A Mountain Daisy

Front matter

A MOUNTAIN DAISY. by EMILY GRACE HARDING, AUTHOR OF "LEOLINE." IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. III. l&onl&on : SAMUEL TINSLEY & CO., io, SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND. 1879. IAU Rights Reserved.! CONTENTS OF VOL. III. CHAPTER PAGE I. STRANGERS AT EARLESMERE. — PHILLIS FINDS THAT PHYSICIANS ARE INDISPENSABLE TO HAPPINESS .... 1 II. MRS. TREVOR STARTLES PHILLIS . . 25 III. SIGNORA CAMILLO. — SHOWING HOW THE DOCTOR'S CONSCIENCE OUGHT TO HAVE SMITTEN IHIM . . . .48 IV. SHOWING WHAT CAME FROM A LOADED WAGON, AND HOW THE DOCTOR ENTIRELY FORGOT HIMSELF AT LAST . 73 V. HOW CERTAIN NEWS WAS RECEIVED. IN VARIOUS QUARTERS. — DR. TREVOR MAKES A CONFESSION .... 107 VI. SIGNORA CAMILLO REVEALS HERSELF TO HER FAMILY.— JULIA'S REPENTANCE . .136 CONTENTS. CHAPTEB PAGE VIL THE DAISY UNDERGOES VARIOUS TRANS- PLANTATIONS, AND CARRIES OUT A CER- TAIN PLAN FOR THE DOCTOR'S BENEFIT . 172 VIII. ' GENERAL POST,' IN THE ARMFIELD FAMILY. —THE DAISY TAKES ROOT AT LAST, .

Chapter I

' The village seems asleep or dead, Now Lubin is away.' Phillis woke early next morning, and was up and dressed before Mr. and Mrs. Overton were stirring. It was a beautiful day, the sky of a deep cloudless blue, and as she opened her window and leaned out, the softest of July breezes blew the clusters of white roses against her face to bid their fragrant good-morning. Phillis gathered a handful of them, and fastened them in her vol. hi. dress, as she watched the hay-makers down below. ' This is just like my birthday four years ago,' she said to herself, ' when I stood here and watched them toss the hay, and make it into those nice rows. Four years don't seem to make a great difference ; I feel so much the same as I did then. And I remember Dr. Trevor came that day, and talked to me ; I wonder if he will come to-day, and if he knows I have come back ?

I must go and see Mrs. Trevor very soon, and I must go to Brook Valley the very first thing after breakfast, before it gets too hot.' And she ran down, meeting Mary in the hall. ' Why, Miss Phillis, dear !' she said, ' you are up early ! Do you feel rested V ' Yes, quite,' answered Phillis, ' I slept so soundly — there weren't any horrid town noises to disturb me ! And I felt I must get up directly I woke ; I want to go round and see everything before breakfast.' ' You have forgotten all about butter making, I suppose V said Mary, in an aggrieved tone. ' You won't want to be doing such things any more ; them town young ladies never do, of course.' ' Indeed I shall !' cried Phillis. ' I'm not a town young lady, Mary, and I don't think I have forgotten ; you tell me next time you make butter, and I will come and help you, and you shall see if I don't like it just as much as ever !' 'You will, really?' said Mary. 'Well, there, I didn't think it, Miss Phillis, though to be sure you don't look as if you had learnt any of them proud ways.

They be proud folks up in London, bean't they V ' No, not all of them,' said Phillis, laughing, ' though I dare say they don't know anything about butter-making. Some of the people I saw were very nice, Mary.' ' Well, you didn't like them better than folks here,' s*aid Mary, ' so I don't mind ; and you shall make the butter, Miss Phillis, just as often as you please. 'Twill be all the sweeter, the master and missus will say, and 32—2 the doctor too, for the matter of that, when he comes to tea.' Phillis laughed and ran away, first into the garden, where she examined every well known nook and corner, and then through the orchard, and the paddock where the cows were feeding, and back again through the garden to the hay-field, where she sat and rested in her old corner under the oak-tree till breakfast was ready. ' Now where are you off V asked Mr. Overton, smiling, when the meal was over. ' Brook Valley, I suppose ?

Well, I'll come with you, if you will let me. It's long since I went there last.' Phillis put on her hat joyfully, and they went. They could not stay very long, for the sun grew intensely hot ; but a few minutes were enough to satisfy Phillis for the present, for could she not come again whenever she chose ? How delightful it was to be in the free, beautiful country again ! She wondered how she had been able to get through her three years of town life at all. Mrs. Overton took her work into the garden in the afternoon, and Mr. Over ton his book, and Phillis seated herself on the grass at their feet, and began to make a sketch of the hayfield, with the women busy with their rakes, in their picturesque sun bonnets. ' Mrs. Overton,' she said suddenly, ' why were you so surprised at my wanting to come back to you ?

Your letter said that you Avere very much surprised indeed.' ' Why, dear,' said Mrs. Overton, ' I didn't tell you in the letter, because I thought we could talk it over better when we met ; your aunt wrote and told us, about fifteen months ago, that you were going to be married very soon to a Mr. Ormville, so of course we had to give up all hope of your ever coming back to us.' ' I married !' exclaimed Phillis. ' Oh, how could she ! Mrs. Overton, it was not a bit true. Did you believe it V ' Why, yes,' said the old lady, ' we did not know how to help believing it. She gave us the news as if it were quite certain. It was a sore trouble to us, dear Phillis, for we were afraid, from something in her letter, that they were going to force you to it, and in any case, you know, it seemed hard to give you up. ' How could she write it !' cried Phillis again, very indignantly. ' I never knew she had told you anything about it, and I never thought she would do such a thing as write and tell you it was all settled !

That Mr. Ormville is a man I never could bear, and he didn't love me, I know ; but he wanted to marry me for some reason, and he went secretly to aunt, and they arranged it all between them, without my having the least idea of it. And then aunt called me into the study one evening, and told me I was to marry him, and that she had promised I should. Wasn't it a shame ? I get quite angry now when I think of it.' ' It was a shame !' said Mr. and Mrs. Overton together, earnestly. ' And Mrs. Armfield told me he was an — an estimableman !' added Mrs. Overton, ' and would make you such a good husband ! And he was not even a gentleman ! But what did you do, dear child V ' Why, of course I said I could not marr^ him,' said Phillis ; ' but aunt would not hear me at first, and gave me two days to think about it.

But I could not do as she wished, or change my mind, and I told her so. I wouldn't have married Mr. Ormville for anything ! Aunt was dreadfully angry, but I could not help it. It would have been wicked to marry him when I didn't love him, wouldn't it V ' Yes, certainly,' said Mrs. Overton. ' Poor child ! How disagreeable it must have been ! But you did quite right ; I am very glad you had the strength of mind to refuse. Was your uncle angry too ?' ' No,' said Phillis ; ' he never liked Mr. Ormville, though aunt made him think he did, just for a little while. But he was glact, I know, that I did not marry him ; and now Mr. Ormville has married a rich widow, so A MOUNTAIN DAISY. you see he didn't care very much for me.' ' No, indeed !' said Mrs. Overton ; ' but Phillis, it was extraordinary that your aunt should write and tell us so positively that you were going to marry him. ' I suppose she thought she could make me do just what she liked,' said Phillis ; 'but of course I could not do that !

If they had sent me right away the next minute I could not have done it ; I would rather have worked for my bread like those haymakers I And then I dare say she thought that if she told you, you would forget all about me, and never wish to have me back.' ' But I did not know she wished so much to have you,' said Mr. Overton ; ' she seemed very cold about it when she was here.' ' She didn't want me,' said Phillis, ' but when once I was there she wished me to stay. You see, she didn't like to think that I should like living in the country better than in her splendid house. She thought it was very ungrateful and wrong of me, and she was very angry at my coming away, though she did not like me.' ' A strange woman !' said Mr. Overton, * You didn't get on very well with her then, I'm afraid ?' ' Not very,' said Phillis frankly ; ' I felt very angry with her often ; it was wrong, I suppose, but I didn't seem able to help it.

I did try not to think angrily of her, or feel angry when she was unjust, but I didn't always succeed, I am afraid. But that is all passed now — and she will never want to see me again,' she added merrily. ' So now you see why we were so much surprised to have your letter a week ago,' said Mrs. Overton. ' It was the pleasantest surprise we had had for a long time, dear Phillis. We could not make up our minds to your loss at all, and the worst part of it was that we were left in such uncertainty. We saw every paper we could think of, and wondered that your marriage was never an nounced in any of them.' ' And you didn't see anybody else that A MOUNTAIN DAISY. you could fancy?' said Mr. Overton, mischievously. ' No,' said Phillis, blushing ; ' I liked several people very much, but not in that way.

I didn't want to think about being married — it was very tiresome !' ' Well,' said Mr. Overtoil, ' it strikes me you are forgetting your old friends, Phillis. You have not asked after your friend the doctor yet.' ' No,' said Phillis, colouring a little ; ' he is here still, isn't he ? I want to see him again very much.' ' I am afraid you won't see him just yet/ said Mr. Overton. ' He is away in the south of France — at Pau, with his mother.' Phillis looked very disappointed. 'At Pau !' she said. ' Is Mrs. Trevor ill V ' Very,' answered Mr. Overton gravely ; ' she was seriously ill in the autumn, and the doctor thought that a winter in a warmer climate was the only thing which could possibly save her life, so he took her off as soon as he could. But she gets weaker and wTeaker, and he does not think he will ever bring her home again ; she won't last much longer, I fear.

It is a sad blow for him, poor fellow ! I was afraid it would distress you,. my dear,' he added kindly, for tears were falling fast on Phillis's paper. 'We knew you would feel it, for Mrs. Trevor was always so fond of you, and that is why we would not say anything about it last night. After all, you know, my dear, though the doctor will feel her loss sadly, it will be a happy change for her, for she has suffered very much since her husband died.' ' Yes,' said Phillis, through her tears, ' and she will be with him again ; but I am so sorry for Dr. Trevor, and I wish I could see her again just once ; she was always so kind to me. Who is taking Dr. Trevor 's work for him V ' An old friend of his father's,' said Mr. Overton; 'Dr. Ward. He is a rich man, and has given up practice on his own account, but he will do anything to help a friend — especially our doctor. ' He has a very high opinion of him and of his talent,' added Mrs. Overton, ' but it is amusing to hear him talk of him— just as if he were a boy still.

He knew him so well as a boy, that I suppose he can't well believe that he is not one still.' ' And does not Dr. Trevor know at all when he will come back V asked Phillis. ' No,' answered Mrs. Overton ; ' you see, it all depends on how long his mother may linger ; we have not heard from him lately, so we conclude that she is still living. I am very glad, for his own sake, that he is staying there with her, for he wanted rest and change sadly.' ' Yes, he has been very ill, poor fellow !' said Mr. Overton ; ' we thought he would break down entirely, just before his mother's illness.' ' What was the matter with him V asked Phillis anxiously. ' That is just what he would not or could not tell anybody,' said Mr. Overton ; ' he said it was nothing, and laughed when people told him he was ill. But he was — so ill that he could hardly do his work ; it was only by sheer force that he could keep himself up at all.

I hope the change he is having now will set him up again ; I am only afraid he is not taking enough rest, for he is taking work for some other English doctor, I know.' ' He had overworked himself, I expect," said Phillis sadly ; ' I hope he will soon be well again.' ' I think he will,' said Mr. Overton, with a smiling glance at his wife. ' I expect so too,' said the old lady ; ' but he was very ill for a long time ; some people thoucht he was <K>in2r into a decline, like his mother.' Phillis looked up wistfully. ' Oh, I hope not !' she said. ' He had been doing too much, and had tired him self.' ' Very likely,' said Mr. Overton ; ' and thinking too much, I dare say. I dont think we will tell him you have come back, Phillis ; it might just make his mother rest less, and make her want to come home ; she was always talking about you before she went away.

Let him find out for himself when he comes home.' Phillis smiled, and was silent, and her drawing lay unfinished on her lap. A shadow seemed to have come over everything and clouded her happiness. It might be so long before the doctor would return, and she had hardly known how much she had longed to see him until the hope of doing so was taken away for the present. And he had been ill too, and his mother was dying ! How lonely he would be when he came back to his empty house ! And then she felt so disappointed at his being away ; but for that feeling she scolded herself as she got up and walked away to the orchard. ' It's very selfish of me to think about my disappointment,' she thought, ' when he has so much trouble. I ought only to feel sorry for him. But then I never thought about his not being here, and I was hoping so much to see him soon.' And then a flush came over her face, and she covered it up tight with her hands, as if afraid somebody would hear her thoughts.

She was strangely shy now of letting them be known, when they had reference to the doctor. As she was standing looking over the hedge at the furthest end of the orchard into the road, she suddenly heard a child's voice exclaim : ' Mamma, mamma, come quick ! Come and see the pretty lady, all in white, like my angel-pictures.' Phillis turned, laughing, and saw a little boy about five years old on the opposite side ofthe road, watching her with great curiosity. He was a handsome little fellow, with jet black eyes, and long curls falling over his shoulders, and a complexion so dark that he was evidently not an English child. ' I wonder who he is V said Phillis to her self. 'What a pretty little fellow!' And moving back a little behind an apple-tree, she watched for the appearance of ' mamma ' Presently she heard a voice, which sounded strangely familiar, say in a low tone : ' Hush, Frank ! you should not talk so loud.

Where is the pretty lady ?' ' Up there,' said the child, pointing to the orchard; 'but she has gone away now. I wanted you to see her, mamma ; I should love that pretty lady.' And from her hiding-place Phillis saw a lady, dressed in mourning, pass down the road — a rather young lady, with a stately step, and coils of dark hair wound round a well-shaped head. She was very beautiful, and there was a fixed look of sorrow on her face which attracted Phillis's attention and made her take a second look. ' Who can she be ?' she said to herself. ' Why, she is just like — yes, she really is just like Florence, only more beautiful. She has just the same proud sort of face as Florence's, only it is softer, and so sad. She looks as if she had once been very, very proud, but had had all the pride taken out of her by some great sorrow.

And the little boy — he is not English certainly ; he looks like a little Italian. Surely it can't be — yes, it might be though, and I do believe it is !' And having watched the strangers till they were out of sight, she ran back to the garden, ex claiming : ' Mrs. Overton, are there any new people here — come to live here % A strange lady in black and a little boy have just gone down the road past the orchard-hedge.' ' Oh, y es !' said Mrs. Overton ; ' I forgot to tell you that piece of news. That lady is Signora Camillo, widow of an Italian gentle man, and she has lived here nearly a year with her little boy. She is English herself, but the child, I dare say you noticed, is very foreign-looking. Nobody knows much about her ; she shuts herself up a great deal, and does not see anybody more than she can help.

I fancy she has had some great trouble, poor thing !' 'Yes, she looks very unhappy,' said Phillis. ' Where does she live V 'In the little white house past the doctor's,' vol. in. answered Mrs. Overton. ' He said she was dreadfully depressed when she first came, and he had the greatest difficulty in getting her to go out at all. He only managed it by persuading her to go for her boy's sake. He was ill from being shut up too much, for his mother could not bear to let him go out of her sight. She is passionately fond of him, I believe, but she is so reserved no one is able to find out anything about her, and I don't know how long she has been a widow. She never mentions her husband, and I fancy that her trouble is connected with him.' ' How does she live V asked Phillis. ' Has she money V ' A little, I believe,' answered Mrs. Over ton ; ' just enough for her and the child to live • upon in a quiet way.

I don't know if she has any relations in England ; she never speaks of any. By-the-bye, Phillis, did it strike you that she was like anybody ? But I suppose you hardly saw her long enough to tell V ' Yes, I did,' said Phillis eagerly. ' Why Mrs. Overton, it seemed to me that she was very like my cousin Florence, only more beautiful, and it is a pleasanter sort of face, though it is so unhappy.' 'That is just what we said directly we saw her,' said Mrs. Overton ; ' we were quite struck with the likeness, and wondered if she could be related in any way to your cousins.' ' I know who she is,' said Phillis. ' I am quite sure of it, now you tell me her hus band was an Italian. Uncle has three daughters ; the eldest, Laura, was very beautiful indeed, and a few years ago she married an Italian gentleman, Count di Pre chiera, who met her in London, and got her to fall in love with him ; or at least to marry him.

She went with him to Italy, and lived at Naples, where he had an estate, but he was a bad man, and lost all his money by gambling, and was obliged to sell his estate, and go to quite a small village near Milan, to hide himself. Then, when Lord Exmoor, 33—2 Florence's husband, you know, went to Italy the first winter after I went to my cousins, he heard that a Count di P^echiera, who had led just the same sort of life as Lama's husband, had joined. Leone, the brigand chief, leaving his wife, for she would not go with him. Lord Exmoor had no idea that it was the very same count, because my cousins had always been so proud of Laura's marriage, and had spoken so well of her husband to all their friends ; but my cousins knew directly that it really was the same, and of course it was a great trouble to them, especially to uncle.

They did not know where Laura was, nor what would become of her, and could not send her any help, and they have never heard of her since.' ' And you think .Signora Camillo is your cousin Laura V asked Mr. Overton. ' Yes,' said Phillis, ' I am sure she must be ; she is very like Florence, and I remember too that the count's Christian name is Camillo.' ' What a dreadful man he must be !' said Mrs. Overtoil, shuddering. ' Then he is not really dead, as she says V ' Why, he may be now,' said Phillis ; ' you see it is more than two years ago that he joined the brigands, and she may have heard of his death since.' ' Or she may merely say he is dead,' said Mr. Overton, ' to prevent any suspicion of the truth. It is not likely she would wish such a story to be known.' ' It is very sad,' said Mrs. Overton, ' and must be a great sorrow to your cousins, Phillis.' 'Yes, it is,' said Phillis, 'at least, to uncle; the others don't seem to think about it much, but uncle feels it dreadfully, I know.

I wonder why she does not tell them where she is. I suppose she is too proud, and does not wish them to know what has hap pened.' ' Yes, that's it, I expect,' said Mrs. Over ton, ' she is proud, there's no doubt of that ; and from what you say, dear Phillis, of Mrs. Armfield, I am afraid she would not give her daughter a very warm welcome in her fallen fortunes.' 'I am afraid not,' said Phillis; 'but it seems very sad that there should be such dreadful feelings in families ; and it is Mrs. Armfield's own fault too, for she wanted Laura to marry the count. Do you ever go and see her, Mrs. Overton V ' Now and then,' said Mrs. Overton ; ' I don't go often, for she doesn't seem to care to see visitors, but I will go again and take you with me some day. Perhaps you could find out the truth, and I don't think she could help liking to see you, child.' ' I should like to find out,' said Phillis. ' It must be so dreadful never to tell anyone about her troubles ; and I do wish she would write to uncle and tell him where she is.

She might do that without ever wanting to go to London herself, and I know he would be glad to know, even if Mrs. Armfield doesn't trouble about it.' After tea Mr. and Mrs. Sandon called, and Phillis' thoughts were diverted from Signora Camillo for a while ; but they returned to the subject as soon as the visitors had de parted, and for the next few days she was constantly hoping to see her again, but she did not appear. Perhaps she did not care to encounter the ' pretty lady,' and draw upon herself another pair of curious eyes. At any rate, she took care not to let herself be seen, and did not even come to church on Sunday, to Phillis' disappointment. It was wonderful how different Earlesmere looked to Phillis' eyes in the doctor's absence. Half the sunshine of the bright summer days was gone, and she wandered about discon solately, wondering why everything seemed so dull and so different, just because he was not there.

It seemed so strange never to meet him, as she used so often to do, and she was constantly expecting to hear the sound of his carriage-wheels, or his light, firm foot steps, which used so frequently to overtake her in her rambles. And then, when she remembered how far off he was, and what had taken him away, a shadow seemed to come over everything, and the worst of it was, that she could not long for his return ; that would be like longing' his mother's life away, for she was dying, and of course he would not come away till all was over. Then the thought of her dying was sad, too, both because Phillis had loved her and would have been so glad to see her again, and also because he would miss her so much. And another dreadful thought crossed Phillis' mind— perhaps he would go away to sea and never come to Earlesmere any more, or only for a few days. She could not bear the thought of that, it made her so miserable.

Chapter II

'I am going down by the river, To wait in the sunset glow, Till a token from the Master Shall bid me rise and go.' Hetty Bowman. ' I wonder the doctor does not write,' said Mrs. Overton, about a fortnight after Phillis' return. ' It is about a month now since we last heard, and we told him to be sure and let us know as often as he could how his mother went on.' ' Perhaps she does not change much,' said Mr. Overton, ' and so he does not think it worth wrhile to write. Men don't write so many letters as ladies, do they, Phillis V ' I don't know,' said Phillis, smiling. ' I dare say not; but I should think if Mrs. Trevor were any worse he would tell you. ' Unless,' said Mrs. Overton, anxiously, ' unless it is all over, and he can't bear to tell us, poor boy.' ' No, I think he would have let us know if it were that,' said her husband. ' But Dr. Ward may have heard ; I'll ask him, if I meet him anywhere to-day.' ' Do,' said Mrs. Overton ; ' because I was thinking I should send Dr. Trevor a line if we did not hear soon.

But you won't catch Dr. Ward till the evening, for he has gone one of his long rounds to-day. Phillis, love, I shall be glad when this hot weather changes. You have looked pale the last few days ; I don't think it is good for you.' ' Oh, I like hot weather,' said Phillis, brightly, ' and there are plenty of shady places where one can keep cool. I didn't know I was pale ; I am quite well, dear Mrs. Overton.' ' I was afraid you were not,' said the old lady. ' How would you like it, dear child, if we went to call on Signora Camillo this after noon V ' Oh, I should like to go very much !' said Phillis, eagerly. ' I am very curious to know something more about her. It is very strange, that though this place is so small, and I am out so often, I never meet her. I wonder where she goes for her walks V ' I don't know,' said Mrs. Overton ; ' I am afraid she does not get out often enough, and it is very bad for the little boy to keep him shut up so.