Nora's Love Test

Chapter I

These arrows of yours, though they have hit me, they have not hurt ; they have no killing quality. — Howell. THE dingy schoolroom in Great Cumberland Place was very silent this morning, not only because its two occupants were busy, but because neither the glad April music of the country, nor the restless loud pulsation of the town, could find its way through the hazy win dow-panes. " I never shall remember," said Nora, break ing the silence at last, in a tone of perplexity, without raising her eyes from the list of questions over which she was pondering, " who — besides George IV. — was called ' the first gentle- VOL. II. B man in Europe.' I hope, whoever he was, he had more claim to the compliment. This is the last question but one, and I've looked all through my reference books in vain. Tell me, Miss Archer.

Ah, do !" "Louis d'Artois," the governess answered, smiling at the Irish coaxing. Then Nora buried herself again in her book, hurrying to do her task, because she knew a pause would be sure to take her thoughts away beyond the hope of recall. " Even yet," thought Miss Archer, before bending her eyes again upon the exercise she was correcting, " it is only by a real effort that she can apply herself. But she makes the effort bravely still, as she has made it all through the year." For — within just six days — a whole year has passed since Nora first began to study in this dismal room at Great Cumberland Place. Day by day, morning and afternoon, had she sat there studying, with the governess who had tried so hard and so kindly to accommodate her patient, unambitious nature to the enthusiastic complex one of the girl whom she had grown to love so well — the girl who, though so solitary in this English home, made it for the first time feel like home to Helen, by her warm and ready sympathy, by her gaiety and frank affection.

So they were good friends now, the silent woman who had to look backward to her childhood for any brightness in her dreams, and the fearless, ardent girl who looked so credulously onward to the impossible pleasures life was to bring her. Nora had studied without repining ; while the Spring melted into Summer, and Summer ripened to Autumn ; while Autumn faded to Winter, and Winter blossomed once more into Spring. She asked for no holiday, however she might have longed for it ; and, as neither Mrs. Foster nor her daughters considered the en couraging of holidays an item in their agree ment, the days went on, filled only by these new tasks, against the weariness of which Nora fought so well. But not everyone had been so indifferent to Nora's occasional enjoyment, and the effort had often been made, though always fruitlessly, to procure her a day's amusement or a few hours' change of air and ideas.

Again and again had Miss Archer begged that in their leisure after noons, or on a rare evening, she might show Nora some pretty spot she knew, beyond the B usual boundaries of their walk, or some of the pictures about which they were never tired of talking ; that she might procure for Nora an afternoon at Kew or Richmond, or an evening at Covent Garden or St. James's Hall, for she was even anxious to deny herself if she could have given a treat to Nora. They used to talk over these plans for days before, proposing to get away early, to go over one of the picture-gal leries, and then, before the concert, to take tea in town, to lengthen the enjoyment and make it more of a change. And it was well that the anticipation afforded such pleasure to them, for the reality never followed. Quite bright and pleasant these holidays were in the sunny groves of imagination, taking beautiful forms which might have dwarfed and darkened — so Helen Archer, after each refusal, tried to believe — if they had been led out into the bare plains of actual life.

Others too had planned holidays and plea sures for Nora, though she did not guess it. Willoughby Foster's entreaties for a visit to his home in Surrey, and the occasional distinctly worded invitations of Mr. Poynz, were met by the same placid, extenuating negative, which, with all its justification, was a negative decisive. Mrs. Foster, having charge of this peculiarly situated girl, found it impossible to relieve herself of the constant and anxious burden of responsibility the charge involved, but was determined to do her best to make the year a well and advisedly spent period of study, and then The wonderful, calm indulgence of that apo siopesis always, except in one rare instance, filled Mrs. Foster's hearers with admiration. How wise it was of her to allow her solid judg ment of what was best for the girl's welfare to outweigh the inclinations of her kindly, cherish ing, compliant disposition !

" The child's guardian left her in my care," she would add, gently dismissing the subject ; " and, if I permit a repetition of the danger and disgrace in which she voluntarily placed herself on her first arrival here, I shall consider only myself to blame. I could not quite exonerate her, of course, but at the same time I could not blame her alone, as I could one of my own daughters, whose instincts are so reliable. Therefore I should blame myself." For what, Mrs. Foster did not explain ; but evidently she had no inclination to undergo that ordeal in her own person, for she kept Nora constantly at her tasks, aud allowed her own daughters unrestrainedly to follow their " reliable instincts." Once Nora had accompanied Dr. Armstrong and Victoria Foster to the Albert Hall, and, while they whispered and laughed together, she had sat rapt in wonder and delight ; but the possible pleasure of another such hour dis solved when his low whispering words were addressed to herself.

The romance left everything when he showed her how little the music was to everybody but herself, and what his motive was in bringing her. And from that day no entreatj' of his could win her from her books to join him and Victoria. How he chafed when his persistent efforts to amuse were ac cepted only by Nora's fellow-student — who, in deed, was only so in name, and rarely entered the schoolroom, except at the summons of her music-master— no one could guess, for he was always bland as usual, and there was good reason for Tory to build her fabric of self-satis faction on his constant and unequivocal atten tions. For how could she look behind the smiles, and see the contortions of jealousy and passion ? And under his suave speeches how could she detect the notes of anger and morti fied defeat?

So Miss Victoria Foster smiled on, and fancied Nuel Armstrong revelled in her smiles. After all, self-deception was pleasanter while it lasted than would have been the knowledge, or even the suspicion, that the experienced, intelligent physician valued Nora's slightest question, or even undisguised rebuff, beyond her own most gracious token of regard. He had spent much of the past year in England, for a month at a time leaving his Irish patients to his partner at Fintona ; and again and again he had repeated his willingness to settle in London if Nora wished. When he would boldly assert this, Nora would gravely discuss his prospects, add ing simply that of course it could not signify to her, but it might be pleasant to him — did he think it would ? It was after such speeches as these that Nuel found it so hard to curb the jealousy within him, and keep the bland ex pression on his face to mislead other eyes.

For Nora, weary of telling him truthfully how im possible it would ever be to love him " like a lover," could make only such answers as these, when, before others, he dared to refer to his future plans as affecting her. Long before the end of the year, he had given up his futile attempts to induce her to acknowledge to him that she was unhappy where she was, and longed to escape from her thraldom of work and seclusion ; for even he had become aware that all persistency would be unavailing for that. Through the whole twelve months, Mrs. Fos ter had not migrated with her household to the country or the seaside, for she was wise enough to see that, by husbanding her resources during this year, the sum from Nora's guardian would be doubly valuable after Nora had left them. So she had paid one or two short visits with her younger daughter, but only while Genevieve was at home ; and when Miss Foster herself went away on more frequent and protracted visits, her mother and sister were left at home.

So that Nora was never allowed to find out the repressed good-nature of Mrs. Foster, or to know how much less dull the mother and son together, during Willoughby's visits, could make the ungenial London house. Swayed entirely by the influence of whoever last ap pealed to her, Mrs. Foster had, through this year of Nora's probation, been cold and indifferent to her, with occasional varying fits of exact ing frigidity, and amiable resignation to the will of fate in consigning to her such a trying charge. With Genevieve, Nora had had little to do, while still her influence was the depressing in fluence of the girl's life. For Genevieve the world was self, and, when she languidly acceded that the world was " very good," the words were but at heart self-praise. Once or twice at first Nora had frankly and hotly replied to Miss Foster's unkind or contemptuous treatment, but she soon left it off ; for, to the proud, warm hearted girl, what could have been more diffi cult to bear, or fight with, than the smiling, compassionate remark — " You seem very suspicious, Miss St. George ; it is a pity, for your own sake ?

" So Nora had by degrees come to pass by, in simple dignity, Miss Foster's cutting obser vations or unkind actions, and, if the deepest motives had guided her, instead of the most simple, she could not more successfully have roused the jealous irritability which was hidden under Genevieve's gracious manner. And so, though there were still rare occasions when the honourable, untrained nature rose in prompt rebellion against some petty arrogance, and hotly stood on the defensive, such scenes were very brief and rare now ; and Nora was always ready frankly to acknowledge her share of the wrong. Then, if Miss Foster's chilly acceptance of her apology could move her to any feeling at all, it was only one of quiet amusement. Celia Pennington had never come to London on that visit which Genevieve had foreshadow ed for her on the Sunday she bad spent at Kil ver Vicarage.

It was no new thing for Gene vieve Foster graciously to deal forth those bubbles of invitation which float serenely from the giver's lips, and smoothly break and dis solve without a sound in the chaos of utter forgetfulness ; but Nora did not know this, and so week by week, for fifty weeks, she had been anticipating from Celia the tidings of an ap proaching visit. Now of course that anticipa tion was over, for in one week more Nora would see her old companion at home. She had quite decided to return to Kilver, and had been carefully husbanding money sufficient to take her, if Mr. Doyle made no proposal of fetching or sending for her. It would be time for her to seek a situation as governess, but could she not do so there ? And would it not be better and happier for her to be in Ireland than here, where, after twelve long months, she was still an utter stranger ?

In spite of her sturdy application to her tasks, it was always with a very suspicious readiness that Nora welcomed any legitimate interruption of them ; and so now, when, after a rap upon the door, Mr. Poynz entered the schoolroom, she was not at all unwilling to transfer her attention from Louis d'Artois to Mark himself. And Helen Archer turned from her corrections, and took up her knitting with a flush of pleasure upon her face — for what more welcome break had that schoolroom life than a visit from one who seemed to have taken them both as friends, governess and pupil alike? " Isn't it a pity," said Nora, gravely, her hands folded on her boob, " that they are all out V I mean a pity for you, Mr. Poynz, not for us. And you've been away three whole weeks, haven't you ? Mrs. Foster will be so sorry to miss you."

"I should be so exceedingly sorry to miss Mrs. Foster," returned Mark, tranquilly, "that I intend to wait for her return." " I'm afraid they may drive a long way," Nora went on ; " and they've been gone only about ten minutes." " Hardly ten minutes yet." " Did you know, then ?" exclaimed Nora, with the liveliest surprise that he should have come in under those circumstances. "Yes; ' I saw them go ; one horse was blind, The tails of both hung down behind, Their shoes were on their feet.' " " Miss Foster had a new bonnet on," observed Nora, lifting her silken lashes to meet his quiz zical gaze, and then, with a blush, becoming aware of something at the fire which she had forgotten. " I remarked it ; Miss Foster had a new bon net, Miss Victoria Foster a newer bonnet, and Mrs. Foster the newest bonnet of all.

Byron would have been charmed if he had had my passing opportunity, for they were — as he con sidered that a lady and her daughters should be — shining like a guinea and two seven-shil ling pieces." " They looked very stylish," observed Nora, anxiously following the new direction of Mark's eyes as he moved to the hearthrug. " And how did you find out one horse was blind? Mrs. Foster doesn't like people to know. When 1 told her he would have reminded me a little of Borak if he had had any eyes, she didn't like it." " I suppose you are working intensely hard, as usual?" observed Mark, pointedly ; for just then he stood before a curious piece of mechan ism. Two lengths of string were suspended from rulers which projected from the mantel piece and were made secure there by the ballast of a pile of lesson-books.

And his eyes wandered slowly down the curveting twine, and rested upon the apple which swung gently round at the extremity of each. " Are these two special experiments in your Gargantuan course of study, Miss St. George ?" " It depends," rejoined Nora, blushing a little, but accepting publicity now as inevitable, and making the best of it, " on what ' Gargantuan ' means. But they will be very nice when they are quite done ; much better than questions in history. I have another, Mr. Poynz. Will you help me to fix it up and roast it for you ?" Why it took him so long to do this, Nora could not understand, as she had arranged her own quite as scientifically in half the time ; and she laughed a good deal as she deftly rectified his mistakes, and drew Miss Archer into the task too. And why he should suppose that that last apple laboured under such a decided disadvantage that it was absolutely necessary for them all to watch it with tenderness, and to experimentalise constantly upon its puffy cheeks, and, in fact, to bestow in unison a peculiar amount of solicitude upon it, was a mystery which she had not fathomed even when the anxiety of cooking was over, and they were all enjoying the fruit of their labours — now in a spirit of the gravest criticism, and now with irrepressible laughter.

" That branch of study," observed Mark, when the feast was over, " is, as you say, Miss St. George, better than questions in history. The length of Charles the First's beard is a matter of insignificance compared with the secret of giving such a delicious flavour to " " The sugar did that," put in Nora, because he paused without finishing his sentence. " I used to roast apples at Traveere sometimes. I wish Miss Archer were coming back with me to Traveere — I mean to Kilver." " When do you go ?" " In about a week now. I don't know what day till Mr. Doyle writes. I think he will come for me." " Do you ? Now I shrewdly suspect he will be persuaded to depute some one else to the task. And so the year is over," Mark went on, his handsome, steadfast eyes upon her face, " and you have had your feast of the dainties which are bred in a bock?"

"Yes, and know nothing even yet," asserted Nora, with a sigh. " Of course not ; except that you have ac quired a vast experience of the world, which " — with a quizzical glance at the plates which held the remnants of their feast — " has evi dently lost all its relish for you. Your edu cation may well be considered complete, Miss St. George, now that you have attained the knowledge of the century, and under stand how flat, stale, and unprofitable is every thing under the sun ; and how essential it is for us that we should not at all say what we mean, or on any account mean what we say." " Fire away, Flanagan !" Anything so comical as Nora's grave inter position of this remark, in that low pretty voice of hers, could hardly be conceived ; yet it was no wonder Miss Archer looked concerned and sorry.

" Oh !" cried the girl, distressed in a moment, even before she saw Helen's annoyance, but with a little defiance in her nervousness. "I didn't mean to say it — but it's no harm. If you were Irish, Mr. Poynz, you'd know it wasn't. It isn't slang or — or anything, Miss Archer. It was a real message Cromwell sent to Flanagan's castle when he was besieging it. Our Vicar knows the castle, and Flanagan defended it with a great show, and threatened to fire his cannon unless Cromwell's men retreated. So Cromwell wrote him back that message, and it has passed into a sort of proverb in some parts of Ireland." " What did Flanagan do ?" " He ran away. After all, he ran away very quickly, so— -I don't think he could have been Irish." "I expect he was," returned Miss Archer, with a smile. " Let us say so, as we are all English."

" It is very evident to me," said Mr. Poynz, " even now that the whole year is over, Miss Nora, that you are scarcely to be called edu cated." "Yet I couldn't work harder even if I were," she rejoined, with a regretful sigh ; " I was only yesterday pitying Lord Saye when I read that ' he had men about him that usually talked of a noun, and a verb, and such abominable words as no Christian ear can endure to hear.' " "And you are very tired of it all?" " No, no I" she answered, with pleasant eagerness. " Miss Archer makes lessons different for me. It is only a few that are tedious. She is very, very kind to me, aud this year's hard work must have tired her very much." " The year has contained for you, Nora, so little besides hard work," put in the governess. " Then has everyone else been as unsuccess ful as I have been to win you a holiday ?" in quired Mr. Poynz, a little sternly.

" Have you seen nothing of London ?" " Oh ! yes," said Nora, wondering at his change of tone. " Though I should have known far less," she added, with a little heightening of the soft pink in her cheeks, " if I hadn't lost myself on my first morning. Yes, we have seen many things, Miss Archer and I. We look into every shop-window we pass — even into the windows of private houses sometimes — at least VOL. II. C I do. It is so tempting to catch a glimpse of some one else's home." " Rude rather." " Yes, I know it is, and I try not ; but I find myself doing it, and building little romances in the rooms, or about the people, if I see any. Then we look up the doorways of concert halls and picture-galleries and theatres, and — talk about going." " You want to go, then ?" interrogated Mark, with unsuspected earnestness in his tone.

" You want to see the world and its — follies ?" " They cannot be follies to me while I don't know them." " And you really want to go ?" he persisted, rising and standing with his back to the fire to look down upon her. "Really— really!" " Well, it will all come. And then what a pleasure you will have! Almost as great as that of the one who gives you the pleasure." " But I am going to be a governess," said Nora, looking up gravely into his face. " Who will ever offer to take me then, as Miss Archer does now ?" " A pupil perhaps," replied Mark, briefly, turning away the discussion as he looked intently into her eyes. " Do you know that Fos ter heard this morning from Dr. Armstrong ? He will soon be back in London again. The mother-country does not hold him long at a time now." " Do you think," mused Nora, frankly return ing his gaze, " that Victoria Foster will marry Nuel ?"

" Well, it depends just a little, I should say, on whether he asks her to do so. If he is suffi ciently a poet, he will of course understand that, though love sought is very excellent and com fortable in its way, still that ' given unsought ' it is far more precious. If you do not know that, Miss St. George, " he added, presently, smiling a little because her eyes were lowered and he could not see them through their heavy fringe, " your year's study has indeed been of little use to you." " To learn all that the poets tell us of love — not half of which they themselves could have believed — " put in Miss Archer, with an unac countable tremor in her voice ; " Nora would require Plato's year, Mr. Poynz." "Even that I don't understand," said Nora, looking anxiously at Helen, with puckered brow C2 and tremulous lips.

" Is Plato's year very long?" " Only about twenty-six thousand ordinary years." " That," said Nora, gravely, turning to Mark again as she spoke, " will show you how little I know." " Not quite," opposed Mark, his voice now as grave as hers ; " and I cannot bear to hear your self-dispraise. If you ever reach the depth of misery, my child, it will be when you can say, ' All I care to know I know.' When we re member that the very wisest and most learned sigh to think how little they can know at best, it ought to make us content to be always learning, not learned. There is no need to try hard for ever; it is often the best kind of know ledge which comes easiest. And do you know, Miss Nora, I think that Boileau never won such praise for his mighty intellect as is framed in those few words said of him by one who knew him — ' He would speak ill of no one.' " "But I," said Nora, sadly, "I speak ill of people often and often, especially of Genevieve Foster."

"Inexcusable !" commented Mark, shaking oft his seriousness. " Miss Foster is only Turkish enough to object to a brother near the throne. Do you know what is the message I bear to Mrs. Foster ?" " No," cried Nora, all interest at once. " Is it from Heaton ?" " Yes," replied Mark, trying to resist watch ing the effect of every word upon her. " Will and I want her to bring you all down to Heaton for a day, as our guests — Will's and mine. You have been in England a whole year, yet have never seen Will's home." " No, and I thought I should stay there a great deal. But perhaps it was better not ; I could never have worked industriously in the country — in Summer time. I suppose it is very beautiful there, Mr. Poynz ?" " You will see." " Perhaps," she said wistfully. " But perhaps I may not." " But you must ; I have something to show you, and to tell you there."

" Something that would not sound so well here ?" " Yes ; it is the story of a beautiful house down there, and must be told on the spot." "And Miss Archer?" began Nora, looking wistfully at the governess. " Miss Archer is to have a special message from us both," replied Mark, with a smile for Helen. " As soon as ever the day is fixed, she will hear what a cordial invitation I bring her from Foster, and how anxiously I second it my self." " And now, Mr. Poynz," Helen said, just as if she could not trust herself to answer him, " I hear unmistakable indications of Mrs. Foster's return." When Mark, in his unhurried way, had bidden good-bye to Nora and Miss Archer, and ascend ed to the drawing-room, he found the ladies of the house resting after their drive, each with a cup of tea in her hand. " Thomas did not tell me you were here," exclaimed Mrs. Foster, a little surprised (though she would not have confessed it) at his having voluntarily informed her how long he had waited for her.

" I am very sorry to have detained you — very." " You see we could not have expected you, because you have been away so long," added Genevieve, with great affability. "Will you be persuaded to have a cup of tea, Mr. Poynz ? You must be very tired of this delay, and I know you chafed at being obliged to wait so long." " I have been very comfortable indeed," was Mark's reply. " You were expecting us every minute, of course." " I expected you eventually, Miss Foster, but hardly every minute, for I met you an hour ago. No — no tea, thank you." " Met us !" echoed Victoria, wondering how they could have missed seeing him, while Genevieve stood angrily looking from the window, conscious that, instead of being ashamed of having waited in the schoolroom, he seemed even anxious that they should be distinctly informed that he had done so, and had felt it no penance.

"Met us, Mr. Poynz ! Where ?" " ' Far in the west,' " quoted Mark, " ' remote from citizins, where Hyde Park ends and Bays water begins.' You were speaking to a friend, or I might have stopped you. Mrs. Foster, I bring a message from Will, which I am here myself to indorse — I mean a joint invitation from him and myself. Will had a meeting to attend this evening, or he would, I believe, have been here too. Will you come and spend a day at Heaton, in the park — and on the lake, if you like — finishing up the evening at Will's lodgings? I will drive you down ; and back as far as Guildford, if you must return the same night. There will be moonlight too, if you will fix a day early in next week." " Suppose," said Mrs. Foster, glancing nerv ously at her elder daughter, who, though grace fully joining her sister's pæan of delight, was waiting for her mother's reply, " we say the twenty-seventh, Mr. Poynz ; will that suit you, and will it suit you, Gena ?"

" On the twenty-seventh, mamma," Genevieve answered, reflectively, " we are engaged. Did you forget ? Perhaps Mr. Poynz will let us say the twenty-ninth. It will be moonlight for our drive even then. How enjoyable it will be !" " And this invitation, Mrs. Foster," Mark went on, " extends, if you please, to Miss St. George and Miss Archer." " As for Miss Archer," put in Genevieve, with a laugh which was not overburdened with mirth, " that is one of Will's philanthropic ideas ; aud he would be much surprised, I'm sure, after wards, if we, or you, Mr. Poynz, helped him to carry it out. And" — with a smile — "it would be cruel, too, to take her from Miss St. George, who, I am confident, will not be tempted from her work. We never can persuade her to go with us anywhere — never. Can we, Tory ?"

"May I try?" asked Mark, in the gravest possible manner, and not at all as if he knew of the merry twinkle in his eyes. " I will do so," interrupted Mrs. Foster, rising, and glancing at Genevieve for approval of the tact she displayed; "I will try to persuade her, if you will stay, Mr. Poynz. But she will not consent to go, I feel sure; for, though not naturally inclined to study, she keeps closely at it, under the conviction that she is doing right. And indeed I think she is — poor child !" Just as Mrs. Foster reached the door, it was opened from without, and Nora entered the room, with an open letter in her hand. " Mrs. Foster," she said, without seeming to look farther into the room, " Mr. Doyle has written to say he will come for me on the twenty-ninth. The letter has just arrived, and you told me to let you know as soon as ever I heard from him.