XXXVIII. K. T…

XXXVIII. K. T

'So black of hue, With orange tawny Bill.' Midsummer Night's Dream.

The town-hall at Ewmouth was a good fifteenth-century building. The common herd sat on chairs and gazed at the speakers behind the table on the dais. There were the Lord Lieutenant and the local peer (he with whom Clement would not dine), Sir Vesey Hammond, and Mr. Welsh, together with Geraldine's old acquaintance, Lord de Vigny, who was sure to turn up at every sort of dilettante gathering in the kingdom, made words on the benefits of local research, and compliments on local hospitality; and then some wise man gave an excellent compendious sketch of the history of the city and neighbourhood, notifying the connection of the spots it was intended to visit, beginning with the Castle that very afternoon. Meantime there was not much opportunity for greetings; people were all in rows on the same level, looking into the fabrics on the crania of their neighbours in front.

'That's the way with ladies,' said William Harewood; 'they'll go anywhere to see one another's bonnets. That's the real point, whatever the excuse may be.'

The remark was made in all good humour. Everything had been smooth all these ten days. Had not Robina copied out his whole essay in her beautiful clear script, and tied it up with purple ribbons? Had she not toiled early and late at effective shaded diagrams of his father's seals? had she not listened intelligently to his own supplemental lecture on the unconscious poetry those queer devices expressed? and had she not rescued an important letter of his from the slit in Clement's S.P.G. box, which he was always taking for the post?

The lecture over, there was a dispersion to lunch at various houses or hotels. The Underwoods were of Mrs. Welsh's party, where Geraldine was made much of under Lady Hammond's kind protection, and Robina remained in enviable obscurity at a side-table. Lady Hammond's age obliged her to ascend to the Castle afterwards in her carriage, and she insisted on taking her lame young friend with her. Every one else walked--Robina with her brother and Will, for both the Major and his father had fallen in with old acquaintance and gone their own way.

Other parties debouched from other streets; and as Robina climbed the Castle hill, she was aware of Lord Ernest de la Poer in the act of greeting her.

'You here!' she exclaimed.

'I am at Eweford with Milwright.'

'But your reading!'

'Here I am, improving my mind.'

'Hardly in the needful manner.'

'Nay, but why is this holiday month to be all play and no work to every one but dis here unlucky nigger?'

'You've not earned the right to play.'

'Nor ever shall at home. You know what a farce it is to "call it either work or play."'

Felix did not wholly like the tone of this dialogue, but just then a brother of the press entreated a few moments' conversation. It was to ask for a recommendation, which he was now in a condition to give; and he was obliged to leave his sister to Will's care, intending speedily to overtake her.

Meanwhile, Lord Ernest went on, with somewhat less of reserve, 'Now I put it to you, which is which under the K.T. influence--Greek or croquet?'

'The last is not her influence.'

'No, nor her nature, but her uncle's drill into complaisance. She is a victim to filial piety, and drags me to the same shrine.'

'Just what she does not want to do.'

'No, but now you are gone, the games would never end if one didn't get her through a hoop occasionally.'

Robina averted her head, for there was a general halt and a silence, and a voice made itself heard, explaining that here was the Roman masonry.

The Castle was a large place, containing the county hall, and having likewise a small garrison of artillery to take care of the sea defences, on which modern science had of late been busy. The lecturer led his flock literally from pillar to post, stopping to expound all points of interest, and handing round drawings and photographs. There was nothing to do but to follow, and hope to fall in with some of the others. Of Geraldine there was no hope; old Sir Vesey had tucked her under his vigorous arm as soon as she stepped out of the carriage; Lord de Vigny had claimed her as an acquaintance, and her lameness gave her brevet rank for the nonce, for she was thrust into the forefront among the dames of high estate, and had a near view of everything. Felix had vanished; and Will, whose arm would have been very convenient to Robina in the throng, hung a little aloof, wearing an almost quaintly desperate air of surliness, while Lord Ernest hovered close, speaking to her at every pause in the lecture.

This uncomfortable trio were far in the rear, and a good deal jostled about, without very clear ideas where they were going or what they were seeing. Now it was along a moat; now out on a rampart with a green slope open to the sea, a very living looking cannon in the embrasures; now gazing up to a machicolated turret, then dragged up its spiral stair to be handed out on a leaden roof, and get a grand view, and a general impression that one of the King Henrys had done something there; then diving down to a doleful dungeon, where somebody had been starved to death, but as it was not true, it did not signify who it was. Such were all the ideas that Robina or either of her cavaliers could have given of their perambulation of Ewmouth Castle. It was lucky for the Pursuivant that they were not its caterers.

By the time she had ascended a dusky stair into the great hall of columns, which had never been a chapel, Robina found that the tour was ended, and moreover that Will--as well as all the rest--had been lost in the throng, and that no one was near whom she knew but Ernest de la Poer.

'I wonder where they all are!'

'We had better stand near the door,' he answered; 'they must pass this way.'

They waited while the stream of people flowed past; and when an acquaintance came, who was going to shake hands with Robina's companion as one of the many brothers, she piteously asked for tidings of her party.

'I saw Miss Underwood in Lady Hammond's carriage at the other door.'

'That accounts for it,' said Lord Ernest; 'I saw there was an eddy in the flood. Shall we go across?'

The move was a relief, and Robina hoped to find Felix waiting for her at the other door, for the hall was emptying fast, and they were the last to make their exit by the opposite porch. Not only were the carriages gone, but the foot-passengers; and the policemen were shutting the doors behind them, so that there was no returning across the hall.

'I will go round to the High Street again,' said Robina. 'Some of them will be sure to come back to look for me.'

'Where did you have luncheon? Will not they be there?'

'At Mr. Welsh's; but I don't think we were to go back there. We were to get in at the inn where the carriage was to be put up, only I don't know the name of it. My brother drove there after setting us down.'

Lord Ernest applied to a policeman for the name and locality of the principal stables. 'The Antelope,' he said; but it proved to be in the opposite direction to Mr. Welsh's, and so distant that Robina doubted whether Felix could have gone thither. She begged not to delay her companion; and he answered, as she knew he would, that he was quite at her service; indeed, she was quite at her ease so far as he was personally concerned, and if it had been any other town in the kingdom except perhaps Bexley, Oxford, or Minsterham, she would sooner have trusted to him in a difficulty than to any one whose name did not end with wood. He was too considerate to worry her with talking during the quick walk, and with some difficulty he caught a busy ostler, who averred that Mr. Underwood's carriage had not been there at all--no, not the horse, which he knew perfectly well. He evidently thought the new Squire's family rightly served for deserting their ancient haunt, and he ran away instead of answering whether there were other yards nearer Mr. Welsh's.

Nothing remained but to retrace their steps up the steep High Street that climbed the Castle cliff, meeting many a load of happy people who had found their carriages. Presently they came full on Mrs. Fulbert Underwood, who had been one of the callers in the last week, but who would have passed without recognition, but for Robina's despairing entreaty, 'Could you tell me where our carriage can be put up?'

'What! Rosina Underwood! I am surprised!'

'I have missed the others in the crowd at the Castle. I thought I should have met them at the Antelope, but our carriage has not been there.'

'We always put up at the Antelope,' said Mrs. Underwood; 'there may be inferior stables, but I do not know them. I have not been to all this lecturing--I don't like such things for ladies; but I can go round by Vale Leston, and set you down.'

'No, thank you. I could walk if that were all, only I must find the others, for they will not go without me.'

'Oh! if you are better off--I did not see that you had a beau. Mr. Harewood?'

'No,' said Robin, in her fiercest straightforwardness, 'Lord Ernest de la Poer. You know I am his sisters' governess. He is kindly helping me to find my brother and sister.'

'Oh! I leave you in good hands. Good-bye. If I meet any of your party, I will mention that I have seen you.'

Robina had been reddening all the afternoon. She was crimson now, but she was resolved not to make things worse by visible discomposure.

'Who was that obliging lady?' asked Lord Ernest.

'The last Mr. Underwood's daughter-in-law,' said Robin, so angry as to disclaim connection as much as possible; 'perhaps one is well off to have only one odd sort of relation.'

'I see a man who dined with Milwright yesterday,' exclaimed Lord Ernest. 'He may not be above all inns but the Antelope.'

He charged across the street, and brought back intelligence of a Fox's Brush in Castle Street, and of a short cut through a narrow alley and the churchyard; but there seemed risk of another miss, and besides, something like a waggonette was discerned near the top of the hill. It proved to be a break full of strangers; and by that time Robina, though bravely breasting the hill, was so tired and breathless that Lord Ernest offered his arm, but was refused with a certain weary sharpness.

At last the corner of Castle Street afforded a view of another hopeful looking vehicle a good way down; and at the same moment, Felix, very pink, hurried up from one quarter, and Will Harewood, fiery red, dashed down from another.

Felix had been to the Antelope by the by-street, and had met Mrs. Fulbert, then had posted after to overtake them; Willie had been all round the Castle, trying every gate in vain; Mr. Harewood was on the quest in another direction.

Robina thanked her escort, Felix did so more coldly, Willie gave a savage little bow, and they parted. Cherry was waiting in the waggonette, with the Major, who might not be overwalked, sitting on the box, holding the horse; and as Will was about to plunge after his father, Cherry called, 'Pray put on your hat! you look like a mad hatter instead of the March hare.'

'Enough to drive one mad,' muttered Will, sharply, pulling his hat nearly down to his eye-brows, and disappearing just as his father came soberly back from inquiry at Mr. Welsh's.

This time it was decided to drive down the High Street--always a slow operation, since it required a drag; and Felix left the reins in John's more practised hands, through the difficult navigation. They drew up at sight of Will in confabulation with Mrs. Fulbert, not much to the improvement of the serenity of his manner as he bestowed himself within the vehicle. Geraldine begun taking all the blame on her own bad chaperonage, and pitying Robina for being heated and tired.

'Well she may!' said Will, 'after galloping all over the place with that donkey.'

'A four-legged donkey might have been convenient,' said Cherry, laughing; 'but how came you to be left to him? I thought you safe with the Squire.'

'The Squire was called off to speak to some one,' said Robina.

'And I am afraid you were remiss, William,' said the Librarian.

'She seemed well satisfied,' he growled.

'I think you forget yourself,' said his father, gravely, as if his first-class son were still a little boy. The most courteous of men himself, he was always trying to teach manners to his family, but had egregiously failed excepting with the Major.

That Robina's adventure was relished by no one, might be gathered from the fact that none of the five alluded to it, and no objection was made when she came down the next morning in a stay-at-home garb, and announced her intention of remaining to assist in preparing for 'the spread' of Wednesday.

Cherry could not help remembering Wilmet's allegation that Robina was apt to attach much importance to ordinary attention; but at least if there were an error, it was on the side of precaution; and Cherry had so many qualms of conscience at taking her pleasure and devolving the trouble on Wilmet, that she was glad to leave so effective an assistant.

The day's entertainment was Mr. Harewood's lecture and another in the morning, and then a sort of picnic at the Roman villa. Lord Ernest found the Vale Leston party out, and Cherry thought he looked a little blank; but he took to cultivating her, and in the absence of her more distinguished cavaliers, made himself very pleasant, though she discerned that he cared not a rush for its baths and mosaic pavements; but she liked him so much, and thought him so genuinely kind and attentive, as to acquit him of all but humane courtesy to his sisters' governess, only hoping Robina so understood it.

That night Felix was dutifully writing his summary of the proceedings of the day, when a knock came to his study door, and as his boding soul anticipated, it was the prelude to Robina's entrance. With a solemn directness, not unlike that when she had dealt the death-blow to his early dream, she thus addressed him: 'Brother, are you very busy, or can you speak to me?'

He felt a cold dismay, and only said, 'Well!'

'It hardly seems right even to tell you, but I have this letter, and I want you to help me.'

'A letter!'

'Troublesome ass!' was at the tip of his tongue, but he was thankful it had gone no further, when Robina answered, 'Yes, from Lady de la Poer, and from Grace. You brought them from the second post.'

'You are in no scrape, I trust?' he said, somewhat relieved, but not enough for warmth or encouragement.

'Not that I know of,' said Robina, 'though I don't know whether I shall be able to go back after this.' And the tears came into her eyes.

'And what is this?' said Felix. 'Don't be afraid to tell me, my dear; I know you mean honestly.'

She seemed to have some difficulty in beginning, and finally put a note with a coroneted cipher into his hand. He read--

MY DEAR MISS UNDERWOOD,

I hope you are in full enjoyment at home. I believe Grace keeps you fully informed of the doings here, so I will not waste time over the wherefore of the inquiry I feel constrained to make--among other reasons, to satisfy myself of the children's truth. Cecil has told Lady Caergwent, on Susan's authority, that his brother Ernest told you that K (or C) T were the two most troublesome letters of the alphabet, an unmitigated bore except in cricket. As you know, Susan always holds fast to Cecil; and for their sakes we trust to you to tell us what was said or misunderstood. We should, of course, apply to Ernest himself, but he went on Thursday to the Ballford cricket-match, and we do not know how soon he will return: otherwise I should not disturb your holiday. Susie and Annie seem lost without you; and I rather suspect that idleness was in this case the mother of mischief, though some foundation there must have been, and I am sure you will let me clearly understand what it was.

Yours very sincerely, FRANCES DE LA POER.

Felix drew a long breath; then smiled, and asked, 'What does it all mean?'

'Don't you see? K T. Katie--Lady Caergwent.'

'And did you really receive this extraordinary confidence?'

'Not quite like that.'

'Is this your Countess in her own right, who was said to be engaged to one of the De la Poers?'

'To Lord Ernest, yes;' and to Felix's satisfaction, there was no shrinking from his eye--she looked clear and innocent. 'The slip you sent me from that paper was altogether impertinent and premature. There is no engagement yet, but there is to be.'

'In spite of this opinion about the letters of the alphabet?'

'That is no more than one of Bear's growls. You must know, Lady Caergwent is an odd girl. She is only twenty, very clever at any headwork, but curiously childish about anything real. Her uncle and aunt, with whom she lives, were obliged to go abroad with Mrs. Umfraville's sick brother; and she is a ward in Chancery, and could not go, so she has been at Repworth all the summer. I believe the elders have settled it. Colonel Umfraville says if she does not marry young she will never marry at all.'

'Are you in his confidence too?'

'No, but Lord de la Poer talks to Lord Repworth, and he tells Grace. They are all open-hearted; and, except Lady Fanny, none of them can help talking.'

'Well, I didn't know mariages de convenance went on still.'

'No, indeed; they really like each other. No one could doubt it some time ago, when they were not thinking about it; and there is a sort of understanding that it will be, though it is not to come on formally till he has done with Oxford. Well, that understanding has spoilt every one's comfort.'

'I should think so!'

'Will you not see, Felix, that they really care for one another, only he is a little ashamed of the good match, and its all being made up for them. Then this summer has been unlucky: he was to read with Mr. Crichton, the Curate, a very clever man, a friend of Lord Repworth, who teaches Cecil and some of the girls Latin.'

'Is he married?'

'Oh dear yes!'

'Then he is a K T?'

'Twice over, by name and nature. It would have done very well for Lord Ernest to read with him, as he did last year, if they had been let alone. Not that Lady Caergwent wants to interrupt. Her uncle has taught her a good deal of those kind of things; indeed, she spurred Adelaide up to it, and only wanted to work with her and her brother.'

'Spurring leads to recalcitration--eh?'

'If you would only understand. She is not at all what you are fancying. She is a sort of intense child. She is slight and feminine, a great coward, as nervously excitable as Cherry, and showing it more, so that her eagerness quite overdoes people. Then, she is very shy, and so much hates to take the initiative, that people think her proud and ungracious. I soon found the only way to set her at her ease was to behave as if we were two girls on equal terms. It is so provoking, when she has just been the life of the whole schoolroom, to see her shrivel up as if a stranger was a blight--especially a shy one. And the more she makes a conscience of being agreeable, the worse it is, for the nervous fright paralyzes her. There never was any one with so little presence of mind. She can't get on without being under somebody's wing. And another unlucky thing is that she has no dexterity of hand, and hates all games that turn on it, like croquet. There's no keeping out of them, for there is a garden-party at Repworth to all the neighbours every Tuesday in the summer; and there would be quite a fuss among the natives if Lady Caergwent did not show herself. I believe her uncle put her under a solemn promise not to sit in the pollard in the park with Addy all the afternoon. So she plays like a martyr, infinitely worse than among ourselves, and some one always has to get her through to end the affair. The last day before I came home I had stayed in with little Susan, who was upset with the heat, and had been naughty enough to be kept in as a sort of sedative penance. I thought she was asleep on her board when Lord Ernest came in. Now, Lady Caergwent had been all the morning poking out some dates and marking some books she knew he would want; and she had left them with me for him to take when he came in for the two hours' reading he always was to take before dinner, and which she never let him off. If I had seen at first how hot and fuming he was with the bother first of her croquet and then of her hints, I should have put off executing my commission; but unluckily I gave my message, and he broke out, "Crichton, croquet, (pronouncing the t,) K T for ever--the most intolerable conjunction in the alphabet--nothing tolerable spelt with them." I laughed, and said, "Is cricket in that _cate_gory?" and he answered, "The only one that is not an unmitigated bore."'

'But, Robin, what would Wilmet say to your having him gossipping in your schoolroom?'

'It is not my schoolroom, it is Miss Oswald's, and the brothers are all tame about her like their sisters. Indeed, this was a mere accident; and when I found he meant to stay and grumble, I made an excuse about looking for Annie, and left him. Now hear what Grace says:--

"We have an awkward mess just now, and I hope you can help us out of it. You know how Papa dislikes that cricket mania which makes playing at a match a sort of public duty, to which everything is to be sacrificed; and how the boys say he would not mind if Colonel Umfraville had not worked him up. At any rate, as it was understood that Ernest was reading, and could not play in matches, the Breretons need not have summoned him fiery-cross fashion to their Oxford eleven. Kate broke out in the middle of breakfast, that it was a great shame, and she hated bondage; and he was provoked to answer, 'So did he.' Mamma hushed it down; but Kate's blood was up, and she never knows when to let a thing alone, so she hunted him into a corner after breakfast, and argued with him; and you know no man could stand that."

'No, indeed,' said Felix. 'It is quite enough to have to marry a Countess!'

'Don't, Felix! If you could only see the slight clinging thing! It all comes of her eager faith in her uncle. It is imploring, not domineering.'

'Well, go on; was that what drove him here?'

'Gracie goes on--

"They must have been very near a quarrel, for she rushed off, and unluckily came full pelt upon Papa. She did not speak, but he had seen tears in her eyes, and that brought it to a crisis. He accused Ernest of trifling with her, and amusing himself with everybody else; and Ernest made some answer that I am afraid was very foolish, and went off to Ballford. I met him in the hall, and he said things were past endurance, he should like to enlist as a private soldier, and he did not know when he was coming home, but I thought he only meant whether it would be Saturday or Monday. Kate was vexed, but would not show it; and when she found Cecil dawdling in a fit of the nothing-to-does, she suggested some sensible employment, and that exasperated him into telling her Ernest had gone away because he said that all K Ts were horrible. I don't think Kate would have mentioned it; but she turned white, and Addy was there, and was furious with Cecil, and it came to such a row that Mamma came in. Cecil stood out that Susie heard him say it to you, and Susan added that it was because Kate is so tiresome at croquet, and set him such a long lesson. Mamma thought she should have it out with him if she went to fetch him home from Ballford and had him all to herself; but when she came there, he was gone, and none of the Breretons could tell where. I fancy it may be to Eweford, for Mr. Milwright wanted both him and Repworth for his ecclesiological meeting. If you see him, pray talk to him and send him home, for Kate has been in great trouble about it, laying the blame on herself, (as well she may,) and she has actually written to her other uncle, Mr. Wardour, to propose going to him. It is very horrid. Papa feels keenly that she has been--what he calls insulted in his house by his sons; and yet we can't do much, because--oh why is she not only Kate Umfraville? The light is gone out of her brown eyes, and she looks as she did before the Colonel came home. She wants to be too proud to show it to us, but there is no pride in her, and she can't act it. If you could only get at that boy and send him home, it would all come right. There's the whole story: I hope it will not spoil your pleasure; but if you have a scrap of time, write, and comfort your poor loving

G. DE LA P."'

There was an odd look in Felix's face as he said, 'Poor young man!'

'It is too bad of him!' said Robina, hotly.

'And are you armed with a long whip to send him back to his Countess and his book?'

'Please, Felix, be in earnest! It is a serious matter.'

'Because it concerns such exalted personages.'

'No,' said Robina, the tears burning in her eyes, 'because Grace is my friend, and Kate Caergwent a dear bright girl, who must not have her life spoilt--nor he either. Felix, you never were unfeeling before!'

'Have you let them know where to find their truant?'

'I had begun a letter this morning, but had no time to finish.'

'But you can give your evidence on the K T case by to-morrow's post.'

'Yes, if you can get my letter to Ewmouth before nine o'clock.'

'I will take care of that; and then you will have done all that ought to be expected of you.'

'Oh! I must speak to Lord Ernest.'

'Really, Robina, I am so thankful to see you so well out of the scrape that I don't see why you should thrust yourself into it. Surely, when the boy's parents know where to find him, they are competent to act.'

'Don't you see, they will not get my letter till the day after to-morrow, and by that time Lady Caergwent will have gone. Now, if he would only go back to-morrow of his own accord, it would have a much better grace. Why do you laugh, Felix?'

'I profess not to understand lords and ladies,' said Felix, recovering his gravity; 'but I doubt the effectiveness of the remonstrance, and I greatly fear your burning your own fingers.'

'There's no fear of that,' she said, with dignity. 'It is a duty to friends who are dearer and kinder to me than any one here believes!' And the tears started on her cheeks.

'Of your duty you are the best judge. I see you must have been discreet, to have earned so much affection and confidence. I own I should have thought the fewer who meddled in such a concern the better! and that--though I daresay it is very shocking--there was something rather wholesome in the poor boy's exertion of free will.' He was near laughing, the whole affair struck him as so ludicrous, especially Robina's look of dismay.

'Oh! His sisters! Lady Caergwent! His mother, and all! Oh no! If I don't try my utmost to get him home, I should feel treacherous--as if I were encouraging him here.'

'Honestly, do you think your being here has anything to do with his coming?'

'N--no! At least, I think the sight of you all so bright and pleasant at the station put it into his head. He is very much amused with Angela; but--oh no! I am certain he does not come after any one--least of all me!'

'There is one person who seems to think otherwise, if I may judge from his manner,' said Felix, tentatively.

'It is very unjust and unfair!' cried Robina, flaming up. 'He ought to know and trust me better. I will not heed such unworthy fancies. A son of the house, indeed! He ought to know that if there were no other reason, I should think it dishonourable.'

'Yet was it not on that account that you stayed at home to-day?'

'Yes,' she said more softly; 'but that ought to content him. I cannot give up a duty for unworthy suspicions.' And her neck bridled, and her eyes shone with hurt dignity through her tears.

'Well, Robina, you know best. You understand your own affairs, I suppose, and I see you are really trying to act rightly and honourably. I will give you any opportunity I can of speaking to this youth, though, for your own sake, I should strongly advise your only giving him his mother's letter, and letting it speak for itself.'

Robina shook her head. It was useless to argue it further. Like a woman, and a young woman, she was resolved to run all risks in her friend's cause, deeming it ignoble to make any concession to William's unfounded jealousy, and not appreciating Felix's doubts of any young man, especially one in a chafing refractory mood, going back to the yoke at the behest of his sisters' governess.

Felix did not like it at all, but he was always slow to act where he did not understand his ground; and the tone of the two letters showed such confidence in Robina, that he felt that her prudence might be trusted; while as to William Harewood, an unrecognised engagement did not deserve consideration from the family.

So he kept her counsel, and let things take their course, on the busy confused morning that preluded the first attempt of the family at an entertainment.

Breakfast was enlivened by a discussion whether precedence was to be respected, and next what that precedence was. 'Ought the Baron, or the Marquis's younger son, to come first and take Miss Underwood?'

'The Baron, I hope,' said Cherry. 'Old men are twice as nice as young ones, though your friend is very pleasant, Bobbie. Which is it to be? You are the experienced one.'

'Not I,' said Robina. 'Of course I don't dine late, and they go into luncheon nohow, as I should say was the best way here. Let Felix take Lady Hammond, and leave the rest to settle it. Depend upon it, they know their places better than we do.'

'"Ladies and Gentlemen, sort yourselves," as the parson said, when he had married five couple all at one go,' said Bernard.

'Don't they sometimes stick in the door-way curtseying? They do in books,' said Cherry.

'Not out of them,' said Robin. 'If there is a choice, I think age gets it more than actual rank.'

'There's nothing Lord Ernest hates like dowagers,' cried Angela, 'when all the jolly girls are out of reach.'

'What do you know about it, Angela?' said Felix, rather sharply.

'I've heard him say so twenty times. We are prodigious allies, and it was very sly of Robin never to tell me he was coming. Bear and I would have got up Dobby for his special edification.'

'You will do no such thing, for him or any one else!' broke forth in displeasure from Felix.

Angela shrugged her shoulders. 'Our Squire has grown very peremptory since he came to his kingdom,' she said; and perhaps he thought so, for he said to her at a quiet moment, 'Angela, perhaps I should have given you credit for not meaning what you said. You must know the impropriety of playing tricks on our guests, more especially when concerned with the world of spirits.'

The words appealed to the more accessible side of her nature, and she was silent. He considered whether to warn her about Lord Ernest, but was deciding that it would only excite her to further mischief, when he was summoned to admire the preparations that had absorbed the home party all the previous day.

The screen, a high wooden carved one, entirely cut off the end of the long room appropriated to the household prayers. The long table was laid with the fine old damask, the wealth of plate, glass, and old china, to which the substantial cold viands, and the jellies and creams, compounded by Wilmet and her ingenious Krishnu, were now to be added. The only failure had been in the unlimited lobsters, which had been all absorbed by Ewmouth itself; but then, Marilda, hearing all about it from Lance on his way through London, had actually sent them last night two venison pasties and a grouse pie, ready made, besides a great deal of her best fruit.

All stood admiring except Geraldine, who cried, 'Oh, that big epergne! Oh, those dahlias! They are just like a pincushion, or Protheroe's window! Stella--Bear--Bobbie--for pity's sake get me some fuchsias--traveller's joy, Bougainvillia--anything trailing--and I'll get a little of the stiffness out before Wilmet comes, and then she'll never find it out! And where's my salt-cellar? Oh for Lance!'

When Wilmet came upon the scene, she found Cherry seated as the centre-piece on the table, contending with the difficulties of adorning without concealing the curious old salt, the table-cloth bestrewn with green leaves and fallen fuchsia bells, and the epergne, the triumph of her art, the subject of her distant admiration at the last dinner party of the olden time, (Clement's christening feast,) relegated to a much inferior station, its formal glories of purple and crimson quilled dahlias obscured by loose streamers of passion-flower and hoary clematis.

Other people besides Robina had something to bear that day, but there was nothing in which John's influence was more shown than in the mutual forbearance of Wilmet and Geraldine. The latter took the initiative with a torrent of thanks and apologies; and Wilmet, remembering whose house it was, submitted with a good grace, and concealed her vexation by hurrying to the kitchen to take the jellies out of their moulds. There at least she was supreme. Martha was only too glad to have her to sympathize with her new glories, and for her sake could even bear with 'that there blackamore chap.'

Robina, in a nearly sleepless night, had decided on giving William a word or two of explanation as to her having a message from home for Lord Ernest; but in the rush after flowers, Angela had carried Bill off to rob a wisteria of its second bloom, and by the time they came back, Felix was hurrying his party into the waggonette.

Only the gentlemen went; the ladies had enough to do at home, since it was only too true that Cherry's improvements had doubled their work, and she felt herself the more graceless that she could not run about to supply the labour she had created. Indeed, all were watching lest she should overtire herself; but she was one of those who never feel weariness while excitement lasts.

The last jelly was scarcely in its place, the last wine-glass adjusted, when Angela announced a carriage turning over the bridge; and the long approach up the lane, and down the drive enabled Cherry, by the united efforts of her sisters, to cast her housewifely slough, don her white dress and mauve ribbons, and seat herself in the drawing-room, with Clement as her supporter.

Luckily Cherry had never been afraid of people, and she faced the inroad with great composure. This proved to be only the advanced guard, namely, Mr. Milwright, bringing Lord Ernest and a fellow ecclesiologist with whom he wanted to hold a private discussion over the fragments of a shrine in the south transept; and Clement went to show his discoveries.

So cruelly were opportunities wasted, that Robina was in the far end of the west wing, dressing herself and Angela, while Lord Ernest was having a twenty minutes tête-à-tête with Cherry, whom he consulted as to joining Will Harewood's reading party, and told her that the Vale Leston choir was renowned as the best in the neighbourhood; and that old Milwright, being unable to go in out-and-out for the mediæval, let things alone, and was content with two fiddles and a flute. Wherefore he should walk from Eweford on the ensuing Sunday, to this--simply the most charming place he had ever seen. Whereupon Miss Underwood innocently invited him to luncheon between the services.

Robina could only come down just as Felix returned, immediately followed by the whole multitude, exceeding the expectations of the family so much, that Marilda's pasties were a comfortable reflection, and Wilmet's imagination fell to reckoning knives and forks. Places at the table must be hopeless for many; and when Felix, in desperation, offered an arm to Lady Hammond, he left a chaos behind which he hoped would, as Bernard said, 'sort itself.'

People must have been quite as curious about the Underwoods as about their Priory, for the most improbable guests had come, even the undesirable peer, whose earldom complicated matters. He assumed, however, that the eldest and handsomest bonnetless lady must be her of the house, and accordingly gave his arm to Mrs. Harewood; Lord de Vigny, who knew better, took his old acquaintance, Miss Underwood, and dipped her once more in the dear old world of art; the others paired somehow, and, as Robina had foreseen, Lord Ernest left himself behind with the common herd, who, after the seats at the long table were occupied, betook themselves to the cushioned embrasures of the windows, and to catering for themselves at the side-board, where, happily, there was no lack of supplies. It was great fun, and Angela agreed with Lord Ernest in pronouncing it so much jollier than a wedding-breakfast, as there were no wretched victims to be turned off. If there were any victims, one was Robina, who was penned up in a corner by Mr. Henry Shaw, doing his best to be polite; and the other was Will, who had on his hands two ladies, a gushing mother and daughter, who had just discovered him to be the author of those delicious songs, signed March Hare!

The discourse, the occasion of all, began in the long room, Mr. Milwright taking up station after station, while people herded round to look at what he pointed out. This tour must be Robina's opportunity. There were a good many stragglers from the troop of listeners; and among them was Angela, keeping close to Lord Ernest, and delighted to take him on a counter round, displaying all the charms of her new home.

This Robina had expected. She knew that it might be said that the two young Miss Underwoods were running after that young man, and she wanted to speak as soon as possible, to put an end to the pursuit. So when Angela had led him to a shed where resided an owl captured in the church tower, she took the bull by the horns. 'Angel, I have a message from Repworth to deliver. I must ask you to leave us a little while.' And she opened the door leading into the walled kitchen garden. Angela shrugged her shoulders, but fell back.

'And so you have betrayed me? Could not you let a poor fellow breathe a little free air for once in his life?'

'Read that!' was all her answer.

The effect of his mother's letter resembled that on Felix; he burst out laughing, much more unreservedly exclaiming, 'Well done, Cecy!'

'But it is not what you said!'

'Wasn't it? Then my words fell short of my thoughts. What was it the King of France said when he had got away from captivity or Catherine de Medici (his K Ts, you see)--"I am yet a man and a brother."'

'Please don't make light of it. Grace is in such distress.'

'There generally is a commotion when a prisoner breaks loose. I thought better of you, Miss Underwood, than to suppose you a detective in disguise.'

'I only want you to realize how wrong it is that you should be here.'

'I assure you it is all for the family honour. Tout est perdu fors l'honneur.--That was the fellow's sentiment--wasn't it?'

'I don't see the application.'

'Don't you? Sha'n't I be ploughed to a dead certainty if I go on trying to carry this on at home!' said Lord Ernest, much more seriously. 'How about l'honneur then?'

Robina could not deny the danger, and knew not how to answer. He saw his advantage, and pursued it. 'Was not reading, under the circumstances, a delusion? You won't speak treason? Never mind, I see it in your eyes. You know that between all the K Ts within and without doors, it was providential that I retained sufficient combination of ideas to effect my escape before I was quite distracted.'

'I don't think you guess the distress you have caused,' said Robina, gravely.

'What, Gracie has written you a deplorable letter? Gone to the bad entirely, am I? My mother weeping, my father wailing, my sister sobbing, our K T wringing her hands--' Then, as she moved decidedly away, with a gesture expressive of deep displeasure, 'Nay--I declare they are re-assured. Even if you haven't--I have written to my father; and they know by this time that the vortex I have rushed into is nothing worse than a conglomeration of antiquarian old fogies.'

'Oh! if you have written--' she began, feeling that Felix had been right, and she herself more or less of a goose.

'Yes. I have written to explain that my brain won't stand being beset within doors and without, and to propose joining Harewood's reading-party.'

Robina fairly started. 'Do you know if he will have you?'

'I hope he can. He is a crack coach, you know, little as he looks it. Wonderfully able man when he makes the most of himself.'

'I think he has as many pupils as he has room for,' said Robina, highly gratified, but hoping to avert what might drive Will beyond all bounds.

'I hope not. Your sister seemed to think it might be managed.'

'What, Angela?'

'No; Miss Underwood--is she not? The one who was in the room first. What a delightful countenance she has, by-the-by, it strikes me more than Mrs. Harewood's. It is a rare thing to meet so much beauty afloat in one family.'

However complimentary, he must not be allowed to run on in this way; and his monitor returned abruptly to the charge. 'I allow that it is hard to read at the Towers; but before you make any other arrangements, I think you ought to go home this very evening and explain things. There is a train at 4.11, at Church Ewe.'

'Have you got a policeman outside to give me in charge to?'

'No,' she answered, with some anger; 'but Lady Caergwent is going away to-morrow!'

His first impulse was a little whistle of dismay; but he caught it up, and coolly said, 'Joy go with her, a K T clasm! You have not let Grace cram you with all that?'

By this time Robina was thoroughly sensible of the false position she had got herself into, and had only to get herself out of it as fast as she could, so she took the path between the espaliers and scarlet-runners which would soonest lead back to public haunts, saying decidedly, 'I do not want to hear anything about it.'

'It seems to me,' said her companion, with more of the man than he had yet assumed, 'that having entered on this, you should allow me to remind you that this is a free country, and these are not the days of family compacts. I will not go home, to be badgered whatever I say or do. I will strike out my own line, and work for myself.'

'But your father--!'

'If I know my father, he will like me the better for it. The Colonel has a way of making him see things in his point of view, and it was a tidy little plan; but there are not so many men in this world born for prince-consorts, and they have not got hold of one of the sort. There, now, you have discharged your duty! You may tell Grace what I say--the whole houseful, if you like.'

'Very well,' said Robina coldly, glad to have nearly reached a door opening upon a laurel path. 'It is of no use to say any more. You have written, and I have no more to do with it.'

'I didn't think you were on the enemy's side!' he proceeded, as if pleading with her displeasure. 'I know you are one to like a fellow the more for having a spark of independence. Come, you may as well say so; it is in your nature, I've seen it, and you owe me compensation for all that you have rehearsed to me in the spirit of the K Ts.'

This was in a tone between warmth and raillery, that made it very difficult to know how to reply; and all she could think of was, 'You can be the only judge of what is right and manly.'

'There then!' as if he had done with the subject. 'Oh! don't open the door. Let us have another turn. I want to tell you about my plans. This is almost as good as losing ourselves.'

'I can't,' said Robina, with much repressive displeasure, 'I am wanted. I only came to show you your mother's letter;' and she plunged into the laurel-walk.

'Then I am much obliged to my mother's letter,' was the reply, in a tone that conveyed more than the words.

Therewith, at the other end of the path, were seen Mrs. Fulbert Underwood, Miss Martha Hepburn, and Mr. Harry Shaw. They met; Robina shook hands; Lord Ernest moved his hat; but though 'Jane' made a low curtsey, her observation was marked--'Oh! so you have lost yourself again, Rosina!'

'My name is Robina, if you please,' she exclaimed, glad to have something to contradict.

'Ah! I never can remember! It is so peculiar!'

'Peculiarly pretty,' said Lord Ernest. 'It puts one in mind of all sorts of pleasant associations.'

'It is Scottish, after Miss Hepburn,' said Robina, severely turning from him.

'Yes,' said Miss Martha. 'It is a very old name with us, but we never called my sister by it; we call her by her name of Elizabeth, it is less romantic but more sensible.' And Miss Martha, frightened at speaking so like Isabella, laughed a little to diminish the stern effects.

Robina hoped to shake off Lord Ernest by joining them, and said politely, 'I did not know you were here.'

'Harry and I thought we would just come over to see what the learned men think of the poor old place; but after all, it is only Mr. Milwright, and one can hear him any day, so we came round just to have a look at the old conservatories, which I used to dote on.'

'You have had some luncheon?'

'Yes, thank you, we got some cold pigeon pie. My dear, what a pity your sister did not apply to me! I could have recommended her to Patakake, who always did things for us. Whom could you have had?'

'Kerenhappuch,' said Robina solemnly, for, in spite of all her trouble, she was awake to the fun of the thing, and she greatly tickled Lord Ernest by the tone and the name.

'Well, so Miss Martha said, but I could not believe it. Done entirely at home?'

'Yes.'

'Excuse me, my dear Ros--Robina, but it was a mistake in a position like yours.'

'I am sorry if anything was not good.'

'Oh! that's not it. It is style that is the thing, especially in your position. It will not do to fall short of it!--You agree with me, my Lord, air is everything.'

'I much prefer good food,' he answered; at which Harry Shaw broke into a hearty laugh, and Robina could not help joining. Perceiving, perhaps, that his dictum would go for something, Lord Ernest gravely added, 'If good food and good taste combined are the right thing, I am sure we had it to-day. I never saw a more thoroughly pretty or graceful set out--so well appointed too.'

And though the two ladies agreed that the poor young man was very far gone, and that there was something artful about that girl, yet it silenced the lamentations for Patakake. Mrs. Fulbert declared it wonderful how those girls had managed it--but, of course, they had been brought up to such things; and Miss Martha--more good-naturedly--made it known that 'that young nobleman had never seen anything equal to it for style and good taste!'

'Of course, simplicity was a relief after the jaded life of a man of fashion,' added Miss Isabella.

'What, the Earl was there! What a pity those young people should get into such a set!'

By the time the lawn was reached, the discourse was ended, and people were scattered about on the garden-chairs, partaking of further refreshments handed by Krishnu, who had assumed his white and scarlet, and had an imposing effect, leading forth sundry footmen in diverse liveries as his assistants. Lord de Vigny had detected Geraldine's studio, and insisted on seeing her portfolio. She had somewhat flagged since her object had been attained, and among the excitements of the last year; and the old gentleman gave her a real scolding for wasting such powers in little desultory half-finished memorial kind of sketches. It was impossible not to laugh at the exaggerated feeling of the kind old courteous amateur; but after all, the stimulus was good for her. She did not exactly accept the assurance that it was the first duty of her life to produce something every season for the Exhibition; but the fresh eye, and the criticism, which had reality in it, though it was complimentary, stirred her up; and she felt that it was not doing justice to the gift of which she was a steward, to shrink, as she had done of late, from the train of attention and detail which the maturing an original subject cost her, besides that contributions to the housekeeping were really felt by all that could work for themselves to be almost due to him who toiled so freely for them and for his conscience. As to the neighbours, they only then and there discovered that the little lame Miss Underwood was an exhibitor at the Royal Academy, and that the queer old nobleman, with the loose grey hair, raved about her drawings. They regarded her the more or the less according as they most esteemed genius or gentility; and as Miss Martha Hepburn said, 'No one would ever have found it out.' 'As if they expected me to go about in a white turban and a palette on my thumb, like the pictures of Angelica Kaufman!' said Cherry, laughing, as Angela reported this speech while the home party stood under the porch, after seeing off their last guests.

There was plenty of indulgence in self-gratulations, and a universal contribution of the observations each had received, almost all resulting in declaring their house-warming a great success. In the midst, some correspondence of eye between Robina and her eldest brother, brought the colour into her cheek as she drew nearer to him. He held out his hand to her, and when the others dispersed to their rooms, they began to walk together under the wall.

'You spoke to him?'

'Yes. Oh! I wish I hadn't. You were right. He had written to his father, after all!'

'Then it is off your mind?'

'Yes. No--it would be--' She fell into a terrible tangle of hesitation and broken words, out of which he thus interpreted,

'You found the situation awkward?'

'Oh! I ought not to complain, for it was my own doing when you warned me, and I don't believe he meant it; but--but--it just amounts to this, that I can never freely say again that he never said, or tried to say, a word like flirting--to me. And I suppose it is my duty to tell, and--give them all up--'

'I suppose you had rather not tell me what he really said?'

'It was not words so much as manner--assuming that I was on his side at heart, and half laughing at me all the time. Then, when he had told me quite seriously that the family compact was all nonsense, he grew a little more like that--wanted me to hear his plans, and stay away from the rest--said it was as good as our being lost.'

'Is that all?'

'Yes; except that, when I said why I began, he answered, "Then I am much obliged to my mother's letter."'

'Then, if there is no more, you had much better let things alone. If he has written to his father, a post or two will decide his recall; and in the meantime, such a confession, though quite conscientious, would only make you ridiculous.'

'Yes, I see that. I had much rather not. Wilmet thinks I am always fancying such things--but you don't, Felix! I only wish it were--'

'I don't think you so silly, my dear,' said Felix. 'No one can judge of manner without seeing it; but so little as you have to tell seems to me nothing to cry out about, and your confession might be misunderstood.'

'Of course I don't want to do it; but to keep it back when I write seems treacherous.'

'Don't write!'

'Not to Grace?'

'She knows you are much occupied; and even if she do think you a little remiss, really even such a dreadful idea seems to me preferable to any fresh reports coming between this young man and his family, at what may be the turning-point of his life.'

'I should not send a false report!'

'You could not help sending an excited one; and if it were the actual short-hand notes of what passed, word for word, what could it do but give all the ladies something more to talk about? If Lord de la Poer be the same man in private life as in public, he and his son will understand one another much better without the interposition of any women's tongues, or pens, however kindly-intentioned.'

'So he said--that his father would understand, and like him the better for being independent.'

'For my part, I could not understand what you told me!'

'He is so fond of Colonel Umfraville, and would be glad to see one of his children like a son to him. I can't help hoping it will come right, for poor dear Lady Caergwent's sake.'

'Then, once more, let it alone!'

She obeyed, with a sigh. It was a quiet evening, Felix and the Harewoods went to the soirée; and the next day was that of the excursion to Stoneborough, for which Robina had not much heart, but that dreadful imputation of being apt to make a fuss about nothing prevented her from backing out. She did not understand William, who had dropped his surly petulant manner, and was only exceedingly grave and quiet, keeping out of the way, and looking dejected and subdued. She longed to speak to him, but he specially avoided her, and this time Felix made her his special charge, transferring Cherry to John Harewood's guidance. Both understood, almost without even a glance, that he wished to be free; and Cherry could not have had a more devoted cavalier than her brother-in-law, who never left her, except when the ascent of the Tower made Gertrude May hang back, declare she had had enough of that, and beg to take Miss Underwood under her protection, to rest in her sister's drawing-room.

And there Gertrude, in one of those curious accesses of confidence that congeniality sometimes produces, poured out a great deal of what was most individual to herself. Daisy had never set up a friend before, and had always been rather contemptuous of intimacies; but this was a case of love at first sight. Geraldine was about six years her elder, and not in the category of 'tiresome girls,' and while her sister's beauty was talked of, no one said much about her; so Daisy fancied this a discovery of her own, and became devoted to her, especially when she began to touch on Felix, and found that for hero-worship nothing could rival the sister. Geraldine had her reserves, but to find such a listener to the achievements of Felix was enough to open all her heart. And when the interruption came at last, all Gertrude thought of was when and how to meet again.

Nothing worth note befell Robina; and on the Saturday the only event was Mr. Harewood's departure, and his son's disappearance immediately after. It turned out that he was walking to Penbeacon to make his final arrangements; and when regrets were expressed that he had not borrowed a horse, John warned the proprietors against trusting a beast in Will's hands; and Wilmet declared that, in mercy to his pupils, she should drive over next week and see whether the rooms were fit for anybody. Clement spoke well of them, but she had little faith in him.

On Sunday, just as the church bells were calling, and the Priory ladies were proceeding to the bench they had placed in the south transept, when leaving the chancel to the choir, there appeared the not very welcome outline of an aquiline young profile, with loose shining brown hair, peering about over the big oaken boxes that fenced up the central aisle; and it was Angela who popped up her head to guide him to a local habitation.

If it were true that Vale Leston rejoiced in the best choir in the neighbourhood, Ewshire could not be well off, thought those who were used to the Bexley organ and choir under Lance's presidency. Clement had done a good deal in the past year with his boys, and had a good schoolmaster as organist; but the best voices did not appertain to the best men, and those best men, being the most imbued with Hepburnism, viewed the gallery as a much more honourable place than the chancel, and would infinitely rather have sung in a dissenting chapel than in a surplice; but though they were little cultivated, and were still in what their vicar called motley, his voice, with the Squire's practised one, and Will's with its old chorister training, told enough to make the general effect far above the country average, and to merit the admiration with which Lord Ernest replied to Angela's exaggerated despair at the dissonances.

On the way through the Cloister he contrived to say to Robina, 'I've heard from Papa--it is all right.' She could only reply, 'That is well!' with a real look of congratulation, though she felt that the use of the strictly domestic appellation was another dangerous implication of familiarity. After dinner she crept up to her own room, resolved to give neither encouragement to him nor offence to William, thinking it hard that the latter's last Sunday should be spoilt. The school would, she knew, keep Angela out of mischief, and Cherry would look after the guest if he deserved to be entertained. What had become of poor Lady Caergwent?

Perhaps the sun was too hot in her southern room, for Robina grew restless over her books, and wandered into Cherry's painting room, gazing listlessly from the windows. Then she saw a sight that surprised her--Will and Lord Ernest under the cedar, in a conference that lasted till the smallest bell began to ring.

Felix was still more surprised by Will's address to him some hours later.

'I just want to know one thing. Do you want that young fellow licked into shape--that young De la Poer?' he added, meeting Felix's look of blank amazement. 'He wants me to take him in hand at Penbeacon. I told him I did not know if there was room--I really don't; but the real question is--' and there he came to a dead stop.

'The real question is--' repeated Felix.

'Whether you think it a good thing?' continued Will, his head bent over a cat's-cradle of string in which he had tied up his fingers.

'A very good thing for him, and pecuniarily not a bad one for you.'

'Botheration! that has nothing to do with it. Can't you see what I mean? Is it good for--her?' and the poor little monosyllable came out with a sort of groan.

Felix pitied him enough to help him forward with, 'For Robina, do you mean? You are under a misapprehension, if you think it makes any difference to her!'

'Then you don't approve of it? You don't want to put a stop to it?'

'There is nothing to put a stop to, that I know of!'

'Ah! then you don't know!' said Will, lapsing into deep dejection.

'I know she would consider what you imply as dishonourable and treacherous!'

'No, no!' cried Will, vehemently; 'no such thing! Your sister in your house--as well-born a lady as any in England--a match for any man in the realm!'

'There are other reasons, besides her position in the family, which would make her think it treason to encourage what, I believe, has no existence.'

'Ah, then--you don't know what--' and again he stopped short between dismay and oppression.

'What do you mean?'

'No, no; you shall not have it from me. I'm only sorry I said a word.' And the poor fellow was going away.

'Hold, Bill! Tell me what you mean? I believe I can explain it!'

'There's only one expla--No; what am I saying? She has every right. You'll hear it soon enough!'

He was turning the handle of the door, when Felix said, 'If you mean that Robina spoke to him in the kitchen-garden on Thursday, I know all about that!'

'Indeed!' His face altered instantly.

'She had a letter from his mother that she thought he ought to see. She told me what she intended.'

'Queer people, to find such a channel of communication,' said Bill, gruffly. 'And that was all?'

'The whole.'

'Well! I never meant to act the spy; but I'll tell you how it was, Felix. I had heard all Milwright's prose, and was sick of all the humbug; so I went into your study for a little peace, and there I heard Theodore fretting awfully in the next room--'

'I know. You were so kind as to take him out.'

'He wanted you, and he wanted to be out; and he was plagued and bothered at so many strangers about, and Sibby was nearly demented with having to keep him quiet and wash up the thingumbobs. So this watch--it belongs to John, came from his aunt's; but I've got it while mine is refitting--and it plays all manner of tunes. Theodore will come anywhere after it; so I got him into the kitchen-garden, thinking there would be peace there, and into the old root-house, and there what does he do but go to sleep on my knee!'

'Yes; he had had a bad night. I was writing later than was good for him, and he was excited by the preparations.'

'So while I was pinned down, I saw--from the little window--those two walking up and down at the further end of the garden,' and he made a gesture of utter despair. 'It was no good showing myself--I was out of hearing; but--And so,' he added, 'I thought if I could anyway conduce to making him fit for her, it was all I could do for her.'

'Very kind! but you might have trusted her!'

'Trust! If I had any right!'

'She thinks you have!'

'She!' and the face lighted up. 'You don't mean that she holds to that? Of course you know nothing about it, though? Some childish nonsense passed years ago, but I never durst believe she remembered it.'

'She knows it ought not to bind you, but--'

'Bind! What should bind but the love of my whole heart, ever since I knew I had one? I durst not speak again of it. When I came to perceive what I had done, I thought it not fair towards her to renew it, till I had the means to keep her as she ought to be kept; for you know I've not got a preserve of old aunts, like Jack!'

'Quite right, Will!'

'And when she had been among all those swells, how did I know what she might not be wanting to take up with--never being much of a fellow to look at, any time?' he added wistfully.

'I think you might have known her better!'

'You see,' he broke out, 'I don't want her to be held to me only by what took place long ago, when she was a child of thirteen. That would be a downright shame, and I never meant to remind her till I had a home to offer her. There have been times when I made sure we understood one another; but to this hour I don't know whether she likes me a bit better than John, and if she--likes--this young man better--she has a perfect right!' concluded poor Will, with a great sob from his big honest chest.

'That you had better ascertain!'

'Do you tell me so?' he exclaimed.

'I am not exactly the person to tell you to do so; but though I honour your conduct with all my heart, I think the mutual uncertainty is causing you both much unnecessary unhappiness and anxiety.'

'I can answer for one! But she? People always preach that long engagements wear out a girl's life.'

'If you were sixteen and thirteen over again, I should say, "Don't!" very decidedly; but having gone so far, I think you had best go on. I really believe that not only would an understanding be a great present relief, but that an avowed engagement would be a great comfort and protection to her.'

'I'll never let her go back to that drudgery!' cried Will.

'That you must settle with her,'

'Then I have your sanction?'

'Yes; but I'm not your father!'

'Oh! he'll be jolly and glad! He never interferes with anything in reason! I wonder how Wilmet will look!'

'That must be ascertained by experiment. We must shut up now, Will, or poor Tedo will have another restless night. Good-night!'

'Pah! I should like to go out and halloo!'

'Write a poem instead, and work off the steam!' said Felix, turning down the lamp to get rid of that most unpoetical-looking poet.

Will had announced an intention of walking to Penbeacon in early morning, and when rallied by Angela on having overslept himself, the great audacious slap-dash fellow proved to have turned as shy as a girl. He kept on blushing up to the ears, looking sheepish, and losing opportunities from sheer awkwardness. If the space had been as small, or Felix as punctilious as at John's courtship, the crisis could hardly have come on; but Felix had put off going to Bexley, to see the affair through, and was resolved that the mutual infliction of misery should last no longer. So finding matters in statu quo at dinner-time, he ordered the waggonet, and declaring suddenly that he would protect Cherry through the visits she had to return, he packed in three sisters, declaring, with a twinkle in his eye, that he knew Bobbie wanted to finish her sketch of the church. Clement was gone to the far end of the village, and Bernard was fishing, so that the coast was clear.

But the drawing went on in solitude under the cedar for a quarter of an hour; and when at last a sort of irresolute saunter resulted in a big loosely-built personage reclining on the grass at the sketcher's feet, a good many more minutes were spent in pulling up tufts, while she was too glad to have him there to suggest that he was doing the work of a dozen chaffer-grubs. Indeed, she soon saw that he was ill at ease, and her painting felt the influence of his restlessness, which began to alarm her, though she durst not disturb it. He might mean to have it out with her--he might be composing a poem--to which last opinion she inclined when he at length lay prone on his back, his straw hat entirely over his face; and she expected either a heroic utterance, or a hasty demand for a pencil and a page of her sketch-book. Instead of which, after a deep sigh, came the portentous words--'Double-distilled donkey!'

'Indeed, I don't think he's quite that!' justice compelled her to say.

'There! I knew how it would be! Nothing but an unmitigated idiot could have thought otherwise for a moment!'

'Thought what?' said Robina--not exactly liking to consider the 'unmitigated idiot' meant to apply to herself, the most obvious antecedent.

'Why, I was ten thousand asses for coming out here!'

'Indeed!'

Something in the tone of that 'indeed' raised him to a sitting posture, with his arms embracing his knees, a resolute and deplorable attitude. 'I say, Robina, tell me at once, and put an end to it, whether you care for that sprig of nobility!'

'I!' she cried, her eyes flashing. 'How can you suspect me!' and indignation made it sound like--'insult me!'

'Don't be in such a fury with a poor fellow that has been driven nearly to desperation!' said William, putting an elbow on the chair where her apparatus stood.

'It was your own fault!' said Robina; she meant it to be sternly, but it was softly. 'I wanted to explain to you, but you never would let me!'

'I did not know that you--I mean, that I felt that I had no right to ask!'

'O Willie!'

'Robina! Robin--dearest! Are you thinking of that evening?--Bah! what's this?' as his start forward upset the chair against him.

'The water I was painting with! Let me wipe it. It is making a green stream over your face!' at which they both laughed hysterically; and what Will tried to do to the hands that were drying his face may be inferred from--'Now, don't! Let me do it properly! Be quiet, let me look!' And as he half sat, half knelt, she turned up his great freckled face with her hand under his chin. 'There's a green drop still in the corner of your left eye! Let me take it out.'

'The last drop of the green-eyed monster, I promise you, Robina. Now, don't you know what they always do to good little boys, who have had their faces washed nice and clean?'

'But you haven't been a good little boy! You were very naughty, making me ever so unhappy!' and, smiling as she was, there was a tear not green in her eye.

'Ah! You could never have been so wretched as I was; not knowing whether what was my deepest earnest was child's play to you, and not daring to ask.'

'Just like me!' she whispered.

'And now, is it not like waking out of a horrible dream, or getting out of a mist of darkness, to find that we have had one another's heart ever--ever since? my Robin--mine own--mine own!'

'Oh! indeed it is! I don't think we quite knew what we were doing then, but it has only grown as we have grown older.'

'And will grow for ever, Robina!'

'I trust so!'

'Isn't this rest?' he said presently.

'After all those worries! Oh! I must tell you about Lord Ernest!'

'I don't want to hear a word about Lord Ernest, or Lord Anybody! Bless me, I forgot! I was to let the fellow knew if I could have him up at the farm; and in fact I was waiting to know whether you wanted him made a man of for you!' and Will laughed merrily. 'I'd have done my best, Robin!'

'I do want him made a man of, but not for me,' said Robina, stroking his face, by way of reward for a generosity she could not speak of. 'You'll do it, Willie?'

'He'll be off with it, now!'

'Nonsense! that had nothing at all to do with it. He had been trying to read at home, and it did not answer.'

'Never does!'

'He got bothered, and came to Eweford in a fit of temper. The family did not know where he was, and I thought I ought to show him their letters, and let him see how vexed they were. Felix said I had better let it alone, and I found after all that Lord Ernest had written to his father.'

'Felix knows about us. How is that?'

'I was uncomfortable at his not knowing. I once tried to tell Wilmet, when I was afraid I ought not to keep the nid d'avis; but she said I was a silly child, and would not listen.'

'How lucky! What a delicious time we had at Barèges! It is like a stream of sunshine in my mind. Won't we go there again some day! That would have settled my business, even if there had been no summer evening at home. I've got your sketches up in my rooms, and this one will follow them.'

'If you haven't gone and spoilt it! Look! There's a great dab of blue, that you made me make, half way up the church tower.'

'Make it Clement, in a sky-blue scarlet vestment, pronouncing a benediction!'

'For shame, Willie! that's as bad as Angela. Besides, he isn't gone up as high as that yet!'

'Make it a forget-me-not, then!'

'Up there! and as big as the window?'

'Make it something! I won't have it washed out. It marks the prime moment of my life--when I came from darkness into sunshine. You must come some day and do our Cathedral from the meads, and I'll show you where I cut out our initials and 1861.'

'No! did you?'

'Of course; and all the more because you would not break a sixpence. You will now?'

'With all my heart!'

'I declare I haven't got one now! Only a three-penny bit, again.'

'Here's one!' said Robina. 'Give me the three-penny, and then it will be half from each.'

'That's not the right arrangement,' said Will, as he frowned horribly over the difficulty of dividing the coin. 'I say, I'll get you a ring to-morrow, though it won't be such a one as Jack's.'

'No, it will be much better!' said Robina, taking the scissors at her chatelaine, (from a Repworth Christmas-tree,) and snipping a lock from his head, while he was still struggling with the sixpence. 'There, I shall make that into a ring! Yes it is the only one I will have--the only gold I care for.'

'If you call that gold, it is decisive,' said Will, laughing, as she twined the ruddy thing in her fingers. 'You must have something to set it in?'

'Yes; I must wait till the chestnut horse comes home, for a few hairs of his mane for a foundation--black would show through.'

Bill protested in favour of 'a real one,' but without much effect. Was not the sixpence yielding at last? and had she not that precious bird's-nest, which she had not dared to wear during his displeasure, unwitting that this grieved him the more? They were very earnest over the old-fashioned ceremony of the sixpence; they scratched a W and an R on each moiety, and made a hole, and Robina undertook the finding a cord for each. It was playfully done, but with great depth beneath.

'It has been the homely token of a great deal of simple trust!' said Will.

'And I am sure we are poor enough!' added Robina.

'But you will never go back to that abominable harness?'

'Indeed I must! No, Will! Cannot you see how wrong and foolish it would be to be living on Felix, with nothing to do, and no one wanting me?'

'No one?'

'Cherry is all the world to Felix, and teaches Stella. Angela takes the parish work; and it would be a sin and shame to waste my education in dawdling here. Even dear old Lancey is too much taken up with his music to want me to keep house for him. I should only be in his way; and I do not want to enter on all the questions about society there!'

'No; Bexley would not do for you!'

'And when I am getting one hundred pounds now, and am to have one hundred and fifty after Christmas, when Miss Oswald goes, would it not be sheer waste and laziness to come and prey on Felix, when I might be earning a nice little nest-egg to furnish our house with?'

'That's to coax me; but I can't stand your working for me!'

'I might as well say I can't stand your working for me, you silly fellow! You don't see me crying at your keeping pupils at Penbeacon.'

'Yes, but I'm the right one!'

'I declare you've been learning of my godmothers, who say it is unworthy of a man to let his womankind work. A regular Mahometan notion, isn't it? And I shall get my holidays whenever you are available. Don't you see?'

'I see it exactly in Miss Hepburn's light. Men must work!'

'And women weep! Eh? I've no intention of weeping! I much prefer working, and I do no more than is wholesome for any person's well-being. I believe it is Green-eyes again?'

'No; I'm not afraid of you, my own, own steady-hearted Bird! I never would have been, had I known whether you viewed that evening walk as play or earnest. I've done with that sort of trouble; but I should like to lift you out of all the drudgery of work-a-day life, and give you all that heart could wish!'

'The heart of a bird of paradise!' said she, looking into his face; 'the heart of a robin red-breast gets much nearer what it wishes when it is working--working for you, you know! Ay! that's so sweet, that you want to get it all for yourself!'

'My sweetest Bird! before you have talked me quite out of my senses, with your poetical way of putting it, let me say that you and I don't work on equal terms. There's the rub!'

'Oh! You're ashamed of the governess?'

'No indeed, dearest; but that you--you--equal to any in birth--should be in an inferior position!'

'Lord Earnestlypoor!' announced Amelia, in one single word, as she advanced on them from the house, with the gentleman following. 'He asked for Mr. Harewood.'

Up they sprung, holding out their hands.

'I thought I might walk over for my answer,' he said, with a sense of interrupting something.

William gave a conscious laugh. 'I'm afraid I've not been up to Penbeacon yet.'

'I think,' said Robina, rallying her powers, 'we had better make our avowal at once. Lord Ernest, we want your congratulations. We have been engaged this long time, and my eldest brother has just given us leave to make it known.'

Good breeding and self-command might perhaps be what prevented all sign of aught but frank friendliness. 'Indeed! I wish you joy with all my heart. Does Grace know?'

'I am going to write to Grace.'

'She will be very unselfish if she rejoices.'

'I don't think it will make any difference for some time to come,' said Robina.

'You see,' said Will, 'we neither of us have anything; and she will have it that she is so happy among your sisters, that it is no hardship to go on as she is.'

'My mother will say that it is as great a compliment as ever she received.--Well, Harewood! when you can think of such sublunary matters as pupils, will you let me know? I wouldn't have interrupted you, but I had no notion anything so interesting was going on!'

He was so genuinely simple and hearty, that Will was impelled to try whether he still wished to be his pupil, by asking whether he would object to sleeping at a cottage. 'Not in the least!' he said, 'it would be rather jolly! All I want is for you to work me up. I feel more bound than ever not to come to grief, now they have let me take my way,' he added, with frankness satisfactory to both.

Will entered into particulars of the accommodations, and Robina interposed warnings against his statements till verified by her sister's inspection. These two were really lovers of too long standing to be overwhelmingly engrossed, but were rather like beings lightened of a heavy load of suspense; and when the question between the two gentlemen began as to the books he should write for from home, he diversified it by saying to Robina--'I brought my father's letter. Would you like to see it?'

Probably he had meant to read selections, and gave it to her only because this was impossible, and he really wanted to justify his recent words.

Lord de la Poer fulfilled the assertion that he would not be displeased with his son's independence, provided he should persevere in exertion. There was a kindly expressed but not the less real warning, that the examination at Oxford would be the test whether this were a manly spirit or mere restive impatience. Full permission to read with Mr. Harewood, or any one he preferred, was given. Mr. Crichton had perceived that the system of study at home did not answer. 'When the class-list comes out,' wrote the Marquess, 'it will be time to consider of the future; but I promise that you shall not find yourself withheld from any suitable course, by any wishes that may have been prematurely expressed. That whole subject may be considered as closed. If your present plans are inspired by any other views, I trust to your treating me with confidence.'

That was the only sentence in which any suspicion could be detected. How Robina rejoiced that Felix had prevented the confession that would have been so ridiculous now! Of Lady Caergwent there was not a word. If Lord de la Poer knew of any grief at the defection, he regarded himself as in honour bound not to betray her.

Robina was waiting to restore the letter for a pause in the discussion of Greek plays and moral philosophy, which was the prelude to the licking into shape, though in externals the tutor looked by far the most in need of the process, when Amelia made another incursion, and this time announced, 'Miss Hepburn'--who proved to be two of the sisters--Bridget and Isabella; but introductions not being the prevailing custom at Repworth Towers, Robina did not feel called on to make any, and indeed William had been at Vale Leston as long as she had. But they had never met face to face before, and the ladies resented the omission, returned the bows stiffly, and when she said, 'My sisters are gone out to make morning visits,' the answer was, 'Yes, my sister Martha saw them, and we thought you would be alone.'

'Thank you. Will you come into the drawing-room, or do you like sitting out-of-doors?--Willie, please ring, and ask for some tea.'

'No, thank you! We will not disturb you. We did not know you were engaged!'

Will took the word technically, and started; Lord Ernest kept his countenance with difficulty; but Robina had sense enough to understand, and say, 'I only stayed at home to finish a sketch. These afternoon lights and shades are particularly becoming to the church.' And Lord Ernest, bringing some chairs to the rescue, applied himself with ready courtesy to make talk, though praise of the choir was hardly a happy subject to start. He did his best with Miss Isabella, while Robina faltered through ten minutes of cold commonplace with Miss Bridget.

About a quarter of an hour later, Major Harewood, who was working out the problem whether prudence would allow him to exchange military engineering for high farming as the Squire's agent, looked up at the sight of his wife in hat and parasol.

'Are you going out, my dear? Is it not too hot?'

'Only to the Priory.'

'There's nobody at home. Kit saw "Uncle Fee" and all the aunties going out in the carriage.'

'Not Robina. Miss Isabella Hepburn has just been here, to warn me that she found her sitting on the lawn, alone with two young men!'

'Bernard and Theodore?'

'No, no; of course she knows them by sight. I shall go down. I expect it is that young De la Poer; and either Robin does not know how to get rid of him, and will be glad to see me, or else she ought to be!'

'Those are the ladies that are said to have but one tooth,' said John, taking up hat and stick.

'There's no need to disturb you. Only I feel it the more expedient to be near. I am much vexed at this beginning. I never expected it from Robina. She is worse than Angel!'

'Poor Robin! There's been something amiss with her all the week, as well as with Bill. I wonder if there is anything in the Bailey joke about them?'

'Most certainly not,' said Wilmet; 'I am much more afraid of the other thing. I always thought her choosing to stay at Repworth suspicious!'

'I don't believe it! I saw them come up after she had been lost at Ewmouth, as innocent as lambs! Her manner was perfectly simple and natural.'

'I don't understand Robina's manner,' said Wilmet.

Walking down the hilly slope of the path, they presently were aware of a pair with arms and hands doubly interlaced, in the fashion peculiar to the circumstances.

'John!'

'Wilmet! Was there never a blackberry lane in our lives?'

'Not without--Robina!'

They turned, but without confusion, without loosing of arms, or if Robina had attempted it, it was checked.

'Oh! there you are, John!' exclaimed Will 'So you see we have settled it at last!'

'I do not know what you mean,' said Wilmet, gravely.

'O Wilmet!' said Robina. 'I told you all about it, long ago, at Barèges.'

'If you consider that as any intimation--' she began; but her husband interrupted her. 'I suppose Felix has yet to hear this?'

'Oh no!' both cried; Will adding, 'Felix created this vast solitude on our behalf!'

'Your father?' added Wilmet.

'He went away a day too soon; but there's no fear of him, is there, Jack?'

'You all seem to me demented!' said Wilmet aghast.

'Nay, Mettie, if you knew it at Barèges, you can't say a word!' said John, much amused.

'Always sending us up the mountains together!' added Will. 'No one ever gave me such a happy time of it!'

'Giving me leave to keep the brooch!' continued Robina, chiming in with their humour.

'Why, 'tis your doing,' summed up the Major; 'and I trust it is a good work for both!' he gravely proceeded. 'I wish you joy, with all my heart, though I fear I must wish you patience too!'

'And prudence!' put in Wilmet, but softening into sweetness. 'Dear Robin--dear Willie--don't think I don't care!' as she gave a sisterly kiss to each. 'It is because I do care so very much for both that I am anxious!'

'Anxiety was your meat and drink so early in life that you can't shake it off now!' said John, affectionately; 'and Harewood as I am, I should share it with you, if I didn't know that Bill's choice much resembles her elder sister!'

'You may say that!' observed Will. 'Why, she wants to go on in harness at Repworth!'

'That is wise!' responded Wilmet.

'But, halloo!' cried John, 'did your friend see double, Mettie?--or what have you done with your other young man, Robina?'

'Walked him to the little gate! He came to settle about reading with Willie.'

'I say!' cried William, laughing, 'did the Graiæ go and send Wilmet to put on her Gorgon's head, and charge down on us? I thought they were looking as sour as verjuice!'

'You see,' proceeded Wilmet, 'we must all be careful! It won't do to fancy one can do anything in the country. These old ladies don't do it out of ill-nature, like Lady Price, but they are almost worse!'

'However, Mettie, as these poor things have been subjected already to one Oxonian and two hags, I think you and I had better relieve them of our presence, and let them finish their walk in peace.'

Putting things together, Robina thought she had not wholly escaped doubt at Repworth, for she received no letter between the inquiry into the K T case, and the answers to her own communication, and these so overflowed with affection and cordiality, as to suggest that they were a reaction. Lady de la Poer wrote warm congratulations, and spoke of her eldest son's high opinion of Mr. Harewood; she was rejoiced at Miss Underwood's decision to return to her post, and she gave a few words of thanks for the explanation about the children's chatter: 'Susie has been well lectured on Russian scandal!' was her conclusion.

Lady Grace was rapturous enough to think she had seen the future dawning at the station. Poor Grace! she certainly was rather gushing, and probably it was the contrast that made her so devoted to the staid Robina. She let out that she was 'so glad to write again. Mamma had advised her not, for fear of more misunderstandings, till it was settled about Ernest; and now he must bring Mr. Harewood to Repworth for her to see. As to Kate, she was still at the Towers; the Wardours had the small-pox in their parish, and could not have her.' Grace had evidently been put under some reserve as to the Countess; but there was a note from herself--quaint and hearty, like all she did, and with a little sadness in it. There was no such intimacy as to render it necessary, and Robina interpreted the writing of it to mean that there had once been bitter feelings towards her, and that this was their recall.

MY DEAR MISS UNDERWOOD,

Gracie tells me you have been well employed. I heartily wish you joy. A university tutor seems to me as mighty a power of influence as any in existence, but I suppose it is your mission to spoil him for that. Lucky girl that you are, to have work and brothers and all! You don't know how much it saves you from. One brother is all I would have asked, if only to prevent me from signing myself,

Yours affectionately, CAERGWENT.

The secret history must evidently wait for Robina's return, and before that there was a great deal of conscientious hard work at Penbeacon, the tutor resolutely refraining from walks to Vale Leston, except when, on Sunday, he and his whole party marched down to what he called 'prayers and provender,' at Vale Leston. Also there was one, only one, picnic given by the Penbeaconites to the Vale Lestonites, during the week when the Squire inexorably went to Bexley, and sent Lance to be the merriest of the merry on the last of August, and to make acquaintance with the hares and partridges on the 1st of September.

At the end of that week, in the early charms of September, with the sheaves glorifying the fields, the fruit glowing on the trees, the pears drooping in russet drops, the apples piled in red and golden heaps, the geraniums and verbenas flaming on the lawn, Felix brought Mr. and Mrs. Froggatt, for what was probably as happy and exultant a visit as ever they paid in their joint lives. To see Felix in his glory was almost as much to them as if he had been their own child, and they were intimate enough to make it possible to provide for their entertainment perfectly to their satisfaction. The home-farm, which was to be let to Major Harewood, with a tariff for the articles needed for family consumption, afforded Mrs. Froggatt great amusement in studying chickens and ducks; and the agent's house, a pretty cottage on the opposite bank, was being improved at John's expense, so as to be ready for occupation as soon as he could effect his retirement and break up from Woolwich; and every one knows the resource house-building is to the leisurely holiday-maker. Indeed, Mr. Froggatt wanted nothing but his book and newspaper, and a little talk and garden fancying; and the petting Cherry and Stella gave him. The tender reverent affection all the young people showed to both, as to their true friends and benefactors, warmed their hearts.

One state-dinner--in spite of his disavowal of dinner visiting--Felix had always resolved to give, chiefly for the sake of the satisfaction he knew Mrs. Froggatt would for ever feel in it. He had to pick the other guests, but he secured a sufficiency. Dr. May had promised himself and his two daughters. Of Mrs. Staples Cherry was afraid, but Mr. Staples came, and Mr. and Mrs. Welsh, which was the more amiable in him because there had been a time in his life when Mr. and Mrs. Froggatt would have been far above him. Lord Ernest came down from Penbeacon, and thus, with the Harewoods and the large home-party, the numbers were quite imposing; especially with the display of all the plate, champagne, ices, Krishnu, and even Cherry's abomination, a hired waiter in white gloves!

It was not thrown away. Mrs. Froggatt was indeed a little awed in the Bismarck brocade and blonde cap she would have been so sorry not to have aired; but Dr. May found the way to her heart, even before dinner, by admiring the testimonial inkstand which adorned the drawing-room writing-table, and its story and all it led to lasted more than half through dinner, and Gertrude caught echoes even while fraternizing with Major Harewood over her brother in the engineers. After dinner, good-natured little Mrs. Welsh, to the manner trained, took to entertaining the old lady, and though the style was too electioneering for Cherry's taste, it suited the purpose exactly, and made Mrs. Froggatt pronounce her a very pretty and affable young lady.

Even if there had been less enjoyment at the time, that dinner-party would have been one of the chief events of Mrs. Froggatt's life. She never wearied of dilating on it to all the friends who called on her, on her return. 'She should have thought it a privilege only to see that dear young gentleman in his proper sphere; but for him to treat the old people as he might any lord in the land, and show himself as attentive, as filial, she might say, as if he still had his bread to earn!' and there she always began to cry.

'One effect your dinner-party has had,' wrote Lance to Cherry, 'it has wholly destroyed the small remains of Madame Tanneguy's peace of mind. What she does not believe of the glories of the Priory it would be hard to say. She angled full two half-hours for an invitation last time the Squire was here, between her affection for you--and then poor little Achille's health. And the effect upon that stony-hearted old Giant was, that he sent two ten-pound notes to Miss Pearson, with a request to take lodgings for her and the children at Dearport for a month. Wherewith Miss Pearson trotted confidentially to me, to assure me that she could not use them, since nothing on earth ailed Achille. I advised her to keep and apply them; for not only do I know he would not take them back, but it is no bad form of intimating that she may change to any air save Vale Leston. And the absurd part of it is, that the more she aspires, the more poor Lamb casts his hopeless sheep's-eyes at her!'

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XXXIX. FOUR YEARS

'Yet there are some resting-places, Life's untroubled interludes; Times when neither past nor future On the soul's deep calm intrudes.' Jean Ingelow.

That Penbeacon pic-nic became an institution, and was one of the pleasantest annual events in what were on the whole very happy years.

Care, exertion, and self-denial, were indeed still needful; but the two latter were perhaps ingredients of happiness, and care would not have been avoided if the Underwood view of duty had been the world's views of what became Vale Leston Priory. A strenuous endeavour to keep up appearances, and compete with grand neighbours on an uncertain three thousand a year, would probably have been more wearing than living on twelve hundred--partly earned by honest labour--and improving the cottages, planting a school-chapel at Blackstone Gulley, hiring a house for the purpose at East Ewmouth, and restoring the church by degrees.

As for exertion, to be an Underwood of the late type would have been harder work to Felix than his hours of Pursuivant or days at the office, though in truth the labour was sometimes considerable. It was not immediately that the two young men at Bexley could get on without constant aid and superintendence in the business: he was always the working editor; besides which, he was already important at Bexley, and soon was found too good a man of business not to have a good deal of county administration devolved upon him. Trade and public affairs did so far clash as to be a strain, but not more than was compensated by sense of usefulness and consideration, and giving zest to the delightful snatches of leisure in his lovely and cheerful home.

Self-denial? Felix and Geraldine would have disputed that. They had grown up to a style that made simple plenty and moderate ease luxurious, and superfluities never even suggested themselves as needs. Perhaps the lack they were most concerned about was inability to 'keep up the place' in the trim and dainty order it seemed to call for. The smoothness of the grass in the park was dependent on the convenience of John Harewood's dairy farm; and though the garden between the house and river was always in beautiful order, in the shrubberies there was a fine struggle of natural selection; the kitchen-gardens were made to pay their way, and the ranges of conservatories were cold and empty, except one necessary refuge for tenderer plants, and one maintained at Clement's expense for Church-decorating flowers. Golightly was greatly distressed at having no underlings but one old woman, one small boy, and half the man who looked after the horse and pony, or sometimes--what was worse than none--some subject to whom the Vicar was applying the labour-test. The worthy gardener truly represented that three men was the minimum for such grounds, and gave warning when he found that justice could not be done them; but after Felix had found him a much superior place, he declined; he could not find it in his heart to leave the place to an untrained labourer, who would not even know how to help devastating it. This sense of what was the garden's due caused him to bestow an immense amount of personal toil on it; for indeed it was observable that whoever worked for Felix always did so with a will, stimulated no doubt by the master's example, as well as by his hearty appreciation and acknowledgment of good service. In this there was much real economy.

The farm did well in the hands of Major Harewood, who had adapted the agent's house to his own needs. It was just on the other side of the river and road; and a boat, commonly called 'Lord Ullin's Daughter,' brought it within five minutes' reach, going round by the bridge taking about three times that interval. The land was chiefly rich pasture; and John was growing learned in short-horns, and Wilmet upon butter and cheese, while Clement's wish was realized by a parish cow.

The calculations as to the scale of living were justified by the result. Lighter household tasks were natural to the young ladies. They kept their own rooms in order, dusted the books and ornaments, took care of the household linen, and performed delicate cookeries, so as to keep down the number of needful servants; and the occasions were few and far between when their hospitality extended beyond the addition of a few guests at their ordinary meals, or a garden-party, with its pretty and inexpensive refections.

People who restored their church and built schools, without begging for subscriptions either directly or through a bazaar, but continued in trade, and cut off superfluous luxuries--servants, horses, and dinner-parties--were a fertile subject for wonder and gossip in the neighbourhood. Society growled, contemned, and remonstrated, by the mouth of Mrs. Fulbert Underwood, and the defence of her misguided family was a heavy charge to Wilmet for the first year; but no one worth caring about really took umbrage, and after a time people accepted them on their own terms. A beautiful lawn, full of sprightly youth, of looks, spirits, and talents, above the average, could not fail to be popular, and an old county name went for something.

Cherry was proof against dinner-parties. Health was no longer an objection, for either Vale Leston had the virtues of native air, or the Bexley potteries had merited Alda's vituperation, for Cherry's ailments were more rare, and she had much advanced in strength and vigour. Felix declared she was growing quite handsome; and he, though not exactly the ideal squire, had acquired much more of the robustness of manhood, and had lost the appearance of fragility he had shown in earlier years, though he retained the fair youthful complexion which sometimes made people hardly credit that his tens were three. He sometimes dined out alone; but Cherry considered dress and reciprocity to settle the question of abstinence for her. Angela was, however, so wild about Ewmouth balls, that John victimized himself and his wife rather than create a grievance, but even his tolerance was sorely taxed.

Was the blame to be laid on prosperity for the difficulty of dealing with the two standing anxieties--Angela and Bernard? They had not been the most docile subjects in the days of comparative poverty, and their heads were certainly turned now. Bernard could not be convinced that expensiveness was not the proof of being a gentleman, and in three years at Harrow cost his brother more than Clement, Fulbert, and Lancelot, all put together, in their whole nonage, had ever done, besides the scrapes that Lance helped him out of. He had no sympathy with Felix's purpose in economy; not that he had reflection enough for a sceptical habit of mind like Edgar's, but he considered it a hardship that the whole family should be stinted and impoverished for what he was pleased to term Tina's maggots; nor could anything persuade him that he himself was no richer than before, and equally dependent on his brother's bounty. There was no positive harm in him, but as genius and taste alike lay in the line of cricket, he cared not for distinction of other kinds, but was content to scrape through the school without disgrace. His farther destiny was a moot point, while he scorned cheap colleges and halls, and Felix insisted that a distinguished one was only to be attained through a scholarship.

Angela was a greater puzzle. She was still much what she had been in childhood, alternating between the fast and the devotional. She was Clement's right hand in the parish, in the schools, Sunday, day, or night, and with even more than Wilmet's nursing instinct, the prime doctress of the village, and enjoying the cure of a broken chilblain as much as a waltz. To take a medical degree had become her ambition in turns with the dukedom, the opera, and the Sisterhood. Therewith she was the most saucy and idle of creatures. With less regular good looks than most of the family, she was more sought after. Figure did much, the hop-pole had become lithe and graceful, and her dress was always becoming, as well it might be, for her bills were never within bounds. She said she could not help it, and certainly her adventurous nature and rapid movements occasioned numerous catastrophes to her wardrobe, though not enough to account for the discrepancy between her accounts and her sisters'. Her charm lay in droll dash and audacity, and the irresistible glance of her eyes. Even Christopher and his little brother Edward preferred her to all their other aunts--the night-school was gathered by her as to a magnet, and better than all the Vicar's arguments and the Squire's influence had her coaxing prevailed to get the choir into surplices. She was by far the most formidable as well as the most unscrupulous adversary of the poor Miss Hepburns, who viewed her with pious pity and horror as the natural outcome of the system they deprecated. Indeed, whether she were Clement's greatest help or hindrance was doubtful. He could not have a friend to stay with him, or obtain the assistance of a curate, without furnishing prey for Angela. Fred Somers, after a six weeks' visit, went back to St Matthew's with his peace upset, and an understanding that the two friends must never meet again in the haunts of that dangerous siren. A few more such experiments convinced the Vicar that unless he wished the village girls to remark that 'Miss Angel was carrying on with another young man,' he must do all the work himself; and his present amount of services, Sunday and weekly, at the parish church, and Blackstone Gulley, were quite up to the mark of any one man's powers, besides his attempts at East Ewmouth. Here Felix had no property, and therefore could not check the eruption of small tenements, which broke forth on some fresh field every spring, containing independent, often surly inhabitants, always changing, and rapidly outrunning the powers of the undaunted young Vicar. The two parishes were so entangled that the difficulties as to territory were endless, and the endeavour at a week-day service was not encouraged or assisted by the incumbent of the nearest district, who feared Clement's 'views,' and had been staggered by Angela's ostentation of them.

Angela was the greater heartache to Clement, because she had been trained in the same system with himself, and was inclined to carry it to lengths that even he thought extravagant. There might have been some disadvantage in his inexperience when she came into his hands for direction only at the end of his first year of priesthood, and he would fain have kept her in Mr. Fulmort's keeping; but difficulties had prevented his insistence, and this he increasingly regretted. For in spite of all his efforts, his relations with her were lapsing into what he had always scouted as the popular notion of confession. It was technical, as far as he could see devoid of repentance. Angela contrived to separate the brother and the priest; she would go through any formula, accept any discipline, but mechanically; but she would not endure exhortation, and if he ever attempted to check her boisterous spirits, she scouted him as Tina. Sometimes he wondered whether she sought him only because the practice belonged to what she called an 'out-and-outer,' and Felix retained doubts of its universal expediency.

Did Angela suppress Stella? Never were sisters less alike. Princess Fair Star, as the brothers called her, was still very small, with a lovely little face, tinted like fine porcelain, and hair and eyes more deeply coloured than those of most of the family; hair still snooded and in shining curls, and pensive eyes shining with a lustre of their own. She was the help and handmaid of the whole house, especially of Geraldine, with whom she still did regular lessons; and she was very diligent in all her doings, turning out her handiwork with delicate finish; but she was not enterprising, the very pains she took rendering her slow to undertake, though she spent much time in finishing Angela's odds and ends. She still continued the family lexicon, for even if she could not answer a query off-hand, she could always hunt it down, and the reply was generally ready in the soft low musical voice. Her laugh was noiseless and not frequent, for though never fretful nor depressed, she was only gently merry, pensively gay; and though now and then a quaint remark would drop into the whirl of family fun--and she was no inconsiderable element in games--she was always as happy, if not happier, in the garden or the woods with Theodore, their pets and flowers. She was devoted to the garden, its trimness was in great part owing to her; and as Golightly said, 'The bookets for the 'ouse was Miss Stella's province, and them for the church Miss Hangela's;' and of live-stock the twins tended a curious variety--rabbits, doves, cats, dogs, canaries, dormice, and owls, besides wounded creatures, rescued, cured, and released. Stella's quietness was a great ingredient in taming them; John Harewood called her the only feminine creature devoid of propensity for making a noise, and Felix, their silent Star

'Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky.'

Sometimes she would talk freely to Geraldine on any unusual excitement, but if she conversed with any one else, it was with Theodore. No one who watched the pair could doubt that they had more mutual understanding than the boy had with any other person--even Felix, for whom his love was like a dog's devotion to his master. The out-of-door life and country air had been beneficial both to mind and body, and Theodore was much healthier and stronger, made progress in the little that he could be taught; could utter a few words, comprehended more than he could pronounce, and improved in self-control. His conscience was developing in some degree, and his delight in the Church services and music less unintelligent.

Perhaps Stella was content to be the longer a child because each advance into life was further away from Theodore; and she had never yet shed such sorrowful tears as when Clement decided against presenting him for Confirmation, in the inability to trace whether the comprehension that Stella maintained, and Felix believed, were not an illusion of their loving imagination.

Yet strangely enough, Theodore was confirmed after all. He was as usual among the choir-boys, walking in procession with them, and materially aiding them by his perfectly true though wordless chant. His nearest companions were candidates, and he moved instinctively with them to the step; nor had either brother the heart to interfere as they saw him kneeling--for though he could not renew the vow, why might he not receive the Seal? The tickets had been previously taken, so there was no obstacle; and when explanation and apology were afterwards made, they were met with encouragement not to debar the innocent from his Christian privileges because of his lack of power of expression.

Indeed, the Bishop, who had been dismayed at the institution to the family living of another Underwood, and he such a young one, was not a little gratified and surprised at the changes he found going on in Vale Leston--no longer one of the dark hopeless spots of his diocese, though of course the work, both moral and material, was gradual. Felix had done nothing in advance of the means that the great tithes brought into his hands, and had begun with the needful repairs of the cottages on the Rectory property, and the crying needs of Blackstone Gulley; but the Church restoration was gradually going on--the Vicar, Marilda, and John Harewood, all claimed a right to assist, and another year or two of the great tithes would accomplish the full detail of the plan of restoration he had set out with.

Meantime he had made many real friends. The one whom he had reckoned had, however, been disappointing. Captain Audley had exerted himself to leave his cards, but when he had reason to believe no one at home. He was friendly when he encountered Felix, and sometimes on the spur of the moment asked him to dinner; but the ladies he ignored, except that once when Cherry and Angel were driving past his house in a shower, he rushed out and offered an umbrella.

His son, however, soon haunted the Priory, as affording all that home lacked. He was a nice lively lad, dark and brisk, and not the less welcome because there was much to recall the Charles Audley who was striving to bring light to the 'black fellows' of Carrigaboola. He was avowedly Bernard's friend, but he was regularly tame about the house, walking in at all times during his vacations, in a way that could not be grudged to one whose home was so dull. Certainly it was a pleasant house to young men; Wilmet sometimes murmured a little when all Will Harewood's pupils appeared there at luncheon every Sunday of the stay at Penbeacon; and the old ones invariably turned up again, especially Lord Ernest, who had taken a second class and got into a government office, and yet always managed to appear at each Penbeacon pic-nic.

The first shadow which came upon Vale Leston was good Mr. Froggatt's death, a grief really deep to those who owed so much to his kindness. It was a touching thing to see the four fine young men, who looked on him like a kinsman, gathered round his grave. Felix and Lance were far more to the widow than her own nephews; and when married nieces wanted to take her home, and single ones to live with her, she--not without misgivings as to the nature of the attraction--declined all, preferring to face her solitude at Marshlands, in the security that dear Mr. Lancelot would walk out to see her once or twice a week, and that still dearer Mr. Underwood would come out whenever he could.

It ended in Lance doing more than this. He had been a partner ever since he had come to years of discretion, and now found himself the legatee of all Mr. Froggatt's remaining interest in Pursuivant or business. Ernest Lamb had lately lost his father, and having come into possession of a slender capital, was in condition to become one of the house, as indeed he was excellent in whatever regarded the trade, though incapable of more than the most mechanical newspaper work.

The new arrangement of Underwood and Co. had hardly been made than the world was electrified by the announcement of Mr. Lamb's engagement. That Madame Tanneguy had been adored by him ever since her arrival was known to all; but hitherto she had only vouchsafed a distracting smile at long intervals, and had laughed at him with her intimates. Her opportunities were not extensive, but she was as pretty as ever; and she turned the heads of one or two brothers of her pupils, had at one time a promising little flirtation with a sentimental young partner of Mr. Rugg's, and never ceased to dream of an invitation to Vale Leston, which she was quite sure Geraldine alone withheld poor Mr. Underwood from giving. But Gustavus and Achilles were growing rather big for inmates of a young ladies' school, Madame Tanneguy was weary of the drudgery, and no such positive release as Ernest Lamb offered had come in her way. His mother's opposition could be set aside, between coaxing and unwillingness to quarrel; and though he was some years the younger, he did not look it, nor could there be any doubt that he would be the best of husbands, and a kind and conscientious father to the boys; and the aunts, though drawing up their necks a little when they spoke of it in private, could not deny that it was a subject of thankfulness--making their future retirement come within the bounds of possibility.

'Guess the proposal I have had,' quoth Felix, when next he returned from Bexley, and Cherry drove to meet him at the station with the pony she had named Master Ratton, in that sort of tender defiance of painful association found in those who own an exile.

'Eh! You don't look humbly cock-a-hoop, so I gather it was not to stand for the borough.'

'Why don't you say the county at once? No, it was of a less public nature.'

'Oh, then, I know! To give up the house to the happy pair. What? You don't mean that it really was? That beats everything!'

'Well--it is undeniable that those are large quarters for Lance, his cat, and his fiddle.'

'I do believe you have been and gone and consented! Well?' with a sigh, as if she did not know what might come next.

'As it was purely out of consideration for Lance, I referred it to him.'

'Oh! it was all for Lance's sake--was it?'

'Entirely!'

There was a dryness in the last two replies, that pacified Cherry a little.

'How Serious Mutton must be translated, to have the face--'

'He hadn't!'

'What? Alice did?'

'Yes. I believe that he had refused; but, you see, when Lance's comfort was at stake, she was not to be withholden by a scruple or two.'

'Come--tell me how she managed it. Did she write?'

'No; she chose her time. Lance was gone to that Minsterham affair, reporting--Lamb out of the way--when I heard a playful sort of little tap at the office door, and there she stood, smiling and blushing.'

'Blushing!!!'

'I'll not insist, but so it appeared to me. I assure you she did the thing to perfection--smiled and hesitated, and said she thought it was a pity to let mauvaise honte stand in the way of what would be so much better for Lance and all of us.'

'What, she wanted to have the house and do for him?'

'As one of the family!' then, taking no notice of Cherry's 'Faugh!' he went on, 'It was curious to look at her as she sat there, and think of the difference she was able to make; yet in many ways she is superior to what she was then, and certainly prettier; but I own that my feelings for her then seem an unaccountable infatuation.'

'Accountable only because you never spoke to anyone else, and did not rave about the customers, like Lance. I am glad you were in triple brass, though--and I can't help enjoying her having come to sue for the shop that she used to despise.'

'Fie, Cherry!'

'I declare! I believe you have gone and consented, after all that bravado!'

'I left it to Lance. Don't be furious, Cherry; the boy has had more loneliness than is good for him since Dick Graeme has been in London, and as he has his own notions about companionship, I was not sure that he might not catch at it.'

'I have a better opinion of Lance.'

'And justly. But what he wants to do is to leave the old house to Madame, and betake himself to Mrs. Froggatt. He says--truly enough--that every evening he has free of his choir-practice, penny readings, and all the rest of it, he should go out to look her up, and that this would simplify the matter, and nothing would do the poor old lady so much good as seeing him.'

'That's true; but to be going out there at all times, and in all weathers!'

'That is nuts to him! Don't you know he has got a velocipede fever? He has set up a thing that he calls Plato.'

'Un play toe, I should have thought.'

'It is Plato, because Mrs. Harewood announced that he and Bill had come all the way to Minsterham, each upon his own philosopher.'

'I declare they make up things for that poor woman.'

'Or she makes them on purpose for their diversion; but at any rate, Plato is lord of the ascendant just now, and demands exercise as if he were flesh and blood. I own I was glad to see the boy in a craze again.'

'And letting Pur alone. It was very droll that the passion for making that diurnal instead of weekly, set in with him just at the same age that it did with you.'

'Yes. I am much obliged to Alda for nipping my plans in the bud.'

'The dignified weekly purr is not to change into a little petulant daily mew!'

'No. It was a manifestation of restlessness, like his wanting new stops for his organ, or being annoyed when there is a murmur against over-elaborate music. I am afraid the fact is that he has outgrown the whole concern, Cherry!'

'You never did!'

'That's nothing to the purpose. He has done all he can do with his present means, and no doubt he is thrown away down there.'

'He never says so. And it is quite hard to get him here.'

'I wish I had not consented to leaving him there. That boyish coolness and audacity that used to rush into all kinds of society are quite gone, and there is no persuading him that he is not in a false position among our neighbours.'

'He gets more into society at Bexley than ever you did.'

'Oh yes, he has quite made his place there; but there's no denying that he has been left behind; and though he says not a word, there's no doubt that since he went up to Oxford he has felt it a good deal more. Well, in a couple of years at latest, the Rectory affair will be settled; and if I can get Blackstone Gulley into my own hands, I may be able to set him free.'

Lance had been to take a musical degree, and had spent a week with William Harewood at Christ Church; and it might be true that the vague spirit of enterprise for which Bexley afforded so little scope had become remarkable since that time. However, no more was heard of it during the preparations for installing the bride in the new home. Robina came for the first fortnight of her holidays to take her leave of the old rooms, and help in the removal of his belongings to Marshlands, where the arrangement was as great a pleasure as poor Mrs. Froggatt was capable of receiving. Moreover, Robina assisted in another great change. Miss Pearson had--by Felix's management in conjunction with some others interested in middle-class education--been enabled to retire; the house and good-will of the establishment being made over to the governing body of Miss Fulmort's school. Two ladies were provided from thence, who undertook to make a home both for young teachers and daily governesses, and were likely to raise the standard in Bexley. They were old friends of Robina, and she did much to settle them in, and pave their way. After this Robina went to Minsterham for one of the brief visits that were never satisfactory, for Grace Harewood had made a foolish marriage in the town, and Lucy did not improve, but became louder and more daring, her native cleverness only making her more unrefined and less simple than her mother. The Librarian never wondered that his son soon escaped to his pupils at Penbeacon, and the Vale Leston neighbourhood.

Before Robina had been many days at home, one Saturday forenoon when she was undergoing Cherry's third attempt to satisfy unreasonable Will with her portrait, while assisting Stella's German, Angela rushed in--'One to make ready, two to prepare--one, two, three, if not four swells--not away, but here--Hammonds, et cetera.'

'Here? Not imminent? Lady Hammond always sends notice.'

'Imminent? They are prancing up the drive! Only I cut across in "Miss Ullin" to give warning. Shall I administer any orders to the dinner, Cherry, before I make myself scarce?'

'No, thank you, there is quite enough. Just take my painting-apron, that's all,' said Cherry, as coolly as Lady de la Poer would have heard tidings of such an inroad; but when Amelia announced, 'Sir Vesey and Lady Hammond in the drawing-room--and two more ladies, Ma'am--shall I lay the table for them?' she quietly answered, 'Yes, I suppose so.--Stella my dear, will you see if there is fruit enough in?' And Stella stayed behind, while Cherry descended, aided by Robina's arm.

Felix was already in presence, and the moment the two sisters appeared, a slight, brown, hazel-eyed girl in mourning exclaimed, 'O Miss Underwood, this is just what I hoped!' and eagerly kissed her, while Lady Hammond introduced 'Lady Caergwent' and 'Mrs. Umfraville,' the latter a peculiarly sweet-looking elderly lady in widow's dress. There were apologies for this sudden descent, telling that, on hearing how near Vale Leston was, Lady Caergwent had been so eager to see the Priory, that she had wrought with Sir Vesey, and prevailed.

Yet she did not seem to be profiting by the opportunity, for she merely sat by Robina, looking, thought Cherry, neither like a Countess nor a woman of twenty-three, but much more like a girl of eighteen--petrified, all save her great eyes, by shyness; and Felix regarded her precedence as not only unnatural but unlucky, with so unconversible a subject, when he had to give her his arm, and seat her at his right hand for the mid-day meal. Be it observed, that the veal stewed with asparagus, and the pie that was to be cold for the morrow, as fully justified Cherry's calmness, as did the pile of strawberries and glasses of preserves her trust in Stella's handiwork.

Clement came in late and astonished, and with a very hazy idea who the strangers were, just as Sir Vesey was saying, 'Now, Lady Caergwent, Mr. Underwood will be able to answer your question.'

She coloured a little, and rather hastily asked whether there were any tradition of French architects having been employed in the church, for she had been struck with the foreign air of the tracery of the south window. Not a little surprised, Felix soon found himself in the midst of an architectural discussion, which taxed all his knowledge on the matter, and stirred Clement on the other side into the ecclesiastical aspect of the question; and all three fell into an eager talk, when suddenly there was a general lull, and the young lady's voice was heard saying, 'There is no heart or beauty in what is not symboli--' and there she came to a full stop, and looked at Mrs. Umfraville with a start of embarrassment, requited.

Appreciation of their church was no slight merit with any of the Underwoods; and in the lionizing that ensued, the guest had eyes and tongue full of architecture, romance, and history, even spying and identifying a heraldic badge that supplied a missing link in the history of the building. Angela thought it flagrant pedantry; but Clement was so struck with her keen interest in all his arrangements, and her real reverence, that he unlocked the grille of the chancel, offered her to try the tone of his organ, and in spite of her total ignorance on that head, he asked if 'Miss Umfraville' would not like to see the choice needlework from St. Faith's in the chest in his vestry. There she had no lack of ideas; she examined and asked questions evidently with practical views, and could be hardly got away to continue the tour, when she again satisfied him (and more) by indignation on behalf of the monks--not sentimental, but evidently straight out of Dean Hook's version of the dissolution of the abbeys; and yet there was a quaintness and originality in the way she put it, that amused Felix greatly.

In the painting-room an entreaty was preferred to see Miss Underwood's drawings, which were indeed more worth looking at than when Lord de Vigny had stirred her up. She always had at least one real work in hand, and a good many studies. She was finishing a water-colour of the scene in The Lord of the Isles, when Ronald's betrothal ring falls at the feet of Isabel Bruce in the convent.

Lady Caergwent stood before this as if it touched some responsive chord; but her aunt was busy with the portraits. Geraldine's emulation had been fired by the cluster of miniatures in the drawing-room, and she had undertaken to commemorate the present family in the same style. She had produced very fair likenesses of Felix and of Wilmet, besides her half-finished crayon of Robina, and a still better one of Mr. Froggatt, which she was copying for his widow. Mrs. Umfraville was delighted with these, and wished she could get anything as good of her Kate, whom photography always represented as a fury, and portraiture as a doll; but by this time Lady Caergwent had got Robina in the recess of a window, asking, 'Are you still at Repworth?'

'Oh yes.'

'And how are they all?'

'Quite well, except that Lady Susan does not get over the remains of measles.'

'Poor little Susie! What a monkey she was! but oh, I want to hear about Gracie, and if she is more eager than ever.'

'She is very much sobered and subdued by reality.'

'And what's he? I always thought Grace would marry a great block, and ripple and splash round him.'

'No, he is a little brisk satirical man, who laughs at her when she gushes.'

'What chance is there for them?'

'Not till he gets preferment.'

'How tiresome! Ah! I forgot! Is not Mr. Harewood here?'

'At Penbeacon, but he comes here every Sunday. He knows Mr. Pemberton very well.'

'Poor Gracie! Lady de la Poer wrote to Aunt Emily that she thought it well that her steadiness should be tested; but it must have been hard to see Addie go off with flying colours. How does Addie get on as a chieftainess?'

'I had a letter from Gracie this morning. Do you like to see it?'

'Is she there? Do tell me how to say the name. I see there must be a hideous roll in the bottom of one's throat.'

Robina gurgled. 'That was allowed to pass for it when we had a lesson in pronunciation on pain of not being allowed to be bridesmaids.'

'Not a creature have I seen to tell me about the wedding.'

'Kate, my dear,' said Lady Hammond. 'No, you need not look so blank; that is, if Robina will kindly let us take her home with us. Her brother and sister are so good as to come to dine and sleep on Monday.'

For so it had been settled during the colloquy in the window, Sir Vesey and his lady being no doubt very glad to find a play-fellow for his younger visitor.

Colonel Umfraville had died after a long illness, rather more than a year previously, and this was the first time his widow and niece had come from home. The Hammonds were very old friends, but Mrs. Umfraville still shrank from general society; so that when Felix and Cherry arrived they found themselves the only other guests besides the Harewoods, who had come earlier in the day.

No sooner had Cherry been conducted to the room, which, as usual, she shared with her sister, than Robina said, 'You are going to be asked to take Lady Caergwent's likeness.'

'My dear, I am not the sun, to do it in a minute!'

'And make a Brigand's Bride of her. No, you are to have her at the Priory.'

'Are you gone crazy, Bobbie?'

'Be conformable, and you shall hear.'

'I'll hear, but I don't promise conformity.'

'Now listen. Nobody can do her fit to be seen; and Mrs. Umfraville wants a nice water-colour like Mrs. Welsh's, which was exhibited. I said I did not see how it could be managed; and then she asked if she might not come to us for it; and Mrs. Umfraville let me know that she would be very glad, for she has to go on into Wales to some old maids, who would be horribly fussed if she brought Kate.'

'Well, we are old maids and old bachelors to boot. Why should not we be horribly fussed by a live Countess running about the house?'

'Because she would be tame; and because you have common sense.'

'Oh, I thought you would say, because you were used to act keeper to the species! In herself she may be inoffensive; but what sort of a tail does she bring after her?'

'Six running footmen, eh?'

'Don't be saucy, Cock-robin. One grand maid would be bad enough, scaring Theodore, and upsetting Sibby. No, no, Rob! leave countesses to those who can live as sich.'

'You need alter nothing. You may do as Bear says you do--eat boiled pork and greens every day at one o'clock--and she'll like it! She and her aunt always do dine early; and as to her maid, she is a little Repworth thing, just promoted from waiting on us in the school-room. I'll answer for her. The very attraction is, that you'll leave her in peace, and not beset her with dinner-parties.'

'She doesn't keep a duenna, then?'

'Duenna!'

'Well, heiresses in books always do. And in this case it seems to me that the article would be desirable.'

'Oh, we settled all that! Wilmet is equal to as many duennas as you like. She will come and do all the chaperoning.'

'Do you mean that she has undertaken it? Then I can only submit, provided the Squire does.'

The Squire made a few wry faces, but consented, with all a man's superior philosophy towards domestic disorganizations of which he does not feel the brunt. Besides, both he and Wilmet were proud of Cherry's talent, and the esteem in which Robina was held; and Mrs. Umfraville had been confidential with Wilmet, saying how glad she was to see her child willing to go among youth and brightness. The girl had, she said, never made young friends except the De la Poers, and her Wardour cousins, who had married, and gone out of reach. She had no suitable neighbours, and 'circumstances' had hindered her being much in London; and loss of her father-like uncle had not so much taken away her spirits--for she was always bright--as given her a distaste to society. She hated entertaining people or seeing strangers; cared for nothing but her aunt, her books, her walks, and her poor; was oppressed with the business of her property, and was altogether so studious and indefatigable at three-and-twenty, and so averse to gaieties, that her aunt feared she would never act up to her position, unless her habits of seclusion were broken, and had therefore forced herself to come on this journey with her. But there had been no real thaw till she heard of Vale Leston and met Robina. Wilmet was not a little gratified by hearing, at second-hand, Lady de la Poer's praise of the young governess as a valued friend; and it was plainly to her charge that the precious niece was committed.

When the visit took place, the Countess was soon forgotten in the companion. At first, Felix was a little ceremonious, and she a little shy, watching the family party as if they were acting a play; but as the strangeness wore off, she began by being diverted, though silent from long disuse of family chatter, and soon plunged in, with as droll and eager a tongue as ever wagged.

Then Cherry found her face quite unlike her first reading of it, and had to begin all over again. It was altogether, as Bernard said, a jolly time. That young gentleman was, for the first time, smitten. His devotion to himself and cricket had never before been disturbed; and he had reached his eighteenth year without regarding woman as intended for any purpose but to wait upon him. But bright eyes, merry smiles, genuine fun, and mayhap the rank that gratified his vanity, began to avenge the wrongs of the sex; and Bernard was enslaved enough to amuse and edify his brothers and sisters--all the more, that the simple-hearted Countess was perfectly unconscious, thought herself immeasurably older than the great, handsome, idle fellow--half an inch taller than the Vicar, by-the-by--stood on no conventionalities with him, and when released by her task-mistress, would run down-stairs to call him, nothing loth, to give her a row on the river, to blow away the fumes of the painting-room. Quite unawares, she effected a victory for Felix; for when she assumed that since he was going to Oxford it must be to Keble College, and he found that she regarded it as very stupid to do anything else, he entirely forgot all his former objections, and was only too happy to gratify her.

Even Clement expanded more than usual, for he had never met a more congenial spirit. Lady Caergwent's enthusiasm went much deeper than externals, for she was well read in Church history, and a practical worker in the present, being at Caergwent, that teacher, register office, manager, letter-writer, &c., which the lady-of-all-work to a parish must become, whether clerical or otherwise. 'There's Tina boring her with shop!' would Bernard mutter, in a paroxysm of jealousy.

'Quite the reverse,' said Angela. 'She is the most thorough Goody I ever came across, not excepting Clan Hepburn!'

It was not with any design of captivating sympathy, but because Lady Caergwent had an unusual number of interests, and was intensely eager about each in turn. Landlord cares were discussed with Felix, as Church matters were with his brother. She was too headlong and unguarded not often to say ridiculous things, but nobody more enjoyed having them caught up and laughed at; and when Felix had made gentle fun of some of her impetuous political economy, she looked up to him like an elder brother. With the sisters she was soon as much at ease as in the De la Poer schoolroom, making Robina her friend par excellence, but apparently observing Angela, who, having no one to flirt with, was at her best, and was drawn out by the 'Goody' sympathies.

'Robina,' said Lady Caergwent, entering her friend's room at that confidential moment, near 11.0 p.m., 'you know all about everything!'

To which monstrous assertion Robina assented.

The next question was equally abrupt. 'Do you know that Angela wants to go into a Sisterhood?'

'Oh! I thought that had gone off.'

'No, indeed! It is to be a very strict nursing one;' and as Robina smiled a little, 'I cannot but believe I know the cause.'

'It always used to come on when she was going to be particularly naughty.'

'Robina, I can't understand it in you; you do not seem like an elder sister to pooh-pooh all higher aspirations in a younger one, or to have no sympathy with deeper feelings.'

'You will only think the worse of me for not believing in the deeper feelings,' said Robina; 'but indeed, I think I know Angela.'

'How odd it is! Then it is true that elder sisters never can do younger ones justice!' said Lady Caergwent, looking at Robin in a meditative kind of philosophical way, which made her laugh, and say, 'There, it is no use to say anything!'

'I would not, but that I am going away; and I want you to promise that if--if you see that any scruples hinder her happiness, you would tell her how entire all that is at an end.'

'If I do,' said Robina, much pitying, but much diverted at the romance that could ascribe either forbearance or self-sacrifice to Angela.

'He comes here, doesn't he?'

'He came down last summer, but I saw no symptoms of anything--to signify,' added her conscience; 'in fact, I think he prefers Cherry.'

'I hope,' said poor Lady Caergwent musingly, 'that some day or other, when we are all old women; Gracie, Addie, and I, may meet and smile at all that is gone and past. I can laugh now, even while I am sorry, to recollect my absurd presumption. I had the influence, delusion on my brain, and believed mine the only right way, and dragooned every one about wasting time. I am glad he asserted himself! What he has done since showed how nonsensical I was. Does he like his work? no one tells me.'

'You know what his chief said.'

'Oh! what?'

'To Mr. Welsh, the member for Ewmouth, so it is quite impartial--that he never had a better fellow to stick to his work, or more clear-headed. Yes! and we all think--here, I mean, as well as at Repworth--that he is so much more of a man. Felix really talks in earnest to him now, and so does his father. His nonsense is gone.'

'Oh, that's a pity.'

'I don't mean sensible nonsense, but you know his old absurd way.'

'Yes, of course that unlucky state of things was as bad as possible for him. He would have been the poorest stick in creation not to have broken loose. I have had a life-long lesson, and I hope it will save me from getting hard and narrowly resolute, as authority makes single women.'

'You could hardly do that with Mrs. Umfraville before you.'

'Hardly! dear Aunt Emily!' cheered and cheering all the while; 'as long as I have her, nothing can go very wrong with me. I never thought I could have enjoyed myself again away from her, as I have done here.'

'I am so glad, dear Kate!'

'If I could get any of you to Caergwent! But people are always going to be married.'

On the Sunday, William Harewood, now a deacon, descended from Penbeacon to church and dinner, with a train of five pupils, bringing intelligence that the senior, who had been at the original pic-nic, and was at Penbeacon for the last time, must leave it at the end of the week, and entreated that he might not miss the entertainment.

There was a general acclamation. Lady Caergwent was wound up to enterprise pitch, and, as an ardent botanist, was delighted with the flora she was told to expect there; and Cherry only bargained for time to make the pies and send for Lance. It was the only home-gaiety he would willingly partake, because they always kept it to themselves instead of making it serve as civility to the neighbourhood.

Lady Caergwent, after having much appreciated the Sunday-school in the loose boxes, looked on, rather bewildered, at Angela's 'carrying on' with four pupils at once, chattering, laughing, defying, and being defied, in a manner, which, if it dissembled grief, was wonderfully successful. To these was added young Charles Audley, coming up the river in his skiff, for Evensong.

'Ha, Charlie, you're in luck! Hurrah for Penbeacon!'

'Are you going? Then the Kittiwake sha'n't sail! I've missed your spread every time through that everlasting tub, and the Skipper shall hear reason!'

'Oh, I thought nobody asked you!'

'As if your sighs had not been wafted on the breeze!'

'Puffs to swell the sails and transport bad rubbish!'

'What day is it to be?'

'Wednesday; but you've got no ticket. We are desperately select.'

'By-the-by, you've got a regular tip-topper, haven't you? Old Patakake invited me under his breath to gaze at the Countess of Caergwent in Mr. Underwood's carriage.'

'Ay! but we are bound by awful pledges not to regale the country bumpkins with the sight of a real countess at feeding-time.'

'Then I shall repair to Harewood for an invite. Isn't this the girl that was booked for young De la Poer?'

'Most ineffable bosh! It went the round of the papers, and my brother sent it to Robin, who contradicted it flat. She'll never marry anybody, and he'll never marry her!'

'Indeed! Why so?'

'He was wanted to. Isn't that enough?'

'He was wanted to?'

'Yes, poor wretch! till he cut and ran for dear life, and never thought himself safe till he had got to the top of Penbeacon. That's the way you swells doos it.'

'I'm no swell, thank goodness!' said Charlie, chucking a stone into the river.

'No swell! A swell_ing_ at least! I always regarded you as a sacred personage, condemned to noblesse oblige, and all that!'

'Catch it obliging me to what I don't choose!'

Such was the conversation, whose sounds would have amazed Lady Caergwent, even more than did the sight: not that there was intentional hypocrisy in Angela--she never acted a part, but showed herself exactly as she felt at the moment, 'only more so,' and the moments were so little in harmony.

Another person who was scandalized was Wilmet, who, in her capacity of chaperon, was spending the evening at the Priory; and when she found that this addition to the party was viewed as a matter of course, sought Felix out, and declared that she would have nothing to do with the affair unless it were made quite clear that Captain Audley was aware of the extent of the intimacy.

Felix himself had once or twice doubted whether some steps ought not to be taken, for the eldest brother having died and left only daughters, Charlie was heir to the baronetcy, and old Sir Robert and his wife had a reputation for haughtiness and exclusiveness. Their grandson never went near them if he could help it, only enduring a duty-visit by the help of shooting; and their son was even more slack, having, in fact, never entirely forgiven their coldness to his young and passionately-loved wife. If there should be anything more than fun and froth in all the quips and cranks, jokes and pranks, among the young people, there would assuredly be an explosion, and silence on his part might justly be deemed unfair encouragement. Maybe, his was an over-scrupulous mind, for he was already uneasy enough to make the strength of Wilmet's remonstrance unnecessary. The fact of another eye than his own having remarked it, was enough for him; and although he gave Mrs. Harewood little satisfaction at the moment, the next forenoon he jumped off his horse at her door, interrupting her unprosperous attempts at making her eldest son remember six times four--

'Five minutes, Mettie!--Yes, Kester, you shall ride round to the stables if you be off now.--I've asked Captain Audley to Penbeacon.'

'You don't mean that he will come?'

'Far from it; but it was the easiest way of suggesting that I wished him to see for himself.'

'With what effect?'

'That of being civilly shown that I was a fool for my pains.'

'Do you mean that he does not care?'

'Not a straw. I can't make out whether he thinks the Somerville-Audley blood beyond precaution, or whether it is all indolence, and dislike to hinder the boy's amusement.'

'Did you speak plain enough for him to understand?'

'Oh yes, he understood--very nearly laughed at me, and changed the subject. So now I must leave it; I can't forbid the young fellow the house, and a warning to Angel would only precipitate it.'

'It is hard that one's sisters should be sacrificed.'

'My dear, everybody is not as much au grand sérieux at that age as we used to be. The Skipper, as Charlie respectfully calls him, may be right, and there may be nothing in it; or if there should be, that Angel of ours has quite strength and spirit enough for a struggle, and maybe a disappointment. The truth is,' coming nearer, and looking mysterious, 'we know nothing at all about it, and had best let it alone.'

Wilmet's face of expectation melted into pardon for being teased; but Kester, shouting, 'Uncle Felix, come!' put an end to the conference, rather an odd one to be taking place at the moment when the Countess was beguiling the constraint of sitting, by dreaming over Isabel Bruce, and the magnanimity of rescuing the intended recluse by--Alas! she had never had a ring to throw at her feet--only that whisper which Robina seemed unwilling to convey.

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us

XL. A K T STROPHE

'When shall we three meet again, In thunder, lightning, or in rain?' Shakespeare.

Lance did not appear on the evening before the picnic, and announced by letter, the next morning, that he could not get away. Felix regretted not having as usual changed places with him, but could hardly have absented himself from such a guest as the present without discourtesy; and Cherry, looking at the blunt brevity of the postal-card, feared that the high-sounding title of their new friend was adding to Lance's almost morbid sense of being in a different sphere from their surroundings. However, she had little time to think; for their only other guest, Gertrude May, had come by long promise to sleep at the Priory the night before; and the party were collecting in the hall, while the waggonet, a farm companion being allotted to the chestnut for the nonce, the Harewood phaeton, and Master Ratton with his basket, were marshalled at the door.

'The Vicar says there is going to be a thunder-storm,' said Lady Caergwent, in rather a solemn voice.

'The Vicar always has a thunder-storm coming whenever it isn't a fall of snow,' returned Bernard.

'Hush, Bear! Kate won't have the Vicar's name taken in vain,' laughed Angela.

'Angela! Is not that expression a rebuke to itself?' whispered Cherry.

'There's not a symptom of a cloud,' added Gertrude, 'but the heat is overpowering.'

'Yes!' said Cherry. 'Lance could hardly have gone in such scorching as this.'

'We shall find mountain-air at the top,' said Robina, 'when once we can get there.'

'And the storms there are magnificent,' added the deep voice of Clement, as he strode out in broad hat and alpaca coat, pausing to put his despatches into the letter-box, and inspect the barometer.

'Let that poor thing alone, Clem,' called out his eldest brother. 'We mean to enjoy ourselves.'

'Are you affected by thunder?' the Vicar asked, seeing that Lady Caergwent did not look very happy.

'Not affected really, but I don't like it at night, or out of doors,' she answered; 'but I don't think there can be a storm to-day.'

'Never saw weather less like it,' added Bernard decisively, gazing up at the sky, as if to dare it to thunder. 'Hollo, Charlie! what have you annexed!'

For Charles Audley appeared walking up from the river, very hot, and holding upon its back, like a baby, a huge blue lobster, which impotently flapped its fringed tail, brandished its claws, and waved its whiskers.

'What do you propose to do with that marine monster?' asked Cherry.

'Eat him, to be sure! He's my contribution. I bought him of old Jenny as I came up. Take care, Kester! he'll grab you as tight as the Mayor of Plymouth. Have you a basket, or anything to put him in?'

'He's alive,' said Cherry, recoiling.

'Of course. In civilian costume, you see. Of course the natives up there have some sort of kettle. I've done dozens of lobsters in the yacht.'

'What fun!' cried Angela. 'He shall go on the driving-box, to be made lobster-salad of. Get a basket; Kester, let his whiskers alone--ridiculous creature!'

'Oh!'

It was a soft little breath, but Charles turned round. 'You're not afraid of him, Stella! See! his claw is tied. Don't you like it?'

'I'm not afraid; but I don't like it.'

'Like Kate's thunder-storm,' laughed Angela; 'not afraid, but she doesn't like it.'

Stella stood her ground: 'I don't like keeping the poor thing in misery.'

'Nay!' said Angela. 'Why don't you send that cruel boy to restore it to its native element?'

'That would be nonsense,' steadily said Stella; 'but I think it would be kinder to have it killed at once, than to jolt it all the way up there.'

'Now, Charlie, it is absurd to yield to that child's tender-heartedness. She is a perfect Brahmin, and can't believe that those cold-blooded fishy things don't feel.'

'I believe the sentiment is general,' said Lady Caergwent, eagerly but nervously: 'though I had not the resolution of Princess Fair-Star,' she added, aside to Cherry; who rejoined, 'Not being sure whether it might not be the native custom to consume raw lobsters. Oh! here come Wilmet and Eddy; so let us pack. Lady Caergwent, do you prefer dignity or landscape? for that perch by my brother is the best for the latter.'

'Landskip, to be sure. You delightful person!' cried her Ladyship, springing to the driving-seat.

'May I invite you, not to our skip, but our springs, Cherry?' asked the Major.

'No, thank you,' said Cherry, who had seen a pair of wistful eyes lose one spark at the Countess's ascent, and another at this invitation. 'My springs rival yours; and Gertrude and I mean to be snug behind Master Ratton.'

Gertrude's face beamed delight as she took the other place; and the Vicar ingeniously coiled his length into the out-rigger at the back ready to spring out on any emergency of gate or hill, in spite of his apparent absorption in the newest and most strongly-flavoured of Church journals.

In consideration of Ratton's small capacities, he had the start, Cherry leaving the rest to pack as they chose; and when, on the first long ascent, she was overtaken, it was first by the Harewoods, the Major leading his horse, and Wilmet and her youngest son in front, Stella and Kester behind; and the foremost of the waggonet-load was walking beside, with his hand upon the back-seat.

The larger vehicle was empty, all but the driving-seat, where Lady Caergwent and Felix were talking so eagerly, that Cherry laughed, and said, 'I wonder what nut they are cracking?'

'Is she not dreadfully clever?'

'Most curiously simple. Whatever is in her head, out it all comes.'

'Your brother likes it!'

'There's a great deal of it, to be sure, but it is so original, and genuine, and funny; and besides, she is easily daunted. Robin says her uncle kept her in great order, but she was devotedly fond of him; and whenever she catches herself going too fast, she starts and stops, as if he were looking at her.'

'In order? Not a spoilt child and heiress--a Lady Clara Vere de Vere?'

'No, indeed! Lady Clara took Tennyson's advice, and began teaching the orphan boy to read, and the orphan girl to sew--operations she much prefers to entangling simple yeomen. Eh, Daisy! did you think she had a simple yeoman there?' said Geraldine, in an amused but rather indignant voice, as she perceived symptoms of confusion.

'Oh no, never really! but when one's brother has a sister-in-law who assimilates all the gossip of the place, one can't help hearing. If mouths could but be stopped!'

'Which they can't; but they can be confuted.'

'How, by her marrying?'

'Certainly not,' said Clement, from behind, much disconcerting Gertrude.

'I thought him lost in his ecclesiastical organ,' said Cherry, laughing. 'I believe nothing would have roused him but such an enormity with regard to his live Countess Marilda.'

'I merely think,' he protested, 'that Lady Caergwent perceives how much more she can do for the Church as a single woman.'

'I agree,' said Cherry, 'to the unlikelihood of her marrying--most especially, I know whom it won't be, let them have their heads together as much as they will. See them now--not a bit of the view will they see! That's right! prod them with your parasols! Make them look round, or they will miss the great view of the castle and the estuary.'

'Felix will never do that,' said Clement, 'He seems to me to value people according as they appreciate the scenery of the Ewe.'

'He never got over Marilda's knitting all the way up the river.'

'Or Mr. Bruce's saying, "You've a snug little box here, Mr. Underwood, if it wasn't so close to the river." Felix's face was a sight--just as he had got to the turn down the hill, which he says comes as a fresh delight to him whenever he comes home.'

'No wonder, there's nothing like it!' said Gertrude. 'Ah! they have stopped to look.'

'Click, click! gee-up, Ratton! we'll pass them again.'

So they did, Lady Caergwent calling out, 'Ah! I pity you. You are too low to see this glorious sight.'

'All very well talking,' called back Cherry; 'but who had to be poked to make them look at all?'

'Ay! What do you think they were doing!' shouted Angela. 'Sounds reached us about Casuistry and Jeremy Taylor.'

'You could hear nothing in the din that came up to us,' retorted Felix, looking round.

Indeed, Lady Caergwent was in her element. She liked nothing so well as a kind of discussion on character, a sort of fitful Friends in Council, plentifully interlarded with historical or fictitious allusions; but she did not often get the opportunity, for her historical tastes were so much more vivid than most of her contemporaries, that she always had to guard against seeming pedantic; but, thanks to Felix's habit of keeping a solid book in hand, and always thoroughly getting up whatever he had to write about, he was a man of great range of information, and could reply to her bright crude fancies with depth or sportiveness as occasion served, enjoying the tête-à-tête as much as she did.

Meantime, the horses climbed higher still and higher, rougher still and rougher, till the final gate was opened; the wheels emitted only an occasional creak on the soft bent-grass, and the breeze refreshed the travellers, who were soon hailed by all the pupils and all the dogs, and conducted to the Penbeacon saloon. This was a deserted slate-quarry, where the mounds of rubbish were old enough to be covered with hawthorn, mountain-ash, travellers-joy, and exquisite wreaths of bramble, so as to afford shade at any period of the day; and around was a delicious carpet of soft grass, thyme, eye-bright, ladies'-fingers, and rock-rose. Beneath lay the whole panorama of the Ewe valley and the estuary, the bridge spanning it, and the Castle jutting out into the sparkling sea, where here and there a sail, white or umber, or puff of steam, glided along the blue. The intense clearness of the air rendered the scene a fresh joy to those who knew it best, and entranced the new-comers, though they were told they would see it still better when they had climbed to the top of Penbeacon, which, with tracking the source of the Leston, was a regular part of the programme.

Operations could, however, only begin with preparations for the meal; and while Felix, Clement, and Major Harewood drove on to deposit horses and carriages at the farm, there was a general unpacking of hampers, Cherry securing that which was to be untouched till dinner-time, by sitting upon it.

'I say,' observed Will to Robina, as he opened one of the letters that they had brought up to this unpostal region, 'here's a go! He may be coming to-day!' and he signed towards Lady Caergwent, who, with Bernard, was compounding a salad.

'Impossible! To-day?'

'That depends.'

'Knowingly?'

'Not unless it be through you.'

'I have not written since she came.'

'So the daily fire has slackened.'

'Mr. Pemberton enjoys that.'

'And once a week is deemed enough for me!'

'Old stagers such as we are! But, seriously, Willie, what can bring him?'

'The scent of Penbeacon!'

'I thought he was in Scotland.'

'Yes, but his two months' holiday was up on Monday; and when he came to London, his office was painting, or white-washing, or something, so he got a week's grace; and London being a desert, he said he should look in at Lady Mary's, and then run on here; but when he left, doubtful.'

'Then it depends on how he likes it at Lady Mary's? Have you mentioned it?'

'No, I knew I should catch it from you if I did.'

'Discreet boy! I have hopes of you. In the uncertainty we had better keep it to ourselves. It would only put her into a tremor, and spoil her day.'

'Poor girl! I hoped it had gone off, for I see small prospect for her. He is getting on well, likes his work, and will hardly run into thraldom again, since he broke loose in time to make a man of himself.'

'Don't you envy him?'

'Yes, when you fiddle for an hour over every knot in that string! Let me cut it and have done with it.'

'Remember holy poverty, Sire, as the Lady Abbess said to Louis XV. over the jam-pot; or rather, remember that this has to be packed up again in six hours' time.'

'Don't make me remember six hours hence. This is my prime day of all the year, and I can't recollect any end to it.'

'There then, can you carry that pile of plates without a catastrophe?'

'A K T strophe is what is apprehended.'

'Come, you two,' called Angela, 'affection is misplaced over the crockery. Here are plates wanted to weigh down the table-cloth; there's a ruffling gusty wind that gets under it.'

'Illustrating the earthquake theory,' said pupil No. 1, who was keeping it down with his knee.

'Or thunder-storm practice,' responded Pupil No. 2.

'Not a word more about thunder!' cried Angela. 'Lady Caergwent hates it; and as she views our Vicar as a mild embodiment of all the General Councils, the regular Clementine prediction has upset her already. I say! what are you doing? Apricot-tart at first course!'

'Apricot-tart, you don't say so! Three cheers for Miss Underwood!'

'Don't let blind enthusiasm put its foot into it.'

'Or you'll have to eat it all.'

'What a temptation!'

'Wasn't he already a greedy beggar, who stuck at no trifles! Don't you remember his tucking in the apples at the fair that the elephant wouldn't have?'

'And swallowing nineteen fresh eggs to clear his voice for the concert!'

'I say, Miss Underwood, what songs have you brought?'

'And what's to become of the Der Freischütz song without your brother Lance?'

'Can't the Squire take his part? His voice is a capital one.'

'Oh yes--he is thrush to Lance's nightingale--not so high--fuller in the lower notes--and he can't play such tricks with it,' said Angela; 'but whether you'll get him is another thing. That Countess of ours has no more music in her than an owl!'

'Can't she be suppressed? Whoever heard of a Penbeacon picnic without a song?'

The feast took place with all the merriment produced by the combined forces of seventeen people, not one of whom had reached the middle point of life; but when it was over, the sun was still so powerful, and the air so sultry, as to bring to mind that this festival had taken place earlier in the year than usual. No one was willing to quit the luxurious nests in the bracken, and the ceremony of mountain-scaling was deferred till after the songs for which the pupils clamoured, and Lady Caergwent heartily said how unlike fine old songs in the open air would be from the tiresome drawing-room performances, that seemed to her an invention for interrupting interesting conversation. In the pause of preparation, she made, however, some inquiries whether the arrow-head she had been told about grew on the intended path, and if not, how it could be reached.

'I'll show you the way,' cried Bernard eagerly. 'It is only down there,' when he heard the place.

'Only!--my dear Kate! I don't let him inveigle you--it is nearer two miles than a mile and a half,' said Robina; 'and all through stony thickets and bogs--and in this heat! We will try to drive you there, or send for it.'

'I'll go; I'll be back long before they've done singing,' said Bernard. 'What is it like?'

Lady Caergwent hesitated; but he would take no refusal, and having been told it was white, had three roundish sort of petals, and arrow leaves, and grew in the water, the lazy youth, who would seldom move an inch in a sister's service, went striding down the hill side, with his coat over his shoulder, and his pugaree streaming behind him. Cherry was afraid he would incur Lance's fate; but Felix laughed, and said he was glad to see he could do anything for anybody; and besides, the sun was becoming less fierce.

So Cherry hastily sketched his retreating figure as a feature in the drawing she annually made of the group at the quarry during the music. Gertrude May had a fair ear, and good though not much trained voice, and she was exceedingly happy, for even without Lance the Underwoods' singing was a remarkable and beautiful thing. To make William into Polyphemus, and hear him thunder out 'Ruddier than the cherry,' while Felix and Angela served as his Acis and Galatea, was always a part of the programme, and it was all Wilmet enjoyed, for were not her boys--even though they were hers--boys of the period? Had not her son Edward come, against her better judgment, because his papa wished it? and had not his combined fatigue and restlessness come to a pitch where there was nothing for it but to take him away to the farm-house, and let him have the sleep he had missed in the forenoon?

Then, even in her first outline, Cherry missed three figures; and when, after completing her general sketch, she returned to touch up the individuals, Kester, who had been portrayed running up and down a mound with the dogs, was asleep against his father; nothing was to be seen of Will but a pair of black knees peeping out of the bracken, and the head of Scamp's brother Chaff, who was sitting on his breast; and Lady Caergwent had vanished altogether. She was further becoming sensible that the shadows were less sharp, the light less clear, the heat heavier, and presently that a great black cloud had mounted far into the sky behind the quarry and the hill; and beginning to think that Clement's prognostications might be justified she was waiting for the end of Lance's setting of 'Mont Blanc is the King of Mountains,' to call attention to the fact that Penbeacon was borrowing his vest of cloud, when the announcement was made by a vivid flash of lightning, followed with appalling rapidity by a peal of thunder. No one stirred till the thunder had rolled itself away. Then everybody said, 'There!' and started up, just as a few big rain-drops splashed down. Kester woke with a scream of fright; and his father, throwing a plaid round him, ran off with him towards the farm. Felix and Clement had both sprung to Geraldine, and were helping her up. There was a mile of open hill and stony road to the farm--a long walk for her under any circumstances; and no one had any protection bigger than a sun-shade. There was another terrific flash and burst of thunder, and the hail-stones came rattling down, so large as to give sharp blows.

'She can never walk it,' said both brothers at once. 'Cherry, you must ride!'

'Oh!' gasping, 'you can't.'

'Can't we? Haven't we often? There!' and in a moment the hands were clasped, queen's-cushion fashion, beneath her, the necks were bent for the arms to be thrown round them, even as had been done many a time in childhood before, only then Edgar had generally been one supporter. She hardly felt the beating of the pitiless storm; and when the wind, hail and roar of the tempest came with a terrific deafening whirl, she felt a strange sense of security; and even when the most fearful of all the flashes seemed to burst into the ground close before them simultaneously with the discharge like a thousand cannon overhead, and she heard Clement's whispered ejaculation, her first feeling was, 'All together--together!'

The others all darted past them in the general sauve qui peut. Wilmet, watching in anxiety at the farm-house porch, received first, half laughing, half panting 'Oh! isn't it jolly?' Angela and the longest-legged pupil; secondly, her husband, with their little son in his arms. 'This is like an Indian storm,' he said, and sat down, a good deal spent, and breathing hard.

Then came, dashing in together, the main body--Gertrude May, four pupils, Stella with Charles Audley; and they had no sooner recovered breath, than in came William and Robina, who had been delayed by Robina's attempt to secure the table-cloth, which had been blown so entirely over her, that Will had had some difficulty in releasing her from the flappings. They satisfied Wilmet that Cherry and her bearers were quite safe, and at the entrance of the lane; and John thereupon started up, and declared he should go and relieve them, but at that moment they were seen at the gate, Cherry on her own legs, and Felix and Clement, all in a glow, on each side of her. 'It was so nice,' she said, as her sister anxiously met her. 'Only think of having two such brothers! Oh no, I'm not frightened--no, nor in the least wet!'

Nobody was wet, for the hail-stones had rebounded, and one or two that had been captured were wonders worth preserving, had that been possible, looking like nitre-balls. Felix was drawing a pencil line round one on a piece of paper, when Robina exclaimed, 'Where's Lady Caergwent?'

'Didn't she come first?'

'I thought she was up-stairs.'

'No--no one came in before Angela,' testified Wilmet. 'Is every one else here?--Bernard?'

'He must be sheltering down by Lang's pool. Never mind him! But she! So afraid of thunder too!'

'Unpardonable!' burst out Felix, in dismayed self-condemnation, as he again pushed his head as deep as it would go into his hat, and hurried out again, Clement and William after him; John was going too, but his wife caught him--'No, no, there are quite enough! Remember the neuralgia. See, it has turned to pouring rain!'

And John submitted, for three strong men could do all that could avail one young girl, even under possibilities terrible to think, not only from the lightning, but among those dangerous places, steep slopes, and sharp precipices, where a stranger, blinded by hail and lightning, might so easily stumble. The farmer was at market, and his wife could only offer her 'odd man' when he should have done milking; but Mr. Harewood knew the place thoroughly by this time.

It rained in torrents as they set out, the thunder-cloud blotting out all but the path under their feet, though the lightning was more distant. They searched the quarry, and shouted, 'Any one here? Lady Caergwent!' But the mocking echoes only answered, 'Here!' and 'Gwent!' while they searched in vain--till 'Holloa.' Was it a response? Felix shouted. Another 'Holloa!' but hardly from feminine lungs--certainly not from any one suffering any damage. No--there was something tall struggling up the hill through the rain. 'Bear! you've not seen her?'

'Who? Why in the name of wonder are you getting a shower-bath gratis out here?' said he, panting up to them, his arms full of something shiny, and battered, and green; and, as a word or two explained--'Looking for Lady Caergwent! Every one missed her'--the boy's eyes flashed so that Felix really thought he was going to knock him down. 'Left her out here? Why, savages wouldn't have done it! If I had but been there! Dear, sweet girl!'

Just then, something dark was seen lying under a rock, and slightly moving; Clement silently pointed in horror, Bernard gave a sort of howl, waved them all back as unworthy to touch her, and leapt forward. He soon came to a stand-still. It was one of the rugs on which they had been sitting, which had drifted there, rolled up by the wind.

'I begin to hope she may be in the cart-shed,' said Will. 'Let us go on there.'

Bernard strode with a certain tragic authority in advance, as they proceeded, scrambling over a low stone wall into a steep sloping field, scattered with stones and sheep, not easily discernible from one another in the downpour, save for some getting up and running away, while the others remained motionless. At length appeared a fabric of rough stones, rougher piles, and roughest slates, a kind of shelter thrown over the angle of the wall. Through all the rush and roar came a murmur of voices, and through the drifting streams of rain, two figures were discernible, one heather-coloured, the other grey. So much the others had seen, when Bernard, with a sort of tiger-bound forward, shouted, 'You rascal!--Never mind, Lady Caergwent, I am here!'

'Holloa, Bernard!' said a cool voice.

'De la Poer!' and Bernard stood transfixed, not even joining at first in the general clamour of, 'So shocked!' 'You here!' 'How could we miss you?' 'I never was so sorry!' 'It was all my own fault!' 'Oh, never mind,' &c.; but when his voice was heard again, 'Lady Caergwent, if I had been there, this should never have been! These brothers of mine!'

'Not a word more till she is safely housed,' interposed Felix. 'Don't you see how drenched she is?--Will you trust yourself to me after this inexcusable neglect, Lady Caergwent?'

'I told you it was I who lost myself,' she said, with a most forgiving radiance in her eyes, glancing through the dark hair that flew about her hatless head.

They wrapped her in the cloak they had brought, and tied the hood down over her hair with a handkerchief; but when Bernard would have proffered his arm on the side unengrossed by Felix, he found himself forestalled, and could only fume in the rear--such of his denunciations of the general barbarous carelessness as were not blown down his throat again by the wind being received by Will Harewood, with comical little sounds that nettled him exceedingly.

The contention with wind, rain, stones, and torrents, was far too severe for any one else to attempt speaking, while the blast swept round the hill side as if trying to whirl them off their feet; and even when the lee side of the barn was reached, Lady Caergwent was too breathless to do anything but gasp out that Mr. Underwood must not blame himself--it was her own fault, and all right.

A whole cluster of anxious faces crowded the deep porch, to receive the dripping figures that came in, looking, as the delighted Kester said, like the cats that became pools in Strewelpeter. Some used their first breath for laughter, others for the long pent-up apologies, which were cut short by Wilmet and Robina bearing the young lady up-stairs to be dried.

The room was homely, for their hostess was not of the advanced order, and had no fine daughters. She appealed to Mrs. Harewood on the expediency of bed, warm water, and something hot; but the Countess, her eyes dancing through her plastered elf-locks, laughed all to scorn, only begging for the loan of some clothes. However--will she, nill she--while struggling with the soaked adhesive sleeves of her jacket, a foot-bath and big ewer, and a tray of various beverages, made their appearance, putting her into fresh fits of mirth, as Robina tugged at the refractory garment, and Mrs. Hodnet endeavoured to add lumps of sugar at every polite refusal of the negus.

'Lady Caergwent, the bed or the negus?' said Wilmet, at last, with full authority.

'The dagger or the bowl? The bowl then, if you please, when my hand comes out. I'm like Agamemnon now. Oh!--there!--thanks, Copsey. I hope the rest of the coats of the onion will come off easier. Thank you! oh, so much, Mrs. Hodnet! That will be beautiful!'

Herself of the squarest proportions, Mrs. Hodnet was bustling about to find something wearable by the tall slim girl. At last, after her best violet silk had been found impracticable, a linsey skirt and a soft silk shawl seemed possible materials; and she withdrew to superintend the preparations for tea; and Wilmet departed likewise, from the mixed motives of believing that the two girls wanted to be left to a tête-à-tête, of uneasiness as to the whereabouts of her sons, and desire to secure the swallowing of the like portion by Felix and Clement.

The moment the door was shut, Lady Caergwent threw both arms round Robin, and hugged her tight, with a long sob-like sound of 'O Copsey, Copsey!'

'Then it was--'

'Yes--yes--yes! Did you know?'

'Willie told me he might possibly come; but it was too uncertain to mention. We thought Lady Mary would be sure to keep him.'

'Mary was from home.'

Robina longed to ask more, but did not quite know how, and applied herself to make the best of Mrs. Hodnet's toilette apparatus, in dealing with the hair, which the tempest had deprived of every fragment of head-gear. 'Shall I twist it, or do it up in long plaits?'

'Any way for me to get down again! Oh, how little I thought it!'

'Felix was in despair when he found you were missing; but you see the first thought of all my brothers has always been Cherry.'

'Quite right--and you see I wasn't there at all. You know my ears are stupid, and though there's more sense in your music than in most people's, it did not put out of my head some marsh-cinquefoil I thought I had spied as we went by; and I fancied, while you were singing, I could creep off after it, without all the fuss of the gentlemen wanting to get it for me. No one saw me, and I did find some delicious things, only I'm afraid I lost them. On I went, from one to another, like the bad folks in an allegory, away from the rocks and the singing, lured by the flowers in the bog--till, sure enough, I lost my way, and the sharp wall of rock above me, which I thought part of the quarry, turned out to be no such a thing. There, to bring in the demoniacal element, a horrid little black cow came up and stared at me. You know what a goose I am about horned monsters; and I thought the whole herd would be coming home to be milked, so I didn't stare the beast out of countenance, as I am aware is the correct thing; but as there was a high ledge, a sort of shelf in the precipice, I scrambled up out of the way. I suppose the animal had never seen a young woman in such a position, for not only did it stand in contemplation, but two or three of its congeners came up and stood gazing at me, out of their spiteful, curly, shaggy faces, with white pointed horns, like the imps of the piece. Then it struck me that these were not quiet christianable kine going home to be milked, but horrid Scottish cattle at pasture, keeping no hours at all, but free to stand staring till I dropped on their horns. So I put whatever dignity I had in my pocket, and squalled, fancying you were all round the corner, but the only effect was to make the brutes toss their heads and stare the harder.'

'Did you see the storm gathering? Behind the hill, as we were, we neither saw nor thought of it till that first grand peal; I was so sorry for you.'

'Somehow, I minded it less than I should have thought. The grandeur and the solitude took some of the nonsense out of me; but the hail was very bad; it knocked me about so; and the wind tore at me like a human fury. After my hat was carried off, those hail-stones would have been quite dangerous, but that there was a good thick bower of traveller's joy (well-named) up above; and one comfort was, the demons didn't like it, stuck up their tails, and galloped off. I thought none of them could have the face to run at me in a thunder-storm, and I tried to come down, but I found it was a Martinswand on a small scale; and I could get neither up nor down. So I remained, the butt of the elements, waiting to make another effort till the wind would let me alone. At last, I saw a human being in the distance, battling with the wind. I thought it was Bernard coming back, or if not, I was past caring; so I called, and it came. I only thought of Bernard, and it must have thought itself in for an adventure with an escaped lunatic, or wild woman of the woods. "Trust yourself to me," he said; and then I knew the voice. But it was like a dream, for I didn't seem surprised at first. At least, I don't know; I think I must have made a fool of myself somehow, for he was coaxing and comforting me, till somehow he got me to the shed, and I came to my senses a little, and thought he was only pacifying me; so I asked whether I had really been in such a dreadful state, and said I was all right, and that he need not go on. "Why should I not go on?" he said. Oh, I dare say it was very nonsensical--but don't you and Mr. Harewood talk nonsense sometimes?'

'Egregious!' said Robin, laughing, and kissing her. 'Oh, I am so very very glad, dearest!'

'He said, the longer he went on, the more he found he really did care for me in spite of it all, horrid and disgusting as I had been.'

'Was that the nonsense?'

'No, you thorny Copse, but his pretending I was all right!'

'Ah, he has thought so this long time! I have been sure it wanted very little to come right.'

'Oh, tell me! for while they were dragging me through the storm, it came over me that maybe he was just surprised into it, and that I ought--I ought not--'

'Who is talking nonsense now, Kate? No--if you had been at Repworth you would have seen how altered he has been--ill at ease, as if something had gone out of his life--only able to bear his restlessness by hard work.'

'Ah! is it not a pity to spoil him for his work?'

'You will find him work enough.'

'Make him a land-agent!'

'A good deal more. You will give him power that he is much fitter to use now.'

'Well, there's plenty to come before that. Dear Aunt Emily! I say, Robina, nobody ought to be told before them all, you know. There, thank you! what a deliciously queer figure,' as she looked in the glass, 'and what a pair of cheeks! The farm-house port has flown into them! Am I to put on these stockings? That dear woman's legs must be as big as her bed-posts! I wish people wore peasant costumes here! A pair of horse-hair butterfly's-wings now on my head, a striped petticoat, and orange stockings! At least it is better than when I jumped into a pond out of the way of the thunder, and Lady de la Poer put me to bed! Dear people! I could jump, but for these elephant-slippers, to think of getting back to them.'

'Oh, please--let me get that skirt straight.'

'Very well! Do I fidget horribly? I beg your pardon, Robin; but how can one stand still when one is all fizzing with gladness! When I think of the old ache, when he came here--and when I found it was not you, I thought it must be Angel--I really came, hoping to find out, and--'

'Throw the ring at her feet!'

'You witch! only I never had the ring to throw! Oh, this is much better than being magnanimous! Is that your ring? His hair? How charming! Ernest shall give me nothing else!'

'Ah, there will not be time for yours to wear out! Mine has had two renewals, though I always keep part of the old foundation.'

'Dear Robina! I wish--no, it's not right to wish that; besides, it's a horrid place. I suppose Mr. Pemberton must have the first living that is going at Repworth.'

'Yes. We think of a grammar-school, or a mastership, somewhere, when Willie's five years at Christchurch are up, and we have made up enough for a nest-egg.'

'That's what I should like! Ah! am I talking of what I know nothing about?' and she gave an earnest kiss. 'There, I'm presentable now! May Ernest only be in the farmer's leathern gaiters!'

'No chance of that, with so many gentlemen to equip him. But for your feet, you would do very well.'

For the fault of Kate Caergwent's face was want of glow, and this was fully supplied. The two plaits were picturesque, and Mrs. Hodnet's shawl of crimson silk, and the dark skirt, made a becoming garb; but walking was not easy, and the descent of the stair was a series of flaps, as she came into a sort of vestibule, containing staircase and big clock.

'Hermione descends to the sound of soft music!' exclaimed Lord Ernest, springing up to meet her; and they both stood still to laugh.

'Hail, hail, all hail! was the music,' she said.

'Yes, Miss Underwood,' grasping her hand mightily. 'I give you infinite credit for the mise en scene.'

'Undeserved!'

'Nay, stage-effect could not have been exceeded, though perhaps things went rather to the verge of sensation.--Katie, you are flushed still! Ought she not to be put between blankets, and dosed with water-gruel?'

'Then we ought "all to have a little water-gruel!"'

'There's a sumptuous tea-fight preparing in there. They've fetched the hamper, and Mrs. Hodnet is producing all the delicacies of the season!'

'Is Lady Caergwent there?' and Bernard came forward to meet her; while Lord Ernest paused to answer Robina's congratulating eyes. 'Yes, when I found that it was her own self, there was no helping it. I forgot all about earning her better opinion. I could only ask her forgiveness. I shall tell my father I owe it all to you.'

'Nonsense!'

'I do, though. If you hadn't all been what you are, I should have made an irrevocable ass of myself.'

'As--oh dear!--some one else is doing,' said Robina to herself, as she caught the words Bernard was addressing to the Countess, standing in the door-way of the great farm kitchen. 'I am only sorry for what you were exposed to in my absence.--My brothers are dreadfully cut up about it, but I know you'll overlook it. They are excellent fellows, but you see they have never had any advantages.'

An ineffably funny glance passed between Lord Ernest and Robina, who had a strong desire to take Mr. Bear by the shoulders and shake him, only unluckily her head was only on a level with those same broad shoulders.

'I never could have overlooked it, if they had left Geraldine to look after any one else,' said Lady Caergwent, with some of the hauteur she could assume, and very decidedly moving forward, but with the flowers in her hand that Bernard had brought her.

The party far exceeded the capacities of Mrs. Hodnet's parlour, where the lodgers usually sat, and were much more happily disposed of in the great kitchen, one of those still flourishing in old farm-houses, spacious though low, with a stone floor, a long oak table, and benches and a dresser glittering with metal and fine old earthenware, a great hearth with a lively fire, and a deep latticed window making quite a little chamber, where stood the small round table and two chairs, the leisure resort of Mr. and Mrs. Hodnet, the one with pipe and paper, the other with work-basket of socks. A door opening into the serviceable kitchen revealed a vista of garments hung up, a red glow behind them, a girl of the farm-servant type scuttling about, and the more active spirits of the party darting to and fro. In the room the long table was laid for tea; Cherry and Will were chatting on either side of the fire, Major and Mrs. Harewood were enjoying the delight of their offspring in an oft-renewed fiction of being shut into the hamper, lost, and discovered; and Felix was amusing Gertrude May with the mysteries of Moore's Almanac on the wall, and the account of his own fruitless endeavours to promote a taste for something less oracular.

He came up as the Countess scurried in, and said, with a frankness not quite answering to Bernard's description of his despair, 'I am very sorry for our neglect, Lady Caergwent, I am afraid it caused you to be in a very unpleasant predicament; but my sister is so far from strong, that she is apt to be our first care.'

'It would be a horrid shame if she were not,' said Lady Caergwent brightly. 'I should not have been and gone and lost myself!--You've not caught cold, Geraldine!'

'Oh no, I was best off of all, riding home in state. It comes, you see, of taking such poor shiftless beings up to the top of mountains.'

'It was a grand adventure,' said Lady Caergwent, rather hastily; 'I'd not have missed it for the world!' And then suddenly conscious of what that might convey, her colour deepened still more, and she made her way to the Darby and Joan nook by the window, sat down, looking out, and murmuring something undeveloped about the weather. Lord Ernest came to help her study it; Felix thought it expedient to continue his elucidations of Francis Moore; Robina came up to the fire, and slid her hand into Will's, and a look and smile passed between them that Cherry comprehended as well as they did. Only Bernard came forward with a footstool he had routed out from under the dresser. 'Won't you have this, Lady Caergwent? the floor is cold.'

'Thank you very much.--Yes; and Addie finds her hands full?'

'She's the jolliest little lady of the house!' and Lord Ernest found himself a perch on the round table, with one foot on the other chair.

Bernard returned to the charge. 'Here's one other flower not beaten to pieces,' he said, after applying to the green things he had left in the porch.

'Thank you,' but hardly turning her head from Lord Ernest, who was describing some one as 'Yards high, of course; three inches beyond what any one need be in reason,' meaning of course the Scottish chief; but Bernard was not quite sure whether this was not personal, for conceit in a state of irritation can make strange appropriations.

While he was standing just so far away as his sense of good breeding required, grim and discomforted, Angela darted in, crying, 'Mrs. Hodnet is teaching us to make furmenty. Come and see.'

'Too many cooks may spoil furmenty as well as broth, Angel,' said John, as no one seemed disposed to move.

'How stupid you all are!' she exclaimed. 'Come, Kate, don't you want to study furmenty?'

'I can't study anything but sitting still till I get my boots,' said the Countess, with languid decision.

'Bootless toil,' murmured her cavalier.

'You'd better come, Lord Ernest,' persisted Angela, 'Enlarge your mind! 'Tis a classical dish, always made on wake days.'

'Thank you, I never presume to enter those penetralia,' he answered, likewise with unconscious distance in his tone--excited, perhaps, by the familiar abbreviation of the young lady's name.

'If you are so curious about it, Angela,' said Felix gravely, 'I wonder you do not attend to it!'

'Oh, it is stirring! I left Charlie at it, to console him for the loss of his lobster. I only came out of pure and unrequited philanthropy.'

And she sprang back to the outer kitchen, philosophizing, 'What a queer thing it is that when two swells get together they must be on their dignity, and act as if they came out of some other planet.'

'Better be a swell than a cinder,' said Charlie. 'Mrs. Hodnet, is this stuff stirred enough? I've been at it like a galley-slave till my arms are ready to drop.'

'I'll stir the infirmary!' loudly declared Kester, intercepted on his way by his uncle Will, who hoisted him up, in an ecstasy of amusement, as a 'true grandson of his grandmother, which he wasn't.' The two rooms resounded with merriment, and Felix regaled Gertrude with a few of Mrs. Harewood's proverbial malapropisms; but the pair in the window remained utterly unconscious of all that was passing.

'The odd thing is,' said Angela confidentially to Charles Audley, 'that I know those two regularly hate each other.'

'It looks very like it!'

'Oh, that is to keep up appearances before the outer barbarians. I know what each thinks of the other. You clumsy boy! those plates will all be down, then what will you say to Cherry?'

'That I am overcome by appearances. What hollowness do you not reveal to me! I say, Bear must be overcome too! What makes him stand there like a grisly monument?'

Kester and Edward were, at that moment, permitted to summon the company by a performance with the bright warming-pan, as if they were hiving bees; and as Lord Ernest jumped off the table, with a look of fury and dismay Bernard pounced on Stella, who happened to be near him, and almost dragged her out into the porch. 'I can't stand it any longer, Stel. Say I'm gone home.'

'Are you ill, Bear?'

'Ill? no; but that confounded puppy--'

'He isn't lost, Bear, he is fast asleep under Cherry's chair. You need not go after him!'

'Hang it! Didn't you see? That brute of a fellow has been and squashed all the flowers! I'm sure he did it out of spite, and be hanged to him!'

'Hush, Bernard, don't!'

'A man can't mince his words when he's driven distracted! When I went through fire and water to get them for her, and it was all his jealousy, because he saw her pleased.'

'But I don't think those were your flowers.'

'Weren't they, though!'

'I thought you went to get arrow-head?'

'Well--'

'And that is great water-plantain on the table. There are quantities of it by the churchyard.'

'She never said it was not right.'

'Perhaps she would not vex you.'

'Bosh! You don't know anything about it, Stella; I'll soon find out.'

So Bernard stalked back, followed by his little sister, just as seats were being taken, with no further exclusiveness, but with the Countess on one side of Felix, and Gertrude on the other, and Lord Ernest by Geraldine's side. They had tried to get Mrs. Hodnet's company, but she would not consent to do anything but fry rashers for them.

'Lady Caergwent,' said Bernard's voice, 'were those the wrong flowers?'

A silence. 'You were very kind to get them for me.'

'Then they weren't arrowhead?'

A still more awful silence. 'Oh! let me see, where are they? Perhaps--'

'Lord Ernest de la Poer sat down upon them,' returned Bernard, in such a tragic voice, that convulsions of suppressed laughter began to prevail; 'but here are the remains, such as they are.'

'I am very sorry,' said the Countess, more than half choked as the faded, squeezed, limp water-plant was extended to her; 'but I can't flatter you that it is--no--it is not arrowhead.'

'Arrowing, isn't it?' of course muttered the witty pupil.

'But it was just as kind in you,' proceeded Lady Caergwent, conquering her paroxysm, and looking up with great sweetness in her hazel eyes. 'You went all the way for it, and were caught in the storm, and I am just as grateful to you.'

'You shall have some before I sleep!' and he was off like a shot.

'Oh! he isn't really gone!--Stop him, Mr. Underwood!--Stop him, Ernest!--How can you all sit there laughing!'

'It will do him a great deal of good.'

'Felix!' cried Cherry reproachfully from the other end of the table; 'when the poor boy has had nothing to eat!'

'And he's got my new boots on,' ejaculated Pupil Number 2. 'They'll punish him.'

'It's a great deal too bad,' said Lady Caergwent, flushing up. 'Cherry, what can I do? Indeed, it wasn't on purpose.'

'Don't you think he could be stopped, Felix!' entreated Cherry, tender over her boy. 'Is not there some short way to the garden?--Willie!'

'Impossible, Cherry,' said Will. 'No doubt he will go home instead of coming back here.' And to his neighbour--'Don't distress yourself. It is the first time I ever saw Bernard stirred out of the grand simplicity of his self-devotion.'

'Where's the Vicar?' broke in Lord Ernest, while Lady Caergwent looked far from consoled. 'You've not sent him after any water-weeds, have you?'

'No, a vicar never gets a clear holiday in his own precincts.' said Will. 'I've rigged him out to go to some cottagers up here--and if they know him for their shepherd, it's a pity.'

For besides being a shorter and more loosely-built man, the Oxford tutor, though not unclerical, had not the peculiar ecclesiastical look of the Vicar of Vale Leston.

'What have you done to Bernard?' said the voice of Clement himself, as he came in, certainly a good deal transformed. 'I met him galloping down the lane, and saying he should walk home, and you were not to wait for him.'

'You didn't turn him back? O Clement!'

'He hasn't quarrelled with any one?' said Clement, anxiously surveying the ranks; 'he wouldn't tell me.'

'Only with humanity in general,' said Felix. 'He brought Lady Caergwent the wrong plant, and has rushed headlong to repair the mistake, without knowing a bit better what the right one was. It is his first essay in chivalry, and he is having it strong,' he added, smiling, as he turned to the lady.

'Never mind, Kate,' added Angela, with her usual questionable taste, 'it's only a bog and not a whirlpool that you've made him plunge into; besides, it isn't the Ewe, so he isn't due to it!'

'Will you take his place in the waggonette, Lord Ernest?' asked Cherry. 'Where's your bag?'

'My bag--I declare it must be at the bottom of the Lady's Rock! We'll charter a boy to go and look for it.'

'We will stop as we go by. There are plenty of relics to pick up.'

'For hospitality's sake,' said Will, 'I might mention that the room next the Apple-chamber is at your service.'

'Thank you, since you are so kind, Miss Underwood, I'll come. I want to see your picture. What are you doing now?'

'A little portrait work,' said Cherry, smiling and blushing, and looking towards her subject.

'There,' quoth Lord Ernest, to Robina. 'Did not I tell you it was a Kit-Cat-astrophe!'

'Oh!' said Gertrude, little aware of the by-play, 'I forgot to ask if you had been going on with Edith of Lorn?'

'The maiden all for-lorn,' was another aspiration of the witty pupil.

'That's just the usual aspect of the Maid of Lorn,' said John, 'only Geraldine hasn't done her at all, only the last flutter of her cloak.'

'Quite right,' said Lord Ernest; 'that young person always struck me as taking the oddest way of reclaiming her young man, by charging down the hill at the head of all the stable-boys, grooms, and helpers.'

'I confess,' said Felix, 'I should have been harder to seek after that exploit than when all the bridesmaids were singing.'

'No doubt,' said Will, 'he knew best. How often had she scratched his face in Artornish Hall?!'

In the midst of the laughter a low silvery voice was heard saying to her neighbour, 'Please read it. You really ought.'

'Only one does get it so thrust down one's throat in the Hebrides,' returned Charles; 'but I'll try.'

'I agree with you, Stella, it is almost profane of them,' said Lady Caergwent; 'only one plays with what one loves best.'

'The maiden all forlorn got the best of it at last,' said Angela.

Which made some of them blush, and others make a move to recover the remnants of the feast. Wilmet wanted to take her boys home to bed, since the rain had ceased, and the carriages were brought out.

'Shall I offer Master Ratton to those two?' asked Felix of Robina, 'or is it too barefaced?'

'As yet, till the elders know.'

'Then you must come with me in the basket, Bob. I shall make Clem drive the waggonette home; he knows the ground better than I do.'

There was a good deal of summer lightning all the way home: but Lady Caergwent, tightly packed into the waggonette, never started at the shimmering sheets of pale light. Nay, she loved them all the rest of her life.

And the arrowhead, which she found in a jug outside her door in the morning, received full justice, and was in fact the last botanical specimen ever added to her collection.

The proverbial 'dull elf' alone could fail to figure the ensuing days, with the semi-concealment of what everybody knew, but no one was supposed to know before the authorities. How Lady Caergwent sat up at untimely hours, pouring her heart out to Robina; how Bernard became melancholy and misanthropical, when cruelly snubbed by Lord Ernest--'I could have had some pity on him,' was the reply to a remonstrance, 'but for that speech about his brothers.' Angela, on the other hand, made such endeavours to rescue poor Lord Ernest from being bored, that Cherry, in constant fear of her exposing herself, told her how matters stood, when she became furious and scornful at his supposed weariness of toil, and the succumbing of his resolution. Clement endured it much better, being quite willing that any one but the clergy should marry, and knowing Lord Ernest well enough to believe that he would only make the lady a stronger pillar of the Church.

After a few fresh touches had given a new and different reading to the portrait, and after a Sunday of bliss that cost Will and Robina some gulps of envious philosophy, there was a return to the Hammonds, and a tremendous croquet party to kill off all the neighbourhood before Mrs. Umfraville's return.

That lady's thankful comfort was only alloyed by sorrow that her Colonel could not see the fulfilment of his chief wish, while she felt that the four years' estrangement had improved both in manliness and womanliness, in forbearance and humility, and the matrimonial balance would be far easier of adjustment.

Of course invitations and promises to attend the wedding were made in the heat of the moment, and these were kept in October by Felix and Geraldine as well as Robina, who a second time dazzled Lady Vanderkist by her appearance in the list of bridesmaids. It was the last thing before she, with the whole De la Poer party, went abroad for the winter for the sake of her little delicate pupil, Susan, who had been ordered to spend the winter in the Riviera; and ever considerate, when Lord De la Poer asked his daughter Grace's Mr. Pemberton to join the travellers at Christmas, he also asked William Harewood; and Robina was the best off, for the curate could not come when the tutor could.

Mrs. Umfraville made a great deal of Mr. and Miss Underwood at Caergwent, and they much enjoyed their visit; but it was always a subject of regret that these outer interests seemed to make Lance feel at a greater distance from them. Something was amiss, though it was not easy to make out what it was, and he never allowed that he was uncomfortable, nor weary of his bicycle or of Mrs. Froggatt.

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