeat it withvariations and exaggerations, until Jasper heard him, and declared thathe should have a thorough good licking if he said so again, administering a cuff by way of earnest. Wilfred howled, and wasordered not to be such an ape, and Fly looked on in wonder at thedomestic discipline. 

The superintendent had, in fact, walked on with Uncle Reginald, andDolores saw nothing of him, but was put into an empty first-classcarriage, into which her aunt followed her, but her uncle, observing, 'You know how to manage her, Lily, ' betook himself to a smoking-carriage, and left them to themselves. 

Dolores was never a very talking girl, and the habit of silence hadgrown upon her. She leant against her aunt and she put her arm roundher, and did not attempt to say anything till she asked, 'Will he be there?'

'I don't know, I am afraid he will. It is very sad for you, my poorDolly; but we must recollect that, after all, it may be much better forhim to be stopped now than to go on and get worse and worse in somestrange country. '

Dolores did not ask what she was to do, she knew enough already abouttrials to understand that she was only to answer questions, and shepresently said, 'This can't be his trial. There are no assizes now. '

'No, this is only for the committal. It will very soon be over, if youwill only answer quietly and steadily. If you do so, I think UncleRegie will be pleased, and tell your father! I am sure I shall!'

Dolores pressed up closer and laid her cheek against the soft sealskin. In the midst of her trouble there was a strange wonder in her. Couldthis be really the aunt whom she had thought so cruel, unjust, andtyrannical, and from whom she had so carefully hidden her feelings?Nobody got into the carriage, and just before reaching Darminster, LadyMerrifield made a great effort over her own shyness and said, 'Now, Dolly, we will pray a little prayer that you may be a faithfulwitness, and that God may turn it, all to good for your poor uncle. '

Dolores was very much surprised, and did not know whether she liked itor not, but she saw her aunt's closed eyes and uplifted hands, and shetried to follow the example. 

The train stopped, and her uncle came to the door, looking inquiringlyat her. 

'She will be good and brave, ' said her aunt; and quickly passing acrossthe platform, Dolores found herself beside her aunt, with her uncleopposite in another fly. 

Things had been arranged for them considerately, and after they came tothe Guildhall, where the city magistrates were sitting, Colonel Mohunwent at once into court; the others were taken to a little room, andwaited there a few minutes before Colonel Mohun came to call for hisniece. It was a long room, with a rail at one end, and Dolores knew, with a strange thrill which made her shudder, that Mr. Flinders wasthere, but she could not bear to look at him, and only squeezed hard atthe hand of her aunt, who asked, in a somewhat shaky voice, if shemight come with her niece. 

'Certainly, certainly. Lady Merrifield, ' said one of the magistrates, and chairs were set both for her and Colonel Mohun. 

'You are Miss Mohun, I think--may I ask your Christian name in full?'And then she had to spell it, and likewise tell her exact age, afterwhich she was put on oath--as she knew enough of trials to expect. 

'Are you residing with Lady Merrifield?'

'Yes. '

'But your father is living?'

'Yes, but he is in the Fiji Islands. '

'Will you favour us with his exact name?'

'Maurice Devereux Mohun. '

'When did he leave England?'

'The fifth of last September. '

'Did he leave any money with you?'

'Yes. '

'In what form?'

'A cheque on W----'s Bank. 

'To bearer or order?'

'To order. '

'What was the date?'

'I think it was the 31st of August, but I am not sure. '

'For how much?'

'For seven pounds. '

'When did you part with it?'

'On the Friday before Christmas Day. '

'Did you do anything to it first?'

'I wrote my name on the back. '

'What did you do with it. '

'I sent it to--' her voice became a little hoarse, but she brought outthe words--'to Mr. Flinders. '

'Is this the same?'

'Yes--only some one has put 'ty' to the 'seven' in writing, and 0 tothe figure 7. '

'Can you swear to the rest as your father's writing and your own?'

The evidence of the banker's clerk as to the cashing of the cheque hadbeen already taken, and the magistrate said, 'Thank you. Miss Mohun, Ithink the case is complete, and we need not trouble you any more. '

But the prisoner's voice made Dolores start and shudder again, as hesaid, 'I beg your pardon, sir, but you have not asked the young lady'--therewas a sort of sneer in his voice--'how she sent this draft. '

'Did not you send it direct by the post?' demanded the magistrate. 

'No; I gave it to--' Again she paused, and the words 'Gave it to--?'were authoritatively repeated, so that she had no choice. 

'I gave it to Miss Constance Hacket to send. '

'You will observe, sir, ' said Flinders, in a somewhat insolent tone, 'that the evidence which the witness has been so ready to adduce isincomplete. There is another link between her hands and mine. '

'You may reserve that point for your defence on your trial, ' rejoinedthe magistrate. 'There is quite sufficient evidence for yourcommittal. '

There was already a movement to let Dolores be taken away by her uncleand aunt, so as to spare her from any reproach or impertinence thatFlinders might launch at her. She was like some one moving in a dream, glad that her aunt should hold her hand as if she were a little child, saying, as they came out into the street, 'Very clearly and steadilydone, Dolly! Wasn't it, Uncle Regie?'

'Yes, ' he said, absently. 'We must look out, or we shan't catch the4. 50 train. '

He almost threw them into a cab, and made the driver go his quickest, so that, after all, they had full ten minutes to spare. It madeDolores sick at heart to go near the waiting and refreshment-roomswhere she and Constance had spent all that time with Flinders; but shecould not bear to say so before her uncle, and he was bent on gettingsome food for Lady Merrifield. 

'Not soup, Regie; there might not be time to swallow it. A glass ofmilk for us each, please; we can drink that at once, and anything solidthat we can take with us. I am sure your mouth must be dry, my dear. '

Very dry it was, and Dolores gladly swallowed the milk, and found, whenseated in the train, that she was really hungry enough to eat her fullshare of the sandwiches and buns which the colonel had brought in withhim; and then she sat resting against her aunt, closed her eyes, andhalf dozed in the rattle of the train, not moving in the pause at thestations, but quite conscious that Colonel Mohun said, 'Not a spark offeeling for anybody, not even for that man! As hard as a stone!'

'For shame, Regie!' said her aunt. 'How angry you would have been ifshe had made a scene. '

'I should have liked her better. '

'No, you wouldn't, when you come to understand. There's stuff in her, and depth too. '

'Aye, she's deep enough. '

'Poor child!' said Lady Merrifield, tenderly. And then the train wenton, and the noise drowned the voices, so that Dolores only partlyheard, 'You will see how she will rise, ' and the answer, 'You may beright; I hope so. But I can't get over deliberate deceit. '

He settled himself in his corner, and Lady Merrifield durst not movenor raise her voice lest she should break what seemed such deepslumber, but which really was half torpor, half a dull dismay, holdingfast eyes, lips, and limbs, and which really became sleep, so thatDolores did not hear the next bit of conversation during the ensuinghalt. 

'I say, Lily, I did not like the fellow's last question. He means togive trouble about it. '

'I was sorry the other name was brought in, but it must have comesooner or later. '

'That's true; but if she can't swear to the figures on the draft, tento one that the fellow will get off. '

'You don't doubt--'

'No, no; but there's the chance for the defence, and he was sharpenough to see it. '

'There is nothing to be said or done about it, of course. '

'Of course not. There's nothing for it but to let it alone. '

They went on again, and when the train reached Silverton, Dolly wasdreaming that her father had come, and that he said Uncle Alfred shouldbe hanged unless she found the money for Professor Muhlwasser. Sheeven looked about for him, and said, 'Where's father?' when she waswakened to get out. 

Gillian came up to her mother's room to hear what had happened, and togive an account of the day, which had gone off prosperously by Harry'shelp. He had kept excellent order at dinner, and 'there's somethingabout Fly which makes even Wilfred be mannerly before her. ' And thenthey had gone out and had made Fly free of the Thorn Fortress. 

'My dear, that must have been terribly damp and cold at this time ofyear. '

'I thought of that, mamma, and so we didn't sit down, and made it aguerrilla war; only Fergus couldn't understand the difference betweenguerrillas and gorillas, and would thump upon himself and roar whenthey were in ambush. '

'Rather awkward for the ambush!'

'Yes, Wilfred said he was a traitor, and tied him to a tree, and thenFly found him crying, and would have let him out; but she couldn't getthe knots undone; and what do you think? She made Wilfred cut thestring himself with his own knife! I never knew such a girl for makingevery one do as she pleases. Then, when it got dark, we came in, andhad a sort of a kind of a rehearsal, only that nobody knew any of theparts, or what each was to be. '

'A sort of a kind, indeed, it must have been!'

'But we think the play will be lovely! You can't think how nice Flywas. You know we settled for her to be Annette, the dear, funny, naughty girl, but as soon as she saw that Val wanted the part, she saidshe didn't care, and gave it up directly, and I don't think we ought tolet her, and Hal thinks so too; and all the boys are very angry, andsay Val will make a horrid mess of it. Then Mysie wanted to give upthe good girl to Fly, and only be one of the chorus, but Fly says shehad rather be one of the chorus ones herself than that. So we settledthat you should fix the parts, and we would abide by your choice. '

'I hope there was no quarrelling. '

'N--no; only a little falling upon Val by the boys, and Fly put a stopto that. Oh, mamma, if it were only possible to turn Dolly into Fly! Ican't help saying it, we seemed to get on so much better just becausewe hadn't poor Dolly to make a deadweight, and tempt the boys to betiresome: while Fly made everything go off well. I can't describe it, she didn't in the least mean to keep order or interfere, but somehowsquabbles seem to die away before her, and nobody wants to betroublesome. '

'Dear little thing! It is a very sweet disposition. But, Gill, I dobelieve that we shall see poor Dolly take a turn now!'

'Well! having quarrelled with that Constance is in her favour!'

'Try and think kindly of her trouble. Gill, and then it will be easierto be kind to her. '

Gillian sighed. Falsehood and determined opposition to her mother werethe greatest possible crimes in her eyes; and at her age it was noteasy to separate the sin from the sinner. 

New Year's night was always held to be one of especial merriment, butLady Merrifield was so much tired out by her expedition that she hardlyfelt equal to presiding over any sports, and proposed that instead theyoung folk should dance. Gillian and Hal took turns to play for them, and Uncle Reginald and Fly were in equal request as partners. It wasMysie who came to draw Dolores out of her corner, and begged her to beher partner--'If you wouldn't very much rather not, ' she said, in apleading, wistful, voice. 

Dolores would 'very much rather not;' but she saw that Mysie would beleft out altogether if she did not consent, as Hal was playing andUncle Regie was dancing with Primrose. She thought of resolutions toturn over a new leaf, and not to refuse everything so she said, 'Yes, this once, ' and it was wonderful how much freshened she felt by the gaymotion, and perhaps by Mysie's merry, good-natured eyes and caressinghand. After that she had another turn with Gillian and one with Hal, and even one with Fergus because, as he politely informed her, no oneelse would have him for a quadrille. But, just as this was inprogress, and she could not help laughing at his ridiculous mistakesand contempt of rules she met Uncle Reginald's eye fixed on her inwonder 'He thinks I don't care, ' thought she to herself. All herpleasure was gone, and she moved so dejectedly that her aunt, watchingfrom the sofa, called her and told her she was over-tired, and sent herto bed. 

Dolores was tired, but not in the way which made it harder instead ofeasier to sleep, or, rather, she slept just enough to relax her fullconsciousness and hold over herself, and bring on her a misery ofterror and loneliness, and feeling of being forsaken by the wholeworld. And when she woke fully enough to understand the reality, itwas no better; she felt, then, the position she had put herself into, and almost saw in the dark, Flinders's malicious vindictive glanceConstance's anger, Uncle Regie's cold, severe look and, worse than all, her father reading her letter'

She fell again into an agony of sobbing, not without a little hope thatAunt Lily would be again brought to her side. At last the door wassoftly pushed open in the dark, but it was not Aunt Lily, it wasMysie's little bare feet that patted up to the bed, her arms thatembraced, her cheek that was squeezed against the tearful one--'Oh, Dolly, Dolly! please don't cry so sadly!'

'Oh! it is so dreadful, Mysie!'

'Are you ill--like the other night?'

'No--but--Mysie--I can't bear it!'

'I don't want to call mamma, ' said Mysie, thoughtfully, 'for she is somuch tired, and Uncle Regie and Gill said she would be quite knockedup, and got her to come up to bed when we went. Dolly, would it bebetter if I got into your bed and cuddled you up?'

'Oh yes! oh yes! please do, there's a dear good Mysie. '

There was not much room, but that mattered the less, and the hugging ofthe warm arms seemed to heal the terrible sense of being unloved andforsaken, the presence to drive away the visions of angry faces thathad haunted her; but there was the longing for fellow-feeling on her, and she said, 'That's nice! Oh, Mysie! you can't think what it is like!Uncle Regie said I didn't care, and he could never forgive deliberatedeceit--and I was so fond of Uncle Regie!'

'Oh! but he will, if you never tell a story again, ' said Mysie--and, asshe felt a gesture implying despair--'Yes, they do; I told a storyonce. '

'You, Mysie! I thought you never did?'

'Yes, once, when we were crossing to Ireland and nurse wouldn't letWilfred tie our handkerchiefs together and fish over the side, and hewas very angry, and threw her parasol into the sea when she wasn'tlooking; and I knew she would be so cross, that when she asked me if Iknew what was become of it, I said 'No, ' and thought I didn't, really. But then it came over me, again and again, that I had told a story, and, oh! I was so miserable whenever I thought of it--at church, andsaying my prayers, you know; and mamma was poorly, and couldn't come tous at night for ever so long, but at last I could bear it no longer, Iheard her say, 'Mysie is always truthful, ' and then I did get it out, and told her. And, oh! she and papa were so kind, and they did quiteand entirely forgive me!'

'Yes, you told of your own accord; and they were your own--not UncleRegie. Ah! Mysie, everybody hates me. I saw them all looking at me. '

'No, no! Don't say such things. Dolly. None of us do anything soshocking. '

'Yes, Jasper does, and Wilfred and Val!'

'No! no! no! they don't hate; only they are tiresome sometimes; but ifyou wouldn't be cross they would be nice directly--at least Japs andVal. And 'tisn't hating with Willie, only he thinks teasing is fun. '

'And you and Gillian. You can only just bear me. 

'No! no! no!' with a great hug, 'that's not true. '

'You like Fly ever so much better!'

'She is so dear, and so funny, ' said Mysie, the truthful, 'but somehow, Dolly dear, do you know, I think if you and I got to love one anotherlike real friends, it would be nicer still than even Fly--because youare here like one of us, you know; and besides, it would be more, because you are harder to get at. Will you be my own friend. Dolly?'

'Oh, Mysie, I must!' and there was a fresh kissing and hugging. 

'And there's mamma, ' added Mysie. 

'Yes, I know Aunt Lily does now; but, oh! if you had seen UncleAlfred's face, and heard Uncle Regie, ' and Dolly began to sob again asthey returned on her. 'I see them whenever I shut my eyes!'

'Darling, ' whispered Mysie, 'when I feel bad at night, I always kneelup in bed and say my prayers again!'

'Do you ever feel bad?'

'Oh yes, when I'm frightened, or if I've been naughty, and haven't toldmamma. Shall we do it, Dolly?'

'I don't know what that has to do with it, but we'll try. '

'Mamma told me something to say out of. '

The two little girls rose up, with clasped hands in their bed, andMysie whispered very low, but so that her companion heard, and saidwith her a few childish words of confession, pleading and entreatingfor strength, and then the Lord's Prayer, and the sweet old verse:--

 'I lay my body down to sleep, I give my soul to Christ to keep, Wake I at morn, as wake I never, I give my soul to Christ for ever. '

'Ah! but I am afraid of that. I don't like it, ' said Dolores, as theylay down again. 

'It won't make one never wake, ' returned Mysie; 'and I do like to givemy soul to Christ. It seems so to rest one, and make one not afraid. '

'I don't know, ' said Dolores; 'and why did you say the Lord's Prayer?That hasn't anything to do with it!'

'Oh, Dolly, when He is our Father near, though our own dear fathers arefar away, and there's deliver us from evil--all that hurts us, youknow-and forgive us. It's all there. '

'I never thought that, ' said Dolores. 'I think you have some differentprayers from mine. Old nurse taught me long ago. I wish you wouldalways say yours with me. You make them nicer. '

Mysie answered with a hug, and a murmured 'If I can, ' and offered tosay the 121st Psalm, her other step to comfort, and, as she said it, she resolved in her mind whether she could grant Dolores's request; forshe was not sure whether she should be allowed to leave her roombefore saying her own, and she I knew enough of Dolores by this time tobe aware that to say she would ask mamma's leave would put an end toall. 'I know, ' was her final decision; 'I'll say my own first, andthen come to Dolly's room. '

But by that time Dolores was asleep, even if Mysie had not been toosleepy to speak. 

She meant to have rushed to the room she shared with Valetta before itwas time to get up, but Lots found the black head and the browntogether on Dolores's pillow, wrapped in slumber; and though Mysie flewhome as soon as she was well awake, Mrs. Halfpenny descended on herwhile she was yet in her bath, and inflicted a sharp scolding for themalpractice of getting into her cousin's bed. 

'But Dolly was so miserable, nurse, and mamma was too tired to call. '

'Then you should have called me, Miss Mysie, and I'd have sorted herwell! You kenned well 'tis a thing not to be done and at your age; yeshould have minded your duties better. '

And nurse even intercepted Mysie on her way to Dolores's room, anddeclared she would have no messing and gossiping in one another'srooms. Miss Mysie was getting spoilt among strangers. 

Mysie went down with a strong sense of having been disobedient, as wellas of grief for Dolores's disappointment. Happily mamma was late thatmorning, and nobody was in her room but Primrose. Poor Mysie had soon, with tears in her eyes, confessed her transgression. Her mother'stears, to her great surprise, were on her cheek together with a kiss. 'Dear child, I am not displeased. Indeed, I am not; I will tellnurse. It must not be a habit, but this was an exception, and I amonly thankful you could comfort her. 

'And, mamma, may I go now to her. She said I could help her to say herprayers, and I think she only has little baby ones that her nursetaught her and she doesn't see into the Lord's Prayer. '

'My dear, my dear, if you can help her to pray you will do the thingmost sure to be a blessing to her of all. '

And when Mysie was gone, Lady Merrifield knelt down afresh inthankfulness. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

MYSIE AND DOLORES. 

Things were going on more quietly at Silverton. That is to say, therewere no outward agitations, for the house was anything but quiet. LadyMerrifield had no great love for children's parties, where, as shesaid, they sat up too late, to eat and drink what was not good forthem, and to get presents that they did not care about; and though atDublin it had been necessary on her husband's account to give and takesuch civilities, she had kept out of the exchange at Silverton. But, on the other hand, there were festivals, and she promoted a full amountof special treats at home among themselves, or with only an outsider ortwo, and she endured any amount of noise, provided it was notquarrelsome, over-boisterous, or at unfit times. 

There was the school tea, and magic-lantern, when Mr. Pollock acted asexhibitor, and Harry as spokesman, and worked them up gradually fromgrave and beautiful scenes like the cedars of Lebanon, the Parthenonand Colosseum, with full explanations, through dissolving views ofcottage and bridge by day and night, summer and winter, of life-boatrescue, and the siege of Sevastopol, with shells flying, on to Jack andthe Beanstalk and the New Tale of a Tub, the sea-serpent, and the nose-grinding! Lady Phyllis's ecstacy was surpassing, more especially as shefound her beloved little maid-of-all-work, and was introduced to allthat small person's younger brothers and sisters. 

Here they met Miss Hacket, who was in charge of a class. She comportedherself just as usual, and Gillian's dignity and displeasure gave waybefore her homely cordiality. Constance had not come, as indeednothing but childhood, sympathy with responsibility for childhood, could make the darkness, stuffiness, and noise of the exhibitiontolerable. Even Lady Merrifield trusted her flock to its two elders, and enjoyed a tete-a-tete evening with her brother, who profited by itto advise her strongly to send Dolores to their sister Jane before harmwas done to her own children. 

'I would not see that little Mysie of yours spoilt for all the world, 'said he. 

'Nor I; but I don't think it likely to happen. '

'Do you know that they are always after each other, chattering in theirbedrooms at night. I hear them through the floor. '

'Only one night--Mysie told me all about it--I believe Mysie will domore for that poor child than any of us. '

Uncle Regie shrugged his shoulders a little. 

'Yes, I know I was wrong before, when I wouldn't take Jane's warning;but that was not about one of my own, and, besides, poor Dolores isvery much altered. '

'I'll tell you what, Lily, when any one, I don't care who, man, orwoman, or child, once is given up to that sort of humbug and deceit, carrying it on a that girl, Dolores, had done, I would never trustagain an inch beyond what I could see. It eats into the very marrow ofthe bones--everything is acting afterwards. '

'That would be saying no repentance was possible--that Jacob nevercould become Israel. '

'I only say I have never seen it. '

'Then I hope you will, nay, that you do. I believe your displeasure isthe climax of all Dolly's troubles. '

But Colonel Reginald Mohun could not forgive the having been soentirely deceived where he had so fully trusted; and there was noshaking his opinion that Dolores was essentially deceitful and devoidof feeling and that the few demonstrations of emotion that were broughtbefore him were only put on to excite the compassion of her weakly, good-natured aunt, so he only answered, 'You always were a soft oneLily. '

To which she only answered, 'We shall see knowing that in his presentstate of mind he would only set down the hopeful tokens that sheperceived either to hypocrisy on the girl's side, or weakness on hers. 

Dolores had indeed gone with the others rather because she could notbear remaining to see her uncle's altered looks than because sheexpected much pleasure. And she had the satisfaction of sitting byMysie, and holding her hand, which had become a very great comfort inher forlorn state--so great that she forebore to hurt her cousin'sfeelings by discoursing of the dissolving views she had seen at aLondon party. Also she exacted a promise that this station shouldalways be hers. 

Mysie, on her side, was in some of the difficulties of a popularcharacter, for Fly felt herself deserted, and attacked her on the firstopportunity. 

'What does make you always go after Dolly instead of me, Mysie? Do youlike her so much better?'

'Oh no! but you have them all, and she has nobody. '

'Well, but she has been so horridly naughty, hasn't she?'

'I don't think she meant it. '

'One never does. At least, I'm sure I don't--and mamma always says itis nonsense to say that. '

'I'm not sure whether it is always, ' said Mysie, thoughtfully, 'forsometimes one does worse than one knows. Once I made a mouse-trap of abeautiful large sheet of bluey paper, and it turned out to be an ordercome down to papa. Mamma and Alethea gummed it up as well as ever theycould again, but all the officers had to know what had happened to it. '

'And were you punished?'

'I was not allowed to go into papa's room without one of the elder onestill after my next birthday, but that wasn't so bad as papa's being sovexed, and everybody knowing it; and Major Denny would talk about miceand mouse-traps every time he saw me till I quite hated my name. '

'And I'm sure you didn't mean to cut up an important paper. '

'No; but I did do a little wrong, for we had no leave to take anythingnot quite in the waste basket, and this had been blown off the table, and was on the floor outside. They didn't punish me so much I thinkbecause of that. Papa said it was partly his own fault for notsecuring it when he was called off. You see little wrongs that oneknows turn out great wrongs that one would never think of, and that isso very dreadful, and makes me so very sorry for Dolores. '

'I didn't think you would like a cross, naughty girl like that morethan your own Fly. '

'No, no! Fly, don't say that. I don't really like her half so well, you know, only if you would help me to be kind to her. '

'I am sure my mother wouldn't wish me to have anything to do with her. I don't think she would have let me come here if she had known whatsort of girl she is. '

'But your papa knew when he left you--'

'Oh, papa! yes; but he can never see anything amiss in a Mohun; I heardher say so. And he wants me to be friends with you; dear, darlingfriends like him and your Uncle Claude, Mysie, so you must be, and notbe always after that Dolores. '

'I want to be friends with both. One can have two friends. '

'No! no! no! not two best friends. And you are my best friend, Mysie, ever so much better than Alberta Fitzhugh, if only you'll come alwaysto me this little time when I'm here, and sit by me instead of thatDolly. '

'I do love you very much, Fly. '

'And you'll sit by me at the penny reading to-night?'

'I promised Dolly. But she may sit on the other side. '

'No, ' said Phyllis, with jealous perverseness. 'I don't care if thatDolly is to be on the other side, you'll talk to nobody but her! Now, Mysie, I had been writing to ask daddy to let you come home with me, you yourself, to the Butterfly's Ball, but if you won't sit by me, youmay stay with your dear Dolores. '

'Oh, Fly! When you know I promised, and there is the other side. '

But Fly had been courted enough by all the cousinhood to have becomeexacting and displeased at having any rival to the honour of her hand--so she pouted and said, 'I don't care about it, if you have her. Ishall sit between Val and Jasper. '

One must be thirteen, with a dash of the sentiment of a buddingfriendship, to enter into all that 'sitting by' involves; and inMysie's case, here was her compassionate promise standing not onlybetween her and the avowed preference of one so charming as Fly, butpossibly depriving her of the chances of the wonders of the Butterfly'sBall. No wonder that disconsolate tears came into her eyes as sheuttered another pleading, 'Oh, Fly, how can you?'

'You must choose, ' said the offended young lady; 'you can't have usboth. '

To which argument she stuck, being offended as well as scandalized atbeing set aside for such a culprit as Dolores, whose misdemeanours anddiscourtesy were equally shocking to her imagination. 

Mysie could confide her troubles to no one, for she was aware thatcaring about sitting together was treated by the elders as egregiousfolly; but a promise was a promise with her, and she held staunchly toher purpose, though between Dolores and Miss Vincent she lost all thosedelightful asides which enhanced the charms of the amusing parts of thepenny reading and beguiled the duller ones--of which there were many, since it was more concert than penny reading, people being rather shyof committing themselves to reading--Hal, Mr. Pollock and theschoolmaster being the only volunteers in that line. 

Gillian had, sorely against the grain, to play a duet with ConstanceHacket. The two young ladies had met one another with freezingcivility in the classroom, and to those who understood matters, thestiffness of their necks and shoulders, as they sat at the piano, spokeunutterable things. But there had never been any real liking betweenConstance and the younger Merrifields, and the mother did not troubleherself much about this, knowing that the vexation of the elder sister, about whom she did care, would pass off with friendly intercourse. 

Fly's displeasure did not last long, for Mysie bad more attractions forher than any one else, and she was a good-humoured creature. There wasa joyous Twelfth-Night, with home-made cake and home-characters, prepared by mamma and Gillian, and followed up by games, in whichDolores had a share, promoted by her aunt, who was very anxious to keepher from feeling set apart from every one; but this was difficult tomanage, as she was so generally disliked, that even Gillian was onlygood-natured to her in accordance with her mother's desire that sheshould not be treated as 'out of the pale of humanity. ' Mysie alonesought her out and brought her forward with any real earnestness, andgood little Mysie had a somewhat difficult part to play betweenkindness to her and Fly's occasional little jealous tiffs and decideddisapproval. Mysie never thought, however, about the situation or itsdifficulties, she simply followed the moment's call of kindness toDolores, and, when it was possible, followed her own inclinations, andenjoyed Fly's lively society. 

And Dolores was certainly softening and improving. A word to Mrs. Halfpenny had secured the two girls being permitted to say theirprayers together in Dolores's room unmolested; and what was a realityto a contemporary became less and less to Dolores a mere lesson imposedby the authority of an elder. That link between religious instructionand daily life, which is all important, yet so difficult to find, wasbeing gradually put into Dolores's hands by her little cousin-friend. Lady Merrifield hoped and guessed it might be thus, from the questionsthat Mysie asked her at times, and from the quickened attention Doloresshowed to her religious lessons, and her less dull and indifferent airat church. 

It could not be said that she was different with the others. She wasdepressed, and wanted spirits for enjoyment, nor would active rompingdiversions ever be pleasant to her. She had not the nature for them, and was not young enough to learn to like them. It could not but seemfoolish to her to race about as a Croat or a savage, and she onlybeheld with wonder Gillian's genuine delight in games not merelyentered into for the sake of the little ones. But there was a strongdevotion growing up in her to her aunt and to Mysie, and what theyasked of her she did--even when on a wet day her aunt condemned her tolearn battledore and shuttle-cock of Gillian, who was equally to bepitied for the awkwardness of her pupil and the banter of her brothers, while Dolly picked up her shuttlecock and tossed it off with grimdetermination, as if doing penance for this dismal half hour. Shemanaged better in the games where ready sharpness of intellect ormemory was wanted, and she liked these, and would have liked them stillbetter if Uncle Reginald had not always looked astonished if shelaughed. 

She did her part, too, in the little play, being one of the chorus ofthe maidens who 'make a vow to make a row. ' Lady Merrifield had, according to the general request, saved disputes by casting the parts, Gillian being the sage old woman who brought the damsels to reason. Fly, the prime mover of the tumult, and Mysie, her confidante, whileVal and Dolly made up the mob. A little manipulation of skirts, tennis-aprons, ribbons, and caps made very nice peasant costumes. Halwas the self-important Bailli, and Jasper the drummer, the part ofgens-d'armes being all that Wilfred and Fergus could be trusted with. 

Lord Rotherwood came back, and his little daughter's ecstacy was goodlyto see, as she danced about her daddy, almost bursting with the secretof what he was to see after dinner, and showing herself so brilliantlywell and happy that he congratulated himself upon her mother'ssatisfaction. 

While the elders were at dinner, Gillian, with Miss Vincent's help, finished off the arrangements. There were no outsiders, except theVicar and Mr. Pollock who had been asked to dinner, for LadyMerrifield said she never liked to make her children an exhibition. 

'You are an old-fashioned Lily, ' said her cousin, 'and happily notconcerned with popularity. It is a fine thing to be able to consultone's children's absolute best. '

The performance went off beautifully--at least so thought both actorsand spectators. The dignity of the Bailli and the meddling of thedrummer were alike delightful; Fly was charmingly arch and mutinous;Mysie very straightforward; and the least successful personation wasthat of Gillian, who had a fit of stage-fright, forgot sentences, andwhirred her spinning-wheel nervously, all the worse for being scoldedby her brothers behind the scenes, and assured that she was making amull of the whole affair. And she had been so spirited at therehearsals, but she was at a self-conscious age, and could not forgetthe four spectators. Very little was required of Dolores, but thatlittle she did simply and well, and Lord Rotherwood, after watching herall the evening, observed to Lady Merrifield, 'I should say yourdifficulties were diminishing, are they not? The thunder-cloud seemsto be a little lightened. '

'I am so glad you think so, Rotherwood. I feel sure that all thisdistress has drawn her nearer to us, only Regie won't believe it. '

'Regie is prejudiced. '

'Is he? I thought him specially fond of Maurice's child, and that thiswas revulsion of feeling; but what I am afraid of is, that he willnever believe in her or like her again, whatever she may be, and she isreally fond of him. '

'Yes, Reginald is not over disposed to believe in any woman's truth--outside his own family and sisters. Poor fellow! I can't say he waswell used. '

'What? I suppose be has bad his romance like other people--his littleepisode, as my husband calls it. '

'Yes; and I am afraid we were accountable for it. You remember we wereat Harthope Castle for the first two years after I was married, whileRotherwood was brought up to the requirements of the Victorian age. 

The ---th was quartered at Harfield, within easy distance, and asplendid looking fellow like Regie was invaluable to Victoria, whenevershe wanted anything to go off well. Well, in those days I had a ward, my mother's great niece, Maude Conway. A pretty winsome creature itwas, and an heiress in a moderate sort of way, and poor old Redge, after all his little affairs, and he had had his share of them, wasevidently in for it at last. Victoria thought, as well as myself, itwas the best thing for them both. He was the sound-hearted, goodfellow to keep her matters straight, and she had enough for comfortwithout overweighting the balance. So they were engaged but unluckilythey had to wait till she was of age, about eight months off, and theywere both ridiculously shy, and would not have the thing known, thoughVictoria said it was unwise. I don't think even Jane suspected it. '

'No; I don't think she could have done so. '

'Well, there was the season, and Victoria was not in condition forgoing out, and Maude was all for staying quietly with her; but old LadyConway came about--a regular schemer--a woman I never could abide. Shehad married off her own daughters, and wanted her niece to practise on, that was the fact. Victoria says she always knew that she, Maude Imean, was very impressionable and impulsive, and so she wanted to haveher out of harm's way; but one could not prevent her aunt from gettinghold of her and taking her out. Then people told us of her goings onwith that scamp Clanmacklosky and that sister of his. Victoria talkedto her by the yard, but she denied it, and we thought it all gossip. Regie came up for a couple of nights, and she was as sweet on him asever, and sent him away thinking it all right; but the end of it was, she fought off going down to Rotherwood with us, but went to Brightonwith Lady Conway, and the next thing we heard was that she wrote tothrow Reginald over, and she married Clanmacklosky a month after shewas twenty-one! I don't think I ever saw Victoria so cut up, for we hadreally liked the girl and thought well of her. To this hour I believeit was all that woman's doing, and that poor Maude has supped sorrow. She has lost all her good looks. '

'And Regie has never got over it?'

'Not so as to believe in a woman again. '

'He used to be rather a joke for susceptibility, and was still aregular boy when we went out to Gibraltar. I thought him much graver. '

'Exactly; since that affair his soul has gone into his regiment. It'sa wife to him, and luckily he got his promotion in time, so as not tobe shelved. '

'I suppose it was really an escape. '

'I don't know--she would have done very well in his hands. She is thesort of woman to be as you make her, and even now is a world too goodfor Clan. Victoria can never be quite cordial with her, but I can'tsee the poor harassed thing without thinking what a sweet creature sheonce was, and wishing I'd had the sense to look after her better. Butwhat I came here for, Lily, was to say you must let me have that Mysieof yours, since you won't come yourself to this concern of ours. I'mafraid you won't think much good has come of us, but we couldn't do theCountry Mouse much harm in a fortnight; and you know it is the wish ofmy heart that my lonely Fly should grow up on such terms with yourflock as Florence and I did with you all. '

He pleaded quite piteously, and he was backed up by a letter from hiswife, very grateful for her little Phyllis's happy visit, reiteratingthe invitation to Lady Merrifield, and begging that if she still couldnot come herself, she would at least send Jasper and Mysie for theButterfly's Ball. Mysie's fancy dress would be ready for her, onlywaiting for the final touches after it was tried on. Lady FlorenceDevereux, too, was near at hand, and wrote to promise to look afterMysie. 

There was no refusing after this. Lady Florence was not far from beinglike a sister to her cousins. She had tended her mother's old age, andhad subsequently settled down into the lady of all work of Rotherwoodparish. Lady Merrifield had much confidence in her, and indeed all shesaw of Fly gave her a great respect for Lady Rotherwood's management ofher child. Harry was going to his uncle's at Beechcroft for someshooting, and would bring Mysie home when Jasper went back to school. 

So Gillian was called to her mother's room to be told first of thearrangement, which certainly in some aspects was rather hard on her. 

'I could not help it, my dear, ' said Lady Merrifield, 'withoutabsolutely asking for an invitation for you. '

'No, mamma; and it is Mysie who is Fly's friend, being the same age andall. It is quite right, and I understand it. '

'My dear, I am so glad I can do such a thing as this. If there weresmall jealousies among you, I could not venture on letting you be setaside, for I know the disappointment was quite as great to you as toMysie, when we gave it up. '

'But she was better about it than I, ' said Gillian; 'mamma, yourtrusting me in that way is better than a dozen balls. Besides, I knowI should hate being there without you; I'm a great old thing, as Jaspersays, neither fish nor fowl, you know, not come out, and not a littlegirl in the schoolroom, and it would be very horrid going to a grandplace like that on one's own account. '

'That's right, Gillyflower. 'Tis very wholesome to discover thesourness of the grapes. And as I think grandmamma is really coming, Ishall want you at home, and to look after Dolores. '

'That's the worst of it, mamma; I shall never get on with her as Mysiedoes. '

'We must do our best, for I do think really the poor child isimproving. '

'Lessons will begin again! That's one comfort, ' said Gillian, ratherquaintly, thinking of the length of time that Dolores would thus be offher hands. 

'And now call Mysie. I must speak to her. '

As for Mysie, she was in a state of rapture. She knew her bliss beforeher mother had communicated it, for Lord Rotherwood could not refrainfrom telling his daughter that consent was gained, and Fly dartedheadlong to embrace Mysie, dance round her and rejoice. The boysdeclared that Mysie at once sprang into the air like a chamois, andthat her head touched the ceiling, but this is believed to be a figmentof Jasper's. 

It was only on the summons to her mother's room that Mysie discoveredthat Gillian was not going with her. It dimmed the lustre of herdelight for a little while, 'Oh, Gill, aren't you very sorry? Youought to have had the first turn. '

'Never mind, Mysie, you are Fly's friend, '--and the two sisters' looksat one another at that moment were a real pleasure to their mother. 

Mysie was of a less shy nature than Gillian, as well as at a lessawkward age, so that the visiting without her mother was lessformidable, and she rushed about wild with delight; but Dolores wasvery disconsolate. 

'Every one I care for goes away and changes, ' she said in hermelancholy little sentiment. 

'But it's only for a fortnight, Dolly, I don't think I could change sofast. '

'Oh yes, you will, among all those swells. You like Fly ever so muchbetter than me. '

Mysie looked grieved and puzzled, but then exclaimed, in the tone of adiscovery, 'There are different sorts of likings, Dolly, don't you see. I do love Fly very much, but you know you are like a sort of almosttwin sister to me. I like her best, but I care about you most!'

With which curious distinction Dolores had to put up. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

A SADDER AND A WISER AUTHORESS. 

Colonel Mohun took Wilfred to his school, which began its term earlierthan did Jasper's, and Silver-ton was wonderfully quiet. The elderMrs. Merrifield was not to come for nearly a week, so that it wouldhave been possible for her daughter-in-law to go to the Rotherwoodfestivities without interfering with her visit, but this no one exceptGillian and Mysie knew, and they kept the secret well. 

The departure of the boys was a great relief to Dolores. Her aunt didnot rank her with Valetta and Fergus, but let her consort with herselfand Gillian, and this suited her much better. Even Gillian allowedthat she was ever so much nicer when there was no one to tease her. Itwas true that Jasper certainly, and perhaps Wilfred, would not havemolested her if she had not offended the latter, and offered herself asfair game; but Gillian, who had to forestall and prevent their pranks, could not feel their absence quite the privation her sisterly spiritusually did!

Valetta and Fergus were harmless without them, but they were forlorn, being so much used to having their sports led by their two seniors thatthey hardly knew what to do without them, and the entreaty, or ratherthe whine, 'I want something to do, ' was heard unusually often. Thisled to Gillian's being often called off to attend to them during thecourse of wet days that ensued, and thus Dolores was a good deal alonewith her aunt, who was superintending her knitting a pair of silkstockings to send out to her father, it was hoped in time for his nextbirthday. 

At the first proposal, Dolores looked dull and unwilling, and at lastshe squeezed out, 'I don't think father will ever want me to doanything for him again. '

'My poor child, do you think a father does not forgive and love all themore one who is in deep sorrow for a fault?'

'I don't think my letter seemed sorry! I was not half so sorry then asI am now, ' then at a kind word from her aunt her eyes overflowed, andshe said, 'No, I wasn't; I didn't know how good you were, or how bad Iwas!'

And when Aunt Lily kissed her, she put her arms round the kind neckthat bent down to her, and laid her head against it, as if it was quitea rest to feel that love. Her aunt encouraged her to write again toher father, and to try to express something of her grief and entreatyfor forgiveness, and she was somewhat cheered after this; as thoughsomething of the load on her mind was removed. One day she broughtdown all the books in her room and said, 'Please, Aunt Lily, look atthem, and let them be with the rest in the schoolroom, I want to bejust like the others. '

Lady Merrifield was much pleased with this surrender. Some of thebooks were really well worth having and reading, indeed, the best ofthem she knew, but there were eight or ten which she suspected of beingwhat Mysie called silly stories, and she kept them back to look over. She had been trying in this quiet interval to get Dolly to readsomething besides mere childish stories for recreation; and when shesaw how well worn the story books were, and how untouched the 'easyhistory, ' and the books about animals and foreign countries were, shesaw why so clever a girl as Dolores seemed so stupid about everythingshe had not learnt as a lesson, and entirely ignorant of Englishpoetry. 

Lady Merrifield read to her and Gillian in the evenings, and how theydid enjoy it, and bemoaned the coming of grandmamma, to spoil theirsnugness and occupy 'mamma. ' For Dolores began so to call LadyMerrifield. She had never so termed her own mother, and it seemed toher that with the words 'Aunt Lily' she put away all sorts of foolish, sinister feelings. 

'Mrs. Merrifield was a wonderful old lady, brisk of mind and body, though of great age. She had been spending Christmas with her eldestson, the Admiral, at Stokesley, and was going to take on her way thedaughter-in-law, of whom she knew but little in comparison; and withher she brought the granddaughter, Elizabeth Merrifield, who--since herown daughter had died--generally lived with her in London, to take careof her. 

'It will be all company and horrid, and nobody will be allowed to makea noise!' sighed Valetta to Fergus, as the waggonette, well shut up, drove to the door. 

'There's cousin Bessie, ' said Fergus. 

'Oh, cousin Bessie is thirty-four, and that is as bad as being as oldas grandmamma!'

And they hung back while the old lady was helped out, and broughtacross the hall into the warm drawing-room before her fur cloak wastaken off. There was a quiet little person with her, and Valwhispered, 'She'll be just like Aunt Jane. '

But the eyes that Bessie turned on her cousins were not at an like AuntJane's little searching black ones. They were of a dark shade of grey, and had a wonderful softness and sweetness in them. Gillian knew her alittle already, but very little, for there had always been the eldersisters at their former short meetings. Mamma lamented that thereshould be so few grandchildren at home to be shown, though, as shesaid, 'the full number might have been too noisy. '

Grandmamma shook her head. 'I like the house full, ' she said, 'I'm allright, but it is a pity to see the nest emptied, like Stokesley, now. Nobody left at home but Susan and little Sally! Make the most of themwhile you have them about you!'

The old lady was quite delighted to find Primrose so nearly a baby, andto have one grandchild still quite as small or smaller than some of hergreat grandchildren whom she had never seen. Her great pleasure, however, soon proved to be in talking about her son Jasper, and hearingall his wife could tell her about his life in India; and as LadyMerrifield liked no other subject so well, they were very happytogether, and quite absorbed. 

Meanwhile Bessie made herself a companion to Gillian and Dolores, andthough so much older, seemed to consider herself as a girl like them. Then, living for the most part in town, she could talk about Londonmatters to Dolly, and this was a great treat, while yet she had countrytastes enough to suit Gillian, and was not in the least afraid of along walk to the fir plantations to pick up Weymouth pine cones, andthe still more precious pinaster ones. 

For the first time Gillian began to see Dolores as Uncle Reginald usedto know her, free from that heavy mist of sullen dislike to everythingand everybody. It seemed to bring them together, but, in spite ofBessie's charms, they both continually missed Mysie, out of doors andin, in schoolroom and drawing-room, and, above all, in Dolly's bedroom. She seemed to be, as Gillian told Bessie, 'a sort of family cement, holding the two ends, big and little, together;' and Bessie respondedthat her elder sister Susan was one of that sort. 

The evenings now were quite unlike the usual ones. Dinner was late, and the two girls came down to it. Afterwards the young ones sat roundthe fire in the hall, where Bessie, who was a wonderful story-teller, kept Fergus and Valetta quiet and delighted, either with invented talesor histories of the feats of her own brothers and sisters, who were somuch older than their Silverton first cousins as to be like an eldergeneration. 

When the two young ones were gone to bed, the others came into thedrawing-room, where mamma and grandmamma were to be found, either goingover papa's letters, or else Mrs. Merrifield talking about herStokesley grandchildren, the same whose pranks Bessie had just beentelling, so that it was not easy to believe in Sam, a captain in thenavy. Harry and John farming in Canada, David working as a clergy-manin the Black Country, George in. A government office, Anne aclergyman's wife, and mother to the great grandchildren who were alwaysbeing compared to Primrose, Susan keeping her father's house, andSarah, though as old as Alethea, still treated as the youngest--thechild of the family. 

The bits of conversation came to the girls as they sat over their work, and Bessie would join in, and tell interesting things, till she sawthat grandmamma was ready for her nap, and then one or other gave alittle music, during which Dolly's bed-time generally came. 

'You can't think how grateful I am to you for helping to brighten upthat poor child in a wholesome way!' said Lady Merrifield to Bessie, under cover of Gillian's performance. 

'One can't help being very sorry for her, ' said Elizabeth, who knewwhat was hanging over Dolly. 

'Yes, it is a terrible punishment, especially as she has a certainaffection for her step-uncle, or whatever he should be called, for hermother's sake. It really was a perplexed situation. '

'But why did she not consult you?'

'Do you know, I think I have found out. She held aloof from us all, and treated us--especially me--as if we were her natural enemies, and Inever could guess what was the reason till the other day; shevoluntarily gave me up all her books to be looked over and put into thecommon stock, which you saw in the schoolroom. '

'You look over all the children's books?'

'Yes. While we were wandering, they did not get enough to make it avery arduous task, and now I find that they want weeding. If childrenread nothing but a multitude of stories rather beneath their capacity, they are likely never to exert themselves to anything beyond novelreading. '

'That is quite true, I believe. '

'Well, among this literature of Dolly's I found no less than fourstories based on the cruelty and injustice suffered by orphans fromtheir aunts. The wicked step-mothers are gone out, and the barbarousaunts are come in. It is the stock subject. I really think it iscruel, considering that there are many children who have to be adoptedinto uncles' families, to add to their distress and terror, by raisingthis prejudice. Just look at this one'--taking up Dolly's favourite, 'Clare; or No Home'--'it is not at all badly written, which makes itall the worse. '

'Oh, Aunt Lilias, ' cried Bessie, whose colour had been rising all thistime. 'How shall I tell you? I wrote it!'

'You! I never guessed you did anything in that line. '

'We don't talk about it. My father knows, and so does grandmamma, in away; but I never bring it before her if I can help it, for she does nothalf like the notion. But, indeed, they aren't all as bad as that! Iknow now there is a great deal of silly imitation in it; but I neverthought of doing harm in this way. It is a punishment forthoughtlessness, ' cried poor Bessie, reddening desperately, and withtears in her eyes. 

'My dear, I am so sorry I said it! If I bad not one of these aunts, Ishould think it a very effective story. '

'I'm afraid that's so much the worse! Let me tell you about it, AuntLilias. At home, they always laughed at me for my turn fordismalities. '

'I believe one always has such a turn when one is young. '

'Well, when I went to live with grandmamma, it was very different fromthe houseful at home, I had so much time on my hands, and I took todreaming and writing because I could not help it, and all my storieswere fearfully doleful. I did not think of publishing them for ever solong, but at last when David terribly wanted some money for his missionchurch, I thought I would try, and this Clare was about the best. Theytook it, and gave me five pounds for it, and I was so pleased and neverthought of its doing harm, and now I don't know how much more mischiefit may have done!'

'You only thought of piling up the agony! But don't be unhappy aboutit. You don't know how many aunts it may have warned. '

'I'm afraid aunts are not so impressionable as nieces. And, indeed, among ourselves story-books seemed quite outside from life, we neverthought of getting any ideas from them any more than from Bluebeard. '

'So it has been with some of mine, while, on the other hand, Doloresseemed to Mysie an interesting story-book heroine--which indeed she is, rather too much so. But you have not stood still with Clare. '

'No, I hope I have grown rather more sensible. David set me to dostories for his lads, and, as he is dreadfully critical, it was veryimproving. '

'Did you write 'Kate's Jewel'? That is delightful. Aunt Jane gave itto Val this Christmas, and all of us have enjoyed it! We shall be quiteproud of it--that is--may I tell the children?'

'Oh, aunt, you are very good to try to make me forget that miserableClare. I wonder whether it will do any good to tell Dolores all aboutit. Only I can't get at all the other girls I may have hurt. '

'Nay, Bessie, I think it most likely that Dolores would have been anuncomfortable damsel, even if Clare had remained in your brain. Therewere other causes, at any rate, here are three more persecuted niecesin her library. Besides, as you observed, everybody does not go tostory-books for views of human nature, and happily, also, homelesschildren are commoner in books than out of them, so I don't think thedamage can be very extensive. '

'One such case is quite enough! Indeed, it is a great lesson to thinkwhether what one writes can give any wrong notion. '

'I believe one always does begin with imitation. '

'Yes, it is extraordinary how little originality there is in the world. In the literature of my time, everybody had small hands and highforeheads, the girls wanted to do great things, and did, or did not do, little ones, and the boys all took first classes, and the fashion wasto have violet eyes, so dark you could not tell their colour, andgolden hair. '

'Whereas now the hair is apt to be bronze, whatever that may be like. '

'And all the dresses, and all the complexions, and all the lace, andall the roses, are creamy. Bessie, I hope you don't deal increaminess!'

'I'm afraid skim milk is more like me, and that you would say I hadtaken to the goody line. I never thought of the responsibility then, only when I wrote for David's classes. '

'It is a responsibility, I suppose, in the way in which every word onespeaks and every letter one writes is so. And now--here is Gillianfinishing her piece. How far is it a secret, my dear. '

'It need not be so here, Aunt Lilias. Only my people are rather old-fashioned, you know, and are inclined to think it rather shocking ofme, so it ought not to go beyond the family, and especially don't 'lether, ' indicating her grandmother, 'hear about it. She knows I do suchthings--it would not be honest not to tell her--but it goes against thegrain, and she has never heard one word of it all. '

It appeared that Bessie daily read the psalms and lessons tograndmamma, followed up by a sermon. Then, with her wonderful eyes, Mrs. Merrifield read the newspaper from end to end, which lasted hertill luncheon, then came a drive in the brougham, followed by a rest inher own room, dinner, and then Bessie read her to sleep with a book oftravels or biography, of the old book-club class of her youth. Herprinciples were against novels, and the tale she viewed as only fit forchildren. 

Lady Merrifield could not help thinking what a dull life it must be forBessie, a woman full of natural gifts and of great powers of enjoyment, accustomed to a country home and a large family, and she said somethingof the kind. 'I did not like it at first, ' said Bessie, 'but I haveplenty of occupations now, besides all these companions that I've madefor myself, or that came to me, for I think they come of themselves. '

'But what time have you to yourself?'

'Grandmamma does not want me till half-past ten in the morning, exceptfor a little visit. And she does not mind my writing letters while sheis reading the paper, provided I am ready to answer anythingremarkable. I am quite the family newsmonger! Then there's always fromfour to half-past six when I can go out if I like. There's a dear oldgoverness of ours living not far off, and we have nice littleexpeditions together. And you know it is nice to be at the familyheadquarters in London, and have every one dropping in. '

'Oh dear! how good you are to like going on like that, ' said Gillian, who had come up while this was passing; 'I should eat my heart out; youmust be made up of contentment. '

Elizabeth held up her hand in warning lest her grandmother should bewakened, but she laughed and said, 'My brothers would tell you I usedto be Pipy Bet. But that dear old governess. Miss Fosbrook, was themaking of me, and taught me how to be jolly like Mark Tapley among therattlesnakes, ' she finished, looking drolly up to Gillian. 

'And, Gill, you don't know what Bessie has made her companions insteadof the rattlesnakes, ' said Lady Merrifield. 'What do you think of"Kate's Jewel?"'

Gillian's astonishment and rapture actually woke grandmamma; not thatshe made much noise, but there was a disturbing force about herexcitement; and the subject had to be abandoned. 

As the great secret might be shared with Dolores, though not with theyounger ones, whose discretion could not be depended upon, Gilliancould enter upon it the more freely, though she was rather disappointedthat an author was not such an extraordinary sight to Dolly as toherself. But it was charming to both that Bessie let them look at theproofs of the story she was publishing in a magazine; and allowed themas well as mamma, to read the manuscript of the tale, romance, ornovel, whichever it was to be called, on which she wished for heraunt's opinion. 

Bessie took care, when complying with the girls' entreaty, that shewould tell them all she had written; to observe that, she thought'Clare' a very foolish book indeed, and that she wished heartily shehad never written it. Gillian asked why she had done it?

'Oh, ' said Dolores, 'things aren't interesting unless something horridhappens, or some one is frightened, or very miserable. '

'I like things best just and exactly as they really are--or were, ' saidGillian. 

'The question between sensation and character, ' said Bessie to heraunt. 'I suppose that, on the whole, it is the few who are palpablyaffected by the mass of fiction in the world; but that it is needful totake good care that those few gather at least no harm from one's work--to be faithful in it, in fact, like other things. '

And there was no doubt that Bessie had been faithful in her work eversince she had realized her vocation. Her lending library books, written with a purpose, were excellent, and were already so much valuedby Miss Hacket, that Gillian thought how once she should have felt it aprivation not to be allowed to tell her whence they came; but to hersurprise on the Sunday, instead of the constraint with which of lateshe had been treated at tea-time, the eager inquiry was made whetherthis was really the authoress, Miss Merrifield?

Secrets are not kept as well as people think. The Hackets' marriedsister was a neighbour of Bessie's married sister, and through theseladies it had just come round, not only who was the author of'Charlie's Whistle, ' etc. , but that she wrote in the ---- Magazine, andwas in the neighbourhood. 

All offences seemed to be forgotten in the burning desire for anintroduction to this marvel of success. Constance had made the most ofher opportunities in gazing at church; but if she called, would she beintroduced?

'Of course, ' said Gillian, 'if my cousin is in the room. ' She spokerather coldly and gravely, and Miss Hacket exclaimed--

'I know we have been a little remiss, my dear, I hope Lady Merrifieldwas not offended. '

'Mamma is never offended, ' said Gillian--'but, I do think, and so wouldshe and all of us, that if Constance comes, she ought to treat DoloresMohun--as--as usual. '

The two sisters were silent, perhaps from sheer amazement at thisoutbreak of Gillian's, who had never seemed particularly fond of hercousin. Gillian was quite as much surprised at herself, but somethingseemed to drive her on, with flaming cheeks. 'Dolores is half broken-hearted about it all. She did not thoroughly know how wrong it was;and it does make her miserable that the one who went along with her init should turn against her, and cut her and all. '

'Connie never meant to keep it up, I'm sure, ' said Miss Hacket; 'butshe was very much hurt. '

'So was Dolly, ' said Gillian. 

'Is she so fond of me?' said Constance, in a softened tone. 

'She was, ' replied Gillian. 

'I'm sure, ' said Miss Hacket, 'our only wish is to forget and forgiveas Christians. Lady Merrifield has behaved most handsomely, and it isour most earnest wish that this unfortunate transaction should beforgotten. '

'And I'm sure I'm willing to overlook it all, ' said Constance. 'Onemust have scrapes, you know; but friendship will triumph over all. '

Gillian did not exactly wish to unravel this fine sentiment, and wasglad that the little G. F. S. Maid came in with the tea. 

Lady Merrifield was a good deal diverted with Gillian's report, andinvited the two sisters to luncheon on the plea of their slightacquaintance with Anne--otherwise Mrs. Daventry--with a hint in thenote not to compliment Mrs. Merrifield on Elizabeth's production. 

Then Dolores had to be prepared to receive any advance from Constance. She looked disgusted at first, and then, when she heard that Gillianhad spoken her mind, said, 'I can't think why you should care. '

'Of course I care, to have Constance behaving so ill to one of us. '

'Do you think me one of you, Gillian?'

'Who, what else are you?'

And Dolores held up her face for a kiss, a heartier one than had everpassed between the cousins. There was no kiss between the quondamfriends, but they shook hands with perfect civility, and no strangerwould have guessed their former or their present terms from theirmanner. In fact, Constance was perfectly absorbed in the contemplationof the successful authoress, the object of her envy and veneration, andonly wanted to forget all the unpleasantness connected with the darkhead on the opposite side of the table. 

'Oh Miss Merrifield, ' she asked, in an interval afterwards, when hatswere being put on, 'bow do you make them take your things?'

'I don't know, ' said Bessie, smiling. 'I take all the pains I can, andtry to make them useful. '

'Useful, but that's so dull--and the critics always laugh at thingswith a purpose. '

'But I don't think that is a reason for not trying to do good, even inthis very small and uncertain way. Indeed, ' she added, earnestly. 'Ihave no right to speak, for I have made great mistakes; but I wanted totell you that the one thing I did get published, which was not writtenconscientiously--as I may say--but only to work out a silly, sentimental fancy, has brought me pain and punishment by the harm Iknow I did. '

This was a very new idea to Constance, and she actually carried it awaywith her. The visit had restored the usual terms of intercourse withthe Hackets, though there was no resumption of intimacy such as therehad been, between Constance and Dolores. It had, however, done much tomake the latter feel that the others considered themselves one withthem, and there was something that drew them together in the universalmissing of Mysie, and eagerness for her letters. 

These were, however, rather disappointing. Mysie had not a genius forcorrespondence, and dealt in very bare facts. There was an enclosurewhich made Lady Merrifield somewhat anxious:

'My Dear Mamma, 'This is for you all by yourself. I have been in sad mischief, for Ibroke the conservatory and a palm-tree with my umbrella; and I didstill worse, for I broke my promise and told all about what you told menever to. I will tell you all when I come home, and I hope you willforgive me. I wish I was at home. It is very horrid when they say oneis good and one knows one is not; but I am very happy, and LordRotherwood is nicer than ever, and so is Fly. 'I am your affectionate and penitent and dutiful little daughter, 'MARIA MILLICENT MERRIFIELD. '

With all mamma's intuitive knowledge of her little daughter's mind andforms of expression, she was puzzled by this note and the variousfractures it described. She obeyed its injunctions of secrecy, evenwith regard to Gillian and Bessie, though she could not help wishingthat the latter could have seen and judged of her Mysie. 

Grandmamma was somewhat disappointed to have missed her eldestgrandson, but she was obliged to leave Silverton two days before hisreturn with his little sister. She had certainly escaped the fulltumult of the entire household, but Bessie observed that she suspectedthat it might have been preferred to the general quiescence. 

In spite of all the regrets that Bessie's more coeval cousins, Aletheaand Phyllis were not at home, she and her aunt each felt that a newfriendship had been made, and that they understood each other, andBessie had uttered her resolution henceforth always to think of theimpression for good or evil produced on the readers, as well as of theeffectiveness of her story. 'Little did I suppose that 'Clare' wouldadd to any one's difficulties, ' she said, 'still less to yours, AuntLilias. '

CHAPTER XX. 

CONFESSIONS OF A COUNTRY MOUSE. 

Here were the travellers at home again, and Mysie clinging to hermother, with, 'Oh, Mamma!' and a look of perfect rest. They arrived atthe same time as Dolores had come, so late that Mysie was tired out, and only half awake. She was consigned to Mrs. Halfpenny after herfirst kiss, but as she passed along the corridor, a door was thrownback, and a white figure sprang upon her. 'Oh, Mysie! Mysie!' and inspite of the nurse's chidings, held her fast in an embrace of delight. Dolores had been lying awake watching for her, and implored permissionat least to look on while she was going to bed!

Harry meanwhile related his experiences to his mother and Gillian overthe supper-table. The Butterfly's Ball had been a great success. Hehad never seen anything prettier in his life. Plants and lights hadbeen judiciously disposed so as to make the hall a continuation of theconservatory, almost a fairy land, and the children in their costumeshad been more like fairies than flesh and blood, pinafore and bread-and-butter beings. There was a most perfect tableau at the opening ofthe scenery constructed with moss and plants, so as to form a bower, where the Butterfly and Grasshopper, with their immediate attendants, welcomed their company, and afterwards formed the first quadrille, LadyPhyllis, with Mysie and two other little girls staying in the house, being the butterflies, and Lord Ivinghoe and three more boys of thesame ages, the grasshoppers, in pages' dresses of suitable colours. 

'I never thought, ' said Harry, 'that our little brown mouse would comeout so pretty or so swell. '

'She wanted to be the dormouse, ' said Gillian. 

'That was impracticable. They were all heath butterflies of differentsorts, wings very correctly coloured and dresses to correspond. Phyllis the ringlet with the blue lining, Mysie, the blue one, littleLady Alberta, the orange-tip, and the other child the burnet moth. '

'How did Mysie dance?'

'Very fairly, if she had not looked so awfully serious. The dancing-mistress, French, of course, had trained them, it was more ballet thanquadrille, and they looked uncommonly pretty. Uncle William grantedthat, though he grumbled at the whole concern as nonsense, and wonderedyou should send your nice little girl into it to have her head turned. '

'Do you think she was happy?'

'Oh, yes, of course. She always is, but she was in prodigious spiritswhen we started to come home. Lady Rotherwood said I was to tell youthat no child could be more truthful and conscientious. Still somehowshe did not look like the swells. Except that once, when she was gotup regardless of expense for the ball, she always had the country mouselook about her. She hadn't--'

'The 'Jenny Say Caw, ' as Macrae calls it?' said his mother. 'Well, Ican endure that! You need not look so disgusted, Gill. You didn't hearof her getting into any scrape, did you?'

'No, ' said Hal. 'Stay, I believe she did break some glass or other, and blurted out her confession in full assembly, but I was over atBeechcroft, and I am happy to say I didn't see her. '

Mysie's tap came early to her mother's door the next morning, and itwas in the midst of her toilette that Lady Merrifield was called on tohear the confession that had been weighing on the little girl's mind. 

'I was too sleepy to tell you last night, mamma, but I did want to doso. '

'Well, then, my dear, begin at the beginning, for I could notunderstand your letter. '

'The beginning was, mamma, that we had just come in from our walk, andwe went out into the schoolroom balcony, because we could see round thecorner who was coming up the drive. And we began playing at camps, with umbrellas up as tents. Ivinghoe, and Alberta, and I. Ivy wasgeneral, and I was the sentry, with my umbrella shut up, and over myshoulder. I was the only one who knew how to present arms. I heardsomething coming, and called out, 'Who goes there?' and Alberta jumpedup in such a hurry that the points other tent--her umbrella, I mean--scratched my face, and before I could recover arms, over went myumbrella, perpendicular, straight smash through the glass of theconservatory, and we heard it. '

'And what did you do? Of course you told!'

"Oh yes! I jumped up and said, 'I'll go and tell Lady Rotherwood. ' Iknew I must before I got into a fright, and Ivinghoe said I couldn'tthen, and he would speak to his mother and make it easy for me, and Plysays he really meant it; but I thought then that's the way the bad onesalways get the others into concealments and lies. So I wouldn't listena moment, and I ran down, with him after me, saying, 'Hear reason, Mysie. ' And I ran full butt up against some-body--Lord Ormersfield itwas, I found--but I didn't know then. I only said something aboutbegging pardon, and dashed on, and opened the door. I saw a whole lotof fine people all at five-o'clock tea, but I couldn't stop to get morefrightened, and I went up straight to Lady Rotherwood and said, 'Please, I did it. ' Mamma do you think I ought not?"

'There are such things as fit places and times, my dear. What did shesay?'

"At first she just said, 'My dear, I cannot attend to you now, runaway;' but then in the midst, a thought seemed to strike her, and shesaid, rather frightened, 'Is any one hurt?' and I said, Oh no; only myumbrella has gone right through the roof of the conservatory, and Ithought I ought to come and tell her directly. 'That was the noise, 'said some of the people, and everybody got up and went to look. Andthere were Fly and Ivy, who had got in some other way, and the umbrellawas sticking right upright in the top of one of those palm-trees withleaves like screens, and somebody said it was a new development offruit. Lady Rotherwood asked them what they were doing there, and Ivysaid they had come to see what harm was done. Dear Fly ran up to herand said, 'We were all at play together, mother; it was not one morethan another;' but Lady Rotherwood only said, 'That's enough, Phyllis, I will come to you by-and-by in the schoolroom, ' and she would havesent us away if Cousin Rotherwood himself had not come in just then, and asked what was the matter. I heard some of the answers; they werevery odd, mamma. One was, 'A storm of umbrellas and of untimelyconfessions;' and another was, 'Truth in undress. '"

'Oh, my dear? I hope you were fit to be seen?'

'I forgot about that, mamma, I had taken off my ulster, and had mylittle scarlet flannel underbody, so as to make a better soldier. '

'Oh!' groaned Lady Merrifield. 

'And then that dear, good Fly gave a jump and flew at him, and said, 'Oh, daddy, daddy, it's Mysie, and she has been telling the truth like--like Frank, or Sir Thomas More, or George Washington, or anybody. ' Shereally did say so, mamma. '

'I can quite believe it of her, Mysie! And how did Cousin Rotherwoodrespond?'

'He sat down upon one of the seats, and took Fly on one knee and me onthe other, though we were big for it--just like papa, you know--andmade us tell him all about it. Lady Rotherwood got the others out ofthe way somehow--I don't know how, for my back was that way, and Ithink Ivinghoe went after them, but there was some use in talking toCousin Rotherwood; he has got some sense, and knows what one means, asif he was at the dear, nice playing age, and Ivinghoe was his stupidold father in a book. '

'Exactly, ' said Lady Merrifield, delighted, and longing to laugh. 

'But that was the worst of it, ' said Mysie, sadly; 'he was so nice thatI said all sorts of things I didn't mean or ought to have said. I toldhim I would pay for the glass if he would only wait till we had helpedDolores pay for those books that the cheque was for, because the mancame alive again, after her wicked uncle said he was dead, and sosomehow it all came out; how you made up to Miss Constance and couldn'tcome to the Butterfly's Ball for want of new dresses. '

'Oh, Mysie, you should not have said that! I thought you were to betrusted!'

'Yes, mamma, I know, ' said Mysie, meekly. 'I recollected as soon as Ihad said it; and told him, and he kissed me and promised he would nevertell anyone, and made Fly promise that she never would. But I havebeen so miserable about it ever since, mamma; I tried to write it in aletter, but I am afraid you didn't half understand. '

'I only saw that something was on your mind, my dear. Now that is allover, I do not so much mind Cousin Rotherwood's knowing, he has alwaysbeen so like a brother; but I do hope both he and Fly will keep theirword. I am more sorry for my little girl's telling than about hisknowing. '

'And Ivinghoe said my running in that way on all the company was worsethan breaking the glass or the palm-tree. Was it, mamma?'

'Well, you know, Mysie, there is a time for all things, and very likelyit vexed Lady Rotherwood more to be invaded by such a little wildcolt. '

'But not Cousin Rotherwood himself, mamma, ' said Mysie, 'for he said Iwas quite right, and an honourable little fellow, just like old times. And so I told Ivy. And he said in such a way, 'Every one knew what hisfather was. ' So I told him his father was ten thousand times nicer thanever he would be if be lived a hundred years, and I could not bear himif he talked in that wicked, disrespectful way, and Fly kissed me forit, mamma, and said her daddy was worth a hundred of such a prig as hewas. '

'My dear, I am afraid neither you nor Fly showed your good manners. '

'It was only Ivinghoe, mamma, and I'm sure I don't care what he thinks, if he could talk of his father in that way. Isn't it what you callmetallical--no--ironical?'

'Indeed, Mysie, I don't wonder it made you very angry, and I can't besorry you showed your indignation. '

'But please, mamma, what ought I to have done about the glass?'

'I don't quite know; I think a very wise little girl might have gone toCousin Florence's room and consulted her. It would have been betterthan making an explosion before so many people. Florence was kind toyou, I hope. '

'Oh yes, mamma, it was almost like being at home in her room; and shehas such a dear little house at the end of the park. '

A good deal more oozed out from Mysie to different auditors atdifferent times. By her account everything was delightful, and yetmamma concluded that all had not absolutely fulfilled the paradisiacalexpectation with which her country mouse had viewed Rotherwood fromafar. Lady Rotherwood was very kind, and so was the governess, andCousin Florence especially. Cousin Florence's house felt just like abit of home. It really was the dearest little house--and fluffy catand kittens, and the sweetest love birds. It was perfectly deliciouswhen they drank tea there, but unluckily she was not allowed to gothither without the governess or Louise, as it was all across the park, and a bit of village. 

And Fly? Oh, Fly was always dear and good and funny; but there wasAlberta to be attended to, and other little girls sometimes, and it wasnot like having her here at home; nor was there any making a row in thegalleries, nor playing at anything really jolly, though the greatpillars in the hall seemed made for tying cords to make a spider's web. It was always company, except when Cousin Rotherwood called them intohis den for a little fun. But he had gentlemen to entertain most ofthe time, and the only day that he could have taken them to see thefarm and the pheasants, Lady Rotherwood said that Phyllis was a littlehoarse and must not get a cold before the ball. 

And as to the Butterfly's Ball itself? Imagination had depicted asplendid realization of the verses, and it was flat to find it merely achildren's fancy ball, no acting at all, only dancing, and most of thechildren not attempting any characteristic dress, only with some insectattached to head or shoulder; nothing approaching to the fun of therehearsal at Silverton, as indeed Fly had predicted. The only attemptat representation had cost Mysie more trouble than pleasure, for thetraining to dance together had been a difficult and wearisome business. Two of the grass-hoppers had been greatly displeased about it, andcalled it a beastly shame, words much shocking gentle Mysie fromaristocratic lips. One of them had been as sulky, angry, andimpracticable as possible, just like a log, and the other had consoledhimself with all manner of tricks, especially upon the teacher and onIvinghoe. He would skip like a real grasshopper, he made faces thatset all laughing, he tripped Ivinghoe up, he uttered saucy speechesthat Mysie considered too shocking to repeat, but which convulsed everyone with laughter, Fly most especially, and her governess had punishedher for it. 'She would not punish me, ' said Mysie, 'though I know Iwas just as bad, and I think that was a shame!' At last the practisinghad to be carried on without the boys, and yet, when it came to thepoint, both the recusants behaved as well and danced as suitably as ifthey had submitted to the training like their sisters! And oh! thedressing, that was worse. 

'I did not think I was so stupid, ' said Mysie, 'but I heard Louise tellmademoiselle that I was trop bourgeoise, and mademoiselle answered thatI was plutot petite paysanne, and would never have l'air dedistinction. 

'Abominable impertinence!' cried Gillian. 

"They thought I did not understand, ' said Mysie, 'and I knew it wasfair to tell them, so I said, 'Mais non, car je suis la petite sourisde compagne. '"

'Well done, Mysie!' cried her sister. 

'They did jump, and Louise began apologizing in a perfect gabble, andmademoiselle said I had de l'esprit, but I am sure I did not mean it. '

'But how could they?' exclaimed Gillian. 'I'm sure Mysie looks like alady, a gentleman's child--I mean as much as Fly or any one else. '

'I trust you all look like gentlewomen, and are such in refinement andmanners, but there is an air, which comes partly of birth, partly ofbreeding, and that none of you, except, perhaps, Alethea, can boast of, and about which papa and I don't care one rush. '

'Has Fly got it, mamma?' said Valetta. 'She seemed like one ofourselves. '

'Oh, yes, ' put in Dolores. 'It was what made me think her stuck up. Ishould have known her for a swell anywhere. '

'I'm sure Fly has no airs!' exclaimed Val, hotly, and Gillian was readyto second her; but Lady Merrifield explained. 'The absence of airs isone ingredient, Val, both in being ladylike, and in the distinction inwhich the maid justly perceived our Mouse to be deficient. Come, youfoolish girls, don't look concerned. Nobody but the maid would haveever let Mysie perceive the difference. '

Mysie coloured and answered, 'I don't know; I saw the Fitzhughs look atme at first as if they did not think I belonged, and Ivinghoe wasalways so awfully polite that I thought he was laughing at me. '

'Ivinghoe must be horrid, ' broke out Valetta. 

'The Fitzhughs said they would knock it out of him at Eton, ' returnedMysie. 'They got very nice after the first day, and said Fly and Iwere twice as jolly fellows as he was. '

It further appeared that Mysie had had plenty of partners at the ball, and on all occasions her full share of notice, the country neighbourswelcoming her as her mother's daughter, but most of them saying she wasfar more like her Aunt Phyllis than her own mother. The dancing andexcitement so late at night had, however, tired her overmuch, she hadcramp all the remainder of the night, could eat no breakfast the nextday, and was quite miserable. 

'I should like to have cried for you, mamma' she said, 'but they wereall quite used to it, and not a bit tired. However, Cousin Florencecame in, and she was so kind. She took me to the little west room, andmade me lie on the sofa, and read to me till I went to sleep, and I wasall right after dinner and had a ride on Fly's old pony, Dormouse. Shehas the loveliest new one, all bay, with a black mane and tail, calledFairy, but Alberta had that. Oh it was so nice. '

Altogether Lady Merrifield was satisfied that her little girl had notbeen spoilt for home by her taste of dissipation, though she did nothear the further confidence to Dolores in the twilight by theschoolroom fire. 

'Do you know, Dolly, though Fly is such a darling, and they all wantedto be kind as well as they knew how, I came to understand how horridyou must have felt when you came among the whole lot of us. '

'But you knew Fly already?'

'That made it better, but I don't like it. To feel one does notbelong, and to be afraid to open a door for fear it should besomebody's room, and not quite to know who every one is. Oh, dear! itis enough to make anybody cross and stupid. Oh, I am so glad to beback again. '

'I'm sure I am glad you are, ' and there was a little kissing match. 'You'll always come to my room, won't you? Do you know, when Constancecame to luncheon, I only shook hands, I wouldn't try to kiss her. Wasthat unforgiving?'

'I am sure I couldn't, ' said Mysie; 'did she try?'

'I don't think so; I don't think I ever could kiss her; for I nevershould have said what was not true without her, and that is what makesUncle Reginald so angry still. He would not kiss me even when he wentaway. Oh, Mysie! that's worse than anything, ' and Dolores's facecontracted with tears very near at hand. 'I did always so love UncleRegie, and he won't forgive me, and father will be just the same. '

'Poor dear, dear Dolly, ' said Mysie, hugging her. 

'But you know fathers always forgive, and we will try and make a littleprayer about it, like the Prodigal Son's, you know. '

'I don't blow properly, ' said Dolores. 

'I think I can say him, ' said Mysie, and the little girls sat withenfolded arms, while Mysie reverently went through the parable. 

'But he had been very wicked indeed, ' objected Dolores, 'what one callsdissipated. Isn't that making too much of such things as girls like uscan do. '

'I don't know, ' said Mysie, knitting her young brows; 'you see if weare as bad as ever we can be while we are at home, it is really andtruly as bad in us ourselves as in shocking people that run away, because it shows we might have done anything if we had not been takencare of. And the poor son felt as if he could not be pardoned, whichis just what you do feel. '

'Aunt Lily forgives me, ' said Dolores, wistfully. 

'And your father will, I'm sure, ' said Mysie, 'though he is yet a greatway off. And as to Uncle Regie, I do wish something would happen thatyou could tell the truth about. If you had only broken the palm-treeinstead of me, and I didn't do right even about that! But if anymischief does happen, or accident, I promise you, Dolly, you shall havethe telling of it, if you have had ever so little to do with it, andthen mamma will write to Uncle Regie that you have proved yourselftruthful. '

Dolores did not seem much consoled by this curious promise, and Mysie'schildishness suddenly gave way to something deeper. 'I suppose, ' shesaid, 'if one is true, people find it out and trust one. '

'People can't see into one, ' said Dolly. 

'Mamma says there is a bright side and a dark side from which to lookat everybody and everything, ' said Mysie. 

'I know that, ' said Dolores; 'I looked at the dark side of you allwhen I came here. '

'Some day, ' said Mysie, 'your bright side will come round to UncleRegie, as it has to us, you dear, dear old Dolly. '

'But do you know, Mysie, ' whispered Dolores, in her embrace, 'there'ssomething more dreadful that I'm very much afraid of. Do you knowthere hasn't been a letter from father since he was staying with AuntPhyllis--not to me, nor Aunt Jane, nor anybody!'

'Well, he couldn't write when he was at sea, I mean there wasn't anypost. '

'It would not take so long as this to get to Fiji; and besides. UncleRegie telegraphed to ask about that dreadful cheque, and there hasn'tbeen any answer at all. '

'Perhaps he is gone about sailing somewhere in the Pacific Ocean; Iheard Uncle William saying so to Cousin Rotherwood. ' He said, 'Mauriceis not a fellow to resist a cruise. '

'Then they are thinking about it. They are anxious. '

'Not very, ' said Mysie, 'for they think he is sure to be gone on acruise. They said something about his going down like a carpenter intothe deep sea. '

'Making deep-sea soundings, like Dr. Carpenter! A carpenter, indeed!'said Dolores, laughing for a moment. 'Oh! if it is that, I don'tmind. '

The weight was lifted, but by-and-by, when the two girls said theirprayers together, poor Dolores broke forth again, 'Oh, Mysie, Mysie, your papa has all--all of you, besides mamma, to pray that he may bekept safe, and my father has only me, only horrid me, to pray for him, and even I have never cared to do it really till just lately! Oh, poor, poor father! And suppose he should be drowned, and never, never haveforgiven me!'

It was a trouble and misery that recurred night after night, thoughapparently it weighed much less during the day--and nobody but Mysieknew how much Dolores was suffering from it. Lady Merrifield wasincreasingly anxious as time went on, and still no mail brought lettersfrom Mr. Mohun, but confidence based on his erratic habits, and theuncertainty of communication began to fail. And as she grieved morefor the possible loss, she became more and more tender to her niece, and strange to say, in spite of the terror that gnawed so achinglyevery night, and of the ordeal that the Lent Assizes would bring, Dolores was happier and more peaceful than ever before at Silverton, and developed more of her bright side. 

'I really think, ' wrote Lady Merrifield to Miss Mohun, 'that she isgrowing more simple and child-like, poor little maid. She isapparently free from all our apprehensions about dear Maurice, and Iwould not inspire her with them for the world. Neither does she seemto dread the trial, as I do for her, nor to guess what cross-examination may be. Constance Hacket has been subpoenaed, and hersister expatiates on her nervousness. It is one comfort that Reginaldmust be there as a witness, so that it is not in the power of Irishdisturbances to keep him from us! May we only be at ease about Mauriceby that time!'

CHAPTER XXI. 

IN COURT AND OUT. 

How Dolores's heart beat when Colonel Mohun drove up to the door! Shedurst not run out to greet him among her cousins; but stood by heraunt, feeling hot and cold and trembling, in the doubt whether he wouldkiss her. 

Yes, she did feel his kiss, and Mysie looked at her in congratulation. But what did it mean? Was it only that it came as a matter of course, and he forgot to withhold it, or was it that he had given up hopes ofher father, and was sorry for her? She could not make up her mind, forhe came so late in the evening that she scarcely saw him before bed-time, and he did not take any special notice of her the next morning. He had done his best to save her from being long detained atDarminster, by ascertaining as nearly as possible when Flinders's casewould come on, and securing a room at the nearest inn, where she mightawait a summons into court. Lady Merrifield was going with them, butwould not take either of her daughters, thinking that every home eyewould be an additional distress, and that it was better that no oneshould see or remember Dolores as a witness. 

Miss Mohun met the party at the station, going off, however, with herbrother into court, after having established Lady Merrifield and herniece in an inn parlour, where they kept as quiet as they could, by thehelp of knitting, and reading aloud. Lady Merrifield found thatDolores had been into court before, and knew enough about it to need noexplanation or preparation, and being much afraid of causing agitation, she thought it best only to try to interest her in such tales as'Neale's Triumphs of the Cross, ' instead of letting her dwell on whatshe most dreaded, the sight of the prisoner, and the punishment herwords might bring upon him. 

The morning ended, and Uncle Reginald brought word that his case wouldcome on immediately after luncheon. This he shared with his sister andniece, saying that Jane had gone to a pastrycook's with--withRotherwood--thinking this best for Dolly. He seemed to be in strangelyexcited spirits, and was quite his old self to Dolores, tempting her toeat, and showing himself so entirely the kind uncle that she would havebeen quite cheered up if she had not been afraid that it was all out ofpity, and that he knew something dreadful. 

Lord Rotherwood met them at the hotel entrance, and took his cousin onhis arm; Dolores following with her uncle, was sure that she gave agreat start at something that he said; but she had to turn in adifferent direction to wait under the charge of her uncle, who treatedher as if she were far more childish and inexperienced in the ways ofcourts than she really was, and instructed her in much that she knewperfectly well; but it was too comfortable to have him kind to her forher to take the least offence, and she only said 'Yes' and 'Thank you'at the proper places. 

The sheriff, meantime, had given Lord Rotherwood and Lady Merrifieldseats near the judge, where Miss Mohun was already installed. AlfredFlinders was already at the bar, and for the first time Lady Merrifieldsaw his somewhat handsome but shifty-looking face and red beard, as thecounsel for the prosecution was giving a detailed account of hisembarrassed finances, and of his having obtained from the inexperiencedkindness of a young lady, a mere child in age, who called him uncle, though without blood relationship, a draft of her father's for sevenpounds, which, when presented at the bank, had become one for seventy. 

As before, the presenting and cashing of the seventy pounds was swornto by the banker's clerk, and then Dolores Mary Mohun was called. 

There she stood, looking smaller than usual in her black, close-fittingdress and hat, in a place meant for grown people, her dark face paleand set, keeping her eyes as much as she could from the prisoner. Whenthe counsel spoke she gave a little start, for she knew him, as one whohad often spent an evening with her parents, in the cheerful timeswhile her mother lived. There was something in the familiar glance ofhis eyes that encouraged her, though he looked so much altered by hiswig and gown, and it seemed strange that he should question her, as astranger, on her exact name and age, her father's absence, theconnection with the prisoner, and present residence. Then came:

'Did your father leave any money with you?'

'Yes. '

'What was the amount?'

'Five pounds for myself; seven besides. '

'In what form was the seven pounds?'

'A cheque from W. 's bank. '

'Did you part with it?'

'Yes. '

'To whom?'

'I sent it to him. '

'To whom if you please?'

'To Mr. Alfred Flinders. ' And her voice trembled. 

'Can you tell me when you sent it away?'

'It was on the 22nd of December. '

'Is this the cheque?'

'It has been altered. '

'Explain in what manner?'

'There has 'ty' been put at the end of the written 'seven, ' and acipher after the figure 7 making it 70. '

'You are sure that it was not so when it went out of your possession?'

'Perfectly sure. '

Mr. Calderwood seemed to have done with her, and said, 'Thank you;' butthen there stood up a barrister, whom she suspected of being a man hermother had disliked, and she knew that the worst was coming when hesaid, in a specially polite voice too, 'Allow me to ask whether thecheque in question had been intended by Mr. Mohun for the prisoner?'

'No. '

'Or was it given to you as pocket-money?'

'No, it was to pay a bill. '

'Then did you divert it from that purpose?'

'I thought the man was dead. '

'What man?'

'Professor Muhlwasser. '

'The creditor?'

'Yes. '

Mr. Calderwood objected to these questions as irrelevant; but theprisoner's counsel declared them to be essential, and the judge let himgo on to extract from Dolores that the payment was intended for anexpensive illustrated work on natural history, which was to bepublished in Germany. Her father had promised to take two copies of itif it were completed; but being doubtful whether this would ever be thecase, he had preferred leaving a draft with her to letting the accountbe discharged by his brother, and he had reckoned that seven poundswould cover the expense. 

'You say you supposed the author was dead. What reason had you forthinking so?'

'He told me; Mr. Flinders did. '

'Had Mr. Mohun sanctioned your applying this sum to any other purposethan that specified?'

'No, he had not. I did wrong, ' said Dolores, firmly. 

He wrinkled up his forehead, so that the point of his wig went upwards, and proceeded to inquire whether she had herself given the cheque tothe prisoner. 

'I sent it. '

'Did you post it?'

'Not myself. I gave it to Miss Constance Hacket to send it for me. '

'Can you swear to the sum for which it was drawn when you parted withit?'

'Yes. I looked at it to see whether it was pounds or guineas. '

'Did you give it loose or in an envelope?'

'In an envelope. '

'Was any other person aware of your doing so?'

'Nobody. '

'What led you to make this advance to the prisoner?'

'Because he told me that he was in great distress. '

'He told you. By letter or in person?'

'In person. '

'When did he tell you so?'

'On the 22nd of December. '

'And where?'

'At Darminster. '

'Let me ask whether this interview at Darminster took place with theknowledge of the lady with whom you reside?'

'No, it did not, ' said Dolores, colouring deeply. 

'Was it a chance meeting?'

'No--by appointment. '

'How was the appointment made?'

'We wrote to say we would come that day. '

'We--who was the other party?'

'Miss Constance Hacket. '

'You were then in correspondence with the prisoner. Was it with thesanction of Lady Merrifield?'

'No. '

'A secret correspondence, then, romantically carried on--by whatmeans?'

'Constance Hacket sent the letters and received them for me. '

'What was the motive for this arrangement?'

'I knew my aunt would prevent my having anything to do with him. '

'And you--excuse me--what interest had you in doing so?'

'My mother had been like his sister, and always helped him. '

All these answers were made with a grave, resolute straightforwardness, generally with something of Dolores's peculiar stony look, and onlytwice was there any involuntary token of feeling, when she blushed atconfessing the concealment from her aunt, and at the last question, when her voice trembled as she spoke of her mother. She kept her eyeson her interrogators all the time, never once glancing towards theprisoner, though all the time she had a sensation as if his reproachfullooks were piercing her through. 

She was dismissed, and Constance Hacket was brought in, looking aboutin every direction, carrying a handkerchief and scent bottle, and notattempting to conceal her flutter of agitation. 

Mr. Calderwood had nothing to ask her but about her having received thecheque from Miss Mohun and forwarded it to Flinders, though she couldnot answer for the date without a public computation back fromChristmas Day, and forward from St. Thomas's. As to the amount--

'Oh, yes, certainly, seven pounds. '

Moreover she had posted it herself. 

Then came the cross-examination, 'Had she seen the draft before posting it?'

'Well--she really did not remember exactly. '

'How did she know the amount then?'

'Well, I think--yes--I think Dolores told me so. '

'You think, ' he said, in a sort of sneer. 'On your oath. Do youknow?'

'Yes, yes, yes. She assured me! I know something was said aboutseven. '

'Then you cannot swear to the contents of the envelope you forwarded?'

'I don't know. It was all such a confusion and hurry. '

'Why so?'

'Oh! because it was a secret. '

The counsel of course availed himself of this handle to elicit that thewitness had conducted a secret correspondence between the prisoner andher young friend without the knowledge of the child's naturalprotectors. 'A perfect romance, ' he said, 'I believe the prisoner isunmarried. '

Perhaps this insinuation would have been checked, but before any onehad time to interfere, Constance, blushing crimson, exclaimed, 'Oh! Oh!I assure you it was not that. It was because she said he was her uncleand that they ill-used him. '

This brought upon her the searching question whether the last witnesshad stated the prisoner to be really her uncle, and Constance replied, rather hotly, that she had always understood that he was. 

'In fact, she gave you to understand that the prisoner was actuallyrelated to her by blood. Did you say that she also told you that hewas persecuted or ill-used by her other relations?'

'I thought so. Yes, I am sure she said so. '

'And it was wholly and solely on these grounds that you assisted inthis clandestine correspondence?'

'Why--yes--partly, ' faltered Constance, thinking of her literaryefforts, 'so it began. '

There was a manifest inclination to laugh in the audience, whonaturally thought her hesitation implied something very different; andthe judge, thinking that there was no need to push her further, whenMr. Calderwood represented that all this did not bear on the matter, and was no evidence, silenced Mr. Yokes, and the witness was dismissed. 

The next point was that Colonel Reginald Mohun was called upon toattest that the handwriting was his brother's. He answered for themain body of the draft, and the signature, but the additions, in whichthe forgery lay, were so slight that it was impossible to swear thatthey did not come from the hand of Maurice Mohun. 

'Had application been made to Mr. Mohun on the subject?'

'Yes, Colonel Mohun had immediately telegraphed to him at the addressin the Fiji Islands. '

'Has any answer been received?'

'No!' but Colonel Mohun had a curious expression in his eyes, and Mr. Calderwood electrified the court by begging to call upon Mr. MauriceMohun. 

There he was in the witness-box, looking sunburnt but vigorous. Hereplied immediately to the question that the cheque was his own, andthat it had been left under his daughter's charge, also that it hadbeen for seven pounds, and the 'ty' and the cypher had never beenwritten by him. The prisoner winced for a moment, and then looked athim defiantly. 

The connection with Alfred Flinders was inquired into and explained, and being asked as to the term 'Uncle, ' he replied, 'My daughter wasallowed to get into the habit of so terming him. '

The sisters saw his look of pain, and Jane remembered his strongobjection to the title, and his wife's indignant defence of it. 

Dolores stood trembling outside in the waiting-room, by her UncleReginald, from whom she heard that her father had come that morningfrom London with Lord Rotherwood, but that it had been thought betternot to agitate her by letting her know of it before she gave herevidence. 

'Has he had my letter?' she asked. 

'No; he knew nothing till he saw Rotherwood last night. '

All the misery of writing the confession came back upon poor Dolores, and she turned quite white and sick, but her uncle said kindly, 'Nevermind, my dear, he was very much pleased with your manner of givingevidence. Such a contrast to your friend's. Faugh!'

In a few more seconds Mr. Mohun had come out. He took the cold, trembling hands in his own, pressed them close, met the anxious eyeswith his own, full of moisture, and said, 'My poor little girl, ' in atone that somehow lightened Dolly's heart of its worst dread. 

'Will you go back into court?' asked the colonel. 

'You don't wish it, Dolly?' said her father. 

'Oh no! please not. '

'Then, ' said the colonel, 'take your father back to the room at thehotel, and we will come to you. I suppose this will not last muchlonger. '

'Probably not half an hour. I don't want to see that fellow eitherconvicted or acquitted. '

Then Dolores found herself steered out of the passages and from amongthe people waiting or gazing, into the clearer space in the street, herfather holding her hand as if she had been a little child. Neither ofthem spoke till they had reached the sitting-room, and there, the firstthing he did when the door was shut, was to sit down, take her betweenhis knees, put an arm round her, and kiss her, saying again, 'My poorchild!'

'You never got my letter!' she said, leaning against him, feeling thepeace and rest his embrace gave. 

'No; but I have heard all. I should have warned you, Dolly; but Inever imagined that he could get at you there; and I was unwilling toaccuse one for whom your mother had a certain affection. '

'That was why I helped him, ' whispered Dolores. 

'I knew it, ' he said kindly. 'But how did he find you out, and how hadhe the impertinence to write to you at your Aunt Lily's--'

'I wrote to him first, ' she said, hanging down her head. 

'How was that? You surely had not been in the habit of doing so whilstI was at home. '

'No; but he came and spoke to me at Exeter, the day you went away. Uncle William was not there, he had gone into the town. And he--Mr. Flinders, said he was going down to see you, and was very muchdisappointed to hear that you were gone. '

'Did he ask you to write to him?'

'I don't think he did. Father, it seems too silly now, but I was veryangry because Aunt Lilias said she must see all my letters except yoursand Maude Sefton's, and I told Constance Hacket. She said she wouldsend anything for me, and I could not think of any one I wanted towrite to, so I wrote to--to him. '

'Ah! I saw you did not get on with your aunt, ' was the answer, 'thatwas partly what brought me home. ' And either not hearing or not heedingher exclamation, 'Oh, but now I do, ' he went on to explain that on hisarrival at Fiji he had found that circumstances had altered there, andthat the person with whom he was to have been associated had died, sothat the whole scheme had been broken up. A still better appointmenthad, however, been offered to him in New Zealand, on the resignation ofthe present holder after a half-year's notice, and he had at oncewritten to accept it. A proposal had been made to him to spend theintermediate time in a scientific cruise among the Polynesian Islands;but the letters he had found awaiting him at Vanua Levu had convincedhim that the arrangements he had made in England had been a mistake, and he had therefore hurried home via San Francisco, as fast as anyletter could have gone, to wind up his English affairs, and fetch hisdaughter to the permanent home in Auckland, which her Aunt Phylliswould prepare for her. 

Her countenance betrayed a sudden dismay, which made him recollect thatshe was a strangely undemonstrative girl; but before she had recoveredthe shock so as to utter more than a long 'Oh!' they were interruptedby the cup of tea that had been ordered for Dolores, and in a minutemore, steps were heard, and the two aunts were in the room. 'Sevenyears, ' were Jane's first words, and 'My dear Maurice, ' LadyMerrifield's, 'Oh! I wish I could have spared you this, ' and then amonggreetings came again, 'Seven years, ' from the brother and cousin whohad seen the traveller before. 

'I'm glad you were not there, Maurice, ' said Lady Merrifield. 'It wasdreadful. '

'I never saw a more insolent fellow!' said Lord Rotherwood. 

'That Yokes, you mean, ' said Miss Mohun. 'I declare I think he isworse than Flinders!'

'That's like you women, Jenny, ' returned the colonel; 'you can'tunderstand that a man's business is to get off his client!'

'When he gave him up as an honest man altogether!' cried LadyMerrifield. 

'And cast such imputations!' exclaimed Aunt Jane. 'I saw what thewretch was driving at all the time of the cross-examination; and if I'dbeen the judge, would not I have stopped him?'

'There you go. Lily and Jenny!' said the colonel, 'and Rotherwood justas bad! Why, Maurice would have had to take just the same line if hehad been for the defence. '

'He would not have done it in such a blackguard fashion though, ' saidLord Rotherwood. 

'I saw what his defence would be, ' said Mr. Mohun, briefly. 

'There!' said Colonel Mohun, with a boyish pleasure in confuting hissisters; but they were not subdued. 

'Now Maurice, ' cried Jane, 'when that man was known to be utterlydishonourable and good for nothing, was it fair--was it not contrary toall common sense--to try to cast the imputation between those two poorgirls? So the judge and jury felt it, I am happy to say! but I call itabominable to have thrown out the mere suggestion--'

'Nay now, Jane, ' said the colonel, 'if the man was to be defended atall, how else was it to be done?'

'I wouldn't have had him defended at all! but, unfortunately, that'shis right as an Englishman. '

'That's another thing! But as the cheque did not alter itself, one ofthe three must have done it, and nothing was left but to show thatthere had been an amount of shuffling, and--in short, nonsense--thatmight cast enough doubt on their evidence to make it insufficient for aconviction. '

'Reginald! I can't think how you can stand up for such a wretch, avulgar wretch, ' cried Miss Mohun. 'You put it delicately, as agentleman who had the misfortune to be counsel in such a case might do, but he was infinitely worse than that, though that was bad enough. '

'It was Yokes, ' put in Mr. Mohun; 'but what did he say?' lookinganxiously at his daughter. 

'It was not so bad about her, ' said her uncle, 'he only made her out afoolish child, easily played upon by everybody, and possibly ignorantand frightened, or led away by her regard for her supposed relation. It was the other poor girl--

'The amiable susceptibilities of romantic young ladies!' broke out LadyMerrifield. 'Oh, the creature!' To think of that poor foolishConstance sitting by to hear it represented that the expedition toDarminster, and all the rest of it, was because she was actuallytouched by that fellow. I really felt ready to take her part. '

'She had certainly brought it on herself, ' said Aunt Jane; 'but it wasatrocious of him and if the other counsel had only known it, he stoppedthe cross examination just at the wrong time, or it would have come outthat it was literary vanity that was the lure. No doubt he would havemade a laughing-stock of that, but it would not have been as bad as theother. '

'Poor thing, ' said Lady Merrifield; 'it was a trying retribution forschoolgirl folly and want of conscientiousness. I should think she wasa sadder and a wiser woman. '

'He must have overdone it, ' said Mr. Mohun, 'he is a vulgar fellow, andalways does so; but, as Reginald says, the only available defence wasto enhance the folly and sentiment of the girls; but of course thejudge charged the other way--

'Entirely, ' said Lord Rotherwood, 'he brought Dolly rather well out ofit, saying that as he understood it, a young girl who had seen a needyconnection assisted from her home might think herself justified incorresponding with him, and even in diverting to his use money left inher charge, when it was probable that it would not be required for theoriginal object. He did not say it was right, but it was an error ofjudgment by no means implying swindling--in fact. He disposed of MissHacket in the same way--foolish, sentimental, unscrupulous, but not tothat degree. Girls might be silly enough in all conscience, but not soas to commit forgery or perjury. That was the gist of it, and happilythe jury were of the same opinion. '

'Happily? Well, I suppose so, ' said Mr. Mohun, with a certainsorrowfulness of tone, into which his little daughter entered. 

'I say, Rotherwood, ' exclaimed the colonel, as the town clock's twostrokes for the half-hour echoed loudly, 'if you mean to catch the4. 50, you must fly. '

'Fly!' he coolly repeated. 'Tell Mysie, Lily, that Fly has neverceased talking of her. That child has been saving her money to fit outone of Florence's orphan's. She--'

'Rotherwood, ' broke in Mr. Mohun, 'your wife charged me to see that youwere in time for that dinner. A ministerial one. '

'Don't encourage him, Lily, ' chimed in the colonel. 'I'll call a cab. See him safe off, Maurice. '

And off he was hunted amid the laughter of the ladies; the manner ofall to one another was so exactly what it had been in the old times. 

'I could hardly help telling him to take care, or Victoria would neverlet him out again, ' said Miss Mohun. 'Poor old fellow, it would havebeen a fine chance for him with four of us together. '

'You can come back with us, Jenny!'

'I brought my bag in case of accidents. '

'And we'll telegraph to Adeline to join us tomorrow, ' said Mr. Mohun, who seemed to have been seized with a hunger for the sight of hiskindred. 

'Telegraph! My dear Maurice, Ada's nerves would be torn to smithereensby a telegram without me to open it for her. I've a card here to postto her; but I expect that I must go down tomorrow and fetch her, whichwill be the best way, for I have a meeting. '

'Jenny, I declare you are a caution even to Miss Hacket, ' said ColonelReginald, re-entering. 

'Well, Ada always was the family pet. Besides, I told you I had aG. F. S. Meeting. Did you get a cab for us; Lily has had quite walkingenough. '

The ladies went in a cab, while the gentlemen walked. There was notmuch time to spare, and in the compartment into which the first comersthrew themselves, they found both the Hacket sisters installed, and thegentlemen coming up in haste, nodded and got into a smoking-carriage, on seeing how theirs was occupied. 

'Oh, we could have made room, ' said Constance, to whom a gentleman wasa gentleman under whatever circumstances. 

'Dear Miss Dolores's papa! Is it indeed?' said Miss Hacket. 

'So wonderfully interesting, ' chimed in Constance. And they both madea dart at Dolores to kiss her in congratulation, much against her will. 

The train clattered on, and Lady Merrifield hoped it would hush allother voices, but neither of the Hackets could refrain from discussingthe trial, and heaping such unmitigated censure on the counsel for theprisoner, that Miss Mohun felt herself constrained to fly in the faceof all she had said at the hotel, and to maintain the right of evensuch an Englishman to be defended, and of his advocate to prevent hisconviction if possible. On which the regular sentiment againstbecoming lawyers was produced, and the subject might have been droppedif Constance had not broken out again, as if she could not leave it. 'So atrocious, so abominably insolent, asking if he was unmarried. '

'Evidently flattered!' muttered Aunt Jane, between her teeth, andunheard; but the speed slackened, and Constance's voice went on, 'I really thought I should have died of it on the spot. The bare ideaof thinking I could endure such a being. '

'Well, ' said Dolores, just as the clatter ceased at a little station. 'You know you did walk up and down with him ever so long, and I am sureyou liked him very much. '

An indignant 'You don't understand' was absolutely cut off by animperative grasp and hush from Miss Hacket the elder; Aunt Jane wassuffocating with laughter, Lady Merrifield, between that and a certainshame for womanhood, which made her begin to talk at random aboutanything or everything else. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

NAY. 

'What a mull they have made of it!' were Mr. Maurice Mohun's firstwords when he found the compartment free for a tete-a-tete with hisbrother. 

'All's well that ends well, ' was the brief reply. 

'Well, indeed! Mary would not have thought so. ' To which the colonelhad nothing to say. 

'It serves me out, ' his brother went on presently. 'I ought to havedone something for that wretched fellow before I went, or, at any rate, have put Dolly on her guard; but I always shirked the very thought ofhim. '

'Nothing would have kept him out of harm's way. '

'It might have kept the child; but she must have been thicker with himthan I ever knew. However I shall have her with me for the future, andin better hands. '

'You really mean to take her out?'

'That's what brought me home. She isn't happy; that is plain from herletters; and Jane does not know what to make of her, nor Liliaseither. '

'When were your last letters dated?'

'The last week in September. '

'Early days, ' muttered the colonel. 

'I thought it an experiment, you know; but you said so much aboutLily's girls being patterns, that I thought Jasper Merrifield mighthave made her more rational and less flighty, and all that sort ofthing; but of course it was a very different tone from what the childwas used to, and you couldn't tell what the young barbarians were outof sight. '

'So I began to think last winter; but I fancy you will find that sheand Lily understand one another a good deal better than they did atfirst. '

'I thought she did not receive my intelligence as a deliverance. I amglad if she can carry away an affectionate remembrance, but I want tohave her under my own eye. '

'I suppose that's all right, ' was the half reluctant reply. 

'There's Phyllis. She is full of good sense, with no nonsense abouther or May, and her girls are downright charming. '

'Very likely; but I say, Maurice, you must not underrate Lilias. Shehas gone through a good deal with Dolores, and I believe she has beenthe making of her. You've had to leave the poor child a good deal toherself and Fraulein, and, as you see by this affair, she had some waysthat made it hard for Lily to deal with her at first. '

Her father plainly did not like this. 'There was no harm in the poorchild, but as I should have foreseen, there's always an atmosphere ofsentiment and ritual and flummery about Lilias, totally different fromwhat she was used to. '

Colonel Mohun had nearly said, 'So much the better, ' but turned itinto, 'I think you will change your opinion. '

Brothers and sisters, and cousins, whatever they may be to the externalworld, always remain relatively to each other pretty much as they knewone another when a single home held them all. The familiar Christiannames seemed to revive the old ways, and it was amusing to see thesomewhat grave and silent colonel treated by his elder brother as thedashing, heedless boy, needing to be looked after, while his sisterJane remained the ready helper and counsellor, and Lady Merrifield wasstill in his eyes the unpractical, fanciful Lily with an unfortunatelysuggestive rhyme to her name. 

Perhaps it maintained him in this opinion, that when he had answeredall questions about Captain and Mrs. Harry May, and had dilated ontheir pretty house in the suburbs of Auckland, his sisters expected himto tell of the work of the Church among the Maoris and Fijians. Helaughed at them for thinking colonists troubled their heads aboutnatives. 

'I know Phyllis does. One of Harry May's brothers went out as amissionary. '

'Disenchanted and came home again when his wife came into a fortune. '

'Not a bit of it, ' said Aunt Jane. 'I know him and all about him. Hestayed till his health broke, and now he is one of the most useful menin the country. He is coming to speak for the S. P. G. At Rockquay, Lily; and you must come and meet him and his charming wife. They willtell you a very different story about Harry's doings. '

'Well, ' allowed Mr. Mohun, 'there are apparitions of brown niggers doneup as smart as twopence prancing about the house. Perfectlyuninteresting, you know, the savage sophisticated out of hispicturesqueness. I made a point of asking no questions, not knowingwhat I might be let in for. '

'Then you heard nothing of Mr. Ward, the Melanesian missionary, whomPhyllis keeps a room for when he comes to New Zealand to recruit. '

'The man who was convicted of murder on circumstantial evidence! Ohyes. I heard of him. I believe the labour-traffic agents heartilywish him at Portland still, he makes the natives so much too sharp. '

'Aye, ' said the colonel, 'as long as Britons aren't slaves they have noobjection to anything but the name for other people. '

'Wait till you get out there, Regie, and see what they all say aboutthose lazy fellows--except, of course, ladies and parsons, and a fewwhom they've bitten, like May. '

'The few are on the Christian side, of course, ' said Lady Merrifield, with irony in her tone. 

Indeed, she was not at all sure that half this colonial prejudice wasnot assumed in order to tease her, just as in former times her brotherwould make game of her enthusiasms about school children; for he wasaltogether returned to his old self, his sister Jane, who had seen themost of him, testifying that the original Maurice had revived, as neverin the course of his married life. 

Dolores tried to forget or disbelieve the words she had heard about hishaving come to fetch her away, and said no word about them until theyhad been unmistakably repeated. Then she felt a sort of despair at theidea of being separated from her aunt and Mysie, for indeed they hadpenetrated to affections deeper than had ever been consciously stirredin her before. Yet she was old enough to shrink from allowing to herfather that she preferred staying with them to going with him, and itwas to her Aunt Jane that she had recourse. That lady, after returningfrom her expedition to bring her sister Adeline to Silverton, wassurprised by a timid knock at the door, and Dolores's entrance. 

'Oh, if you please, Aunt Jane, may I come in? I do so want to speak toyou alone. Don't you think it is a sad pity that I should go away fromthe Cambridge examination? Could not you tell my father so?'

'You want to stay for the Cambridge examination, ' said Aunt Jane, alittle amused at the manner of touching on the subject, though sorryfor the girl. 

'I have been taking great pains under Miss Vincent, and it does seem apity to miss it. '

'I don't think it will make much difference to you. '

'Oh, but I do want to be thoroughly well educated. I meant to gothrough them all, like Gillian and Mysie, and I am sure father mustwish it too. I know he meant it when he went out last year. '

'Yes, he did, ' said Miss Mohun. 'It was very unlucky that he did notget any of our later letters. '

'I have tried to tell him that it is all different now, but he does notseem to care, ' said Dolores. 

'He has quite made up his mind, ' said her aunt. 

'Has he quite?' said Dolores. 'I thought perhaps if you talked to himabout the examination and the confirmation too--'

'But, Dolly, you are not going to a heathen country. Your confirmationwill be as much attended to in New Zealand as here. '

'Oh, but I should be confirmed with Mysie, and Aunt Lily would readwith me, and help me!'

'Yes, I see. '

'Do please tell him. Aunt Jane. He heeds what you say more than anyone. Do tell him that the only hope of my being good is if I stay withAunt Lily just these few years!'

'Ah, Dolly, that is what you really mean and care about--not theCambridge business. '

'Of course it is. Please tell him, Aunt Jane--somehow I can't--that Iwas bad and foolish when I wrote all the letters he had; but now I knowbetter, and--and--I don't want to vex him, but I shall be ever so muchbetter a daughter to him if he will leave me with Aunt Lily, to learnsome of her goodness'--and there were tears in her eyes, for thesemonths had softened her greatly. 

'My poor Dolly!' said Aunt Jane, much more tenderly than she generallyspoke. 'I am very sorry for you. I do think Aunt Lily has been themaking of you, and that it is very hard that you should have to beuprooted from her, just as you had learnt to value her, I will tellyour father so; but honestly, I do not think it is likely to make himchange his mind. '

Miss Mohun sought her brother out the next day, and told him that theyhad all been waiting in patience when thinking that his daughter'sresidence at Silverton was an unsuccessful experiment. The explosionshe had predicted had come, and Dolores had been a different creatureever since, owing to Lady Merrifield's management of her in the crisis;and she added that the girl was most unwilling to leave her aunt, andthat she herself thought it would be much better to leave her for a fewyears to the advantages of her present training, where her affectionshad been gained. Mr. Mohun could not see it in the same light. Theintimacy with Constance Hacket was in his eyes a folly, consequent onhis sister's passion for Sunday schools and charities; and Jane, beinginfected with the like ardour, he disregarded her explanations. Theunderhand correspondence could not have been carried on without greatblindness and carelessness, or, at least, injudiciousness, on LadyMerrifield's part, and there was no denying that she had trusted to asense of honour that was nonexistent. Nor did he appreciate Jane'sargument that the conquest of the heart and will had thus been far morethoroughly gained than it would have been by constant thwarting andwatching. It was hard to forgive such an exposure as had taken place, or to believe that it had not been brought about by unjustifiableerrors, more especially as Lady Merrifield was the first to accuseherself of them. Moreover, he had become sensible of a strong naturalyearning for the presence of his only child, and he had been so muchstruck with his sister Phyllis's family that he sincerely believedhimself consulting the girl's best interests. He was by no means anirreligious or ungodly man, but he had always thought his sister Liliasmore or less of an enthusiast, and he did not wish to see Dolores thesame. Perhaps, indeed, the poor child's manifest clinging to her auntand cousins made him all the more resolute to remove her before heraffection should be entirely weaned from himself. 

He made his headquarters at Silverton, and during the next two monthsmodified his opinions so far as to confess to his sister Jane thatLilias was a much more sensible woman than he had believed her, and hadher children well in hand. He even allowed that Dolores was improved, and owed much to her kindness; and when the first sting of the exposurewas over, he could see that the treatment had been far from injudiciousas regarded the girl's own character. He was even glad that warm loveand friendship had grown up towards her aunt and cousins; but all thisleft his purpose unchanged; although, after the first, nothing was saidabout it, Dolores tried to forget it, and hoped that the sight of hergoing on well and peaceably would convince him of the inexpediency ofdisturbing her. She could not even mention it to Mysie, lest the dreadshould become a reality by being uttered. So no more passed on thesubject till it became necessary to take her outfit in hand, and healso wished to take her to Beechcroft, that the old family home whichhe regarded with fresh tenderness might be impressed on her memory. 

Then, though she never durst directly oppose the fate which he destinedfor her, she surprised him by a violent burst of tears and sobbing, andan entreaty that he would not take her away from Aunt Lily and Mysie amoment sooner than could be helped. 

She clung to everything, even to the guinea-pigs, and she was the firstin the Easter holidays to beg for the 'Thorn Fortress. ' Indeed, Mysiewas a little shocked at her grief, as disloyal and unfilial. 'Oneought not to mind going anywhere with one's father, ' she said; 'we allthought it a great honour for Phyllis and Alethea. '

'They are grown up!' said Dolores, 'and Aunt Lily does get into one so!Oh, don't say there's Aunt Phyllis. I hate the very name of her. '

'She must be nice, ' said Mysie, 'Whenever the 'grown-ups' are pleasedwith me they say I am getting like her, as if it was the best thing onecould be. '

'But I don't want Mysie old and grown up, I want my Mysie now, as youare!--And you'll forget and leave off writing, like Maude Sefton. '

'Never!' cried Mysie. 'Eight across the world you will always be myown twin cousin. '

The wishes of the girl were so far fulfilled that Lady Merrifield tookher to London to provide her outfit, and Mysie accompanied them. Aroom and its dressing-room received the three at old Mrs. Merrifield's, and the two cousins thought their close quartersineffably precious. 

Mysie was introduced to Maude Sefton, who seemed entirely unconsciousof her treachery to friendship. 'One had so little time, and couldn'talways be writing, ' she said, when Dolores reproached her; 'exerciseswere enough to tire out one's hand!'

They also drank tea with Lady Phyllis Devereux and her governess. Flycould not pour forth questions and reminiscences fast enough about allthe beloved animals at Silverton, not forgetting the little G. F. S. Nursemaid, for whom she had actually made an apron in her plain-worklessons. Moreover, she deemed Dolores's fate most enviable, to begoing off with her father to strange countries, away from lessons, andmasters, and towns. It would be almost as good as Leila on the island. 

As to the Beechcroft visit, Mr. And Mrs. Mohun collected all thebrothers and sisters in England there for a week, and still Mysie andDolores were allowed to be together, squeezed into a corner of LadyMerrifield's room. It was high summer, bright and glowing, and so dry, and even the invalidish sisters, Lady Henry Gray and Miss Adeline Mohuncould not object to the sitting out on the lawn, among the dragon-flies, as in days of yore. 

Much of old thought and feeling was then and there taken up again, andit was on one of the last evenings of the visit that Mr. Mohun, walkingup and down the alley with Lady Merrifield, said--

'Well, Lily, I think my determination to take Dolly away was hasty. Icannot leave her now, but if I had understood all that I see atpresent, I should have been both content and grateful to have her amongyour children. I am afraid I have been ungracious. '

'I never thought so, Maurice. It is quite right that she should bewith you, and Phyllis will do every-thing for her much better than I. '

'Poor child! I believe she is very sorry to go, ' said Mr. Mohun; 'but, at any rate, she will remember Silverton as, I hope, a lastinginfluence on her life. '

Dolores truly believed that so it would be, and that her aunt'sguidance would be always looked back upon as the turning-point of herlife. 

'It is my own fault, ' she said, as on the last night she clungtearfully to Lady Merrifield; 'if I had behaved better I might havegone on just like one of your own. '

'You will still be in my heart like one of my own, dear child, ' saidLady Merrifield. 'We know the way in which we all can hold together asone; keep to that, and the distance apart will matter the less. '

And as they watched Dolores and her father driven away to the stationthe next morning, Jane Mohun laid her hand on her sister's arm andsaid, 'You thought you had made a great failure. Lily, but is not theother side of a failure often a success?'

By-and-by came letters from Dolores. She seemed after the first tohave enjoyed her journey, for, as she wrote to Lady Merrifield, in aletter, very private, and all to her own self, 'Father was so very goodand kind to me, I don't know how to tell you. It was as if a littlebit of mother had got into him, and now I am here I think I shall likethe Mays. Indeed, I am trying to remember your advice, and notbeginning by hating everybody and thinking who they are not. AuntPhyllis is very nice indeed, and sometimes her eyes and mouth get likeMysie's, and her voice is just exactly yours. Only she is plump androundabout, not a dear, tall, graceful figure like my White Lily Aunt. Please don't call it nonsense, for indeed I mean it, and Aunt Phyllisdoes like your photograph so much. I have the whole group hung up inmy room, and you over it, and I wish you all good morning every day, for I never, never, as long as I live, shall love anybody like you andMysie. '

THE END.