Sisters Three

By Mrs George de Horne Vaizey________________________________________________________________________A very well-written book about the life of three sisters being broughtup in the Lake District of northern England by their well-known authorfather. The time comes when one of them is of an age to get married. Which eligible young man shall she take? She makes her choice, and thepreparations reach a very advanced state, when she realises she cannotgo through with it. 

Of course, it is just a bit dated; for instance young men are judged bythe size and quality of their moustaches, a practice long discontinuedin England, though not perhaps in other countries. 

Still, it is a light and easy read, and of course sheds light on the wayyoung girls were brought up around 1900. N. H. ________________________________________________________________________SISTERS THREE

BY MRS. GEORGE DE HORNE VAIZEY

CHAPTER ONE. 

NEW YEAR'S DAY. 

"I wish something would happen!" sighed Norah. 

"If it were something _nice_, " corrected Lettice. "Lots of thingshappen every day, but they are mostly disagreeable. Getting up, forinstance, in the cold, dark mornings--and practising--and housework, andgetting ready for stupid old classes--I don't complain of having toolittle to do. I want to do less, and to be able to amuse myself more. "

"We want a change, that is the truth, " said Hilary, bending forward onher seat, and sending the poker into the heart of the fire with avigorous shove. "Our lives jog-trot along in the same way year afteryear, and it grows monotonous. I declare, when I think that this is thefirst day of another January it makes me ill! Fifty-two more Mondays tosit in the morning-room and darn stockings. Fifty-two Saturdays to giveout stores. Three hundred and sixty-five days to dust ornaments, interview the cook, and say, `Well, let me see! The cold mutton hadbetter be used up for lunch'--Oh, dear me!"

"I'll tell you what--let's have a nice long grumble, " said Lettice, giving her chair a hitch nearer the fire, and bending forward with asmile of enjoyment. "Let's hold an Indignation Meeting on our ownaccount, and discuss our grievances. Women always have grievancesnowadays--it's the fashionable thing, and I like to be in the fashion. Three charming and beauteous maidens shut up in the depths of thecountry in the very flower of their youth, with nothing to do--I meanwith far too much to do, but with no amusement, no friends, no variety!We are like the princesses in the fairy tales, shut up in the moatedtower; only then there were always fairy godmothers to come to therescue, and beautiful princes in golden chariots. We shall have to waita long time before any such visitors come tramping along the Kendalhigh-road. I am sure it sounds melancholy enough to make anyone sorryfor us!"

"Father is the dearest man in the world, but he doesn't understand how agirl of seventeen feels. I was seventeen on my last birthday, so it'sworse for me than for you, for I am really grown-up. " Hilary sighed, and rested her sleek little head upon her hand in a pensive, elderlyfashion. "I believe he thinks that if we have a comfortable home andenough to eat, and moderately decent clothes, we ought to be content;but I want ever so much more than that. If mother had lived--"

There was a short silence, and then Norah took up the strain in hercrisp, decided accents. "I am fifteen and a half, and I look verynearly as old as you do, Hilary, and I'm an inch taller. I don't seewhy I need go on with these stupid old classes. If I could go to a goodschool, it would be another thing, for I simply adore music andpainting, and should love to work hard, and become celebrated; but Idon't believe Miss Briggs can teach me any more than I know myself, andthere is no better teacher for miles around. If father would only letme go abroad for a year; but he is afraid of trusting me out of hissight. If _I_ had seven children, I'd be glad to get rid of some ofthem, if only to get a little peace and quietness at home. "

"Mother liked the idea of girls being educated at home, that is thereason why father objects to sending us away. The boys must go toboarding-schools, of course, because there is no one here who can takethem in hand. As for peace and quietness, father enjoys having thehouse full. He grumbles at the noise sometimes, but I believe he likesit at the bottom of his heart. If we do happen to be quiet for a changein the evening, he peers over his book and says, `What is the matter;has something gone wrong? Why are you all so quiet?' He loves to seeus frisking about. "

"Yes, but I can't frisk any longer--I'm too dull--I want something tohappen, " repeated Norah, obstinately. "Other people have parties on NewYear's Day, or a Christmas-tree, or crowds of visitors coming to call. We have been sitting here sewing from ten o'clock this morning--nasty, uninteresting mending--which isn't half done yet, though it is nearlyfour o'clock. And you never think of me! I'm fifteen, and I feel itmore than either of you. You see it is like this. Sometimes I feelquite young, like a child, and then you two are too proper to run aboutand play with me, so I am all alone; and then I feel quite old andgrown-up, and am just as badly off as you, and worse, because I'm theyoungest, and have to take third turn of everything, and wear yourwashed-out ribbons! If only something would happen that was reallystartling and exciting--!"

"I sink it's very naughty to wish like that!" A tiny, reed-like voiceburst into the conversation with an unexpectedness which made the threesisters start in their seats; a small figure in a white pinafore creptforward into the firelight, and raised a pair of reproachful eyes toNorah's face. "I sink it's very naughty to wish like that, 'cause it'sdiscontented, and you don't know what it might be like. Pr'aps thehouse might be burned, or the walls fall down, or you might all be illand dead yourselves, and _then_ you wouldn't like it!"

The three girls looked at each other, undecided between laughter andremorse. 

"Mouse!" said Hilary, severely, "what are you doing here? Little girlshave no business to listen to what big people are saying. You mustnever sit here again without letting us know, or that will be naughtytoo. We don't mean to be discontented, Mouse. We felt rather low inour spirits, and were relieving ourselves by a little grumble, that'sall. Of course, we know that we have really many, many things to bethankful for--a nice house, and--ah--garden, and such beautiful countryall round, and--ah--good health, and--"

"And the bunnies, and the pigeons, and the new carpet in the dining-room, and because the puppy didn't die--and--and--_Me_!" said the Mouse, severely; and when her sisters burst into a roar of laughter sheproceeded to justify herself with indignant protest. "Well, it's thetrufh! The bunnies _are_ pretty, and you said, `Thank goodness! we'vegot a respectable carpet at last!' And Lettice cried when the littlepup rolled its eyes and squealed, and you said to Miss Briggs that I wasonly five, and if I _was_ spoiled she couldn't wonder, 'cause I was thelittlest of seven, and no one could help it! And it's `Happy New Year'and plum pudding for dinner, so I don't sink you ought to bediscontented!"

"You are quite right, dear, it's very naughty of us. Just run upstairsto the schoolroom, and get tidy for tea, there's a good little Mouse. Shut the door behind you, for there's a fearful draught. " Hilary noddedto the child over her shoulder, and then turned to her sisters with anexpressive shrug. "What a funny little mite she is! We really must becareful how we speak before her. She understands far too well, and shehas such stern ideas of her own. Well, perhaps after all we are wrongto be discontented. I hated coming to live in this quiet place, but Ihave been ever so much stronger; I never have that wretched, breathlessfeeling now that I had in town, and I can run upstairs to the very topwithout stopping. You can't enjoy anything without health, so I oughtto be--I am!--very thankful that I am so much better. "

"I am thankful that I have my two dear hobbies, and can forgeteverything in playing and drawing. The hours fly when I can sit out ofdoors and sketch, and my precious old violin knows all my secrets. Itcries with me, and sings with me, and shrieks aloud just as I would doif I dared to make all the noise I want, when I am in a temper. I dobelieve I could be one of the best players in the world if I had thechance. I feel it in me! It is aggravating to know that I makemistakes from want of proper lessons, but it is glorious to feel suchpower over an instrument as I do when I am properly worked up! I wouldnot change places with any girl who is not musical!"

Lettice said nothing, but she lifted her eyes to the oval mirror whichhung above the mantelpiece, and in her heart she thought, "And I am gladthat I am so pretty. If one is pretty, everyone is polite andattentive; and I do like people to be kind, and make a fuss! When wewere at the station the other day the people nudged each other and bentout of the windows of the train as I passed. I saw them, though Ipretended I didn't. And I should look far nicer if I had properclothes. If I could only have had that fur boa, and the feather for myhat! But what does it matter what I wear in this wretched place? Thereis no one to see me. "

The firelight played on three thoughtful faces as the girls sat insilence, each occupied with her special train of thought. The roomlooked grey and colourless in the waning light, and the glimpse ofwintry landscape seen through the window did not add to the generalcheeriness. Hilary shivered, and picking up a log from the corner ofthe grate dropped it into the fire. 

"Well, there is no use repining! We have had our grumble, and we mightas well make the best of circumstances. It's New Year's Day, so I shallmake a resolution to try to like my work. I know I do it well, becauseI am naturally a good housekeeper; but I ought to take more interest init. That's the way the good people do in books, and in the end theydote upon the very things they used to hate. There's no saying--I maycome to adore darning stockings and wending linen before the year isout! At any rate I shall have the satisfaction of having done my best. "

"Well, if you try to like your work, I'll try to remember mine--that's abargain, " said Lettice solemnly. "There always seems to be something Iwant particularly to do for myself, just when I ought to be at my`avocations, ' as Miss Briggs has it. It's a bad plan, because I have toexert myself to finish in time, and get a scolding into the bargain. Sohere's for punctuality and reform!"

Norah held her left hand high in the air, and began checking off thefingers with ostentatious emphasis. "I resolve always to get up in themorning as soon as I am called, and without a single grumble; always tobe amiable when annoyed; always to do what other people like, and what Idislike myself; always to be good-tempered with the boys, and smile uponthem when they pull my hair and play tricks with my things; always becheerful, contented, ladylike in deportment, and agreeable in manner. What do you say? _Silly_! I am not silly at all. If you are going tomake resolutions at all, you ought to do it properly. Aim at the sky, and you may reach the top of the tree; aim at the top of the tree, andyou will grovel on the ground. You are too modest in your aspirations, and they won't come to any good; but as for me--with a standard beforeme of absolute perfection--"

"Who is talking of perfection? And where is the tea, and why are youstill in darkness, with none of the lamps lighted? It is five o'clock, and I have been in my study waiting for the bell to ring for the lasthalf-hour. What are you all doing over there by the fire?" cried amasculine voice, and a man's tall figure stood outlined in the doorway. 

CHAPTER TWO. 

HILARY IN LUCK. 

There was a simultaneous exclamation of dismay as the three girls leaptfrom their seats, and flew round the room in different directions. Hilary lighted the lamps, Norah drew the curtains across the windows, while Lettice first gave a peal to the bell, and then ran forward toescort her father to a chair by the fire. 

"Tea will be here in a moment, father; come and sit down. It's NewYear's Day, you know, and we have been so busy making good resolutionsthat we have had no time for anything practical. Why didn't you comedown before? You are a regular old woman about afternoon tea; I believeyou would miss it more than any other meal. "

"I believe I should. I never get on well with my writing in the firstpart of the afternoon, and tea seems to give me a fresh start. So yougirls have been making good resolutions? That's good hearing. Tell meabout them. " And Mr Bertrand leant back in his chair, clasping hishands behind his head, and looking up at his young daughters with aquizzical smile. A photographer would have been happy if he could havetaken a portrait at this moment, for Mr Bertrand was a well-knownauthor, and the books which were written in the study in Westmorelandwent far and wide over the world, and made his name a household word. He had forgotten his beloved work at this moment, however, at the sightof something dearer still--his three young daughters standing groupedtogether facing him at the other side of the old-fashioned grate, theirfaces flushed from the heat of the fire, their eyes dazzled by thesudden light. How tall and womanlike they looked in their dark sergedresses! Lettice's hair framed her face in a halo of mist-like curls;Hilary held up her head in her dignified little fashion; mischievousNorah smiled in the background. They were dearer to him than all hisheroines; but, alas, far less easy to manage, for the heroines did asthey were bid, while the three girls were developing strong wills oftheir own. 

"I believe you have been plotting mischief, and that is the beginningand the end of your good resolutions!"

"Indeed, no, father; we were in earnest. But it was a reaction, forbefore that we had been grumbling about-- Wait a moment, here comes tea. We'll tell you later on. Miss Briggs says we should never talk aboutdisagreeable topics at a meal, and tea is the nicest meal of the day, sowe can't afford to spoil it. Well, and how is Mr Robert getting onthis afternoon?"

Mr Bertrand's face twitched in a comical manner. He lived so entirelyin the book which he was writing at the time that he found it impossibleto keep silent on the subject; but he could never rid himself of acomical feeling of embarrassment in discussing his novels in thepresence of his daughters. 

"Robert, eh? What do you know about Robert?"

"We know all about him, of course. He was in trouble on Wednesday, andyou came down to tea with your hair ruffled, and as miserable as youcould be. He must be happy again to-day, for your hair is quite smooth. When is he going to marry Lady Mary?"

"He is not going to marry Lady Mary at all. What nonsense! Lady Mary, indeed! You don't know anything about it! Give me another cup of tea, and tell me what you have been grumbling about. It doesn't sound acheerful topic for New Year's Day, but I would rather have even thatthan hear such ridiculous remarks! Grumbling! What can you have togrumble about, I should like to know?"

"Oh, father!" The three young faces raised themselves to his in wide-eyed protest. The exclamation was unanimous; but when it was over therewas a moment's silence before Hilary took up the strain. 

"We are dull, father! We are tired of ourselves. You are all day longin your study, the boys spend their time out of doors, and we have nofriends. In summer time we don't feel it, for we live in the garden, and it is bright and sunny; but in winter it is dark and cold. No onecomes to see us, the days are so long, and every day is like the last. "

"My dear, you have the housework, and the other two have their lessons. You are only children as yet, and your school days are not over. Mostchildren are sent to boarding-schools, and have to work all day long. You have liberty and time to yourselves. I don't see why you shouldcomplain. "

"Father, I should like to go to school--I long to go--I want to get onwith my music, and Miss Briggs can't teach me any more. "

"Father, when girls are at boarding-schools they have parties andtheatricals, and go to concerts, and have all sorts of fun. We neverhave anything like that. "

"Father, I am not a child; I am nearly eighteen. Chrystabel Maynard wasonly seventeen at the beginning of the book?"

Mr Bertrand stirred uneasily, and brushed the hair from his forehead. Chrystabel Maynard was one of his own heroines, and the allusion broughthome the reality of his daughter's age as nothing else could have done. His glance passed by Norah and Lettice and lingered musingly on Hilary'sface. 

"Ha, what's this? The revolt of the daughters!" he cried. "Well, dears, you are quite right to be honest. If you have any grievances onyour little minds, speak out for goodness' sake, and let me hear allabout them. I am not an ogre of a father, who does not care whathappens to his children so long as he gets his own way. I want to seeyou happy. --So you are seventeen, Hilary! I never realised it before. You are old enough to hear my reason for keeping you down here, and tojudge if I am right. When your mother died, three years ago, I was leftin London with seven children on my hands. You were fourteen then, amiserable, anaemic creature, with a face like a tallow candle, and lipsas white as paper. The boys came home from school and ran wild aboutthe streets. I could not get on with my work for worrying about youall, and a man must work to keep seven children. I saw an advertisementof this house in the papers one day, and took it on the impulse of themoment. It seemed to me that you would all grow strong in this fine, mountain air, and that I could work in peace, knowing that you were outof the way of mischief. So far as the boys and myself are concerned, the plan has worked well. I get on with my work, and they enjoy runningwild in their holidays; but the little lasses have pined, have they?Poor little lasses! I am sorry to hear that. Now come--the postbrought me some cheques this morning, and I am inclined to be generous. Next week, or the week after, I must run up to London on business, and Iwill bring you each a nice present on my return. Choose what it shallbe, and I will get it for you if it is to be found in the length andbreadth of the city. Now then, wish in turns. What will you have?"

"It's exactly like the father in _Beauty and the Beast_, before hestarts on his travels! I am sure Lettice would like a white moss rose!"cried Norah roguishly. "As for me, I am afraid it's no use. There isonly one thing I want--lessons from the very best violin master inLondon!"

"Three servants who could work by electricity, and not keep me runningafter them all day long!"

"Half a dozen big country houses near to us, with sons and daughters ineach, who would be our friends. "

They were all breathless with eagerness, and Mr Bertrand listened withwrinkled brow. He had expected to be asked for articles of jewellery orfinery, and the replies distressed him, as showing that the discontentwas more deepseated than he had imagined. For several moments he sat insilence, as though puzzling out a difficult problem. Then his browcleared, and he smiled, his own, cheery smile. 

"Hilary, pack your boxes, and get ready to go up to London with me onMonday week. If you are seventeen, you are old enough to pay visits, and we will stay for a fortnight with my old friend Miss Carr, inKensington. She is a clever woman, and I will talk to her and see whatcan be done. I can't work miracles, but I will do what I can to pleaseyou. May I be allowed to have another cup of tea, Miss Seventeen?"

"Poor, dear, old father! Don't look so subdued. You may have a dozenif you like. Monday next! How lovely! You are the dearest father inall the world!"

Mr Bertrand shrugged his shoulders. 

"When I give you your own way, " he said drily. "Pass the cake, Lettice. If I have three grown-up daughters on my hands, I must make everyeffort to keep up my strength. "

Lettice and Norah had a little conversation on the stairs as they wentupstairs to change their dresses for dinner. 

"It's very nice for Hilary, this going up to London; but it doesn't do_us_ any good. When is something going to happen for _us_?"

"I suppose we shall have to wait for our turn, " sighed Letticedolefully; but that very same evening an unexpected excitement tookplace in the quiet household, and though the Mouse's prophecy wasfulfilled, inasmuch as it could hardly be called an incident of acheerful nature, it was yet fated to lead to great and far-reachingresults. 

CHAPTER THREE. 

AN UNEXPECTED GUEST. 

The old grandfather's clock was just striking six o'clock when Raymondand Bob, the two public schoolboys, came home from their afternoonexcursion. They walked slowly up the drive, supporting between them thefigure of a young fellow a few years older than themselves, who hoppedpainfully on one foot, and was no sooner seated on the oak bench in thehall, than he rested his head against the rails, and went off into adead faint. The boys shouted at the pitch of their voices, whereuponMr Bertrand rushed out of his sanctum, followed by every other memberof his household. 

"Good gracious! Who is it? What is the matter? Where did he comefrom? Has he had an accident?" cried the girls in chorus, while MissBriggs ran off for sal volatile and other remedies. 

The stranger was a tall, lanky youth, about eighteen years of age, withcurly brown hair and well-cut features, and he made a pathetic figureleaning back in the big oak seat. 

"He's the son of old Freer, the Squire of Brantmere, " explained Raymond, as he busied himself unloosing the lad's collar and tie. "We have methim several times when we have been walking. Decent fellow--Harrow--reading at home for college, and hates it like poison. We were coming ashort cut over the mountains, when he slipped on a bit of ice, andtwisted his ankle trying to keep up. We had an awful time getting himback. He meant to stay at the inn to-night, as his people are away, andit was too dark to go on, but he looks precious bad. Couldn't we puthim up here?"

"Yes, yes, of course. Better carry him straight to bed and get off thatboot, " said Mr Bertrand cordially. "It will be a painful job, and ifwe can get it done before he comes round, so much the better. Here, youboys, we'll carry him upstairs between us, and be careful not to trip asyou go. Someone bring up hot water, and bandages from the medicinechest. I will doctor him myself. I have had a fair experience ofsprained ankles in my day, and don't need anyone to show me what to do. "

The procession wended its way up the staircase, and for the greater partof the evening father and brothers were alike invisible. Fomentationsand douches were carried on with gusto by Mr Bertrand, who was nevermore happy than when he was playing the part of amateur surgeon; thenMiss Briggs had her innings, and carried a tray upstairs laden with allthe dainties the house could supply, after partaking of which theinvalid was so far recovered that he was glad of his friends' company, and kept them laughing and chatting in his room until it was time to goto bed. 

The next morning the ankle was much better, but, at his host'sinstigation, the young fellow despatched a note to his mother, tellingher not to expect him home for a few days, as Mr Bertrand wished him tostay until he was better able to bear the long, hilly drive. 

The girls discussed the situation as they settled down to finish themuch disliked mending in the afternoon. "It's very annoying, " Hilarysaid. "I do hope he won't be long in getting better. We were going toLondon on Monday week, but if he is still here we shall have to wait, and I hate having things postponed. "

"I wish he had been a girl, " said Norah, who came in for so much teasingfrom her two brothers during the holidays that she did not welcome theidea of having another boy in the house. "We could have had such funtogether, and perhaps she might have asked us to stay with her some day. I should love to pay visits! I wonder if father will take us up toLondon in turns, now that he has begun. I do hope he will, for it wouldbe great fun staying in Kensington. I remember Miss Carr when we werein London; she was a funny old thing, but I liked her awfully. She wasoften cross, but after she had scolded for about five minutes, she usedto repent, and give us apples. She will give you apples, Hilary, if youare very good!"

Hilary screwed up her little nose with an expression of disdain. Appleswere not much of a treat to people who had an orchard at home, and shehad outgrown the age of childish joy at the gift of such trifles. Before she could speak, however, the door burst open, and Raymondprecipitated himself into the room. He was a big, broad fellow ofsixteen, for he and Lettice were twins, though widely differing inappearance. Raymond had a flat face, thickly speckled over withfreckles, reddish brown hair, and a pair of brown eyes which fairlydanced with mischief. It was safe to prophesy that in less than twominutes from the time that he entered the room where his sisters weresitting, they would all three be shrieking aloud in consternation, andthe present instance was no exception to the rule. It was very simplymanaged. He passed one hand over the table where lay the socks andstockings which had been paired by Hilary's industrious fingers, andswept them, helter-skelter, on the floor. He nudged Norah's elbow, sothat the needle which she was threading went deep into her fingers, andchucked Lettice under the chin, so that she bit her tongue with aviolence which was really painful. This done, he plunged both handsinto his pockets and danced a hornpipe on the hearthrug, while the girlsabused him at the pitch of their voices. 

"Raymond Bertrand, you are the most horrid, ungentlemanly, nasty, rudeboy I ever knew!"

"If you were older you'd be ashamed of yourself. It is only because youare a stupid, ignorant little schoolboy that you think it funny to beunkind to girls. "

"Very well, then! You have given me all my work to do over again; now Iwon't make toffee this afternoon, as I promised!"

"I don't want your old toffee. I can buy toffee in the village if Iwant it, " retorted Raymond cheerfully. "Besides, I'm going out totoboggan with Bob, and I shan't be home until dark. You girls will haveto go and amuse Freer. He is up, and wants something to do. I'm notgoing to stay indoors on a jolly afternoon to talk to the fellow, soyou'll have to do it instead. "

"Indeed, we'll do nothing of the kind; we have our work to do, and it isbad enough to have two tiresome boys on our hands without looking aftera third. He is your friend, and if you won't amuse him, he will have tostay by himself. "

"All right! Nice, hospitable people you are! Leave him alone to be asdull as he likes--it's no matter to me. I told him that you would lookafter him, so the responsibility is off my shoulders. " Raymond paused, pointed in a meaning manner towards a curtained doorway at the end ofthe room, tiptoed up to the table, and finished his reply in a tragicwhisper. "And I've settled him on the couch in the drawing-room, so youhad better not speak so loudly, because he can hear every word you say!"

With this parting shot, Mr Raymond took his departure, banging the doorafter him, while his sisters sat paralysed, staring at each other withdistended eyes. 

"How awful! What _must_ he think? We can't leave him alone after this. Hilary, you are the eldest, go and talk to him. "

"I won't--I don't know what to say. Norah, you go! Perhaps he ismusical. You can play to him on your violin!"

"Thank you, very much. I'll do nothing of the kind. Lettice, you go;you are not shy. Talk to him prettily, and show him the photographs. "

"I daren't; I am horribly shy. I wouldn't go into that room now, afterwhat he has heard, for fifty thousand pounds!"

"Norah, look here, if you will go and sit with him until four o'clock, Lettice and I will finish your work between us, and we will all come andhave tea in the drawing-room, and help you out for the rest of theafternoon!"

"Yes, Norah, we will; and I'll give you that pink ribbon for your hair. Do, Norah! there's a good girl. You won't mind a bit after the firstmoment. "

"It's all very well, " grumbled Norah; but she was plainly softening, andafter a moment's hesitation, she pushed back her chair and said slowly, "All right, I'll go; but mind you are punctual with tea, for I don'tbargain to stay a moment after four o'clock. " She brushed the ends ofcotton from her dress, walked across to the door, and disappearedthrough the doorway with a pantomimic gesture of distaste. At the otherside she paused and stood facing the invalid in silent embarrassment, for his cheeks were flushed, and he looked so supremely uncomfortablethat it was evident he had overheard the loud-toned conversation whichhad been carried on between the brother and sisters. Norah looked athim and saw a young fellow who looked much older and more formidablethan he had done in his unconsciousness the night before, for his greyeyes had curious, dilating pupils, and a faint mark on the upper lipshowed where the moustache of the future was to be. The stranger lookedat Norah, and saw a tall, slim girl, with masses of dark hair fallingdown her back, heavily marked eyebrows, and a bright, sharply cut littleface, which was very attractive, if it could not strictly be calledpretty. 

"How do you do?" said Norah desperately. "I hope you are quite--I mean, I hope your foot is better. I am glad you are able to get up. "

"Thank you very much. It's all right so long as I lie still. It's verygood of you to let me stay here. I hope I'm not a great nuisance. "

"Oh, not at all. I'm sure you are not. I'm not the eldest, you know, I'm only the third, so I have nothing to do with the housekeeping, butthere are so many of us that one more doesn't make any difference. Myname is Norah. "

"And mine is Reginald, but I am always called Rex. Please don't troubleabout me if you have anything else to do. If you would give me a book, I'd amuse myself. "

"Are you fond of reading?"

"No, I hate it--that is to say, I like it very much, of course, but Ihave had so much of it for the last two years that I sometimes feel thatI hate the sight of a book. But it's different here, for a few hours. "

"I think I'll stay and talk to you, if you don't mind, " said Norah, seating herself on an oak stool by the fire, and holding out a thin, brown hand to shade her face from the blaze. "I'm very fond of talkingwhen I get to know people a little bit. Raymond told us that you werereading at home to prepare for college, and that you didn't like it. Isuppose that is why you are tired of books. I wish I were in yourplace! I'd give anything to go to a town, and get on with my studies, but I have to stay at home and learn from a governess. Wouldn't it benice if we could change places? Then we should both be pleased, and getwhat we liked. "

The young fellow gave a laugh of amusement. "I don't think I shouldcare for the governess, " he said, "though she seems awfully kind andjolly, if she is the lady who looked after me last night. I've hadenough lessons to last me for the rest of my life, and I want to get towork, but my father is bent on having a clever son, and can't make uphis mind to be disappointed. "

"And aren't you clever? I don't think you look exactly stupid!" saidNorah, so innocently, that Rex burst into a hearty laugh. 

"Oh, I hope I'm not so bad as that. I am what is called `intelligent, 'don't you know, but I shall never make a scholar, and it is waste oftime and money to send me to college. It is not in me. I am not fondof staying in the house and poring over books and papers. I couldn't bea doctor and spend my life in sick-rooms; the law would drive me crazy, and I could as soon jump over a mountain as write two new sermons aweek. I want to go abroad--to India or Ceylon, or one of those places--and get into a berth where I can be all day walking about in the openair, and looking after the natives. "

"Oh, I see. You don't like to work yourself, but you feel that it is`in you' to make other people exert themselves! You would like to havea lot of poor coolies under you, and order them about from morning tillnight--that's what you mean. I think you must be very lazy to talk likethat!" said Norah, nodding her head in such a meaning fashion that theyoung fellow flushed in embarrassment. 

"Indeed, I'm nothing of the kind. I am very energetic--in my own way. There are all sorts of gifts, and everyone knows which one has fallen tohis share. It's stupid to pretend that you don't, I know I am notintellectual, but I also know that I have a natural gift of management. At school I had the arrangement of all the games and sports, and thefellows would obey me when no one else could do anything with them. Ishould like to have a crowd of workmen under me--and I'll tell you this!they would do more work, and do it better, and be more contented overit, than any other workmen in the district!"

"Gracious!" cried Norah, "you are conceited! But I believe you areright. It's something in your eyes--I noticed it as soon as I saw you--a sort of commanding look, and a flash every now and then when youaren't quite pleased. They flashed like anything just now, when I saidyou were lazy! The poor coolies would be frightened out of theirsenses. But you needn't go abroad unless you like. You could stay athome and keep a school. "

"No, thank you. I know too much about it. I don't want the lifeworried out of me by a lot of boys. I could manage them quite wellthough, if I chose. "

"You couldn't manage me!" Norah brought her black brows together indefiant fashion, but the challenge was not taken up, for Master Rexsimply ejaculated, "Oh, girls! I wasn't talking about girls, " and laidhis head against the cushions in such an indifferent fashion that Norahfelt snubbed; and the next question came in a very subdued littlevoice--"Don't you--er--_like_ girls?"

"Ye-es--pretty well--the ones I know. I like my sister, of course, butwe have only seen each other in the holidays for the last six years. She is sixteen now, and has to leave school because her chest isdelicate, and she has come home to be coddled. She don't like it abit--leaving school, I mean--so it seems that none of us are contented. She's clever, in music especially; plays both violin and pianouncommonly well for a girl of her age. "

"Oh, does she? That's my gift. I play the violin beautifully, " criedNorah modestly, and when Rex laughed aloud she grew angry, and protestedin snappish manner, "Well, you said yourself that we could not helpknowing our own talents. It's quite true, I _do_ play well. Everyonesays so. If you don't believe it, I'll get my violin and let you hear. "

"I wish you would! Please forgive me for laughing, I didn't mean to berude, but it sounded so curious that I forgot what I was doing. Doplay! I should love to hear you. "

Norah walked across the room and lifted the beloved violin from itscase. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was tingling with theremembrance of that incredulous laugh, but her anger only made her themore resolved to prove the truth of her words. She stood before Rex inthe firelight, her slim figure drawn up to its full height, and thefirst sweep of the bow brought forth a sound so sweet and full, that hestarted in amazement. The two sisters in the adjoining room stoppedtheir work to listen, and whispered to one another that they had neverheard Norah play so well; and when at last she dropped her arms, andstood waiting for Rex to give his verdict, he could only gasp inastonishment. 

"I say, it's wonderful! You can play, and no mistake! What is thepiece? I never heard it before. It's beautiful. I like it awfully. "

"Oh, nothing. It isn't a piece. I made it up as I went along. It istoo dark to see the music, and I love wandering along just as I like. I'll play you some pieces later on when the lamps are lit. "

"I say, you know, you are most awfully clever! If you play like thatnow, you could do as well as any of those professional fellows if youhad a chance. And to be able to compose as well! You are a genius--itisn't talent--it's real, true, genuine genius!"

"Oh, do you think so? Do you really, truly think so?" cried Norahpitifully. "Oh, I wish you would say so to father! He won't let us goaway to school, and I do so long and pine to have more lessons. Ilearnt in London ever since I was a tiny little girl, and from a verygood master, but the last three years I have had to struggle on bymyself. Father is not musical himself, and so he doesn't notice myplaying, but if you would tell him what you think--"

"I'll tell him with pleasure; but if he won't allow you to leave home, Idon't see what is to be done--unless--look here! I've got an idea. Mysister may want to take lessons, and if there were two pupils it mightbe worth while getting a man down from Preston or Lancaster. Ellacouldn't come here, because she can only go out on fine days, but youcould come to us, you know. It would make it so much more difficult ifthe fellow had to drive six miles over the mountains, and we are nearera station than you are here. I should think it could be managed easilyenough. I'll write to the mater about it if you like. "

"Will you, really? How lovely of you! Oh, it would be quite toodelightful if it could be managed. I'd bless you for ever. Oh, isn'tit a good thing you sprained your ankle?" cried Norah in a glow ofenthusiasm, and the burst of laughter which followed startled theoccupants of the next room by its ring of good fellowship. 

"Really, " said Hilary, "the strange boy must be nicer than we thought. Norah and he seem to be getting quite good friends. Let us hurry up, and go and join them. "

CHAPTER FOUR. 

ROUND THE FIRE. 

Mrs Freer wrote a grateful letter to Mr Bertrand, thanking him for hishospitality to her son, and arranging to drive over for Rex on thefollowing Saturday afternoon, so that Hilary's anxiety was at an end, and she could enjoy the strange boy's society with an easy mind. AfterNorah had broken the ice, there was no further feeling of shyness. WhenRex hobbled downstairs at ten o'clock in the morning, he ensconcedhimself on the old-fashioned sofa in the sewing-room, and remained thereuntil he adjourned into the drawing-room for the evening. The boys camein and out as they pleased, Miss Briggs coddled him and brought him cupsof beef-tea, but it was upon the girls that he chiefly depended foramusement. In the morning they were busy with their household duties;but, as regular lessons had not begun, afternoon was a free time, andwhile Norah drew, Lettice carved, and Hilary occupied herselfmanufacturing fineries for the London visit, a brisk clatter of tongueswas kept up, in which the invalid took his full part. The sound offive-finger exercises would come from the schoolroom overhead, but sosoon as four o'clock struck, the Mouse would steal in, in her littlewhite pinafore, and creep on to the corner of the sofa. She and the"strange boy" had made friends at once, and were on the best of terms. 

"I wish you lived with us for ever!" she said one afternoon, lookinglovingly in his face, as he stroked her wavy locks. 

"And I wish you lived with me, Mouse, " he answered. "I should like alittle sister like you, with a tiny pointed chin, and a tiny littlenose, and big dark eyes. You are a real little mouse. It is exactlythe right name for you. "

"No, it's my wrong name. My true name is Geraldine Audrey. It'swritten that way in the Bible. "

"Dear me! that's a big name for a small person. And who gave you thatname?" asked Rex, laughing. But the child's face did not relax from itscharacteristic gravity as she replied--

"My godfathers and my godmothers, and a silver mug, and a knife and forkin a case, with `GAB' written on the handles. Only I mayn't use themtill I'm seven, in case I cut my fingers. "

Dear little Geraldine Audrey! Everyone loved her. She was always sodesperately in earnest, so unsuspicious of fraud, that her little lifewas made a burden to her in the holidays by reason of the pranks of herbig brothers. They sent her into village shops to demand "a halfpenny-worth of pennies, " they kept her shivering in the drive staring at thelions on the top of the gate-posts, to see them wag their tails whenthey heard the clock strike twelve; they despatched her into the gardenwith neat little packets of salt to put on the birds' tails, and watchedthe poor mite's efforts in contortions of laughter from behind thewindow curtains. The Mouse was more sorrowful than angry when thenature of these tricks was explained to her. "I fought you told thetrufh, " she would say quietly, and then Raymond and Bob would pick herup in their arms, and try to make amends for their wickedness by pettingher for the rest of the day. 

On the third day of Rex's visit, the weather was so tempestuous thateven Raymond and Bob did not stir from the house. They spent themorning over chemical experiments in the schoolroom, but when afternooncame they wearied of the unusual confinement and were glad to join thecosy party downstairs. Norah had a brilliant inspiration, and suggested"Chestnuts, " and Master Raymond sat in comfort, directing the efforts ofpoor red-faced Bob, as he bent over the fire and roasted his fingers aswell as the nuts. When half a dozen young people are gathered round afire, catching hot nuts in outstretched hands, and promptly droppingthem with shrieks of dismay, the last remnants of shyness must needsdisappear; and Rex was soon as uproarious as any other member of thefamily, complaining loudly when his "turn" was forgotten, and abusingthe unfortunate Bob for presenting him with a cinder instead of theexpected dainty. The clatter of tongues was kept up without a moment'sintermission, and, as is usual under such circumstances, theconversation was chiefly concerned with the past exploits of the family. 

"You can't have half as many jokes in the country as you can in town, "Raymond declared. "When we were in London, two old ladies lived in thehouse opposite ours, who used to sit sewing in the window by the hourtogether. One day, when the sun was shining, Bob and I got hold of amirror and flashed it at them from our window so that the light dazzledtheir eyes and made them jump. They couldn't see us, because we werehiding behind the curtains, but it was as good as a play to watch firstone, then the other, drop her work and put up her hand to her eye? Thenthey began shaking their fists across the road, for they knew it was us, because we had played some fine tricks on them before. On wet days weused to make up a sham parcel, tie a thread to the end, and put it onthe side of the pavement. Everyone who came along stooped down to pickit up, we gave a jerk to the string and moved it on a little further, then they gave another grab, and once or twice a man overbalancedhimself and fell down, but it didn't always come off so well as that--oh, it was capital sport!"

"You got into trouble yourselves sometimes. You didn't always get thebest of it, " Norah reminded him. "Do you remember the day when youfound a ladder leaning against the area railings of a house in the whiteterrace? Father had forbidden you to climb ladders, but you were anaughty boy, as usual, and began to do it, and when you got to the top, the ladder overbalanced, and you fell head over heels into the area. Itis a wonder you were not killed that time!"

Raymond chuckled softly, as if at a pleasant remembrance. "But I wasnot, you see, and the cook got a jolly fright. She was making pastry ata table by the window, and down we came, ladder and I, the finest smashin the world. There was more glass than flour in the pies that day!"

"But father had to pay for new windows, and you were all over bruisesfrom head to foot--"

"That didn't matter. It was jolly. I could have exhibited myself in ashow as a `boy leopard, ' and made no end of money. And I wasn't theonly one who made father pay for new windows. When Bob was a littlefellow, he broke the nursery window by mistake, and a glazier came tomend it. Bob sat on a stool watching him do it, and snored all thetime--Bob always snores when he is interested--and as soon as the manhad picked up his tools and left the room, what did he do but jump upand send a toy horse smashing through the pane again. He wanted towatch the glazier put in another, but he hadn't the pleasure of seeingit mended that time. He was whipped and sent to bed. "

"We-w-w-well, " cried Bob, who was afflicted with a stammer when he wasexcited, "I didn't c-c-ut off my eyelashes, anyway! Norah went up toher room one day and p-played barber's shop. She cut lumps off her hairwherever she could get at it, till she looked like an Indian squaw, andthen she s-s-snipped off her eyelashes till there wasn't a hair left. She was sent to bed as w-well as me. "

"They have grown again since then, " said Norah, shutting one eye, andscrewing up her face in a vain effort to prove the truth of her words. "I had been to see Lettice have her hair cut that day, and I was longingto try what it felt like. I knew it was naughty, but I couldn't stop, it was too fascinating. . .. Oh, Lettice, _do_ you remember when yousucked your thumb?"

Lettice threw up her hands with a little shriek of laughter. "Oh, howfunny it was! I used to suck my thumb, Rex, until I was quite a biggirl, six years old, I think, and one day mother spoke to me seriously, and said I really must give it up. If I didn't I was to be punished; ifI did, I was to get a prize. I said, `Well, may I suck my thumb as longas ever I like to-day, for the very last time?' Mother said I might, soI sat on the stairs outside the nursery door and sucked my thumb all daylong--hours, hours, and hours, and after that I was never seen to suckit again. I had had enough!"

"It must be awfully nice to belong to a large family, " said Rexwistfully. "You can have such fun together. Edna and I were very quietat home, but I had splendid times at school, and sometimes I used tobring some of the fellows down to stay with me in the holidays. Onenight I remember--hallo, here's the Mouse! I thought you were having anice little sleep on the schoolroom sofa, Mouse. Come here and sit byme. "

Geraldine advanced to the fireplace in her usual deliberate fashion. She was quite calm and unruffled, and found time to smile at each memberof the party before she spoke. 

"So I was asleep, only they's a fire burning on the carpet of theschoolroom, and it waked me up. "

"Wh-at?"

"They's a fire burning in the miggle of the carpet--a blue fire, jestlike a plum pudding!"

There was a simultaneous shriek of dismay, as work, scissors, andchestnuts were thrown wildly on the floor, and the Bertrand familyrushed upstairs in a stampede of excitement. The schoolroom door stoodopen, the rug thrown back from the couch on which the Mouse had beenlying, and in the centre of the well-worn carpet, little blue flameswere dancing up and down, exactly as they do on a Christmas puddingwhich has been previously baptised with spirit. Bob cast a guilty lookat his brother, who stuck his hands in his pockets and looked at theconflagration with smiling patronage. 

"Phosphorus pentoxide P2O5, " he remarked coolly. "What a lark!"

"It wouldn't have been a lark if the Mouse had been stifled by thenasty, horrid fumes, " said Lettice angrily. "Get some water at once andhelp us put it out, before the whole house is on fire. "

"Water, indeed! Don't do anything so foolish. You mustn't touch itwith water. Here, it's only a square, pull the thing up and throw itthrough the window into the garden. That's the best thing we can do, "said Raymond, dropping on his knees and setting himself to pull and tearwith all his strength. Bob and the girls did their best to assist him, for the Bertrands were accustomed to help themselves, and in a very fewminutes the carpet was lifted, folded hurriedly in two, and sent flyingthrough the window to the garden beneath. After which the tired andbegrimed labourers sank down on chairs, and panted for breath. 

"This is what comes of chemical experiments, " said Hilary severely. "Ishall ask father to forbid you to play with such dangerous things in thehouse. I wonder what on earth you will do next. "

"Have some tea! This sort of work is tiring. I'm going downstairs toring the bell and hurry Mary up, " said Raymond coolly. It wasabsolutely impossible to get that dreadful boy to realise his ownenormities!

CHAPTER FIVE. 

A VISIT TO LONDON. 

On Saturday afternoon Mrs Freer drove up to the door in an old-fashioned carriage. She was a thin, little woman, not at all like herbig son, whom she evidently adored as the most wonderful specimen of hissex, and full of gratitude for the kindness which had been shown to him. Rex's letter had evidently been of a descriptive nature, for his motherrecognised each of the three girls, addressed them by name, and referredto their special interests. 

"How do you do, Miss Hilary? I hope my son's illness has not interferedwith the arrangements for your journey. How do you do, Miss Lettice?How do you do, Norah? Rex has told me of your wonderful playing. Ihope you will let me hear something before I go. "

Norah was never loath to play, and on this occasion was anxious to makea good impression, so that Mrs Freer might gain her father's consent tothe proposed music lessons. At the earliest opportunity, therefore, sheproduced her violin, played her favourite selections, and had thesatisfaction of seeing that Mrs Freer was unmistakably impressed. 

The little head in the large black bonnet approached Mr Bertrand's inconfidential fashion. Norah watched the smile of pleasure on herfather's face, followed by the usual pucker of the brows with which hewas wont to receive a difficult question. Mrs Freer was evidentlyapproaching the subject of the professor from Lancaster, and presently, oh, joy! the frown passed away, he was leaning forward, clasping hishands round his knees, and listening with an air of pleased attention. 

"Mr Freer is quite willing to allow Edna to take lessons, even if theyshould be rather expensive, for the poor child frets at being separatedfrom her friends, and she is not strong enough to remain at school. Shecould not come here to have her lesson, I am afraid, for she is onlyallowed to go out when the weather is mild and sunny; but if you wouldallow Norah to come to us for the day, once a fortnight (fortnightlylessons would be quite enough, don't you think?), it would be a realpleasure to have her. She would have to stay for the night, of course, for it is too far to come and go in one day, but Edna would be all themore charmed! It would be a charity to the poor child!"

"You are very good. It sounds feasible. If you will be kind enough tomake inquiries, I shall be happy to fall in with your arrangements. Andnow let me give you some tea. "

Half an hour later the carriage was brought round again, for the nightsgrew dark so soon that it was necessary to make an early start on theten-mile drive. Rex hobbled down the hall on his sticks, escorted bythe entire Bertrand family, for the week of his visit had seemed toplace him on the standing of a familiar friend, and the Mouse shed tearswhen he kissed her in the porch, while Lettice looked the picture ofwoe. Norah was the most cheerful of all, for Rex whispered in herear--"I'll keep them up to the mark about the lessons. We will havesome good times together when you come over, and--I say!--I impressedupon your father that you were awfully clever; you'll have to do as muchfor me, and convince mine that I am too stupid to do any good atcollege--!"

"Oh, I will!" said Norah emphatically. "I will! Good-bye. I'm mostfearfully obliged!" She stood on the path waving her hand and noddingfarewells so long as the carriage remained in sight. It seemed as ifher wish were to be fulfilled indeed, and the thought of the new friendsand the fortnightly visits to Brantmere filled her with delightedexpectation. 

For the next few days Hilary was as busy as a bee preparing for hervisit to London. She gathered together all her nicest things, and, notcontent with her own, cast a covetous eye on the possessions of hersisters. Half a dozen times in the course of the morning the door ofthe room in which the two youngest sisters sat would burst open, andHilary's sleek little head appear round the corner to make some newrequest. 

"Lettice! you might lend me your new muff!"

"Oh, Hilary! I only got it at Christmas, and I need it myself in thiscold weather. "

"Don't be so selfish. I'll leave you my old one. It doesn't matterwhat sort of a muff you wear here, and you know quite well mine is tooshabby for London. It's only for a fortnight!"

"Oh, well, I suppose you must have it. It's very hard, though, for I dolike nice things, even if I am in the country. "

"Oh, thanks awfully. I'll take mine to your room. " Then the door wouldbang and Hilary's footsteps be heard flying up the staircase, but inless than ten minutes she would be down again with another request. "You don't mind, I suppose, if I take your silver brushes?"

"My silver brushes! I should think I _do_ mind, indeed. What next?"

"But you never use them. You might just as well lend them to me asleave them lying in their case upstairs. "

"I am keeping them until I go away visiting. If I don't even use themmyself, it's not likely I am going to lend them to anyone else. "

"Lettice, how mean! What harm could I do to the brushes in a fortnight?You know what a grand house Miss Carr's is, and it would be too horridfor me to go with a common wooden brush. I do think you might lend themto me!"

"Oh, well, you can have them if you like, but you are not afraid ofasking, I must say! Is there anything else--?"

"Not from you; at least, I don't think so just now. But, Norah, I wantyour bangle--the gold one, you know! Lend it to me, like a dear, won'tyou?"

"If you lose it, will you buy me a new one?"

"I won't lose it. I'll only wear it in the evening, and I'll be mostawfully careful. "

"You have a bangle of your own. Why can't you be content with that?"

"I want two--one for each arm; they look so nice with short sleeves. I'll put it in my jewel-box, and lock it up safely--"

"I haven't said I would lend it to you yet. "

But Hilary ran away laughing, and gathered brushes and bangles togetherin triumph. 

It was on the evening preceding the journey to London that Mr Bertrandcame upon his second daughter standing alone in the upstairs corridor, which ran the whole length of the house, pressing her forehead againstthe panes of the windows. Lettice had been unusually quiet during thelast few days, and her father was glad to have the opportunity of aquiet talk. 

"All alone, dear?" he asked, putting his arm round her waist and drawingher towards him. "I was thinking about you only a few minutes ago. Isaid on New Year's Day, you remember, that I wanted to give each of youthree girls some special little present. Well, Hilary is having thistrip with me, and Norah seems in a fair way of getting her wish in thematter of lessons; but what about you? I'll take you with me next timeI go away; but in the meantime, is there any little thing you fancy thatI could bring back from London town?"

"No, thank you, father. I don't want anything. "

"Quite sure? Or--or--anything I can do for you here, before I go?"

"No, thank you, father. Nothing at all. "

The tone was dull and listless, and Mr Bertrand looked down at the fairface nestled against his shoulder with anxious eyes. 

"What is it, dear? What is the matter, my pretty one?"

He was almost startled by the transformation which passed over thegirl's face as he spoke the last few words. The colour rushed into thecheeks, the lips trembled, and the beautiful eyes gazed meltingly intohis. Lettice put up her arm and flung it impetuously round his neck. 

"Do you love me, father? Do you really love me?"

"Love you! My precious child! I love every one of you--dearly--dearly!But you--" Mr Bertrand's voice broke off with an uncontrollabletremble--"you know there are special reasons why you are dear to me, Lettice. When I look at you I seem to see your mother again as I mether first. Why do you ask such a question? You surely know that I loveyou, without being told?"

"But I like being told, " said Lettice plaintively. "I like people tosay nice things, and to be loving and demonstrative. Hilary laughs atme if I am affectionate, and the boys tease. Sometimes I feel solonely!"

Mr Bertrand drew his breath in a short, stabbing sigh. He wasrealising more keenly every day how difficult it was to bring up younggirls without a mother's tender care. Hilary, with the strain ofhardness and self-seeking which would ruin her disposition unless itwere checked in time; beautiful Lettice, longing for love andadmiration, and so fatally susceptible to a few flattering words; Norah, with her exceptional talents, and daring, fearless spirit--how was he tomanage them all during the most critical years of their lives? "I mustspeak to Helen Carr. Helen Carr will help me, " he said to himself, andsighed with relief at the thought of sharing his burden with the kind-hearted friend of his youth. 

It was nearly six o'clock when the travellers drove up to the door ofthe white house in Kensington, and Miss Carr came into the hall to meetthem, looking far less altered by the lapse of years than did her youngvisitor, who had developed from a delicate schoolgirl into a self-possessed young lady of seventeen. 

"And this is Hilary. Tut, tut! what do you mean by growing up in thisridiculous manner, child?" Miss Carr pecked the girl's cheek with aformal kiss, and turned to hold out both hands to Mr Bertrand. "Austin! how good to see you again. This is a pleasure--a realpleasure. " There was no doubting the sincerity of the tone, which wasone of most affectionate welcome, and the plain old face beneath thewhite cap was beaming with smiles. Miss Carr had been Austin Bertrand'sdevoted friend from his youth onwards, one of the earliest believers inhis literary powers, and the most gratified by the fame which he hadgained. Hilary was left out in the cold for the next ten minutes, whilethe old lady fussed round her father, inquiring anxiously if he werecold, if he were tired, and pressing all manner of refreshments uponhim. Even over dinner itself she received scanty attention. She hadput on a pretty blue dress, with a drapery of lace over the shoulders, arranged her hair in a style copied from the latest fashion book, andsnapped the gold bangles on her arms, with a result which seemed highlysatisfactory upstairs, but not quite so much so when she entered thedrawing-room, for Miss Carr put up her eye-glasses, stared at herfixedly for several moments, and then delivered herself of an expressivegrunt. "Deary me! seventeen, are we! Don't be in too great a hurry togrow up, my dear. The time will come when you will be only too thankfulto be young!"

At this rate Hilary began to feel that it was not uninterrupted bliss tobe in London, and this suspicion was deepened when at nine o'clock herhostess looked at her stolidly, and remarked--

"You are tired, my dear. Go to bed, and have a good night's rest. "

Hilary bridled, and held her little head at the angle of injured dignitywhich her sisters knew so well. Nine o'clock indeed! As if she were ababy!

"Oh, thank you, Miss Carr, but I am not tired. It was such an easyjourney. I am not sleepy at all. "

"My dear, all young girls ought to get to bed and have their beautysleep before twelve o'clock. Don't mind me. Your father will manage toentertain me. He and I have always plenty to say to each other. "

After such plain speaking as this, it was impossible to object anyfurther. Hilary rose with a flush on her cheeks, kissed her father, andheld out a stiff little hand towards Miss Carr. The old lady looked ather, and her face softened. She was beginning to repent, in thecharacteristic manner to which Norah had referred. Hilary felt herselfpulled forward, kissed lovingly on the lips, and heard a kindly tonetake the place of the mocking accents, "Good-night, dearie, good-night!We must have some good times while you are here. Sleep well, and to-morrow we will talk things over, and make our plans. "

The door shut behind the girl, and the two occupants of the room lookedat one another in silence. Miss Carr's expression was self-consciousand apologetic; Mr Bertrand's twitching with humorous enjoyment. 

"Too bad, Helen, too bad! I can't have my poor little lass snubbed likethat!"

"My dear Austin, it will do her all the good in the world. What alittle Miss Consequence! What have you been about to let the childthink so much of herself?"

"Put a woman's responsibilities on her shoulders before she was ready tobear them. My dear Helen, that's the very thing about which I amanxious to consult you. These girls of mine are getting on my nerves. I don't know what to do with them. Hilary has the audacity to beseventeen, and for the last eighteen months she has practically done allthe housekeeping. Miss Briggs looks after the Mouse--Geraldine, youknow--gives lessons to Lettice and Norah, but beyond that she doeslittle else. She is a good, reliable soul and a great comfort in manyways, but I fear the girls are getting beyond her. We had a conferenceon New Year's Day, and I find that they are tired of presentarrangements, and pining for a change. I promised to think things over, and see what could be done, and I want your advice. Hilary is aconscientious, hard-working little soul. She has been thrust into aresponsible position too soon, and it is not her fault if she is atrifle overbearing, poor child. At the same time, it will be a terriblemisfortune if she grows up hard and unsympathetic. Norah is a vivaciousyoung person, and they tell me she is developing a genius for music. She is afire to go abroad and study, but I think I have settled her forthe time being with the promise of the best lessons that theneighbourhood can produce. Lettice--"

"Yes--Lettice?"

"She is a beautiful girl, Helen! You remember what Elma was at her age. Lettice is going to be quite as lovely; but I am more anxious about herthan any of the others. She is demonstrative herself, and lovesdemonstration, and flattery, and appreciation. It's natural, ofcourse--quite natural--but I don't want her to grow up into a woman wholives only for admiration, and whose head can be turned by the firstflattering tongue that comes along. What would be the best thing for agirl with exceptional beauty, and such a disposition as this--?"

Miss Carr gave one of her comical grunts, "Small-pox, I should say!" shereplied brusquely, then softened into a laugh at the sight of herfriend's horrified face. "I see you are like most parents, Austin; allyour geese are swans! Norah a genius, Lettice a beauty, and Hilary amodel housewife! You seem to be in a nest of troubles, poor man; but Ican't undertake to advise you until I know more of the situation. Wewill have a pleasant time while you are here--take Miss Consequenceabout, and let her see a little life; and then, as you're an old friend, I'll sacrifice myself on your behalf, and as soon as the weather isanything like warm, pay you a visit, and see how things are for myself. "

"My dear Helen, this is really noble of you. I know your dread of the`North Countrie, ' and I assure you I appreciate your self-sacrifice. There is no one else in the world who can help me so much as you. "

"Well, well, I have an idea; but I won't say anything about it until Iknow the girls better. Would you be willing to--"

"Yes, what?"

"Nothing at all. What a silly old woman I am to be sure, when I hadjust said that I wouldn't speak of it! It's something for the good ofyour girls, Austin, but that's all you will hear about it until I cometo Cloudsdale, and see them for myself. "

CHAPTER SIX. 

SCARLET SLIPPERS. 

So soon as Mr Bertrand's arrival in town became known, he was inundatedwith invitations of every description. To most of these it wasimpossible to take Hilary, but Miss Carr was indefatigable in escortingthe girl to concerts and entertainments, and insisted that she shouldaccompany her father when it was possible. 

"If the child is old enough to have the responsibility of a household, she is old enough to have a little enjoyment, and to make her entranceinto society. She is eighteen next May, she tells me, and she is oldfor her age. You must certainly take her to Lady Mary's `At Home. 'There will be music, and recitations, and a crowd of people--just thesort of thing to please a young girl!"

Mr Bertrand shrugged his shoulders and affected to be horrified at theidea of having to take out a grown-up daughter. "It makes a man feel soold, " he said, "and I know quite well I shall forget all about her whenI begin talking to my old friends! However, I'll do my best. See thatthe child has something decent to wear, like a good soul. I'm not soshort of money now as in the days when you used to send hampers to myrooms in Oxford, and I should like her to look well. She is not abeauty like Lettice, but she is a nice-looking little girl in her way, isn't she, Helen?"

"Oh, I think we may give her credit for more than that. She has anexquisite complexion, and holds up her little head as if she were quiteconscious of being the eldest child of a famous man. You won't beashamed of your daughter, I promise you. "

Hilary was delighted at the thought of accompanying her father to the"At Home, " but though she gushed over the prospect in her letters to hersisters, she did her utmost to hide her excitement from Miss Carr. Theold lady had a habit of making sly little hits at her expense, the causeof which the girl totally misunderstood. She imagined that it was heryouth and want of experience which annoyed her hostess, whereas, inreality, it was her affectation of age and worldly knowledge. When thenight arrived, however, it was impossible to keep as calm as she wouldhave liked, as she arrayed herself in her dainty new frock beforedinner. Miss Carr's choice had been eminently successful. A plainwhite satin dress with an overskirt of chiffon, which gave an effect ofmisty lightness, a wreath of snowdrops among the puffings at the neck, and long ends of ribbon hanging from the waist. Hilary looked verysweet and fresh as she walked into the drawing-room, with a flush ofself-conscious pleasure on her cheeks, and her father gave a start ofsurprise as he saw her. 

"So! My little girl!" Miss Carr was not yet in the room, and he tookHilary by the hands, holding her out at arm's length, and looking downat her with grave, tender eyes. "It's very nice, dear. I'm proud ofyou!" Then drawing her to him, and kissing her on the forehead, "Wemust be great friends, you and I, my big daughter. This is thebeginning of a new life for you, but you will not grow to think less ofthe old home and the old friends?"

"No, no, father! no, never!" Hilary spoke in a quick, breathlesswhisper, and there was an unusual moisture in her eyes. Her father sawthat she was nervous and excited, and hastened to change the subjectbefore there was any danger of a breakdown. The door opened at thismoment to admit Miss Carr, and he advanced to meet her holding Hilary'shand in his, in the high, stately fashion in which a knight of old ledout his partner in the gavotte. 

"Miss Hilary Maud Everette Bertrand--at your service. And many thanksto the good fairy who has worked the transformation!"

"Humph!" said Mrs Carr, shortly. "Fine feathers make fine birds. There's the gong for dinner, and if you two are not hungry, I am, so letus get the serious business over first, and then I'll have a look at thefineries. " Then, after her usual fashion, she slipped her hand throughthe girl's arm and led her affectionately across the hall. "Sweetseventeen! Ah, dear me, I wonder how many years ago it is since I wentout in my first white dress? I was a pretty girl then, my dear, thoughyou may not think it to look at me now, and I remember my excitement asif it were yesterday. "

When the carriage came to the door two hours later on, Hilary wrappedherself up in fleecy shawls and went into the drawing-room to bid herhostess good-night, but she was not allowed to take her departure soeasily. Miss Carr protested that she was not wrapped up sufficiently, and sent upstairs for a hood and a pair of hideous scarlet worstedbedroom slippers, which she insisted upon drawing over the dainty whitesatin shoes. Hilary protested, but she was not allowed to have a say inthe matter. 

"Nonsense, my dear; it's a bitterly cold night, and you have half anhour's drive. We can't have you catching cold, just to have your feetlooking pretty in a dark carriage. Go along now, and `Good-night, ' forI shall be in bed when you come back. I'll hear all your adventures inthe morning, " and she waved the girl away in the imperious fashion whichno one dare resist. 

Hilary was annoyed, but she soon forgot the ugly slippers in thefascination of a drive through the brightly-lighted streets, and whenthe carriage drew up beneath an awning, and she had a peep at abeautiful hall, decorated with palms and flowering plants, and saw thecrowd flocking up the staircase, her breath came fast with excitement. Her father led her into the house and disappeared through a doorway onthe left, while she herself was shown into a room on the right, whereina throng of fashionable ladies were divesting themselves of their wraps, and giving finishing touches to their toilets before the mirrors. Thosewho were nearest to Hilary turned curious glances at her as she took offher shawls, and the girl felt a sudden and painful consciousness ofinsignificant youth. They were so very grand, these fine ladies. Theywore such masses of diamonds, and such marvellous frocks, and mantles, and wrappings, that she was over-awed, and hurried out of the room asquickly as possible, without daring to step forward to a mirror. Such acrowd of guests were making their way up the staircase, that Hilary andher father could only move forward a step at the time, but after theyhad shaken hands with a stout lady and a thin gentleman at the head ofthe stairs, there was a sudden thinning off, for a suite of receptionrooms opened out of the hall, and the guests floated away in differentdirections. 

Mr Bertrand led the way into the nearer of the rooms, and no sooner hadhe appeared in the doorway, than there came a simultaneous exclamationof delight from a group of gentlemen who stood in the centre of thefloor, and he was seized by the arm, patted on the shoulder, andsurrounded by a bevy of admiring friends. Poor Hilary stood in thebackground, abashed and deserted. Her father had forgotten all abouther existence. The group of friends were gradually drawing him furtherand further away. Not a soul did she know among all the brilliantthrong. Several fashionably dressed ladies put up their eye-glasses tostare at her as she stood, a solitary figure at the end of the room, then turned to whisper to each other, while the youngest and liveliestof the party put her fan up to her face and tittered audibly. They werelaughing at her, the rude, unkind, unfeeling creatures. 

"What could there be to laugh at?" asked Hilary of herself. Her dresshad been made by a fashionable modiste; Miss Carr's own maid hadarranged her hair. "I may not be pretty, but there's nothing ludicrousabout me that I know of, " said the poor child to herself, with catchingbreath. In spite of her seventeen years, her new dress, and all herecstatic anticipations, a more lonely, uncomfortable, and tearfully-inclined young woman it would be difficult to find. She looked round indespair, espied a seat in a retired corner, and was making for it asquickly as might be, when she came face to face with a mirror, and in itsaw a reflection which made the colour rush to her cheeks in a hot, crimson tide. A girlish figure, with a dark head set gracefully upon aslender neck, a dainty dress, all cloudy chiffon, satiny ribbons, andnodding snowdrops, and beneath--oh, good gracious!--beneath the softfrilled edgings, a pair of enormous, shapeless, scarlet worsted bedslippers! It would be difficult to say which was the more scarlet atthat moment--the slippers themselves or Hilary's cheeks. She shuffledforward and stood in the corner, paralysed with horror. There had beensuch a crowd in the cloak-room, and she had been so anxious to get away, that she had forgotten all about the wretched slippers. So that was whythe ladies were laughing! Oh, to think how she must have looked--standing by herself in the doorway, with those awful, awful scarlet feetshown up against the white skirts!

"Sit down and slip them off, and hide them in the corner. No one willsee you!" said a sympathetic voice in her ear, and Hilary turned sharplyto find that one end of the seat was already occupied by a gentleman, who was regarding her with a very kindly smile of understanding. Hisface was thin, and there were signs of suffering in the strainedexpression of the eyes, so that Hilary, looking at him, found itimpossible to take his advice otherwise than in a friendly spirit. 

"Th-ank you, " she stammered, and pulling off the offending slippers, hidthem swiftly behind the folds of the curtains, and seated herself on thesofa by his side. 

"That's better!" cried the stranger, looking down with approving eyes atthe little satin shoes which were now revealed. "Forgot to take themoff, didn't you? Very natural. I did the same with snow-shoes once, and was in the room for half an hour before I discovered that I stillhad them on. "

"But snow-shoes are black. They wouldn't look half so bad. I saw thoseladies laughing at me. What _must_ they have thought?"

"Do you think it matters very much what they thought?" The strangerturned his face towards Hilary, and smiled again in his slow, gentlemanner. "Why trouble yourself about the opinion of people whom youdon't know, and whom you will probably never see again? I suppose it isa matter of perfect indifference to them, but what _I_ think about themis, that they were exceedingly ill-bred to behave as they did, and Ishould attach no value whatever to their opinions. Have you--er--lostsight of your friends?"

"No, they have lost sight of me. " The stranger was at once so kind, andso sensible, that Hilary began to feel a delightful sense of restoredequanimity, and even gave a little laugh of amusement as she spoke. "Icame with my father, and he has gone off with some friends and forgottenall about my existence. He is over there at the end of the room; thetall man with the brown moustache--Mr Austin Bertrand. "

The stranger gave a little jump in his seat, and the colour tinged hischeek. "Bertrand!" he exclaimed. "You are Bertrand's daughter!" Hestared at Hilary with newly-awakened interest, while she smiled, wellpleased by the sensation which the name caused. 

"Yes; Austin Bertrand, the novelist. You know him, then? You are oneof his friends?"

"Hardly that, I am afraid. I know him slightly, and he has been mostkind to me when we have met, but I cannot claim him as a friend. I amone of his most ardent admirers. "

"And do you write yourself?" queried Hilary, looking scrutinisingly atthe sensitive, intellectual face, and anticipating the answer before itcame. 

"A little. Yes! It is my great consolation. My name is HerbertRayner, Miss Bertrand. I may as well introduce myself as there is noone to do it for me. I suppose you have come up to town on a visit withyour father. You have lived in the Lake district for the last fewyears, have you not? I envy you having such a lovely home. "

Hilary elevated her eyebrows in doubtful fashion. "In summer it isperfectly delightful, but I don't like country places in winter. We aretwo miles from a village, and three miles from the nearest station, soyou can imagine how quiet it is, when it gets dark soon after fouro'clock, and the lanes are thick with snow. I was glad to come back toLondon for a change. This is the first grown-up party I have been to inmy life. "

Mr Rayner smiled a little, repeating her words and lingering withenjoyment on the childish expression. "The first _party_! Is itindeed? I only wish it were mine. I don't mean to pretend that I ambored by visiting, as is the fashionable position nowadays. I am toofond of seeing and studying my fellow-creatures for that ever to bepossible, but a first experience of any kind has an interest whichcannot be repeated. I am like you, I don't like winter. I feel halfalive in cold weather, and would like to go to bed and stay there untilit was warm again. There is no country in the world more charming thanEngland for seven months of the year, and none so abominable for theremaining five. If it were not for my work I would always winterabroad, but I am obliged to be in the hum of things. How do you manageto amuse yourself in the Lakes?"

"We don't manage at all, " said Hilary frankly. "At least, I mean we arevery happy, of course, because there are so many of us, and we arealways having fun and jokes among ourselves; but we have nothing in theway of regular entertainments, and it gets awfully dull. My sisters andI had a big grumbling festival on New Year's Day, and told all our woesto father. He was very kind, and said he would see what could be done, and that's why I came up to London--to give me a little change. "

"I see!" Mr Rayner looked into the girl's face with a scrutinisinglook. "So you are dull and dissatisfied with your surroundings. That'sa pity! You ought to be so happy, with such a father, brothers, andsisters around you, and youth, and health! It seems to me that you arevery well off. "

Hilary put up her chin with an air of offended dignity. For one momentshe felt thoroughly annoyed, but the next, her heart softened, for itwas impossible to be vexed with this interesting stranger, with hispathetic, pain-marked face. Why had he used that word "consolation" inreference to his work? And why did his voice take that plaintive noteas he spoke of "youth and health"? "I shall ask father about him, " saidHilary to herself; and just at that moment Mr Bertrand came rushingacross the room with tardy remembrance. 

"My dear child, I forgot all about you. Are you all right? Have youhad some coffee? Have you found anyone to--er--" He turned aquestioning glance upon the other occupant of the seat, knitted hisbrows for a second, and then held out his hand, with an exclamation ofrecognition. "Rayner! How are you? Glad to see you again. I was onlytalking of you to Moss the other day. That last thing of yours gave megreat pleasure--very fine indeed. You are striding ahead! Come andlunch with me some day while I am in town. I should like to have achat. Have you been making friends with my daughter? Much obliged toyou for entertaining her, I have so many old friends here that I don'tknow which way to turn. Well, what day will you come? Will Tuesdaysuit? This is my present address, and my kind hostess allows me to askwhat guests I will. There was something I had specially on my mind toask you. Tuesday, then--half-past one! Good-bye till then. Hilary, Iwill look you up later on. Glad you are so well entertained. " He wasoff again, flying across the room, scattering smiles and greetings as hewent, while the two occupants of the corner seat exchanged glances ofamusement. 

"That's just like father. He gets so excited that he flies about allover the house, and hardly knows what he is doing. "

"He is delightfully fresh and breezy; just like his books. And now youwould like some refreshments. They are in the little room over there. I shall be happy to accompany you, if you will accept my somewhat--er--inefficient escort. "

Hilary murmured some words of thanks, a good deal puzzled to understandthe meaning of those last two words. Somewhat to her surprise, her newfriend had not risen to talk to her father, and even now, as she stoodup in response to his invitation, he remained in his seat, bendingforward to grope behind the curtains. A moment later he drew forthsomething at the sight of which Hilary gave an involuntary exclamationof dismay. It was a pair of crutches; and as Mr Rayner placed oneunder each arm and rose painfully to his feet, a feeling of overpoweringpity took possession of the girl's heart. Her eyes grew moist, and acry of sympathy forced themselves from her trembling lips. 

"Oh--I--I'm _sorry_!" she gasped, with something that was almost a sobof emotion, and Mr Rayner winced at the sound as with sudden pain. 

"Thank you, " he said shortly. "You are very kind. I'm--I'm used to it, you know. This way, please. " And without another word he led the waytowards the refreshment room, while Hilary followed, abashed andsorrowful. 

CHAPTER SEVEN. 

AN "AT HOME. "

Hilary asked her father many questions about the new acquaintance, andtook great interest in what he had to tell. 

"Clever fellow, clever fellow; one of the most promising of the youngermen. I expect great things of him. Yes, lame, poor fellow! a terriblepity! Paralysis of the lower limbs, I hear. He can never be better, though I believe there is no reason why he should get worse. It's a sadhandicap to such a young man, and, of course, it gives a melancholy castto his mind. It was kind of him to entertain you so nicely--very kindindeed. "

Hilary gave her head a little tilt of displeasure. Why should it be"kind" of Mr Rayner to talk to her? Father seemed to think she was astupid little girl, on whom no grown-up person would care to waste theirtime; but Mr Rayner had not seemed at all bored by her conversation, and when some friends had tried to take him away, he had excusedhimself, and preferred to remain in the quiet corner. 

When Tuesday came, and Mr Rayner arrived, Mr Bertrand was busywriting, and despatched his daughter to amuse his guest until he shouldhave finished his letters. "Tell him I won't be more than ten minutes;and he must excuse me, like a good fellow, for I am obliged to catchthis post, " he said, and Hilary went into the long drawing-room, to findher new friend seated on the couch, with his crutches by his side. Hewas looking better than when she had seen him last, and had amischievous smile on his face. 

"Good morning, Miss Two Shoes!" he cried, and Hilary gave a little startof consternation. 

"Oh, h-ush! They don't know--I didn't tell them. Miss Carr would neverstop talking about it, and father would tease me to death. I only saidthat I had forgotten to put the slippers on coming home, which was quitetrue. It was rather awkward, for they belonged to Miss Carr. Sheinsisted on lending them to me at the last moment. The servants wouldbe surprised when they found them behind the curtains the next morning, wouldn't they?"

"They would!" said Mr Rayner drily, and there was a peculiar smile uponhis face which Hilary could not understand. "So they were not yours, after all. I thought the size seemed rather--excessive! I promise notto betray you if you would rather keep the secret, but if the story gaveas much pleasure to your father as it has done to me, it seems ratherselfish to keep it from him. I have had the heartiest laughs I haveknown for months past, thinking of the tragic incident of the scarletslippers!"

"Please don't!" said Hilary; but she laughed as she spoke, and so farfrom being offended, was quite thankful to hear that she had been themeans of giving some amusement to the new friend. "I have been hearingall about you from father, " she continued, nodding her head at himcheerily. "He has promised to give me one of your books to read when weget back to Clearwater. Will you please write your name in my autographbook? I brought it downstairs on purpose. There are pens and ink onthis little table. "

Mr Rayner smiled, but made no objections. He took a very long timeover the signature, however, and when Hilary took up the book, she sawthat each leg of the H ended in the shape of a dainty little shoe, sofinely done that it would probably escape the notice of anyone who wasnot critically inclined. 

"Too bad, " she cried laughingly; "I am afraid you are going to be aspersistent as father in keeping up the joke. "

"They are the proper slippers, you observe--not the woollen atrocities, "replied Mr Rayner; and Hilary was still rejoicing in the discovery thathe could be mischievous like other people, when the door opened, and herfather came rushing into the room. 

Luncheon was served immediately afterwards, and when it was over, MrBertrand carried off the young man to have a private talk in thelibrary. They did not make their appearance until the afternoon waswell advanced, and when they did, the drawing-room was full of people, for it was Miss Carr's "At home" day, and the presence of AustinBertrand, the celebrated novelist, brought together even more visitorsthan usual. 

Hilary had not found the entertainment at all amusing. It seemed absurdto her innocent mind that people should come to see Miss Carr, andexchange no further word with her than "How d'you do, " and "Good-bye, "and though the hum of conversation filled the room, most of the visitorswere too old and too grand to take any notice of a girl just out of theschoolroom. A few young girls accompanied their mothers, but thoughthey eyed Hilary wistfully, they would not speak without theintroduction which Miss Carr was too busy to give. One girl, however, stared more persistently than the rest, and Hilary returned her scrutinywith puzzled curiosity. She was a tall, elegant girl, but there wassomething in the wavy line of the eyebrows which seemed strangelyfamiliar, and she had a peculiar way of drawing in her lips, whichbrought back a hundred misty recollections. Where had she seen thatface before? Hilary asked herself, staring fixedly at the stranger. The stranger began to smile; a flash of recollection passed across eachface, and the next moment they were clasping hands, and exclaiming inmutual recognition--

"Hilary!"

"Madge!"

"The idea of meeting you here! I haven't seen you since we were tinylittle dots at school. I thought you lived ever so far away--up in theNorth of England. "

"So we do; but we are here on a visit. Madge! how grown-up you are!You are only six months older than I, but you look ever so much morethan that. How are you, and what are you doing, and how are all yourbrothers and sisters? Lettice will be so interested to know I have seenyou. "

"Dear Lettice, yes! She was a nice girl. So affectionate, wasn't she?I should like to see her again. Perhaps I may, for father has taken ahouse at Windermere for next summer, and if you are not far away, wecould often meet and go excursions together. "

"Oh, how lovely! We are three miles from Windermere station, but wehave a pony carriage and bicycles, and could drive over to see you. Dosit down, Madge. I don't know anyone here, and it is so dull sitting bymyself in a corner. "

"I am afraid I can't. I am with mother, you see, and she doesn't liketo be left alone. Perhaps I shall see you again before I go!" AndMadge Newcome nodded, and strolled off in a careless, indifferent mannerwhich brought the blood to Hilary's face. Mrs Newcome was talking to agroup of friends and looked very well satisfied, so much so that Hilarysuspected that the daughter's anxiety had been more for herself than hermother, and that Miss Madge did not appreciate the attractions ofsitting in a quiet corner. 

"It's very unkind, when I told her I knew nobody; but she was a selfishgirl at school. She doesn't want to stay with me, that's the truth. Iwish this horrid afternoon would come to an end!" she told herselfdolefully, and it was with unconcealed delight that at last she heardthe sound of Mr Rayner's crutches, and welcomed that gentleman to aseat by her side. He looked brighter than she had yet seen him, and hadevidently been enjoying himself upstairs. 

"Well, " he said cheerily, "here you are in the midst of the merrythrong! Have you had a pleasant time? Not! Why, how's that? Ithought you enjoyed seeing a crowd of people. "

"I thought I did, but I find I don't like it so much as I expected, "said Hilary dejectedly. "When people are talking and laughing allround, and I am left to keep myself company in a corner, it isn't at allamusing. I suppose there are a great many celebrated people here, but Idon't know one from the other, so I am no wiser. "

"Never mind, I know them all. We will sit here quietly, and when anyoneinteresting comes along, I will let you know. Your father has been sokind to me, and has encouraged me until I feel as strong as a giant, andgreedy for work. He has asked me to come down to the Lakes to visit yousome time in spring, so I may see you again before long. Now then! oneof those ladies over there on the sofa is the Duchess of M---. Guesswhich of the three she is!"

"Oh, I know; the pretty one, of course, with the blue dress, and thebonnet with the cream lace. "

"Wrong! Guess again. "

"The dark one with the beaded cape!"

"Wrong again! It is the grey-haired lady in the corner. "

Hilary gasped, and stared aghast at the stout, shabby lady, who lookedeverything that was motherly and pleasant, but as different as possiblefrom her ideas of what a duchess ought to be. Then Mr Rayner went onto point out a poet, a painter of celebrated pictures, and half-a-dozenmen and women whose names the girl had known from her youth, but who allseemed terribly disappointing in reality. She expressed her opinions ina candid manner, which seemed vastly to amuse her hearer, and they wereso merry together that Hilary saw many envious glances directed towardstheir corner, and realised that other people were envying her in theirturn. Madge Newcome came up to say good-bye, before leaving, andelevated her eyebrows in a meaning manner towards Mr Rayner. 

"You seem to be having a pleasant time. I think Mr Rayner has such aninteresting face, but people say he is so stiff and reserved that it isimpossible to know him. "

"He is not reserved to me!" said Hilary consequentially. She had notforgiven Madge Newcome for her desertion an hour earlier, and shookhands with an air of dignified reserve. 

CHAPTER EIGHT. 

A PAINFUL AWAKENING. 

A fortnight in London passes quickly enough; but the time seems muchlonger to the friends who are left at home, and who have no variety inthe quiet course of their lives. Half-a-dozen times a day Lettice andNorah said to each other, "What will Hilary be doing now?" And when aletter came, telling the plans of the next few days, they followed hermovements hour by hour, telling each other, "Now she will be drivinginto town!" "Now she will be looking at the pictures!" "Now she willbe dressing for the evening!" When the day of the traveller's returnarrived, there was quite a bustle of excitement in the home. Letticeordered Hilary's favourite puddings for dinner, Norah gave the drawing-room a second dusting in the afternoon, while Miss Briggs put on her capwith the pink ribbons, and dressed Geraldine in her best frock. Theywere all in the hall, ready to receive the travellers, as the fly fromthe station drove up to the door, and while Mr Bertrand stayed withoutto pay the driver, Hilary lost no time in hurrying indoors. Within thefirst two minutes the sisters noticed a change in her manner. Her voiceseemed to have a new tone; when Miss Briggs held out a welcoming hand, she extended her own at an elevation which made the good lady stare, andeven while kissing the girls, her eyes were roving round the hall withan expression of dissatisfaction. 

"Why have you not lighted all the lamps?" she inquired, and when Letticereplied in amazement that there were as many lamps as usual, sheshrugged her shoulders, and muttered something about "inky darkness. "If Mr Bertrand had not appeared at that moment it would be difficult tosay what would have happened, but he came rushing in like a breeze offresh, wintry air, seizing each of the girls in turn, and folding themin a bear-like hug. 

"Well--well--well--here we are again! Glad to be back in the old home. How are you, dear? How are you, pet? Miss Briggs, I see you areflourishing! How have all these young people been behaving while I wasaway? What about dinner? I'm so hungry that I shall eat the Mouse indesperation if I am kept waiting. Well, little Mouse, glad to see yourfather back again, eh? Come upstairs with me while I change my coat fordinner. "

It was like another house when the cheery, bustling master was at home, and Lettice and Norah forgot their passing annoyance in rejoicing overhis return. During the evening, however, Hilary managed to give offencemore than once. She kept frowning to herself as she sat at the head ofthe table, and looking up and down with a discontented air which wasvery exasperating to those who had done their utmost to study her tastesand to give her a pleasant home-coming. When dinner was over and thefamily party adjourned into the drawing-room, she kept jumping up fromher seat to alter the arrangement of plants and ornaments, or to putsome article in its proper place. Norah elevated her eyebrows atLettice, who nodded in sympathetic understanding, but both girlscontrolled their irritation out of consideration for their father, whosepleasure in the first evening at home would have been spoiled if hisdaughters had taken to quarrelling among themselves. 

Mr Bertrand had brought home a perfect treasure-trove of presents forthe stay-at-homes. A beautiful little brooch and bangle for Lettice;music, books, and a paint-box for Norah: furs for Miss Briggs; and asmall toy-shop for the dear little "youngest of seven. "

Such an excitement as there was in the drawing-room while thepresentations were going on! such shrieks of delight! such exclamationsof "Just what I wanted!" such huggings and kissings of gratitude! MrBertrand declared at last that he would be pulled to pieces, and ranupstairs to the shelter of his beloved study. After he had gone, Hilaryseemed for the time being to forget her grievances, whatever they mightbe, and drawing her chair to the fire, settled down to one of the goodold-fashioned gossips which her sisters loved Lettice and Norah had adozen extra questions which they were burning to ask about everyincident of the visit to London; and they were not more eager to hearthan Hilary was to tell, for what is the good of going away and havingadventures if we cannot talk about them when we come home?

The meeting with Madge Newcome was a subject of much interest. "Quitegrown-up, you say, and very grand and fashionable! And you went tolunch with her one day. Are the boys at home? What are they like?There was Cyril, the little one in the Eton jacket, who used to playwith Raymond; and Phil, the middy; and the big one who was at college--Arthur, wasn't he? What is he like now?"

"I saw him only once, but it was quite enough. He is in business withhis father--a terribly solemn, proper person, who talks about books, andsays, `Were you not?'--`Would you not?' Miss Carr says he is veryclever, and good, and intellectual, but all the same, I am sure shedoesn't like him. I heard her describe him to father as `that woodenyoung man. ' It will be nice to see Madge in the summer, though Ihaven't forgiven her for leaving me alone that afternoon. Oh, and Imust tell you--" And the conversation branched off in another direction, while the girls crouched over the fire, laughing and talking in happyreunion. 

Alas! the next day the clouds gathered over the family horizon andculminated in such a storm as was happily of rare occurrence. Themoment that she left her bedroom Hilary began to grumble, and shegrumbled steadily the whole day long. Everything that Lettice had doneduring her absence was wrong; the servants were careless andinefficient; the drawing-room--Norah's special charge--looked as if noone had touched it for a fortnight; the house was dingy and badlylighted, and each arrangement worse than the last. Lettice hatedquarrelling so much that she was prepared to bear a good deal beforegetting angry, but quick-tempered Norah exploded into a burst ofirritation before the afternoon was half over. 

"The fact is you have been staying for a fortnight in a grand Londonhouse, and you are spoiled for your own home. I think it is mean tocome back, after having such a lovely time, and make everyone miserablewith your grumbling and fault-findings! Lettice did everything shecould while you were away, and the house is the same as when you leftit. "

"Perhaps it is, but I didn't know any better then. I know now howthings ought to be done, and I can't be satisfied when they are wrong. "

"And do you expect things to be managed as well in this house with fiveof us at home, besides father and Miss Briggs, and three servants to doall the work, as it is at Miss Carr's, with no one but herself, and sixor seven people to wait upon her?" Lettice spoke quietly, but with aflush on her cheeks which proved that she felt more than she showed. "It's very foolish if you do, for you will only succeed in upsettingeveryone, and making the whole house miserable and uncomfortable. "

"As you have done to-day!" added Norah bluntly. "I would rather have anold-fashioned house than the finest palace in the world with a cross, bad-tempered mistress going about grumbling from morning till night. "

"Norah, you are very rude to speak to me like that! You have no right. I am the eldest. "

"You had no right to say to me that I haven't touched the drawing-roomfor a fortnight. "

"I have a right to complain if the work of the house is not properlydone. Father has given me the charge. If I see things that can beimproved, I am certainly not going to be quiet. Suppose Mr Rayner orthe Newcomes came here to see us, what would they think if they cameinto a half-lit hall as we did last night?"

"Yes, I knew that was it. It's your grand London friends you arethinking of. If they are too grand to come here, let them stay away. Father is a greater man than any of them, if he is not rich. "

"Girls, girls, girls! what is all this?" Miss Briggs pulled aside thecurtain over the doorway, and came hurriedly into the room. "I heardyour voices across the hall. Are you quarrelling the first day Hilaryis at home? Don't let your father hear, I beg you; he would be terriblygrieved. What is the matter?"

"It's Hilary's fault. She has done nothing but grumble all day long, and I can't stand it. She has made Lettice miserable; the servants areas cross as they can be, and there's no peace in the house. "

"Norah has been very rude to me, Miss Briggs. I am obliged to findfault when things are wrong, and I can't help it if the servants arecross. "

Miss Briggs looked at the younger girls. "Go upstairs, dears, andchange your dresses for dinner. I want to speak to Hilary by herself, "she said quietly, and Lettice and Norah left the room with awed faces. The kind old governess did not often interfere with the girls now thatthey were growing up, but when she did, there was a directness about herspeech which was very telling, and this afternoon was no exception tothe rule. 

"Hilary, " she said slowly, when the door had closed behind the twoyounger girls, "I have been with you now for ten years, and have watchedyou grow up from a little girl. You were my first pupil, and I can'thelp taking a special interest in you. You were a dear little child. Ithought you would grow up into a sweet, lovable woman; but you will haveto change a great deal, Hilary, if you are to do that! You will thinkme cruel; but your mother is dead, and I must be truthful with you foryour own good. I think you have behaved very unkindly to your sistersto-day. You have been away enjoying yourself while they were left athome; they did their best to fill your place, and counted the days untilyour return, and you have made them miserable from the moment of yourarrival. The house is as you left it; but even supposing you hadnoticed a few things which were not to your taste, you could have putthem right quietly, or spoken of them in a pleasant, kindly manner. Things have gone on smoothly and quietly while you were away--moresmoothly than when you are at home, my dear, for though Lettice is notsuch a good manager, she has a sweet, amiable manner which makes theservants anxious to please her by doing their best. You are very young, Hilary, and you make the mistake of over-estimating your own importance, and of thinking you are necessary to the welfare of the household. Youcan easily make yourself so, if you wish, for you are a very cleverhousekeeper; but if you continue to be as self-satisfied and asregardless of the feelings of others as you are at present, I tell youplainly that you will end in being a hindrance rather than a help. I amnot saying that the other girls are faultless, but instead of settingthem a good example, in nine cases out of ten you are the one to begin aquarrel. You think me very cruel to speak like this--it's not easy todo, Hilary--but you may thank me for it some day. Open your eyes, mydear, and try to see yourself as you really are, before it is too late!"

Miss Briggs swept from the room in a flutter of agitation, and Hilarysank into the nearest chair, and gazed blankly at the fire. Her heartwas beating in heavy thuds, and she put her hand to her head instupefied fashion. For several minutes she sat motionless, unable toform any definite thought. She only felt a curious shattered sensation, as though she had come through some devastating experience, which hadlaid waste all her fondest delusions. _What_ had Miss Briggs said?That the household arrangements had been managed _better_ in her absencethan when she was at home. That if she did not alter, she would end inbeing a hindrance rather than a help. That she set a bad example to theyounger girls and was the instigator of quarrels!--Hilary's cheeks burntwith a flush that was almost painful. Her pride was wounded in its mostsensitive point. She would have been ready enough to acknowledge thatshe was not so sweet-tempered as Lettice, or so clever as Norah, but shehad been secure in her conviction that no one could touch her in her owndepartment--that she was a person of supreme importance, without whomthe whole fabric of the household would fall to pieces. And things hadgone on _better_ while she was away! _Better_! Hilary writhed inhumiliation, and the flush burnt more fiercely than before. If shecould only manage to disbelieve it all, and wave it aside as a piece offoolish prejudice; but she could not do this, for her eyes were opened, and she saw the meaning of many things which she had misread before. Miss Carr's quizzical, disapproving glance; her father's anxious gaze;the little scornful sniff on the face of the old cook as she took hermorning's orders. Could it be that they all felt the same, and werecondemning her in their hearts as a stupid, consequential little girl, who had no importance whatever except in her own estimation? And--"_ahindrance_!" The word brought with it a throb of something deeper thanwounded pride, for, with all her faults, Hilary was devoted to herfather and her brothers and sisters, and the thought stung like a whipthat they might not care for her--that the time could come when theymight even wish for her absence!

The light was growing dim in the deserted room, and, as Hilary laid herhead back in the old-fashioned chair, the tears which rose to her eyesand trickled down her cheeks were the bitterest she had known in thecourse of her short life. 

CHAPTER NINE. 

THE VIOLIN LESSON. 

Three days after Mr Bertrand's return, Rex Freer arrived at the housein a state of triumphant excitement. This was by no means his firstappearance since he had left Cloudsdale, for he never passed the houseon any of his numerous expeditions without running in for ten minutes'chat, so that the girls were getting accustomed to see his head appearat the window as they sat at work, or to hear the loud rat-tat on thedoor which heralded his coming. They soon had practical demonstrationof his "managing powers, " for more than once, after definitely making uptheir minds that nothing would induce them to stir from the house, theyfound themselves meekly putting on hats and jackets to join atobogganing party, and to accompany the young gentleman part of his wayhome. Lettice was always easily influenced, but high-spirited Norahmade many protests against what she was pleased to call his "Indianways, " and on one occasion even went so far as to dare a direct refusal. Lettice had left the room to get ready for a walk along the snowylanes, but Miss Norah sat obstinately in her chair, the heel of oneslipper perched on the toe of the other, in an attitude which was atriumph of defiance. 

"Well!" said Mr Rex, putting his hands in his pockets, and standingwith his back to the fire in elderly gentleman fashion. "Why don't youget on your coat? I can't wait many minutes, you know, or it will getdark. Hurry up!"

"I'm not going. It's too cold. I don't like trudging over the snow. Iam going to stay at home. "

Norah raised her thin, little face to his with an audacious glance, whereat "the strange boy's" eyes dilated with the steely flash which sheknew so well. 

"Then please go upstairs and tell Lettice not to trouble to get ready. I can't allow her to come home alone, along the lonely roads, " he saidquietly; and Norah slunk out of the room and put on her snow-shoes increstfallen silence, for it did Lettice good to have a daily walk, andshe could not be so selfish as to keep her at home. 

This afternoon, however, the call was longer than usual, for Rex came asthe bearer of good news. "You have only to make up your mind to doanything, and the rest is quite easy, " he announced coolly. "The materhas made a point of speaking to everyone she has seen about the musiclessons, and she has heard of a capital man in Lancaster who is willingto come down for an afternoon once a fortnight. I met your father inthe village, and he agrees to the terms, so now there is nothing leftbut to write and fill in the day to begin. Thursday suits him best. Doyou say Thursday first or Thursday fortnight?"

"Oh, the first Thursday. I don't want to wait a day longer than I canhelp. Oh, how lovely! So it is really settled. I wanted it so badlythat I was afraid it would never come true. How am I to get over toyour house, I wonder?"

"I'll drive over and bring you back next morning. We might use ourbicycles, but the violin case would be rather a nuisance, and I supposeyou'll need a bag of some description. I'll be here at eleven, and thenwe shall get home to lunch. Edna is in a great state of excitement atthe thought of seeing you. "

Norah pulled a funny little face of embarrassment. "I'm rather shy, youknow, " she said, laughing. "I've only seen your mother once, and theother two are absolute strangers; it seems funny to be coming over tostay. Is your father a formidable sort of old gentleman?"

"Humph--well--I think he is rather! He is awfully fond of getting hisown way, " said Rex, in a tone which implied that he failed to understandhow anyone could be guilty of such a weakness. "But he is an awfullydecent sort if you take him the right way; and poor little Edna wouldnot frighten a mouse. You will feel at home with her in five minutes. I only wish she knew Lettice. We must arrange for her to come over sometime. "

Norah looked at him with a feeling of curiosity which was not altogetheragreeable. "Why do you wish that she knew Lettice! Do you think shewould like her better than me?"

"Oh, yes, " said Rex easily. (He was just like other boys, Norah toldherself, and had not the slightest regard for a poor girl's feelings!)"She is such a jolly, affectionate little thing, you know, that Ednawould take to her at once. And she has heard so much of `LovelyLettice'! I say, _isn't_ she pretty?"

"Yes, she is--lovely! It's a very good name for her. " Norah spoke withall the greater emphasis because, for the moment, she had been guilty ofan actual pang of envy of her beloved Lettice, for she regarded the"strange boy" as her special friend, by virtue of having been the firstto make his acquaintance, and it was not agreeable to find her ownclaims to popularity brushed aside in this unceremonious fashion. "Lettice is a darling, and everyone likes her, because she is sweet-tempered, and never says unkind things to make other people miserable, "she added, not without the hope that Mr Rex would take the hint tohimself. He did nothing of the sort, however, but only yawned, thoughthe must be going, and marched away with stoical unconsciousness of theaching little heart which he had left behind. 

On Thursday morning Rex duly drove up to the door in his father's dog-cart. He was a little before his time, but Norah was waiting for him, wrapped up in her warm scarlet coat; her violin case and bag ready onthe hall table. Before he came she had been lamenting loudly, becauseshe felt a conviction that something would happen to prevent hisarrival; but when it came to setting off, she was seized with an attackof shyness, and hung back in hesitating fashion. "Oh, oh! I don't likeit a bit. I feel horrid. Don't you think father would drive over, andbring me home to-night?"

"H-ush! No! Don't be foolish, Norie! You will enjoy it ever so muchwhen you get there. Remember everything to tell me to-morrow, "whispered Lettice encouragingly, and Norah climbed up into the high seatand waved her hand to her two sisters until a turn of the drive hid themfrom sight. 

"If you want to cry, don't mind me!" said Rex coolly, which remarkserved better than anything else could possibly have done to rouse MissNorah to her usual composure. The saucy little nose was tilted into theair at once, and the red lips curled in scornful fashion. 

"I wonder how it is that schoolboys are always so rude and unpleasant?"

Mr Rex laughed, and gave the horse a flick with the whip, which senthim spinning round the corner at break-neck speed. Norah understoodthat he was proud of his driving, and wished to impress her with thefact that it was very unlike a schoolboy performance. She pressed herlips together to stifle an exclamation of dismay at his recklessness, and her silence pleased Rex, who liked to see "a girl with somecourage, " so that presently he began to talk in quite a confidentialstrain. "The professor will be at the house about half-past two, so youwon't have too much time to spare. He is a tall, lanky fellow, six feettwo, with a straggling black beard, goggle eyes, and spectacles. Helooks awfully bad-tempered, but I suppose he can't do more than rap yourknuckles with a pencil, and they all go as far as that. "

"No one ever rapped my knuckles, " said Norah loftily. "You told Hilarya few minutes ago that none of you had seen him, and that your motherhad engaged him entirely on her friends' recommendation. So you can'tknow what he is like, or anything about him!"

"How do you know that the friends did not describe him?" cried Rexquickly. "You can't know what they said. I tell you he is a tall, cadaverous fellow, with a stoop in his back and a white beard. "

"Black! black! You said black last time, " cried Norah in triumph. "Youare making it up, and I could imagine what he is like as well as you, ifI liked, but I won't, because it is so horribly uncomfortable when youreally meet. I tried that trick with Lettice once, when a friend ofMiss Briggs came to visit us. She was a very nice old lady, and awfullykind (she made me a sweet little pin-cushion for my room), but she _was_ugly! She looked just like a fat, good-natured frog, with light eyesvery far apart, big, big freckles spotted over her face, and such agreat, wide mouth. Well, I saw her first, and then I went upstairs, andLettice met me and asked me what she was like. I felt mischievous, so Isaid that she was dark, and tall, and stately, with a long, thin face, and beautiful, melancholy eyes. Lettice went rushing downstairs, andwhen she saw her she stopped quite short, and began to choke and gurgleas if she were going to have a fit. She pretended that she was laughingat something Raymond was doing in the garden; but it was horriblyawkward, and I vowed I'd never do it again. I should hate people tolaugh at me, and it's unkind to do things that you wouldn't like otherpeople to do to you--I mean--you know what I mean!"

"I know, " said Rex gravely. He looked quite serious and impressed, andNorah cast inquiring glances at his face, wondering what he could bethinking of, to make him so solemn all of a sudden. 

At last, "Look here, " he said, "talking of meeting strangers, don'tstare at poor little Edna when you meet! There is--er--something--abouther eyes, and she is very sensitive about it. Try and look as if youdon't notice it, you know. "

"Oh, I will!" cried Norah gushingly. She knitted her brows together, trying to think what the "something" could be. Something wrong with herlungs, and something wrong with her eyes--poor Edna! she was indeed tobe pitied! "I am glad he told me, for I wouldn't hurt her feelings forthe world, " she said to herself; and many times over, during the courseof the next hour, did her thoughts wander sympathetically towards hernew companion. 

It was a long, cold drive, but Norah could have found it in her heart towish it were longer, as the dog-cart turned in at the gate of the ManorHouse and drew up before the grey stone porch. Mrs Freer came into thehall to welcome her guest, with a grey woollen shawl wrapped round hershoulders, and her little face pinched with cold. 

"How do you do, dear? I'm afraid you are quite starved. Come away tothe fire and get thawed before you go upstairs, " she said cordially; andNorah followed, conscious that a girl's head had peeped out of the doorto examine her, and then been cautiously withdrawn. When they enteredthe room, however, Miss Edna was seated demurely behind a screen, andcame forward in the most proper way to shake hands with the new-comer. Norah was only conscious that she was tall, with narrow shoulders, andbrown hair hanging in a long plait down her back, for the fear ofseeming to stare at the "something" in her eyes about which she was sosensitive, kept her from giving more than the most casual of glances. Conversation languished under these circumstances, and presently MrsFreer took Norah upstairs to her room to get ready for lunch. Beforethat meal was served, however, there was another painful ten minutes togo through downstairs, when the mistress of the house was out of theroom and Rex came in to take her place. Edna was reported to be shy, but in this instance it was Norah who was tongue-tied, and the other whomade the advances. It is so extremely difficult to speak to a person atwhom one is forbidden to look. Norah fixed her eyes on Edna's brooch, and said, "Yes, oh yes, she was fond of skating. " Questioned a littlefurther, she gave a rapid glance so far upward as to include a mouth andchin, and was so much abashed by her own temerity that she contradictedherself hopelessly, and stammered out a ridiculous statement to theeffect that she never used a bicycle, that is to say always--when it wasfine. Edna sat silent, dismayed at the reality of the sprightly girl ofwhom she had heard so much, and it did not add to Norah's comfort tohear unmistakable sounds of chuckling from the background. She dartedan angry glance at Rex, scented mischief in his twitching smile, andturned at bay to stare fixedly into Edna's face. A broad forehead, thincheeks, a delicate pink and white complexion, dark grey eyes, wide openwith curiosity, but as free from any disfigurement about which theirowner could be "sensitive" as those of the visitor herself. 

"Oh--oh!" gasped Norah. Rex burst into a roar of laughter, and Ednapleaded eagerly to be told of the reason of their excitement. 

"He told me I was not to look at you. He told me--there was something--wrong--with your eyes; that you didn't like people to stare at you. I--I was afraid to move, " panted Norah in indignation. 

"Something wrong with my eyes! But there isn't, is there? They are allright?" cried Edna in alarm, opening the maligned eyes to about twicetheir usual size, and staring at Norah in beseeching fashion. "How_could_ he say anything so untrue!"

"I never said there was anything `wrong. ' I was very particular how Iput it. I said there was `something' about your eyes, and that you weresensitive about meeting strangers, and did not like to be stared at. All quite true, isn't it? It's not my fault if Norah chose to think yousquinted, " declared Rex, jetting the best of the argument as usual, andnodding his head at Norah with the air of triumph which she found soexasperating. 

Edna looked from one to the other in startled fashion, as though shewere afraid that such flashing looks must be the commencement of aquarrel, and drew a sigh of relief when Norah's dignity gave way togiggles of uncontrollable amusement. 

The Squire made his appearance at the luncheon table, an irascible-looking old gentleman, with red, weather-beaten face, grey hair, andfierce white whiskers sticking out on either side. The ribbons on hiswife's cap trembled every time he spoke to her, and she said, "Yes, love, yes!" and "No, love, no!" to everything he said, as if afraid todiffer from him on any subject. Norah jumped on her seat the first timehe spoke to her, for his voice sounded so loud and angry. He said, "Iam afraid you have had a cold drive, " in much the same tone as that inwhich the villain on the stage would cry--"Base villain, die a thousanddeaths!" and when he called for mustard, the very rafters seemed toring. "What on earth must he be like when he is really angry, if he islike this when he is pleased?" asked Norah of herself; but there wassomething in the Squire's keen, blue eyes which took her fancy, despitehis fierceness, and she noticed that when he spoke to his littledaughter his face softened, while each time that she coughed, he knittedhis brows and stared at her with undisguised anxiety. Edna wasevidently his darling, and her delicate health the cause of muchanxiety. 

At two o'clock the two girls ensconced themselves behind the windowcurtains and exchanged confidences while watching for the firstappearance of the Professor from Lancaster. Edna told Norah about theschool which she left; how grieved she had been to say good-bye to herfriends, and how sadly she missed their bright society, and Norahcomforted her in warm-hearted fashion. "Never mind, I am coming everyfortnight, and when the bright days are here you will be able to driveover and see us. I hope you will like me, for I think I shall like youvery much indeed, in spite of your eyes. " Then they pinched each other, and crouched together with "Oh's!" and "Ah's!" of excitement, as asmall, wiry figure came hurrying towards the house. It was Mr Morris, of course, but the collar of his coat was turned up and his hat pulledover his face, so that it was impossible to tell what he was reallylike. Only one thing was certain--he had neither a white nor a blackbeard, as Mr Rex had predicted. 

"Let me have the first lesson! He won't think I am so bad if he hearsme first, " pleaded Edna; and at the end of an hour she came out of thedrawing-room, to announce that Mr Morris was rather terrible, but thatshe was sure he was a good teacher, and that she had not been sofrightened as she expected. Then it was Norah's turn. She played herfavourite pieces, one after the other, while Mr Morris sat at the edgeof the table, watching and listening. Never a word of praise or blamedid he say until she had finished the third selection. Then he lookedat her fixedly with his light, grey eyes (they _were_ rather goggled, after all!), and said quietly, "Well, and what do you mean to do?"

"Mean to do? I--I don't think I understand. "

"Are you content to be a young lady amateur who plays well enough toentertain her friends in her own drawing-room, or do you mean to workseriously, and make a first-rate performer? You can do as you like. You have the talent. It is for yourself to decide. "

Norah's face was a study in its raptured excitement. "Oh-oh!" she criedbreathlessly, "I'll work--I don't care _how_ hard I work! I love it somuch. I want to do my very, very best. "

"Then I'll work too, and do all I can to help you!" said Mr Morris inreturn. He jumped off the table as he spoke, and advanced towards her, rubbing his hands as one who prepares for a pleasant task. "Now then!"he cried; and for the next hour Norah was kept hard at work, with neveranother word of praise, but with many sharp corrections and reminders tocall attention to hitherto unsuspected faults. She was radiantly happy, nevertheless, for the first step towards correcting a fault was todiscover its existence, and what was the good of a teacher who did notpoint out what was wrong? At four o'clock Mr Morris took hisdeparture, and Norah found that Edna had retired to her room to rest, aswas her custom every afternoon. Mrs Freer was also invisible, but Rexcame to join her in the drawing-room, looking particularly cheerful andself-satisfied. 

"Well, has the old fellow departed? How are the knuckles? Is he anygood? He looks a miserable little shrimp. "

"He's a delightful teacher! I like him immensely! He told me I couldbe a splendid player if I would only work hard enough. "

"Oh, well, I could have told you as much as that myself. " It was clearthat Rex thought it the polite thing to inquire about the success of themusic lesson, but also that his attention was fixed on some othersubject. "Look here!" he said suddenly, "the mater and Edna always restfor an hour or two in the afternoon, and I promised to look after youuntil they come down. Would you like a real, genuine--bloodcurdlingadventure?"

Norah gave a shriek of delight. "Rather, just! I should think I would. What is it?"

"You can pin up your dress, and put on a big old coat?"

"Yes--yes!"

"And you won't mind if you do get grimy?"

"Not a bit I'm used to--I mean, I can soon wash myself clean again. "

"Come along then! Follow me, and tread lightly. I don't want anyone tosee where we are going. " And Rex led the way down the cellar stairs, while Norah followed, afire with curiosity. 

CHAPTER TEN. 

A DANGEROUS ADVENTURE. 

The Manor house dated back for nearly two hundred years, and theunderground premises were of an extent unknown in modern houses. Rexled the way through various flagged divisions, and leaving behindwashing, wine, and coal cellars, came at last to a large door, lockedand bolted. Here he stopped, and drawing a bunch of keys from hispocket, fitted one into the lock, and pushed and dragged at the dooruntil it opened before him. "Now then, " he said, turning to Norah, "wewill prepare for business! I've got a lantern here and two old coats;button yourself up in this, and you will come to no harm. I found theseold keys in a drawer to-day, and it struck me that one of them might fitthis door, so I came down to experiment before coming back for you. There is a tradition that there is a subterranean passage leading fromthis house to the lake, and I believe I have discovered the entrance. I'll show you what I mean. Be careful how you tread, for the floor isstrewed with rubbish. "

He took Norah by the arm as he spoke, and led her forward for two orthree steps. At first the darkness appeared impenetrable, but presentlyher eyes became accustomed to the imperfect light, and she saw that shewas standing in a long apartment, filled with all manner of odd, injured, and useless articles. Scraps of broken furniture, balks oftimber, and strangely-shaped pieces of iron lay on every side. It wasevidently a lumber-room of past generations which had been deserted bylater tenants, for the grated windows were thick with dust, and thecobwebs hung in wreaths on the walls. Rex lighted the lantern, closedthe door as quietly as might be, and dodged in and out the piles ofrubbish to the far end of the cellar. "Come here! What do you think ofthis?" he cried triumphantly; and Norah groped her way forward, to findhim standing before a part of the wall which had been broken down forsome purpose and left unrepaired. The stones and mortar were piled highon the ground, and hidden behind them was a large hole opening into adark passage. "This looks like the genuine article, doesn't it? Areyou game to explore, and see where it leads?" queried Rex; and Norahassented eagerly--

"Oh, yes, yes; I should love it! It looks so beautifully mysterious. There may be hidden treasures. Would they belong to me if I foundthem?"

"You would have a share, of course; the rest would be mine because Idiscovered the opening. Now then, I'll go first, and hold the lantern;you will have to stoop, but it may get higher as we go along. "

The passage proved to be smooth, and, to Norah's relief, quite dry andfree from those "creepy, crawly animals" which were the only thingsabout which she was really nervous. But Rex was wrong in thinking thatit might improve in height, for it grew ever narrower and lower as theyprogressed, until at times they were obliged to bend almost double. "This is the way people have to crawl about inside the Pyramids, " saidRex. "It's a queer kind of place, but I mean to go on until I findwhere it leads. I say, though! don't you come on if you would rathernot. You could go back to the cellar and wait for me. "

But Norah would not listen to such a suggestion. What if her back didache, it was not every day that she had the chance of such an adventure;besides, she had no particular wish to be left alone in the dark, whileit yet remained to be proved how she was to turn round when the timecame for the return journey. For five minutes longer they trudgedforward in silence, then Rex's stick struck against some other substancethan stone, and his outstretched hand came across a bar of iron. Itproved to be a half-closed grating, shutting out the entrance into thefurther portion of the passage, but he was not to be turned aside bysuch a trifle as this, and after much pushing and banging managed toraise it sufficiently to make it possible to scramble underneath. Norahfollowed in agile fashion, but hardly had she done so than there camethe sound of a fall, and a sharp, metallic click. 

"What's that?" cried Rex quickly, and Norah stretched out her hand todiscover the cause of the noise. It came, into contact with somethinghard and cold, and her heart gave a leap of fear, for she realised in aninstant that the trap-door had fallen, and that the click which they hadheard had been the catch with which it had swung into its rightfulposition. 

"I--I think something has fastened the grating, " she said faintly. "Ican't make it move. We shan't be able to get back this way. "

"Oh, what nonsense! Let me come and try, " said Rex impatiently, but thepassage was so narrow at this point that it was impossible for him topass, and he had to content himself with directing Norah's efforts. "I'll hold the lantern; look up and down and see if you can find thefastening. Push upwards! Put your fingers in the holes, and tug withall your might. . .. Try it the other way. . .. Kick it with your feet!"

Norah worked with all her strength--and she was a strong, well-growngirl, with no small muscular power--but the grating stood firm as arock, and resisted all her efforts. "It's no use, Rex, " she panteddesperately; and there was silence for a few moments, broken by a soundwhich was strangely like the beating of two anxious hearts. 

"Well, we shall just have to go on then, that's all, " said Rex shortly. "A passage is bound to lead somewhere, I suppose. The worst that canhappen is that we may have a walk home, and you couldn't come to muchharm in that coat!"

"Oh no! I shall be all right, " said Norah bravely. For a few momentsshe had been horribly frightened, but Rex's matter-of-fact speech hadrestored her confidence in his leadership. Of course the passage musthave an outlet. She considered where they would come out, and evensmiled faintly to herself at the thought of the comical figure which shewould cut, striding through the lanes in the squire's old yellowmackintosh. She was determined to let Rex see that though she was onlya girl, she could be as brave as any boy; but it was difficult to keepup her spirits during the next ten minutes, for the passage seemed togrow narrower all the time, while the air was close and heavy. A longtime seemed to pass while they groped their way forward, then suddenlyRex's stick struck against some obstacle directly in his path, and hestopped short. 

"What is it?" cried Norah fearfully. It seemed an endless time to thepoor child before he answered, in a voice so strained and hoarse as tobe hardly recognisable. 

"The passage is blocked. It is walled up. We cannot get any further!"Rex lifted the lantern as he spoke and looked anxiously into the girl'sface, but Norah said nothing. It seemed as if she could not realise themeaning of his words, but there was a dizzy feeling in her head as if acatherine-wheel were whirling round and round, and she felt suddenlyweak and tired, so that she was obliged to sit down and lean against thewall. 

Rex bent over her with an anxious face. 

"You are not going to faint, Norah?"

"Oh, no; I am--quite well. "

There was a long silence, then--"Rex, " said Norah, in a very weak littlevoice, "did anyone know that you were down in the cellars to-day?"

Rex cleared his throat in miserable embarrassment. 

"No, Norah. I am afraid no one saw me. "

"Will they miss the keys?"

"They are very old keys, Norah. Nobody uses them. "

A little frightened gasp sounded in his ear, but Norah said no more. Rex clenched his fist and banged it fiercely on his knee. 

"Idiot! idiot that I was! What business had I to let you come. It'sall my fault. It was no place for a girl; but the opening looked rightenough, and I thought--"

"I know. Besides, you asked me if I would like an adventure, and I saidI would. I came of my own free will. Don't be angry with yourself, Rex; it is as much my fault as yours. "

"You are a little brick, Norah, " said a husky voice, and Rex's handgripped hers with a quick, strong pressure. "I never thought a girlcould be so plucky. I'll not forget--" He broke off suddenly, andNorah's voice was very unsteady as she asked the next question--

"If--if we shouted very loudly would anyone hear?"

"I--er-- Think how far away from the house we must be by this time, Norah!"

There was a long, throbbing silence. Rex sat with his head bent forwardon his knees; Norah stared blankly before her, her face looking thin andghost-like in the dim light. The silence grew oppressive, and presentlythe lad raised his head and touched his companion on the arm. "Don'tlook like that, Norah. What is it? Norah, speak! What are youthinking about?" He had to bend forward to hear the answer, for Norah'slips were dry, and her throat parched as with thirst. 

"Poor father!" she gasped; and Rex started at the sound with a stab ofpain. 

"Don't! I can't bear it. Norah, for pity's sake don't give in--don'tgive up hope. Something will happen--it will--it must! We shall getout all right. "

"But if we can't go forward, and if we can't go back, and if no one canhear us call, " said Norah, still in the same slow, gasping accents, "Idon't see--how--we can. . .. Rex! how long shall we have to wait beforewe--"

"If you say that word, Norah, I'll never forgive you! We must get out--we _shall_ get out! Come, rouse yourself like a good girl, and I willgo back to see what I can do with that grating. It's our only chance. Lead the way until we come to the broadest part of the passage, and thenI must manage to pass you somehow or other. It has to be done. "

Norah put out her hands and dragged herself wearily to her feet. Thefeeble gleam of the lantern seemed only to call attention to the inkyblackness, and the air was so close and noisome, that she breathed inheavy pants. It had been a delightful adventure to explore thispassage, so long as it was in her power to turn back at any moment; butnow that there was this dreadful terror of not being able to get out atall, it seemed like a living grave, and poor Norah staggered forward insick despair. As they neared the grating, however, it became possibleto stand upright, and this, in itself, was a relief, for her back wasaching from long stooping. 

Rex laid down the lantern at a safe distance, and put his hand on thegirl's shoulder. "Now then, Norah, I am going to squeeze past. I mayhurt you a little, but it will be only for a moment. Stretch your armsout flat against the wall, turn your head sideways, and make yourself assmall as you can. I will take off my coat. Now! Are you ready?"

"Ready!" said Norah faintly; and the next moment it seemed as if thebreath were being squeezed out of her body, as Rex pressed her more andmore tightly against the wall. A horrible gasp of suffocation, a wilddesire to push him off and fight for her own liberty, and then it wasall over, and they were standing side by side, gasping, panting, andtremulous. 

"That's over!" sighed Rex thankfully. "Poor Norah! I am afraid I hurtyou badly, but it was the best plan to get it over as quickly aspossible. Now then, hold up the lantern, and let me have a look round. ". .. 

It was a time of breathless suspense as Rex went carefully over everyinch of the door, examining niche and corner in the hope of discoveringthe secret of the spring by which it was moved. The grating was rustywith age, and had evidently stuck in the position in which he had foundit an hour before, when his vigorous shakings had loosened the springsby which it was moved. Try as he might, however, he could not succeedin moving it a second time; there was no sign of knob or handle; hecould find no clue to its working. 

"It's no use, Rex, " said Norah feebly. "You will have to give it up. "But the lad's indomitable will would not permit him to agree in any suchconclusion. 

"I will never give it up!" he cried loudly. "I brought you into thisplace, and I'll get you out of it, if I have to break every bar with myown hands--if I have to pick the stones out of the wall! Move along afew yards; I'm going to lie down on my back, and try what kicking willdo. "

No sooner said than done. Rex stretched himself at full length on theground, moved up and down to get at the right distance, and began toassail the grating with a series of such violent kicks as woke a babelof subterranean echoes. Not in vain he had been the crack "kick" of thefootball team at school; not in vain had he exercised his muscles eversince childhood in scrambling over mountain heights, and taking part invigorous out-of-door sports. Norah clasped her hands in a tremor ofexcitement. It seemed to her that no fastenings in the world could longwithstand such a battery, and when Rex suddenly sprang to his feet andcharged at the door, she fairly shrieked with exultation. 

"Go on! Go on! It shakes! I'm sure it shakes! Oh, Rex, kick! kickfor your life!" It was a superfluous entreaty. The strength of ten menseemed to be concentrated in the lad for the next ten minutes, as hefought the iron grating, changing from one position to another, as signsof increasing weakness appeared in different parts of the framework. Norah gasped out encouragement in the background, until at last, with acrash and bang, the old springs gave way, and the grating fell to theground. 

"Now--come!" shouted Rex. He did not waste a moment in rejoicing; nowthat the barrier was removed both he and Norah were possessed with butone longing--to get out of the passage as quickly as possible intolight, and air, and safety. Two minutes later they were seated side byside on one of the beams of timber on the cellar floor, gazing into eachother's face with distended eyes. Rex was purple with the strain of hislate efforts--his breath came pantingly, his hair lay in damp rings onhis forehead. Norah's face was ghastly white; she was trembling fromhead to foot. 

"Thank God!" said Rex solemnly. They were his first words, and Norahbent her head with a little sob of agitation. 

"Oh, thank God! We might have been buried alive in that awful place. "

Rex took out his handkerchief and mopped his forehead, looking anxiouslyat his companion the while. "You don't think you will be ill, do you, Norah? You look horribly white. "

"Oh no!--oh no! I shall be all right in an hour, but I shall neverforget it. Rex, I think we ought to be awfully good all our lives--wehave had such a wonderful escape, and we know now how it feels-- When Ithought I was never going to come out of that passage, I was sorry I hadbeen cross to Hilary, and--so selfish! I made up my mind if I hadanother chance--"

"I don't believe you have ever done anything wrong, Norah, " said Rex, ina low, husky voice. There was a long silence, then--"My father willfeel inclined to kill me when he hears about this!" he added shortly. 

Norah started. "But need we tell them? I don't think it would be wrongto say nothing about it. We are safe, and it has taught us to be morecareful in future. It would only upset everyone, and make themmiserable, if they knew we had been in such danger. I'll slip quietlyto my room, and it shall be a secret between us, Rex--you and I. "

Rex looked at her in silence, with his big, keen eyes. "You are thebest little soul in the world, Norah, " he said. "I wish I were likeyou!"

CHAPTER ELEVEN. 

THE NEW MARY. 

Norah was white and subdued for the rest of the evening, but as she wasa stranger to three out of the four members of the household, thisunusual fact attracted little attention. It was taken for granted that, like Edna, she was exhausted by the excitement of the first musiclesson, and both girls were despatched to bed at an early hour. 

Next morning Rex hied off to the Vicarage, to work for a couple of hourswith the vicar, a scholarly recluse, with whom he was reading forcollege, and the girls were left alone to pursue their acquaintance. Conversation naturally turned on Rex, but Edna told the story of hisdiscontent from a fresh point of view. 

"Father doesn't ask him to choose a profession if he would rather gointo business, but he thinks every man is the better for a collegeeducation, and that Rex is too young to decide for himself until he istwenty-one. If he works till then, he can do what he likes in thefuture. But Rex is so obstinate; he thinks he is a man because he isnearly eighteen, and wants to have his own way at once. It makes fatherso angry. "

Norah pursed up her lips. She could imagine that a conflict of willsbetween the old Squire and his son would be no trifling matter. Inimagination, she saw them standing facing each other, the father ruddy, bristling, energetic, Rex straight and tall, his lips set, his eyesgleaming. They were too like each other in disposition for either tofind it easy to give way. 

"Boys are a great trial, " she said, sighing profoundly. "We have two, you know--Raymond and Bob. They have gone back to school now, and thehouse is so peaceful. I am glad I wasn't born a boy. They never seemhappy unless there is a disturbance going on. But both Rex and yourfather seem so fond of you. Can't you coax them round?"

"Oh, I daren't!" Edna looked quite alarmed. "Mother and I neverinterfere; we leave them to fight it out between themselves. But ifthey go on fighting for the next three years it won't be very lively, Imust say!"

Edna would have been as much surprised as delighted if she had knownthat the conflict which had so long destroyed the peace of the householdwas at an end, even as she spoke. No one could fail to notice that theSquire was in an unusually radiant frame of mind at luncheon, or that headdressed his son with marked favour; but it was not until the drivehome was nearly over, and the gates of Cloudsdale in view, that Rexenlightened his companion's curiosity on the point. He cleared histhroat once or twice in a curious, embarrassed manner, before he beganto speak. 

"Er--Norah--I've something to tell you. When we were shut up in thathole last night, I was thinking too. The governor has been very good tome, and it seems ungrateful to stand out about college, when he is sokeen on it. It is only for three years. I--er--I told him this morningthat I would do my best till I was twenty-one, if he would promise tolet me have a free choice after that. "

"Oh, Rex, did you? I am so glad. I am sure you will never regret it. You will always be glad that you did what your father wished, even if itis hard at the time. I think you are very, very good and kind, andunselfish. "

"All right! You needn't gush. I hate girls who gush, " said Rex curtly;and Norah understood that she was to say no more on the subject, andcollapsed into obedient silence. 

It seemed a day of good resolutions, for Norah could not but notice thatHilary looked ill and was obviously in low spirits. Her greeting hadbeen more affectionate than usual; nevertheless, the remembrance of thequarrel of a few days earlier still rankled in Norah's mind, and theresolutions of yesterday were too fresh to allow her to be satisfiedwithout a definite reconciliation. The first time they were alonetogether, she burst into impetuous apologies. "Oh, Hilary, I wanted tosay that I'm sorry I was cross on Monday. I don't mind a bit about thedrawing-room; alter it in any way you like. Of course you know betterhow things should be, after staying in London. I'm sorry I was rude, but I did dust it, really!"

To her surprise, the tears rose in Hilary's eyes, and she lookedabsolutely distressed. "Oh, Norah, don't! I'm sorry too. I didn'tthink I had grumbled so much. But Miss Carr's house is so beautiful, and when I came home--"

"I know. But it looks ever so much nicer in summer, when the doors areopen and the flowers are in bloom. If you like to move the piano, andmake it stand out from the walls, I'll give you my yellow silk for thedrapery. Aunt Amy sent it to me for a dress, but I've never used it. "

"Thank you, Norah; it's awfully good of you, but I shall have somethingelse to do besides draping pianos for the next few weeks, I'm afraid, "said Hilary dismally. "Mary has given notice!" And the poor littlehousekeeper heaved a sigh, for Mary had been a model housemaid, and itwould be a difficult matter to replace her in this quiet country place. 

"Mary given notice! Oh, how horrid! I hate strange servants, and shehas been with us so long. Why ever is she--" Norah checked herself witha quick recollection of the events of the last week, but Hilary did notshirk the unfinished question. 

"She was vexed because I found fault. I felt cross and worried, andvented it on her. I didn't realise it at the time, but I see now that Iwas unreasonable. " And to hear Hilary confess a fault was an experienceso extraordinary, that Norah sat dumbfounded, unable to account for thephenomenon. 

The threatened loss of Mary was too important a family event to passunnoticed in the general conversation. Lettice was full oflamentations, and even Rex had a tribute to pay to her excellence. "Thebig, strapping girl, who waited on me when I was laid up? Oh, I say, what a nuisance! I wish she would come to us; she has such a jollygood-natured face. "

"If she came to you, I would never stay at your house again. I'd be toojealous, " said Norah dolefully. "We shall never get anyone like Mary. "

"We may be thankful if we get anyone at all. Girls don't like living sofar from the village, " groaned Lettice in concert; and the virtues ofMary, and the difficulties of supplanting her, were discussed at lengththroughout the afternoon. Hilary's sense of guilt in the matter madeher even more energetic than usual in her efforts to find a new maid. She visited the local registry offices, inserted advertisements in thepapers, and wrote reams of letters; and, on the third day, to herdelight, a young woman arrived to apply for the situation. It was thefirst time that the duty of interviewing a new servant had devolved uponHilary's shoulders, for all three maids had been in the family foryears, and, in her new doubtfulness of self, she would have been glad toask the help of Miss Briggs, but that good lady had taken Geraldine fora walk, and there was no help at hand. 

"I don't know if she is afraid of me, but I am certainly terrified ofher!" said poor Hilary, smoothing her hair before the glass, and tryingto make herself look as staid and grown-up as possible. "I don't knowwhat on earth to say. Lettice, come and sit in the room, there's adear, and see what you think of her. I shouldn't like to engage anyoneon my own responsibility. " So the two girls went downstairs together, and Lettice looked on from a quiet corner, while Hilary sat boltupright, cross-questioning the new servant. She was a tall, awkwardgirl, untidily dressed, with a fly-away hat perched on the top of herhead, a spotted veil drawn over her face, and the shabbiest of boaswound round her neck. "What a contrast to our nice, trim Mary!" groanedLettice to herself, while Hilary cudgelled her brain to think ofappropriate questions. 

"And--er--have you been accustomed to housemaid's work?"

"Oh, yes, miss. I'm very handy about a house, miss. I'm sure I couldgive you satisfaction, miss. "

("I don't like her voice. She has not nearly such nice manners asMary, " sighed Hilary to herself. "Oh dear me!")

"And--er--can you--er--get up in the morning without being called?"

"Oh yes, miss; I'm fond of early rising. It's never any trouble to meto get up. "

"And--er--we are rather a large family, and I am very particular. Areyou quite strong and able to work?"

"Oh yes, miss; quite strong, miss. Never had a day's illness in mylife. "

"And--er--(there must be other questions to ask, but it's terriblydifficult to think of them. I can't ask her to her face if she ishonest and sober--it's absurd, " thought Hilary in despair). "And--er--er--I suppose you are good-tempered, and would not quarrel with theother servants?"

"Oh yes, miss. Oh no, miss. All my mistresses would say for me, I'msure, miss, that there never was a girl with a sweeter temper. Icouldn't hurt a fly, miss, I'm sure I couldn't, I've such a tenderheart. "

("I'm sure she has nothing of the kind. I don't like her a bit; but, ohdear! what can I do? If she goes on agreeing with all I say, I have noexcuse for telling her that she won't suit. ")

"And--er--you would have to attend to all the bedrooms, and theschoolroom, and help the parlour-maid with the waiting. If you have notbeen accustomed to a large family, I am afraid you would find it a heavyplace. "

"Oh no, miss; not too heavy, miss. I'm never so happy as when I'mworking. I've been brought up to work. "

"Yes--but--but--but I'm afraid you would not suit me, " cried Hilary, summoning the courage in despair, and determined, at all costs, to putan end to the interview. "I won't trouble you to send your character, for perhaps your mistress might object to give it twice, and I--er--yousee--I don't quite know when my present maid is leaving, and I think--Iam afraid--"

"Oh, it's no trouble at all, miss. I'll bring it with pleasure. I amsure you would suit me very well. I've always heard of you as such agood mistress, and I'd like to live with you; I would indeed!"

Hilary sat dumbfounded. She was beginning to feel quite afraid of thisterrible young woman who stood up before her, looking so tall andformidable, and tossing her head until all the shabby black feathersshook again on her hat. "I--I won't detain you any longer, " she saidicily, as she rose from her seat. "You can leave your address, and if Ichange my mind I will let you know. " She laid her hand on the bell asshe spoke, but, to her amazement, the young woman suddenly flopped downon a chair, and folded her arms with a determined gesture. 

"I won't stir an inch till I've had my lunch, " she said; and frombeneath the skirts of her dress there appeared a pair of stout, hob-nailed boots; from within her muff, two big, brown hands; and beneaththe veil, a laughing, mischievous face. 

"Rex!" screamed Hilary, at the pitch of her voice. "Oh, you horrible, deceiving, bad, impertinent boy!"

"Rex!" echoed Lettice in chorus. "Oh, oh! how lovely I how delicious!However did you do it? Norah!--Norah! Norah! Oh, do come here!"

In rushed Norah, breathless with curiosity, to know what had happened, and the next ten minutes was passed in a clamour of questionings. Whenhad he thought of it? How had he thought of it? Where had he found theclothes? How had he dressed? etcetera, etcetera. 

Rex paraded the room with mincing steps, and simpered at his ownreflection in the looking-glass. 

"Old things of the mater's and Edna's. Brought 'em over in the cart, and dressed in the summer-house. What a nice girl I should have made, to be sure! Seems quite a waste, doesn't it? I say, though, I amnearly suffocating with heat. Can't I go and take them off somewhere?"

He was crossing the hall on the way to the cloak-room, when who shouldcome tripping downstairs but Mary herself, trim and neat as ever, butcasting a glance the reverse of approving at the strange young woman whohad come to supplant herself. 

"Good morning, Mary. I've come to apply for the place, " said Rexgravely; then suddenly picking up his skirts, displayed his trouseredlegs underneath, and executed a wild schottische round the hall. 

Mary gave a shriek, put her hand to her heart, and sank down on thestairs, brushes and all, in a breathless heap. "Oh, Mr Rex, oh! Inever in all my life! Oh, what a turn you gave me! Oh! oh! oh!" Andshe gasped and panted till Norah became alarmed, and went up to pat heron the shoulder. 

"Don't, Mary, don't! Oh, Mary, I wish it was all fun. I wish youweren't going. "

"So do I, Miss Norah. I don't want to leave you, but Miss Hilary--"

"I don't want you to go, Mary. I would rather have you than anyoneelse. "

"Ha! ha! ha!" Rex pranced round the hall in wild delight. "Look atthat now! Reginald Freer, Esquire, peacemaker and housemaid-waitress. Apply--Brathey Manor--"

"What in the world is the matter? Has everyone gone mad? How am Isupposed to write in this uproar?" Mr Bertrand appeared at his studydoor with an expression of long-enduring misery, whereat there was ageneral stampede, and the house subsided into silence. 

CHAPTER TWELVE. 

VISITORS ARRIVE. 

Whitsuntide fell in the beginning of June, and as Hilary went a tour ofinspection round the house and grounds, she was proudly conscious thateverything was looking its very best. The rooms were sweet with thescent of flowers; the open doors and windows showed a vista of well-keptlawn, and in the distance the swelling height of mountains, beautifulwith that peculiar rich, velvet green which can be seen in no othercountry in the world. Who would pause to notice the deficiencies ofcurtain and carpet, when they could look out of the window and see sucha scene as that? As for the garden itself, it was a miracle of beauty, for the flowering trees were still in bloom, while the wild roses hadthrown their branches high over the tall fir trees, and transformed thedrive into a fairy bower. 

Hilary had special reasons for wishing everything to appear at its bestto-day, for two visitors were expected to arrive by the afternoontrain--Miss Carr, and the crippled author, Henry Rayner himself. Half-a-dozen times she made a round of inspection, each time finding sometrifling alteration or addition to make to her preparations. At last, however, all was ready: the tea-tray laid in the drawing-room, her ownwhite dress donned, a bunch of roses pinned in her belt; and there wasnothing left but to wait in such patience as she could command, whileLettice and Norah looked at her slyly and exchanged glances of approval. 

"Doesn't she look nice?" they whispered; and, indeed, Hilary was lookingher best this afternoon, with the pretty flush in her cheeks, and hereyes alight with excitement. A few minutes after six o'clock the flydrove up to the door, and there sat Miss Carr, in her fashionable Londonbonnet, and, beside her, Mr Rayner, pale and delicate as ever, butlooking around him with an air of intense delight in the beautifulsurroundings. Mr Bertrand was on the front seat, and Hilary cameforward to do the honours with much less assurance than she would haveshown six months earlier. 

"My dear, good child, have you any tea? I am perishing of thirst!"cried Miss Carr loudly. She was so bustling and matter-of-fact, thatshe was the best remedy in the world for shyness; and Hilary led the wayto the drawing-room with recovered equanimity. She had only had timefor a quick hand-shake with the other visitor, but the glance which hadbeen exchanged between them was delightful in its memory of pastmeetings--its augury of good times to come. 

"And here are your other big girls. Dear me!" said Miss Carr, bestowinga hasty glance at Norah, and staring hard at Lettice over the edge ofher cup. "I remember them all in long clothes, but I shall make a pointof forgetting them soon if they go on growing up like this. There is alimit to everything--even to the memory of an old woman like myself. The boys are at school, I suppose? But the little one--my baby--Geraldine?"

"Quite well, sank you--how are you?" said the Mouse, coming forward fromher hiding-place, and holding out her tiny hand, with a sweet-facedgravity which was too much for the good lady's composure. Down went theteacup on the table, and Geraldine was folded in a hearty embrace. 

"Bless your innocent face! I'm well, my darling--a great deal betterfor seeing you. You don't remember me, do you?"

The Mouse put her head on one side as if considering how to answertruthfully, without hurting the visitor's feelings. "I _sink_ I don't, "she said slowly, "only p'raps I shall by-and-by. I'm very pleased tosee you. "

"There now! What do you think of that? She couldn't possibly belong toanyone in the world but you, Austin, " cried Miss Carr in triumph; andMr Rayner held out his hand to the child with a smile that showed thatthe Mouse had added yet another to the long list of her adorers. 

It was not until dinner was over and the whole party had strolled intothe garden, that Hilary had a chance of a quiet talk with Mr Rayner;but when her father and Miss Carr began to pace up and down the lawn, hecame up to her with a gesture of invitation. 

"Won't you sit down for a few minutes on this seat?" Then, with a smileof friendly interest, "Well--how goes it?--How goes it?"

Hilary drew in her breath with a gasp of pleasure. She had not realisedwhen in London how greatly she had been touched and impressed by hermeetings with the crippled author; it was only after she had returned tothe quiet of the country home that she had found her thoughts returningto him again and again, with a longing to confide her troubles in hisear; to ask his advice, and to see the kindly sympathy on his face. Thedeep, rich tone of his voice as he said that "How goes it?" filled herwith delighted realisation that the long-looked-for time had arrived. 

"Oh, pretty well--better and worse! I have been making discoveries. "

"About--?"

"Myself, I think!" And Hilary stretched out her hands with a littlegesture of distaste, which was both graceful and natural. 

Mr Rayner looked at her fixedly beneath bent brows. "Poor little TwoShoes!" he said gravely. "So soon! It hurts, Two Shoes, but it's goodin the end. Growing pains, you know!"

"Yes!" said Hilary softly. It was good to find someone who understoodwithout asking questions or forcing confidence. "And you?" she askedpresently, raising her eyes to his with a smile of inquiry--"what haveyou been doing?"

"I? Oh! making discoveries also, I fear; among others, the disagreeableone that I can no longer work as I used, or as other men work, and must, therefore, be satisfied to be left behind in the race. But we aregetting melancholy, and it's a shame even to think of disagreeablesubjects in a place like this. What a perfect view! I should nevertire of looking at those mountains. "

"Aren't they beautiful? That is Coniston Old Man right before us, andthose are the Langdale Pikes over there to the right. I like them bestof all, for they stand out so well, and in winter, when they are coveredwith snow, they look quite awful. Oh, I am so glad you have come! Wegenerally have good weather in June, and we will have such lovelydrives--"

Meantime Mr Bertrand and Miss Carr were having an animatedconversation. 

"What do you think of my three little girls?" had been his firstquestion, and Miss Carr laughed derisively as she answered--

"Little girls, indeed! They will be grown-up women before you knowwhere you are, Austin. I like that young Norah. There is somethingvery taking about her bright, little face. Miss Consequence hasimproved, I think; not quite so well pleased with herself, which meansmore pleasing to other people. She looks well in that white dress. Asfor Miss Lettice, she is quite unnecessarily good-looking. "

"Isn't she lovely?" queried Mr Bertrand eagerly. "And you will findher just as sweet as she looks. They have been very good and contentedall spring, but it has been in the expectation of your visit, and thechanges which you were to make. We are looking to you to solve all ourdifficulties. "

"Very kind of you, I am sure. It's not an easy position to fill. Thedifficulty, so far as I can see, is compressed into the next threeyears. After that you will have to face it, Austin, and come back totown. You can keep on this house for a summer place, if you wish, butthe boys will be turning out into the world by then, and you ought to bein town to keep a home for them. Hilary will be twenty-one, the othertwo not far behind, and it is not fair to keep girls of that age in thisout-of-the-way spot all the year round, when it can be avoided. For thenext three years you can go on very well as you are; after that--"

"I'm afraid so! I'm afraid you are right. I've thought so myself, "said Mr Bertrand dolefully. "I can't say I look forward to theprospect, but if it must be done, it must. I must make the most of mythree last years. And, meantime, you think the girls are all right asthey are? I need make no change?"

Miss Carr pressed her lips together without speaking, while they pacedslowly up and down the lawn. "I think, " she said slowly, at last, "thatthree girls are rather too many in a house like this. You have MissBriggs to look after Geraldine, and three servants to do the work. There cannot be enough occupation or interest to keep three young peoplecontent and happy. I have thought several times during the spring, Austin, that it would be a good plan if you lent one of your daughtersto me for a year or two. "

"My dear Helen! A year or two! One of my girls!"

"Yes--yes! I knew that you would work yourself up into a state ofexcitement. What a boy you are, Austin! Listen quietly, and try to bereasonable. If you send one of the girls to me, I will see that shefinishes her education under the best masters; that she makes herentrance into society at the right time, and has friends of whom youwould approve. It would be a great advantage--"

"I know it, I feel it, and I am deeply grateful, Helen; but it can't bedone. I can't separate myself from my children. "

"You manage to exist without your boys for nine months of the year; andI would never wish to separate you. She could come home for Christmasand a couple of months in summer, and you yourself are in town half-a-dozen times in the course of the year. You could always stay at myhouse. "

"Yes, yes; it's all true; but I don't like it, Helen, and--"

"And you think only of yourself. It never occurs to you that I have nota soul belonging to me in that big, lonely house, and that it might be acomfort to me to have a bright young girl--"

Mr Bertrand stopped short in the middle of the lawn and stared into hiscompanion's face. There was an unusual flush on her cheeks, and hereyes glistened with tears. 

"Oh, my dear Helen, " he cried. "I am a selfish wretch! I never thoughtof that. Of course, if you put it in that light, I can say no more. Mydear old friend--I accept your offer with thanks! You have done so muchfor me, that I can refuse you nothing. It will be a lifelong advantageto the child, and I know you will make her happy. "

"I will, indeed; and you may trust me, Austin, to consider more thanmere happiness. I will do my best to make her such a woman as her dearmother was before her. "

"I know you will. Thank you, Helen. And which--which--?"

"Nay, I am not going to tell you that. " Miss Carr had brushed the tearsfrom her eyes, and with them all signs of her unusual emotion. She washerself again--sharp, decisive, matter-of-fact. "I must have my choice, of course; but I will take a week to make up my mind. And she must beleft entirely in my hands for the time being, remember! I shall lookafter her clothes, education, pleasuring, as if she were my own child. There must be no interference. "

"Obstinate woman! Who would dare to enter the lists against you?" criedMr Bertrand between a laugh and a sigh. "Heigho! Which of my littlelasses am I going to lose? Whichever it is, I shall feel she is thelast I could spare, and shall bear you a grudge for your choice. Can'tyou give me a hint?"

"No! and I wouldn't if I could. I'll tell you when I am ready, " saidMiss Carr coolly. And that settled the question for the time being. 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN. 

A TETE-A-TETE. 

During the next few days the girls could not help noticing a peculiarcontradiction in their father's manner towards themselves. He wasalternately demonstratively affectionate and unreasonably irritable. Hesnubbed Norah's performance on the violin, scolded Lettice because shewas wearing white dresses instead of her old blue serge, and calledattention to flaws in the housekeeping in a manner which sent the ironinto Hilary's soul. And then, when a chance meeting occurred on thelanding or stairs, he would throw his arms round them and kiss them overand over again with passionate tenderness. 

"Something is happening, but I haven't the remotest idea what it is, "said Norah to her sisters; and it added to their curiosity to noticethat Miss Carr was openly amused at their father's demeanour, while hewas as evidently embarrassed by her quizzical smiles. 

Mr Bertrand had decided to say nothing of Miss Carr's invitation untilthat lady had made her final choice; but when the third day came hecould restrain himself no longer, and taking the girls aside heproceeded to inform them of the new life which was before one of theirnumber. The news was received in characteristic fashion. Hilary stoodin silence, thinking deeply; Lettice promptly burst into tears, andclung round her father's arm; and Norah blurted out a dozencontradictory speeches. 

"How horrid of her! I won't go! I should hate to leave you all. It'svery kind. . .. The best masters! It would be lovely, of course, but--Oh, dear! whom will she choose?"

"I couldn't leave home, father. Who would look after the house? Itwould be impossible for Lettice to do the housekeeping. Miss Carr knowsme best. I should love it if it were not for leaving home. "

"I don't want to go! I don't want to leave you. Oh, father, father!I'd be so homesick! Don't let me go!"

Mr Bertrand stroked Lettice's golden locks, and looked on the point ofbreaking down himself. 

"Whichever Miss Carr chooses will have to go, " he said slowly. "I havepromised as much, and I think it will be for the best. I shall be intown every two or three months, and she will come home for the Christmasand the summer holidays, so that it will not be a desperate matter. Don't cry, my pet; you are only one of three, remember; it is by nomeans certain that Miss Carr would have you, even if you begged to go. Perhaps I should not have said anything about it; but it was on my mind, and I was bound to speak. London is a fascinating place. It is thecentre of the world--it _is_ the world; you will find manycompensations. "

"I shall see a great deal of Mr Rayner. I'm sure she will choose me. It's only fair. I'm the eldest, and she knows me best, " thought Hilaryto herself. 

"I should go to the Royal College of Music, learn from the best masters, and play at the concerts, " thought Norah. "I wonder if it would stopEdna's lessons! I should feel mean if it did that, and I _do_ enjoygoing over every fortnight and having fun at the Manor!"

Lettice sobbed on her father's shoulder, and tried to smother thethought that it would be "nice" to know grand people, and drive in thepark dressed in pretty, fashionable clothes. 

Very little more was said on the subject. The girls were shy ofrevealing their secret thoughts, and Mr Bertrand was already beginningto repent the confidence which had had the effect of damping their highspirits. 

"We must get up an excursion of some kind to-morrow, or we shall all bein the blues, " he said to himself, and when tea-time arrived he had allthe plans cut and dried. 

"A char-a-banc will be at the door at half-past ten to-morrow, goodpeople. We will drive over to Grasmere and lunch at the Rothay. It isconvenient for the churchyard and the gingerbread shop, and there is agood garden. We can lounge about in the afternoon, and get back in timefor a late dinner. There will be eight of us, and the char-a-banc holdstwelve, so we shall have plenty of room. "

"Oh, father!--Rex and Edna! Do let us ask them! There is time to senda letter to-night, and we could pick them up at the cross-roads. Oh, father!"

"Oh, Norah! Certainly, my dear; ask your friends if you wish. I shallbe pleased to have them, " said Mr Bertrand laughingly; and Norah rushedoff in delight to scribble her note of invitation. 

When the char-a-banc came to the door the next morning, Hilary busiedherself looking after the storage of cloaks, cushions, camp-stools, andvarious little etceteras which would add to the comfort of theexcursion. She looked a very attractive little mistress of theceremonies as she bustled about, with a sailor hat on her head and thenattiest little brown shoes in the world peeping out from beneath thecrisp, white, pique skirts. Hilary was one of the fortunate people whoseemed to have been born tidy, and to have kept so ever since. The windwhich played havoc with Norah's locks never dared to take liberties withher glossy coils; the nails which tore holes in other people's garmentspolitely refrained from touching hers; and she could walk through themuddiest streets and come home without a speck upon boots or skirt. 

Mr Rayner leant on his crutches and watched her active movements withthe wistful glance which was so often seen upon his face. Hilary knewthat for the thousandth time he was chafing at his own inability tohelp, and made a point of consulting him on several matters by way ofproving that there were more ways than one in which he could be ofservice. 

"I don't know. In the front--in the back; put them where you like. Areyou going to sit beside me?" he replied hurriedly, and with anundisguised eagerness which brought a flush of pleasure into the girl'scheek. 

"Oh, yes, I should like to!"

Hilary stood still in a little glow of exultation. The last few dayshad been delightful with their experiences of lounging, driving, andboating, but the coach-drive along the lovely roads, side by side withMr Rayner, able to point out each fresh beauty as it appeared, and toenjoy a virtual _tete-a-tete_ for the whole of the way--that was best ofall! And he had chosen her as his companion before Lettice, beforeNorah, before any one of the party! The thought added largely to hersatisfaction. 

As Miss Carr refused point-blank to take the box seat, and as MrBertrand insisted that it should be taken by the other visitor, Hilaryadvanced to the ladder, and was about to climb up to the high seat, whenshe turned back with an expression of anxious inquiry. 

Mr Rayner stood immediately behind, but his "Please go on!" showed thathe understood her hesitation, and was annoyed at the suggestion of help. She seated herself, therefore, and tried in vain to look at ease whilehe followed. For two or three steps he managed to support himself onhis crutches with marvellous agility; on the fourth they slipped, and ifhe had not been seized from behind by Mr Bertrand and pulled forward byHilary's outstretched hand, he must have had a serious fall. Hilaryliterally dare not look at his face for the first ten minutes of thedrive, for with an instinctive understanding of another person's feelingwhich was a new experience to this self-engrossed little lady, sherealised that he was smarting beneath the consciousness of having madehimself an object of general commiseration. Whatever happened, he mustnot think that she was pitying him. She racked her brain to think ofsomething to say--some amusing stories to tell. "I wish we were goingon a coach instead of a char-a-banc. I love to see the drivers in theirwhite hats and red coats, and to hear the horns blowing. There issomething so cheerful about a horn! We are getting to know all thedrivers quite well now. I say `getting to know, ' because it takes quitethree years to know a North-countryman. They are so terribly reserved!Last year I was on the box seat of a coach sitting next to the driverwhom we knew best of all. There were some American ladies behind whokept worrying him with questions all the while. `Driver, will you showus Wordsworth's house?' `Driver, you won't forget Wordsworth's house?'`Driver, hev you passed by Wordsworth's house?' He just sat like astatue and took no notice whatever. Poor man! I wonder how manythousand times he has been asked those questions! One of the horses hadbandages round his front leg, and at last I said--I believe I was tryingto show off a little bit, you know, just to let them see how polite hewould be with me--I said, `Oh, Robert, why has the off leader gotgaiters on to-day?' His face was just as blank as if I had neverspoken. We drove along in silence for about ten minutes, while I gothotter and hotter. Then he cleared his throat deliberately, and said, `Well, in the first place--he needs 'em! and in the second place--helikes 'em! and in the third place--he can't do without 'em!' I felt sosmall!"

A forced "Humph!" being the only reception which the story received, Hilary braced herself to fresh efforts. Two or three experiences ofNorth-country manners were suggested by the last; she related them inher liveliest manner, and even forced herself to laugh merrily at theconclusion. "So funny, wasn't it? Don't you think it was good?"

The char-a-banc had now reached Bowness, and, for the first time, sheventured a glance into her companion's face. He met her eyes andsmiled, the slow, sweet smile that transformed his expression. 

"I know someone who is good, " he said meaningly. "You have talkedyourself out of breath trying to drive away the evil spirit. It's toobad! I am ashamed of my own stupidity. "

"I wish--" began Hilary eagerly, and stopped short as suddenly as shehad begun. 

"You wish? Yes, what is it? Tell me, do! I want to hear--"

Hilary paused for a moment and turned her head over her shoulder. Areassuring clatter of voices came to her ear. Rex, Norah, and Letticechattering away for their lives, and Edna's soft laughter greeting eachnew joke. The young folks were too much taken up with their ownconversation to have any attention to spare for the occupants of the boxseat. She could speak without fear of being overheard. 

"I wish you would try not to be so cross with yourself for being lame!"

Mr Rayner winced in the old, pained manner, but the next moment hebegan to smile. 

"`Cross'! That's a curious way of expressing it. How am I cross?"

"Oh, always--every way! Every time it is alluded to in the most distantway, you flare up and get angry. You have snubbed me unmercifully threeor four times. "

"I have snubbed you? I!" He seemed overcome with consternation. "MissHilary, what an accusation. I have never felt anything but sincerestgratitude for your sympathy--I suppose I am stupid. I ought to behardened to it by this time, but after being so strong, so proud of mystrength, it is a bitter pill to find myself handicapped like this--aburden to everybody. "

"You have been with us now for nearly a week, and there have only beentwo occasions on which you have seemed any different from another man, and each time, " said Hilary, with unflinching candour, "it has beenentirely your own fault! You would not let yourself be helped when itwas necessary. If I were in your place, I would say to myself--`I amlame! I hate it, but whether I hate it or not, it's the truth. I amlame! and everybody knows it as well as I do. I won't pretend that Ican do all that other people do, and if they want to be kind and helpme, I'll let them, and if they don't offer, I'll _ask_ them! Whateverhappens, I am not going to do foolish, rash things which will deceivenobody, and which may end in making me lamer than ever!' And then I'dtry to think as little about it as I could, and get all the happinessthat was left!"

"Oh, wise young judge!" sighed Mr Rayner sadly. "How easy it is to beresigned for another person. But you are quite right; don't think thatI am disputing the wisdom of what you say. I should be happier if Ifaced the thing once for all, and made up my mind as to what I can andcannot do. Well--Miss Carr told me her plans last night. If you cometo London, you must keep me up to the mark. I shall hope to see a greatdeal of you, and if you find me attempting ridiculous things, such asthat ladder business to-day, you must just--what is it I am supposed tohave done?--`snub' me severely as a punishment. "

Hilary smiled with two-fold satisfaction. So Mr Rayner agreed with herin believing that Miss Carr's choice was practically certain. Theprospect of living in London grew more and more attractive as thevarious advantages suggested themselves, and she was roll of deliciousanticipations. 

"Oh, I will, " she said merrily. "I am glad that I did not know youbefore you were ill, because I see no difference now, and I can do itmore easily. I think I am like the Mouse; I like you better for beingdifferent from other people. She spent a whole morning searching fortwigs in the garden, and now all her dolls are supplied with crutches. "

"Dear little mortal! I never met a sweeter child, " cried Mr Rayner, and the conversation branched off to treat of Geraldine and her prettyways. 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN. 

THE WISHING GATE. 

Lunch was ready when the visitors reached the hotel at Grasmere, and asthey were equally ready for lunch, they lost no time in seatingthemselves at the large table in the window, and making a vigorousattack upon rolls and butter. The other tables were well filled, andHilary held up her head with complacent pride, while Lettice and Norahnudged each other to call attention to the glances of curiosity andinterest which were directed towards their father. 

"A party of Americans, and the waiter whispered to them as we passed. Oh, father, you are in for it! _Now_--I told you so! The one with thelight hair is getting up. She is going upstairs to bring down theautograph albums. Wait till you've finished lunch, then it willbe--`Oh, Mr Bertrand, such an honour to meet you; would you be kindenough to write your name in my little book?'"

Mr Bertrand went through a pantomime of tearing his hair. "Is there noescape?" he groaned. "It's bad enough to be a lion in town, but Ipositively refuse to roar in the country. I won't do it. I havewriter's cramp--I can't use my right hand. Rayner, my boy, I'll turnthem on to you!"

"He is only pretending. He is really awfully pleased and flattered. Wait till you see how polite he will be when they ask him, " said Letticemischievously; and, indeed, nothing could have been more courteous thanMr Bertrand's manner when the American party flocked round him in thehall after luncheon. 

"Your books are in every house in America, sir, and it gives us thegreatest pleasure to have an opportunity of--"

"Oh, come along!" whispered Norah, pulling impatiently at Edna's arm. "I know it all by heart. Come into the garden, both of you; Lettice andI have something to tell you--an exciting piece of news!"

"Kitten dead? New ribbons for your hats?" queried Rex indifferently. He was sceptical on the point of Norah's "exciting confidences, " butthis time Lettice looked at him reproachfully with her great, grey eyes. 

"No, indeed--don't make fun--it's serious! Miss Carr is going to adoptone of us to live with her in London as her own daughter, for the nextthree years. "

"Nonsense!" Rex sat down in a heap on the grass, in front of the benchwhere the girls were seated. "Which?"

"Ah, that's the mystery! She is to have her choice, and she won't saywhich it is to be until Wednesday night--two days more. So, you see, you had better be polite, for you mayn't have me with you much longer. "

"I am always polite to you, " said Rex moodily: and the statement passedunchallenged, for however much he might tease Norah, and snap at Hilary, he was always considerate for the feelings and comfort of "LovelyLettice!"

"Oh, Norah, Norah! I hope it won't be you!" cried Edna, clasping herhands round her friend's arm in warm-hearted affection. "What should Ido without you? We have been so happy, and have had such fun! Threeyears! What an age of a time! We shall be quite grown-up. "

"Yes; and after that, father is going to take a house in London, becausethe boys will have left school, and it will be better for them. Isn'tit horrid to think that after to-day it may never be the same for one ofus again? She will only come back as a visitor, for a few weeks at atime, and everything will be strange and different--"

"And Rex may go abroad before the end of the three years, and Hilary maymarry--and--oh, a hundred other horrible things. Perhaps we may nevermeet again all together like this until we are quite old and grey-headed. We would write to one another, of course; stiff, proper sort ofletters like grown-up people write. How funny it would be! Imagine youwriting to me, Edna--`My dear Eleanora, you must not think my longsilence has arisen from any want of affection towards you and yours. . .. And how has it been with you, my valued friend?'"

The burst of laughter which greeted this speech did something to liventhe gloom which was fast settling upon the little party, and presentlyMr Bertrand's voice was heard calling from the verandah--

"Now then, children, what are we to do until four o'clock? Do you wantto go on the lake?"

"It's no good, sir. We could row round it in ten minutes. " This fromRex, with all the scorn of a young man who owned a _Una_ of his own onLake Windermere. 

"Do you want to scramble up to the Tarn, then? I don't. It's too hot, and we should have no time to spend at the top when we got there. "

"Let us go to the Wishing Gate, father, " suggested Norah eagerly. "It'sa nice walk; and I got what I wished for last summer--I did really--themusic lessons! I'm sure there is something in it. "

"Let us go then, by all means. I have a wish of my own that I should beglad to settle. Helen, will you come?"

"No, thank you, Austin, I will not. I can wish more comfortably sittinghere in the shade of the verandah I've been once before, and I wouldn'tdrag up there this afternoon for a dozen wishes. "

"And Rayner--what will you--?"

Mr Rayner hesitated, then, "I--er--if it's a steep pull, I think I hadbetter stay where I am, " he added, in cheery, decided tones, whichbrought a flush of delight to Hilary's cheeks. 

She turned in silence to follow her sisters, but before she had advancedmany steps, stood still hesitating and stammering--"I--I--the sun isvery hot. My head--"

"Well, don't come, dear, if you are afraid of head-ache. Stay where youare, " said her father kindly; and Miss Carr chimed in, in characteristicfashion--

"But if you are going to chatter, be kind enough to move away to anotherseat. I am not going to have my nap disturbed if I know it. "

"Come along, Miss Hilary. Our pride won't allow us to stay after that!"cried Mr Rayner, picking up his crutches and leading the way across thelawn with suspicious alacrity; and no sooner were they seated on thecomfortable bench than he turned a smiling face upon his companion, andwished to know if she were satisfied with the result of her lecture. 

"Entirely, " said Hilary. "It sounded brave and man-like, and put all attheir ease. It is always best to be honest. "

"It is. I agree with you. What about the head?"

"What head?"

"Ah! and is _that_ honest? You know what I mean. Does it ache _very_badly?"

"N-no! Not a bit! I stayed behind because I preferred to--to talk toyou, " said Hilary stoutly, wishing she could prevent herself blushing insuch a ridiculous fashion, wishing Mr Rayner would not stare at herquite so fixedly; happy, miserable, discomfited, triumphant, all at thesame moment, and in the most incomprehensible fashion. 

"That's very satisfactory, because I like to talk to you also, " he saidgravely; and the next two hours passed so quickly that it was quite ashock to hear calls from the verandah, and to see the walking partyalready assembled round the tea-table. 

"What did you wish?" was Hilary's first question, but, with theexception of the Mouse, everyone refused to divulge the secret. 

"I wished I might have a doll's pramulator, " said Geraldine gravely, andwhen Miss Carr asked if the dolls were not able to take walkingexercise, she shook her head with pathetic remembrance. 

"Mabel isn't, 'cause she's only one leg. She really had two, only oneday, Raymond hanged her up from the ceiling, and when I sawed her, Icried, and pulled with my hands, and one leg earned off. So now I wanta pramulator. "

"And she shall have one, bless her! and the best that can be bought, "muttered Miss Carr beneath her breath; while Norah whispered eagerquestionings into her companion's ear. 

"You might tell me, Rex--you might! I won't tell a soul. What did youwish?"

"Don't be so curious. What does it matter to you?"

"It does matter. I want to know. You might! Do-oo!"

"No-o! I won't now. There's an end of it. "

"Oh, Rex, look here--I've sixpence in my pocket. I'll buy you a packetof gingerbread if you will. "

"I don't want the gingerbread. What a girl you are! You give a fellowno peace. I didn't wish anything particular, only--"

"Yes! Yes!"

"Only that she, " with a nod of the head towards where Miss Carr satsipping her tea--"that she might choose Hilary to live with her inLondon. "

"Oh-oh! You wouldn't like it if it were Lettice?"

"Of course not, neither would you. "

"But--but--it might be me!"

"It might. There's no saying. I'll have another cup of tea, if youplease, " said Rex coolly. 

Aggravating boy! It would be just as easy to draw water from a stone, as to persuade him to say anything nice and soothing to one's vanity!

CHAPTER FIFTEEN. 

MISS CARR'S CHOICE. 

Wednesday was a day of great, though suppressed excitement, and whenevening came, and Miss Carr summoned the girls into the drawing-room, itwould be difficult to say which of the three felt the more acuteanxiety. Mr Rayner had considerately taken himself out of the way, butMr Bertrand was seated in an easy chair, his arms folded, his facegrave and set. Miss Carr pointed to the sofa, and the three girls satdown, turning inquiring eyes on her face. It was horribly formal, andeven Norah felt cowed and spiritless. 

"Girls, " said Miss Carr slowly, "it was my intention to say nothingabout my plans until I had made my decision, but it seems that yourfather has forestalled me and told you of my wishes. . .. When you werelittle children I saw a great deal of you. Your father was one of mymost valued friends, your dear mother also, and you were often at myhouse. When you came here I felt a great blank in my life, for I amfond of young people, and like to have them about me. Last January, your father visited me, and told me of a conversation which he had hadwith you here. He was anxious about your future, and it occurred to methat in some slight degree I might be able to take the responsibilityoff his hands. I have felt the need of a companion, and of some freshinterest in life, and nothing could give me more pleasure than to helpone of Austin Bertrand's daughters. Well, my dears, I spoke to yourfather: he did not like the idea at first, as you will understand, butin the end he gave way to my wishes, and it only remained to make mychoice. When I use the word `choice, ' you must not imagine that I amconsulting merely my own preference. I have honestly tried to study thequestion from an unselfish point of view--to think which of you wouldmost benefit from the change. One consideration has influenced me ofwhich I can only speak in private, but for the rest I have watched youcarefully, and it seemed to me that two out of the three have already adefinite interest and occupation in their lives, which is wanting in theother case. Lettice has no special work in the house, no pet study topursue; therefore, my dears, I choose Lettice--"

There was a simultaneous exclamation of consternation. 

"Lettice!" cried Hilary, and drew in her breath with a pang of bitterestdisappointment. 

"Lettice! Oh, no, no, no!" cried Norah, throwing her arms round herfavourite sister, and trembling with agitation. 

"My little Lettice!" echoed Mr Bertrand, with a groan of such genuinedismay, that Miss Carr stared at him in discomfiture. 

"My dear Austin--if it makes you so unhappy--"

"No--no. I gave you my word, and I am not going back. Besides, " with akindly glance at the other two girls, "I should have felt the same, whichever way you had decided. Well, that's settled! I am off now, Helen. We can have our talk later. "

He walked hastily out of the room, and Miss Carr turned back to thegirls with a troubled expression. 

"My dears, I know you will both feel parting with your sister, but Iwill do all I can to soften the blow. You can always look forward tomeeting at Christmas and Midsummer, and I shall ask your father to bringyou up in turns to visit us in London. Though Lettice is to be myspecial charge, I take a deep interest in you both, and shall hope toput many little pleasures in your way. And now, my dears, will youleave us alone for a time? I want to have a quiet talk with Letticebefore we part. "

The two girls filed out of the room, and stood in the hall, facing eachother in silence. Miss Briggs put her head out of the morning-room, with an eager--"Well--_Who_!" and when Norah pointed dolefully towardsthe drawing-room door, disappeared again with an exclamation of dismay. It was the same all round, Hilary told herself. Everyone was miserablebecause Lettice had been chosen. Everyone called out in sharp tones ofdistress, as if disappointed not to hear another name. Mr Bertrand wastoo dear and kind for it to be possible to make a charge of favouritismagainst him, but Lettice's striking likeness to her mother seemed togive her a special claim to his tenderness, while as for the rest of thehousehold, Miss Briggs was as wax in Lettice's hands, for the simplereason that she was a solitary woman, and the girl showed her thoselittle outward signs of affection which make up the sweetness of life;while the servants would do twice as much for her as for any othermember of the family, because, "bless her pretty face, she had such away with her!" Hilary felt indescribably chilled and humiliated as sherealised how little regret her own departure would have caused incomparison, and when she spied Mr Rayner's figure crossing the lawn, she shrank back, with uncontrollable repugnance. "You tell him, Norah!I can't. I am going upstairs. "

Meanwhile, Lettice herself had not broken down, nor shown any signs ofthe emotion of a few days earlier. She was a creature of moods, butthough each mood was intense while it lasted, it lasted, as a rule, fora remarkably short space of time. If she were in tears over a certainsubject on Monday, it was ten to one that she had forgotten all about itbefore Thursday. If she were wild with excitement over a newproposition, she would probably yawn when it was mentioned a secondtime, and find it difficult to maintain a show of interest. So, in thepresent case, she had exhausted her distress at the idea of leaving homewhile weeping upon her father's shoulders, and ever since then the ideaof the life in London, in Miss Carr's beautiful house, had been growingmore and more attractive. And to be chosen first--before all theothers! It was a position which was full of charm to a girl's love ofappreciation. 

"Come here, dear, " said Miss Carr tenderly, when the door had shutbehind the other two girls; and when Lettice seated herself on the sofa, she took her hands in hers and gazed fixedly into her face. In truth, it would have been difficult to find an object better worth looking atthan "lovely Lettice" at that moment. The hair which rippled over herhead was of no pale, colourless flaxen, but of a rich coppery bronze, with half-a-dozen shades of gold in its luxuriant waves; the grey eyeshad delicately marked brows and generous lashes, and the red lipsdrooped in sweetest curves. The old lady's face softened as she gazed, until it looked very sweet and motherly. 

"Lettice, " she said softly, "my dear little girl, I hope we shall behappy together! I will do all I can for you. Do you think you can becontent--that you can care for me a little bit in return?"

"Yes, oh yes--a great deal!" Lettice's heart was beating so quicklythat she hardly knew what she was saying, but it came naturally to herto form pretty speeches, and the glance of the lovely eyes added charmto her words. 

"I hope so--I hope so! And now I want to tell you the reason why Ichoose you before either of your sisters. I alluded just now tosomething which had influenced me, but which I could not mention inpublic. It is about this that I want to speak. " Miss Carr paused for afew minutes, stroking the girl's soft, flexible hands. 

"Do you know what is meant by an `Open Sesame, ' my dear?"

"Oh, yes. It is the word which Ali Baba used in the `Arabian Nights, 'and that made the doors in the rocks fly open before him. "

"Yes, that is right. I see you know all about it; but would youunderstand what I meant, dear, if I said that God had given _you_ an`Open Sesame' into other people's hearts and lives?"

Lettice looked up quickly, surprised and awed. "I? No! How have I--?"

"Look in the mirror opposite!" said the old lady gravely, and the girlhung her head in embarrassment. 

"No, my dear, there is no need to blush. If you had a talent for music, like Norah, you would not think it necessary to be embarrassed everytime it was mentioned, and beauty is a gift from God, just as much asanything else, and ought to be valued accordingly. It is a great powerin the world--perhaps a greater power than anything else, and the peoplewho possess it have much responsibility. You are a beautiful girl, Lettice; you will be a beautiful woman; everyone you meet will beattracted to you, and you will have an `Open Sesame' into their hearts. Do you realise what that means? It means that you will have power overother people's lives; that you will be able to influence them for goodor evil; that you can succeed where others fail, and carry sunshinewherever you go. But it will also be in your power to cause a greatdeal of misery. There have been women in the world whose beauty hasbrought war and suffering upon whole nations, because they lovedthemselves most, and sacrificed everything for the gratification ofvanity. You are young, Lettice, and have no mother to guide you, soperhaps you have never thought of things in this way before. But when Isaw you first, I looked in your face and thought, `I should like to helpthis girl; to help her to forget herself, and think of others, so thatshe may do good and not evil, all the days of her life. '"

The ready tears rose to Lettice's eyes and flowed down her cheeks. Shewas awed and sobered, but the impression was rather pleasurable thanotherwise. "A beautiful woman"--"a power overothers"--"sunshine"--"success"--the phrases rang in her ear, and thesound was musical. "Of course I'll be good. I want to be good--theneveryone will like me, " she said to herself, while she kissed and clungto Miss Carr, and whispered loving little words of thanks, which charmedthe good lady's heart. 

For the next three days all was excitement and bustle. Lettice'sbelongings had to be gathered together and packed, and though Miss Carrwould hear of no new purchases, there were a dozen repairs andalterations which seemed absolutely necessary. Mr Bertrand took histwo guests about every morning, so as to leave the girls at liberty, butwhen afternoon came he drove them out willy-nilly, and organised oneexcursion after another with the double intention of amusing hisvisitors and preventing melancholy regrets. Norah was in the depths ofdespondency; but her repinings were all for her beloved companion, andnot for any disappointment of her own. Now that she had the interest ofher music lessons, and the friendship of Rex and Edna, she was unwillingto leave home even for the delights of London and the College of Music. Poor Hilary, however, was in a far worse case. She had made so sure ofbeing chosen by Miss Carr, had dreamed so many rosy dreams about thelife before her, that the disappointment was very bitter. The thoughtof seeing Lettice driving away in the carriage with Miss Carr and MrRayner brought with it a keen stab of pain, and the life at home seemedto stretch before her, still and uneventful, like a stretch of drearymoorland. Her pride forbade her showing her disappointment, since noone had expressed any satisfaction in retaining her company. Stay!there was one exception. Mr Rayner had said a few simple words ofregret which had been as balm to the girl's sore heart. He, at least, was sorry that she was not to be in London, and would have preferred hercompany even to that of "lovely Lettice" herself. 

On the whole, it was almost a relief when the hour for departurearrived. Rex and Edna drove over to see the last of their friend andcheer the stay-at-homes by their presence; but it did not seem as thoughthey could be very successful in their errand of mercy, since Edna criedsteadily behind her handkerchief, and Rex poked holes in the gardenwalks with gloomy persistence. 

When Mr Rayner said his good-byes, he left Hilary to the last, and heldher hand in his a moment or two longer than was strictly necessary. "Good-bye, and thank you for all you have done for me. I'll rememberyour advice. . .. We shall meet soon, I hope. You will be coming up totown, and Mr Bertrand has been good enough to ask me to come again nextspring. "

Next spring! A whole year! As well say the end of the world at once. Hilary felt such a swelling sense of misery that the only way in whichshe could refrain from tears was by answering in sharp, matter-of-facttones, and the consciousness that Mr Rayner was surprised and hurt byher manner was part of the general misery against which it was uselessto fight. 

As for Lettice, she was fairly dissolved in tears--clinging to every onein turn--and sobbing out despairing farewells. "Oh, Norie, Norie! myheart will break! I shall die; I know I shall. I can never bear it. Oh, Mouse, don't forget me! Don't let her forget me! Oh, do write--everyone write! I shall _live_ on the letters from home!"

The last glimpse was of a tear-stained face, and a handkerchief heldaloft in such a drenched condition that it refused to open to thebreeze, and when the carriage turned the corner Miss Briggs shuffled offto the schoolroom, Hilary ran off to her room upstairs, leaving thethree young people in the porch staring at each other with a miserablerealisation of loss. 

"What shall I do?--what shall I do? She said _her_ heart would bebroken, but it is ten times worse for me! The house will seem sodreadfully bare and lonely!"

"Just when we were all so happy! Oh, that hateful Miss Carr! why didshe ever come? I thought we were going to have such a h-appy summer, "sobbed Edna dolefully. "It's always the way! As soon as I makefriends, I am bound to lose them. "

Rex put his hands into his pockets and began to whistle. "It will do nogood to turn yourselves into a couple of fountains! I'll go for a walk, and come back when you've done crying. It's a nuisance, but it mighthave been worse, " he said shortly, and Norah looked at him with a gleamof curiosity lighting up her poor, tear-stained eyes. 

"How worse? What do you mean?" she inquired; but Rex did not deign toanswer, or to have anything more to say until tea was served a couple ofhours later. The tears to which he so much objected were dried by thistime, but the conversation was still sorrowfully centred on the deartraveller. "What is she doing now? Poor, poor Lettice! she will cryherself ill. Every mile further from home will make her more wretched!"cried Norah, and the listeners groaned in sympathy. 

If they had seen Miss Lettice at that moment, however, their fears wouldhave been allayed. Miss Carr had changed into a corridor train atPreston, and her companion was charmed with the novel position. She hadnever before travelled in a corridor, and the large, open carriage, theview, the promenade up and down, were all fascinating to herinexperience. Then to have lunch, and afternoon tea just when thejourney was beginning to drag--it was indeed a luxurious way oftravelling! Lettice had ceased to cry before the train had reachedKendal; at Lancaster she began to smile; at Crewe she laughed so merrilyat one of Miss Carr's sallies, that the people on the next seat turnedto look at her with smiles of admiring interest. Everyone was "so niceand kind. " It was a pleasure to see them. Clearwater was a dear, sweetplace, but, after all, it was only a poky little village. Delightful toget away and see something of the world!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN. 

AFTER THREE YEARS. 

Three years had passed away since Lettice Bertrand had bidden farewellto her Northern home and accompanied Miss Carr to London, but there waslittle sign of change in the big drawing-room at Kensington, or in themistress herself, as she sat reading a magazine by the window one sunnyJune afternoon. When the purse is well lined it is easy to preventsigns of age so far as furniture and decorations are concerned, whilethe lapse of three years makes little difference in the appearance of alady who has long passed middle age. Miss Carr looked very contentedand comfortable as she lay back against the cushions of her easy chair, so comfortable that she groaned with annoyance as the servant cameforward to announce a visitor, and the frown did not diminish when sheheard the name. 

"Oh, ask Mr Newcome to come up, Baker! I will see him here. " The mandisappeared, and she threw down the magazine with an exclamation ofdisgust. "That stolid young man! Now I shall have to listen toimproving anecdotes for the next half-hour. Why in the world need heinflict himself upon me?"

The next moment the door opened and the "`stolid' young man" stoodbefore her. So far as appearance went, however, the description wasmisleading, for Arthur Newcome was tall and handsome, with yellow hair, a good moustache, and strong, well set up figure. He came forward andshook hands with Miss Carr in a quick, nervous fashion, which was sounlike his usual stolid demeanour, that the good lady stared at him inamazement. 

"He is actually animated! I always said that it would take a convulsionof nature to rouse him from his deadly propriety, but upon my word helooks excited. What can have happened?"

The laws of propriety do not always permit us to ask the questionsnearest our hearts, however, and Miss Carr was obliged to contentherself with commonplaces. 

"It is a beautiful day. I suppose Madge got home safely last night?She isn't too tired after the picnic, I hope!"

"A little fatigued, I believe, but no doubt she will have recoveredbefore evening. She is apt to get excited on these occasions and toexert herself unduly. "

"Nobody can say the same of you, more's the pity, " was Miss Carr'smental comment. "Madge rows very well, and the exercise will do her noharm, " she said shortly, and relapsed into determined silence. "Isuppose he has something to say, some message for Lettice most likely;better let him say it and take himself off as soon as possible, " was herhospitable reflection; but Mr Newcome sat twirling his hat and studyingthe pattern of the carpet in embarrassed silence. 

Three times over did he clear his throat and open his lips to speak, before he got the length of words. 

"Miss Carr, I--er, I feel that I am--er--I am deeply sensible of my ownunworthiness, and can only rely on your generosity, and assure you of mydeep and sincere--"

"What in the name of all that is mysterious is the man driving at?"asked Miss Carr of herself; but she sat bolt upright in her seat, with aflush on her cheeks and a pang of vague, indefinite fear at her heart. 

"My dear Mr Newcome, speak plainly, if you please! I cannot followyour meaning. In what respect are you a claimant for my generosity?"

"In respect of what is the most important question of my life, " repliedMr Newcome, recovering his self-possession at last, and looking herfull in the face, in what she was obliged to confess was a very manlyfashion--"In respect to my love for your ward, Miss Bertrand, and mydesire to have your consent to our engagement, to ratify her ownpromise. "

"Her own promise! Your engagement! Lettice? Do you mean to tell methat you have proposed to Lettice and that she has accepted you?"

"I am happy to say that is my meaning. I had intended to consult you inthe first instance, but yesterday, on the river, we were together, andI--I--"

He stopped short with a smile of tender recollection, and Miss Carr satgazing at him in consternation. 

Arthur Newcome had proposed to Lettice, and Lettice had accepted him. The thing was incomprehensible! The girl had showed not the slightestsigns of preference, had seemed as gay and heart-whole as a child. Onlya fortnight before she had convulsed Miss Carr with laughter by puttingon Mr Rayner's top-coat, and paying an afternoon call, _a la_ ArthurNewcome, when all that young gentleman's ponderous proprieties had beenmimicked with merciless fidelity. And she had actually promised tomarry him!

"I--excuse me--but are you quite sure that you understood Letticearight? Are you sure you are not mistaken?"

Mr Newcome smiled with happy certainty. 

"Quite sure, Miss Carr. I can understand your surprise, for I find itdifficult to believe in my own good fortune. Lettice is the sweetest, most beautiful, and most charming girl in the world. I am not worthy ofher notice, but there is nothing that I would not do to ensure herhappiness. She is all the world to me. I have loved her from the daywe first meet. "

He was in earnest--horribly in earnest! His voice quivered withemotion, his eyes were shining, and his face, which was usuallyimmovable, was radiant with happiness. Miss Carr looked at him, and herheart fell. If the mere thought of Lettice could alter the man in thismanner, she could imagine the transformation which must have passed overhim as he spoke to the girl herself, among the trees and flowers on theriver-bank; and, alas for Lettice! she could imagine also how easilygratified vanity might have been mistaken for reciprocal love. It hadbeen late when they returned from the water party the night before, andLettice had hurried off to bed. She had been a trifle more lingeringthan usual in her good-night embrace, but Lettice was alwaysdemonstrative in her ways, so that the fact had attracted no attention, and the morning had been so full of engagements that there had been notime for private conferences. 

Miss Carr was speechless with grief, disappointment, and dismay. Heranxious training for the last three years, her motherly oversight, herhopes and prayers for the welfare of her beloved child, had they allended in this, that Lettice had been too selfish to discourageadmiration which she could not return?--too weak to say no to the firstman who approached with flattering words? Poor, foolish child! Whatmisery she had prepared for herself and everyone belonging to her!--forof course it was all a mistake, her heart was not really touched; theengagement could not be allowed. With a sigh of relief Miss Carrreflected that the onus of responsibility was lifted off her shouldersby the fact of Mr Bertrand's arrival in town that very afternoon, andalso that Lettice's engagements for the day would prevent a meetinguntil she had been able to consult with her father. She drew a longsigh, and her voice sounded both sad and tired as she replied--

"Ah, well! I am only Lettice's guardian in name, Mr Newcome; I have noauthority to refuse or to sanction her engagement. I have had atelegram to say that Mr Bertrand is coming to town on business to-day, so you will be able to see him to-morrow and hear what he has to say. Lettice is very young--too young, in my opinion, to be able to know herown mind. I wish there had been no such questions to disturb her forthe next two or three years. I don't know what Mr Bertrand willthink. "

"I am in a good position. I can provide a name that will not beunworthy of her. You know me and my family. We have been friends foryears. She would have the warmest welcome--"

"Yes, yes, I am sure of that. I will tell Mr Bertrand all you say, MrNewcome, and if you call to-morrow morning you will find him at home. In the afternoon he will probably be engaged. I can say nothing, and--Excuse me! I am not so young as I was, and I feel a good deal upset. .. "

Arthur Newcome rose at once, and held out his hand in farewell. 

"Pray pardon me. I can understand your sentiments. It must be a shockto think of losing Lettice in any case, and I am aware that I am notwhat is called a good match. Such a beautiful girl--her father'sdaughter, your ward--might marry into any circle. I sympathise withyour disappointment; but, believe me, Lettice should never have anyreason to regret her choice. I would devote my life to securing herhappiness. I will call to-morrow morning, then, with your permission. Eleven o'clock? Thank you! Pray pardon any distress I may have causedyou, and think of me as indulgently as you can. "

He left the room, and Miss Carr raised both hands to her head with agesture of despair. 

"He is all that he should be--humble, devoted, deferential--but oh, Lettice! my poor, dear child, what a mistake you have made! You wouldeat your heart out in a year's time, married to a man whom you do notlove; and you don't love Arthur Newcome, I know you don't--it is allvanity, and weakness, and imagination. Poor Austin, what a welcome forhim! A nice pill for me to have such a piece of news to tell--I, whowas going to do such wonders for the child! Well, well! this comes ofmixing oneself up in other people's affairs. She could have come to noworse fate than this if I had left her to vegetate in Clearwater. "

There was no more rest for Miss Carr that afternoon. The magazine layneglected on the table, the cushions fell to the ground and layunnoticed as she fidgeted about, now rising and pacing angrily to andfro, now throwing herself on a seat in weary despair. She alternatelylonged for and dreaded Mr Bertrand's arrival, and it needed all herself-control to keep up a semblance of cheerfulness while he drank histea and refreshed himself after the long journey. It was not easy, however, to deceive such an intimate friend. Mr Bertrand studied herface with critical eyes, and said kindly--

"You are not up to the mark, Helen; you look tired and worried! Thatyoungster of mine has not been misbehaving herself, I hope? What's thetrouble?"

"Oh, Austin, the deluge! The most awful complication. I feel inclinedto whip her! Would you believe it, that wooden Arthur Newcome calledupon me this very afternoon, not two hours ago, to ask my consent to hisengagement to Lettice!"

"Arthur Newcome? Oh, I know--the solemn person in the frock coat! Whatpreposterous nonsense! Lettice is a baby! We must not let the youngpeople at home hear of this, or they will tease the poor girl to death. Young Newcome is a favourite butt, and they often mimic him for mybenefit. Well, I hope you let the poor fellow down gently, and saved mea disagreeable task. "

"But--but, my dear Austin, you don't understand. He cannot be dismissedin that easy fashion, for he says--it is inconceivable--I don't knowwhat to make of it--but he tells me that he has spoken to Letticeherself, and that she has accepted him!"

"What?" Mr Bertrand put down his cup and turned to confront Miss Carrwith a face from which every trace of laughter had disappeared. "Accepted him? Lettice? This is serious indeed. Had you eversuspected--or noticed any sign of an attachment growing up betweenthem?"

Miss Carr wrung her hands in distress. 

"My dear Austin, how can you ask such a question? As if I would nothave consulted with you at once if that had been the case. You knowwhat Arthur Newcome is--the acme of all that is sober and stolid. Ihave never seen a sign of emotion of any kind on his face until thisafternoon. He has seen a good deal of Lettice, for she and Madge aregreat friends, but I never thought of anything more--never for onemoment! And as for Lettice herself, I am confident that the child neverthought of him in that light, and that she is as heart-whole as I ammyself. "

"Then why--why--?"

"Oh, don't ask me! I am too miserable and disappointed to speak. Ithought I had guarded against this sort of thing; but you know whatLettice is. He is very much in love, and no doubt she was pleased andflattered. "

Mr Bertrand thrust his hands into his pockets and paced up and down theroom. His face looked drawn and anxious, but after five minutes hadpassed he drew a long breath and made a determined effort atcheerfulness. 

"Well, it's a bad business, but it has to be faced. I am humiliated anddisappointed that Lettice could have behaved so foolishly; but you mustnot blame yourself, my dear old friend. No one could have done more forthe child for the last three years, and I am glad I am here to help youthrough this difficulty. The young fellow will have to be told thatthere has been a mistake. I am sorry for him, but it is better now thanlater on. When did you say you expected Lettice?"

"She may be here at any moment. She was to leave her friends at sixo'clock. I thought I heard the door open just now. Perhaps she hasarrived. "

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. 

LETTICE IS OBSTINATE. 

Miss Carr's surmise proved correct, for even as she spoke the dooropened and Lettice appeared on the threshold. No longer the Lettice ofshort skirts and flowing locks, but an elegant young lady who sweptforward with a rustle of silken skirts, and held up the sweetest pinkand white face in the world to receive her father's kiss of greeting. "Lovely Lettice, " indeed, lovelier than ever in the first bloom ofwomanhood. As her father held her from him at arm's length, the slimfigure was almost as tall as his own, and the golden head dropped beforethe grave, scrutinising glance. Lettice knew that her lover had calledduring her absence, and Miss Carr's silence, her father's unusualsolemnity, added to her natural nervousness. The grey eyes roved fromone face to another with a scared, helpless look which they were quickto understand. 

"Yes, " said Mr Bertrand, "we know all about it by this time, Lettice. Mr Newcome has interviewed Miss Carr. She was intensely surprised; Ialso; but she has had more opportunity of seeing you together, and shetells me that you have shown no special signs of interest in this youngfellow. Tell me, my dear--speak frankly, we are only thinking of yourhappiness--have you allowed yourself to be persuaded against your ownjudgment? It is a pity if that is the case, but it can be remedied. There is no engagement as yet, and I can easily explain to Mr Newcomethat you have made a mistake. "

Lettice had seated herself opposite her father and busied herselfpulling off her long suede gloves. She avoided her father's glance, butthe answer came in a little, breathless gasp--"Oh, no, no! I don'twant--"

"No--you say _no_? Lettice, this is a serious matter. Do you mean totell me that you love Arthur Newcome, and wish to marry him? Thinkwell, my dear. You know what it means--that you are content to spendyour life with this man, to give up everything for him, to say good-byeto friends and relations--"

"Father, Miss Carr is here; you are all coming up for the winter; helives here. I should not have to leave you!"

"You can't count on that, Lettice. Mr Newcome's business arrangementsmight make it necessary for him to leave London at any time, and itwould be your duty to follow. Do you care for him enough to make such asacrifice? If you love him you will not hesitate; but _do_ you lovehim? That is what I want to hear! Come, Lettice, speak; I am waitingfor your answer. "

"I--I--father, I do like him! I promised I would. I think he is verykind!"

The two elders exchanged glances of baffled helplessness. There wassilence for a few minutes, then Mr Bertrand seated himself by Lettice'sside and took her hand in his. 

"My dear little girl, let us understand each other. Of course he is`kind'; of course you `like him, ' but that is not enough; you must dosomething more than `like' the man who is to be your husband. Do youcare for him more than for me and Miss Carr, and your sisters andbrothers all together? If he were on one side of the scale and we onthe other, which would you choose? That is the way to face thequestion. You must not be satisfied with less. My dear, you are veryyoung yet; I think you had better let me tell Mr Newcome that he is notto mention this matter again for the next two years, until you aretwenty-one. By that time you will know your own mind, and, if you stillwished it, I should have no more to say. You would be willing to leaveit in that way, wouldn't you, dear?"

But Lettice did not look at all willing. She drew her hand away fromher father's grasp, and turned her shoulder on him with a pettishgesture which was strangely unlike her usual sweet demeanour. 

"Why should I wait? There is nothing to wait for! I thought you wouldbe pleased. It's very unkind to spoil it all! Other girls are happywhen they are engaged, and people are kind to them. You might let me behappy too--"

Mr Bertrand sat bolt upright in his seat, staring at his daughter withincredulous eyes. Could it be possible that the girl was in earnestafter all, that she was really attached to this most heavy andunattractive young man? He looked appealingly at his old friend, who, so far, had taken no part in the conversation, and she took pity on hisembarrassment and came to the rescue. Two years' constant companionshipwith Lettice had shown her that there was a large amount of obstinacyhidden beneath the sweetness of manner, and for the girl's sake, as wellas her father's, she thought the present interview had better come to anend. 

"Suppose you go to the library and have a smoke, Austin, while Letticeand I have a quiet talk together, " she said soothingly, and Mr Bertrandshrugged his shoulders with a gesture of nervous irritation, and strodefrom the room. 

No sooner had the door closed behind him than Lettice produced a littlelace-edged handkerchief from her pocket, and began to sob and cry. 

"Father is cruel; why won't he believe me? Why may I not get engagedlike other girls? I am nineteen. I was so happy--and now I'mmiserable!"

"Come here, Lettice, and for pity's sake, child, stop crying, and behavelike a reasonable creature. There are one or two questions I want toask you. How long have you known that Arthur Newcome was in love withyou?"

"I don't know. At least, he was always nice. That summer atWindermere, he always walked with me, and brought me flowers, and--"

"That was three years ago--the summer you came to me. So long as that!But, Lettice, whatever your feelings may be now, you have certainly notcared for him up to a very recent period. I don't need to remind you ofthe manner in which you have spoken about him. When you saw that lit;was growing attached to you, did you try to show that you did notappreciate his attentions?"

Lettice bent her head and grew crimson over cheek and neck. 

"I was obliged to be polite! He was always with Madge, and I didlike--"

Miss Carr shut her lips in tight displeasure. 

"Yes, my dear, you `liked' his attentions, and you were too vain andselfish to put an end to them, though you did not care for the manhimself. Oh, Lettice, this is what I have feared! this is what I havetried to prevent! My poor, foolish child, what trouble you have broughtupon us all! Arthur Newcome will have every reason to consider himselfbadly treated; his people will take his part; you will have alienatedyour best friends. "

"I am not going to treat him badly. You are very unkind. _He_ wouldnot be unkind to me. I wish he were here, I do! He would not let yoube so cruel. " And Lettice went off into a paroxysm of sobbing, whileMiss Carr realised sorrowfully that she had made a false move. 

"My dear child, you know very well I don't mean to be cruel. I am tooanxious for your happiness. Lettice, Mr Newcome is very much in lovejust now, and is excited and moved out of himself; but though he may notbe less devoted to you, in the course of time he will naturally fallback into his old quiet ways. When you think of a life with him, youmust not imagine him as he was yesterday, but as you have seen him athome any time during the last three years. You have mimicked him to memany times over, my dear. Can you now feel content to spend your lifein his company?"

It was of no use. Lettice would do nothing but sob and cry, reiteratethat everyone was unkind, that she was miserable, that it was a shamethat she could not be happy like other girls, until at last Miss Carr, in despair, sent her upstairs to her bedroom, and went to rejoin MrBertrand. 

"Well?" he said, stopping short in his pacings up and down, andregarding her with an anxious gaze, "what luck?"

Miss Carr gave a gesture of impatience. 

"Oh, none--none at all! She will do nothing but cry and make a martyrof herself. She will not acknowledge that she has made a mistake, andyet I know, I feel, it is not the right thing! You must speak to ArthurNewcome yourself to-morrow, and try to make him consent to a few months'delay. "

"I was thinking of that myself. I'll try for six, but he won't consent. I can't say I should myself under the circumstances. When Lettice hasaccepted him and cries her eyes out at the idea of giving him up, youcan hardly expect the young fellow to be patient. Heigho, thesedaughters! A nice time of it I have before me, with four of them on myhands. "

Punctually at eleven o'clock next morning Arthur Newcome arrived for hisinterview with Mr Bertrand. They were shut up together for over half-an-hour, then Mr Bertrand burst open the door of the room where MissCarr and his daughter were seated, and addressed the latter in tones ofirritation such as she had seldom heard from those kindly lips. 

"Lettice, go to the drawing-room and see Mr Newcome. He will tell youwhat we have arranged. In ten minutes from now, come back to me here. "

Lettice dropped her work and glided out of the room, white and noiselessas a ghost, and her father clapped his hands together in impatience. 

"Bah, what a man! He drives me distracted! To think that fate shouldhave been so perverse as to saddle me with a fellow like that for a son-in-law! Oh dear, yes, perfectly polite, and all that was proper andwell-conducted, but I have no chance against him--none! I lose my headand get excited, and he is so abominably cool. He will wait a month asa concession to my wishes before making the engagement public, andduring that time she is to be left alone. He is neither to come here, nor to write to her, and we will say nothing about it at home, so thatthere may be as little unpleasantness as possible if it ends as we hopeit may. I had really no decent objection to make when he questioned meon the subject. He is in a good position; his people are all we couldwish; his character irreproachable. He wishes to be married in theautumn, and if he persists I shall have to give in; I know I shall--youmight as well try to fight with a stone wall. "

"Autumn!" echoed Miss Carr in dismay. "Autumn! Oh, my poor Lettice! mypoor, dear child! But we have a month, you say; a great deal may bedone in a month. Ah, well, Austin, we must just hope for the best, anddo everything in our power to prevent an engagement. "

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. 

LETTICE DECIDES. 

For the next month, Lettice saw nothing of Arthur Newcome. He hadpacked up his traps and gone to spend the weeks of probation in Norway, where he would be out of the way of temptation, and have his minddistracted by novel surroundings. 

No such change, however, fell to Lettice's share. Mr Bertrand wouldnot allow the ordinary summer visit to Clearwater to be anticipated. Hehad forbidden Lettice to mention the proposed engagement to her sistersas he was sanguine that a month's reflection would be more than enoughto convince the girl of her mistake, when the less that was known aboutthe matter the better for all concerned. As Arthur Newcome was out oftown he could see no objection to Lettice remaining where she was, andMiss Carr agreed the more readily in this decision as she had made anumber of engagements which it would have been difficult to forego. Both were thinking only of the girl's welfare; but alas! the best-meaning people make mistakes at times, and this arrangement was the mostunfortunate which could have been made, considering the object whichthey had in view. Lettice had nothing to distract her mind from thepast, no novelty of any kind to keep her from dwelling on the gratifyingremembrance of Arthur Newcome's devotion. On the contrary, her life wasless bright than usual, for the Newcomes were naturally displeased atMr Bertrand's objections to the engagement, and would not hold anycommunication with Miss Carr's household until the matter was decided. Thus Lettice was deprived of the society of her best friend, and wasforbidden the house in which she had been accustomed to spend herhappiest hours. 

Miss Carr did her best to provide interest and amusement, but there wasa constraint between the old lady and her ward, which was as new as itwas painful. Lettice was conscious that she was in disgrace. When herfather fumed and fidgeted about the room, she guessed, without beingtold, that he was thinking of the proposed engagement; when Miss Carrsighed, and screwed up her face until it looked nothing but a network ofwrinkles, she knew that the old lady was blaming herself for negligencein the past, and pondering what could still be done to avert themarriage, and a most unpleasant knowledge it was. Lettice had lived allher life in the sunshine of approval. As a little child everyone hadpetted and praised her because of her charming looks; as a schoolgirlshe had reigned supreme among her fellows; her short experience ofsociety had shown that she had no less power in the new sphere. Coldlooks and reproachful glances were a new experience, and instead ofmoving her to repentance, they had the effect of making her thinkconstantly of her lover, and long more and more for his return. MissCarr thought she was vain and selfish--Arthur said she was the best andsweetest of women; her father called her a "foolish little girl"--Arthurcalled her his queen and goddess; Miss Carr sat silent the whole of theafternoon, sighing as if her heart was broken--Arthur had walked acrossLondon many times over for the chance of a passing word. Other peoplewere disappointed in her, but Arthur declared that she was perfect, without possibility of improvement! Lettice would take refuge in thesolitude of her bedroom, cry to herself, and look out of the windowwondering in which direction Norway lay, what Arthur was doing, and ifhe were half as miserable at being separated from her as she was atbeing left alone in London. Then she would recall the afternoon on theriver, when he had asked her to be his wife. How terribly in earnest hehad seemed. She had tried to say no, because, though she enjoyed hisattentions, she had never really intended to marry him; but the sight ofhis face had frightened her, and when he had said in that awful voice, "Lettice, do you mean it? Is there no hope? Have you been making afool of me for all these years?"--she had been ready to promise anythingand everything in the world if he would only smile again. And he hadbeen very "kind. " It was "nice" being engaged. She had been quitehappy until her father came, and was so cross. 

If Miss Carr could have been her own cheery, loving self, and talked tothe girl in a natural, kindly manner, still better, if she could havehad half-an-hour's conversation with outspoken Norah, all might havebeen well; but Miss Carr was under the mistaken impression that it washer duty to show her disapproval by every act and look, and the resultwas disastrous. Every morning Lettice awoke with the doleful question, "How am I to get through the day?" Every night she went to bed huggingthe thought that another milestone had been passed, and that theprobation was nearer to its end. By the end of the month her friends'efforts had so nearly succeeded in making her honestly in love withArthur Newcome, that they marked the girl's bright eyes and happysmiles, and told each other sadly that it was no use standing outfurther. 

Arthur Newcome wrote to Mr Bertrand announcing his arrival in London, and asking permission to call and receive his answer from Lettice'slips, and there was nothing to do but to consent forthwith. An hour wasappointed for the next afternoon, and Lettice spent an unconscionabletime in her bedroom preparing for the great occasion, and trying todecide in which of her dainty garments Arthur would like her best. Herfather had taken himself into the City after a conversation in which hehad come perilously near losing his temper, and when Lettice floatedinto the drawing-room, all pale green muslin and valenciennes insertion, looking more like an exquisite wood nymph than a creature of commonflesh and blood, there sat Miss Carr crying her eyes out on a corner ofthe ottoman. 

"Oh, Lettice, Lettice! is it too late? Won't you listen to reason evenat the eleventh hour? It is the greatest folly to enter into thisengagement. Never were two people more unsuited to each other! Youwill regret it all your life. My poor, dear child, you are wreckingyour own happiness. .. "

It was too bad! For almost the first time in her life Lettice felt athrob of actual anger. She had been docile and obedient, had consentedto be separated from Arthur for a whole month, and done all in her powerto satisfy these exacting people, and even now they would not believeher--they would not allow her to be happy. She stood staring at MissCarr in silence, until the servant threw open the door and announced herlover's arrival. 

"Mr Newcome, ma'am. I have shown him into the morning-room as youdesired. "

Lettice turned without a word and ran swiftly downstairs to the roomwhere Arthur Newcome was waiting for her in painful anxiety. For threelong years he had tried to win the girl's heart, and had failed to gaina sign of affection. Her acceptance had been won after a struggle, andhe was racked with suspense as to the effect of this month's separation. When the door opened, Lettice saw him standing opposite, his tallfigure drawn up to its full height, his handsome face pale with theintensity of his emotion. 

She gave a quick glance, then rushed forward and nestled into his armswith a little cry of joy. 

"Oh, Arthur, Arthur! you have come back! Take care of me! Take care ofme! I have been so miserable!"

CHAPTER NINETEEN. 

THE SCATTERED NEST. 

Two days later a happy party were disporting themselves on the lawn atCloudsdale. Rex and Edna Freer had driven over to spend the afternoonwith their friends, and just as Mary placed the tea-tray on the wickertable, the postman came marching up the drive, and delivered the onlything which was necessary to complete the happiness of the party--aletter from Lettice!

"She has written so little lately, and her letters have been so unlikeherself, that I have been quite uneasy, " said Hilary, turning theenvelope round and round, and feeling its proportions with undisguisedpleasure. "I'll give you each a cup of tea, and then I'll read it out, while you listen in comfort. "

The three years which had passed since we saw her last had dealt verykindly with Hilary. The consequential air had given place to anexpression of quiet serenity which was by no means unbecoming. Hercomplexion was pink and white as of yore, and as she presided over thetea-table, her blue cambric dress fitting closely to the line of herneat little figure, her tiny feet crossed before her, and her shiningbrown hair arranged in its usual fastidious order, it would have beendifficult to find a more favourable specimen of a young English girl. Norah, seated opposite on the long hammock chair, was still very girlishin appearance, despite the dignity of eighteen years. She was thin andlanky, and her cheeks had none of Hilary's delicate bloom, but the heavyeyebrows and expressive lips lent a charm to a face which was never thesame in expression for two minutes together, and though there could beno question as to which was the prettier of the two, it was safe topredict that few people who looked at Norah would be tempted to returnto the study of Hilary's more commonplace features. 

Edna was narrow-chested and delicate in appearance, but Rex haddeveloped into an imposing looking personage; broad-shouldered, muscular, and with such a moustache as was unequalled by any youngfellow of his age in the country-side. He wore a white flannel suit, and though there were several unoccupied seats at hand, chose to loll onthe grass, his long legs stretched out before him, his blue cap pushedwell back on his curly head. Nestled beside him sat Geraldine, a littletaller, a little older in appearance, but with the same grave, earnestlittle face which had characterised her three years before. Perhaps themember of the family who was the most changed, was the tall, youngfellow who sat beside Norah. Raymond had only lately returned from atwo years' sojourn in Germany, where he had acquired an extra fourinches, a pair of eye-glasses, and such "a man of the world" manner, that it had been a shock to his sisters to find that his teasingpropensities were as vigorous as when he had been a schoolboy. FaithfulBob hovered near, ready to obey his leader's commands, and take part inany mischief which might be at hand, but for the moment all otherinterests gave way to the hearing of the letter from London. 

Hilary handed the last cup to its owner, and opening the envelope, ranher eye rapidly down the sheet. The next moment a loud "Oh!" ofamazement startled the hearers into eager curiosity. 

"What is the matter?"

"Oh--oh! It can't be true--it can't! Lettice is engaged to bemarried!"

"_Engaged_!" A moment's breathless silence was succeeded by a verybabel of questioning. 

"Engaged?" "Who to?" "When?" "Where. " "What does she say?" "Oh, read it aloud. Let us hear every word she says!"

But Hilary folded up the sheet with an air of determination. "Not yet. I'll read it by-and-by; but first you must guess. I'll give you fiftyguesses who it is. .. "

"The painter fellow who did her portrait!"

"That what-do-you-call-him man--the Polish nobleman who sent her theverses!"

"The curate!"

"Sir Neville Bruce!"

"One of the men she met at Brighton!"

"Wrong! wrong! wrong! Guess again. Nearer home this time. Someone youknow!"

"Not Mr Rayner?"

"Oh, dear me, no! I should think not. He and Lettice never get on welltogether. Someone else. "

"Someone we know! But we know so few of her friends. Only Mr Neville, and the Bewleys, and--_oh_! No, it can't--it can't possibly be--"

"What? what? Who--who? Never mind if you are wrong. Say whom you arethinking of. "

"It--_can't_ be Arthur Newcome!"

"Arthur Newcome it is, my dear!" said Hilary tragically; whereuponRaymond instantly dropped his teacup on the grass, and fell heavily onNorah's shoulders. 

"Smelling salts! Brandy! I am going to faint! Oh, my heart!"

But, for once, no one paid any attention. Even Norah sat motionless, forgetting to push him away, forgetting everything but the appallingnature of the news which she had just heard. 

"Lettice--is--engaged--to--Arthur Newcome?"

"Lettice--is--engaged--to--Arthur Newcome!"

"But--but--we knew that he admired her in his solemn way, but she neverseemed to like him! She used to make fun of him, and imitate the way hetalked!"

Raymond sat up and passed in his cup for a fresh supply of tea. Whatwas the good of fainting if nobody took any notice! "I say, " he criedenergetically, "fancy Arthur Newcome proposing! I'd give anything if Icould have overheard him. . .. `Miss Bertrand!--Lettice!--may I call youLettice? Deign, oh deign--'"

"Oh, be quiet, Raymond, and let us hear the letter, " pleaded Norah, whowas on the verge of tears with agitation and distress. "I can't believeit until I hear her own words. Read it, Hilary, from the verybeginning. "

Hilary opened out the dainty, scented sheet, and read aloud, with animpressiveness worthy of the occasion:--

"My dearest old Hilary, and Norah, and every one of you, --I have a greatpiece of news to tell. I am engaged to Arthur Newcome, and he wants tobe married some time this autumn. He proposed to me a month ago, on theday of our water party, but father and Miss Carr wished us to wait amonth before it was settled, so that I should have time to make up mymind. They think I am so young, but if we wait until September I shallbe twenty, and many girls are married at that age. I have a beautifulring--a big pearl in the centre, and diamonds all round, and Arthur hasgiven me a brooch as well, three dear little diamond swallows--it looksso sweet at my neck! Madge is very pleased, of course, and Mr and MrsNewcome are very kind. Won't it be nice when I have a house of my own, and you can come and stay with me? I shall have six bridesmaids--youthree, Madge, Edna, and either Mabel Bruce or Monica Bewley. You mustthink of pretty dresses. I like a white wedding, but it doesn't showthe bride off so well--that's the great objection. We shall have agreat deal to talk about when I come home next month, and I am longingfor the time to come. It is so hot and close in town, and Cloudsdalemust be looking lovely just now. Father expects to leave on Tuesday. He does not seem very pleased about my engagement. I suppose parentsnever are! Good-bye, dear, darling girls. I wish I could be with younow. 

"Your own loving Lettice. 

"PS--How surprised you will be. Tell me every word you said when youread this letter!"

"Humph I slightly awkward if we took her at her word!" It was Rex whospoke, and there was the same expression of ill-concealed scorn in hisvoice which had been noticeable on his face since the announcement ofthe news. "Charming epistle, I must say. So much about `dear Arthur'and her own happiness. One must excuse a little gush under thecircumstances, and Lettice was always demonstrative!"

Hilary looked at him, puckering her forehead in anxious fashion. "Youmean that sarcastically! She says nothing about being happy. I noticedthat myself. There is something strange about the whole thing. I amquite sure she did not care for him when I was there in spring. Whatcan have possessed her to accept him?"

"Because he asked her nicely, and puts lots of treacle on the bread, "said Raymond, laughing. "You could always make Lettice do what youwanted if you flattered her enough. She would accept any fellow whowent down on his knees and swore he worshipped her. Oh, I say I fancyhaving Arthur Newcome as a brother-in-law! We used to call him `Child'sGuide to Knowledge' when he was at Windermere last summer, because hewould insist upon improving every occasion. We played some fine prankson him, didn't we, Norah? We'll give him a lively time of it again ifhe comes to visit us, as I suppose he will, under the circumstances. "

"We can't, " said Norah dolefully. "He is engaged to Lettice, and shewould be vexed. I don't feel as if I could ever play pranks again. Iwas so looking forward to having Lettice with us again when we went upto London, but now it will never be the same again. Even if she has ahouse of her own, Arthur Newcome will be there, and I could never, neverget to like him as a brother. " She put her cup on the table and walkedoff by herself into the shrubbery which encircled the lawn, and thoughthe others looked after her in sympathetic silence, they did not attemptto follow. As Lettice's special friend and companion, the news was evenmore of a shock to her than to the rest, and it was understood that shemight prefer to be alone. 

Ten minutes later, however, when tea was finished, Rex rose lazily fromthe ground, stretched his long arms, and strode off in the direction ofthe shrubbery. Half-way down the path he met Norah marching along insolitary state, white about the cheeks, suspiciously red and swollenabout the eyes. 

Rex clasped his hands behind his back, and blocked the narrow way. 

"Well, what are you doing here?"

"Crying!" Norah flashed a defiant glance at him, then turned aside todab her face with her handkerchief and gulp in uncontrollable misery, whereupon Rex looked distressed, uncomfortable, and irritated all at thesame moment. 

"Then please stop at once. What's the use of crying? You can't help itnow, better make the best of it, and be as jolly as you can. Norah--look here, I'm sorry to bother you any more to-day, but I came overspecially to have a chat. I have not had a chance of speaking to youquietly until now, and my father is driving round for us at six o'clock. Before he comes I wanted to tell you--"

Norah put her handkerchief in her pocket, and faced him with steadyeyes. Her heart gave a leap of understanding, and a cold certainty ofmisery settled upon her which seemed to dry up the fountain of tears, and leave her still and rigid. 

"Yes?"

"We had a big talk last night, Norah. The three years are up, you know, and I have fulfilled my share of the bargain. I have known all the timewhat my decision would be, and six months ago I wrote to all the men Iknow abroad, asking them to look out for the sort of berth I wanted. OnTuesday I had a letter from a man in India offering me a good opening. You will be surprised to hear why he gives me the chance instead of allthe other fellows who are anxious to get it. It is because I am a goodmusician! I don't mean in your sense of the word, of course, but I canrattle away on the piano and play any air I happen to hear, and he saysthe fellows up-country set no end of store by that sort of thing. Ifother qualifications are equal, the post is given to the man who canplay, and make things cheerful in the evening. Rather a sarcasm, isn'tit, after all the money that has been spent on my education, that such atrifle should decide my destiny? Well--I showed the letter to myfather, and he was terribly cut up about the whole thing. I had saidnothing about my plans for some time back, for it seemed no use to upsethim before it was necessary, but he has been hoping that I was `settlingdown. ' Norah, I can't do it! I hate leaving home, and shall bewretched when the time comes; but I have roving blood in my veins, andcannot settle down to a jog-trot, professional life in a small Englishtown. If I go out to this place I shall lie low until I have apractical knowledge of the land and its possibilities, and then I'll buyan estate, and work it in my own way. I have the money my uncle leftme, and can make my way without asking father for a penny. He is comingover this afternoon, and I am sure he means to talk to you. We didn'tsay anything to the mater and Edna, but he knows that you and I arefriends, and that I will listen to what you say. He means to ask you topersuade me to stay at home. But--you understand how I feel, Norah?"

"Yes, Rex. Don't be afraid! If your father speaks to me I shall advisehim to let you go. You have kept your share of the bargain: it is forhim to keep his, " said Norah steadily. "And it appears that you _want_to go away and leave us. "

"You will live in London now for the greater part of the year. If Iwere at home I should only see you at long intervals. I should notsettle in this neighbourhood. Our life would be quite different. .. "

"Oh yes, quite different! Everything will be different now. You willhave gone, and--Lettice too! Rex! don't be angry if I ask yousomething. I will try to persuade your father to give you your way, but--tell me this before you go!-- Has the news about Lettice hadanything to do with your decision?"

Rex stopped short, and stared at her in amazement. 

"This news about Lettice! Norah, what do you mean?"

"About her engagement! I always thought that you liked her yourself. You remember what you used to call her--`Lovely Lettice'?"

"Well, and so she was lovely! Anybody might have seen that. Of courseI liked her, but if you mean that I am jealous of Arthur Newcome--no, thank you! I should not care for a wife who would listen to the firstman who came along, as Lettice has done. She was a jolly little girl, and I took a fancy to her at first sight, but--do you remember ouradventure in the old passage, Norah? Do you think Lettice would havestuck to me, and been as brave, and plucky, and loyal as you were in themidst of your fright? I never forgot that day. It was last night thatI spoke to my father, before I heard a word about Lettice, or hermatrimonial intentions. "

"So it was; I forgot that!" Norah smiled with recovered cheerfulness, for Rex's words had lifted a load from her mind, and the future seemedseveral shades less gloomy than it had done a few minutes before. 

"And if you went, how soon would you start?"

"As soon as possible. I have wasted too much time already. The soonerI go, the sooner I can make my way and come home again to see you all. Three or five years, I suppose. You will be quite an old woman, Norah. "

"Yes; twenty-three! Lettice will be married; Hilary too, very likely. The Mouse will be as big as I was when you first knew us, and Raymond adoctor in practice. It will all be different!" Norah's voice was verylow as she spoke the last words, and her face twitched as if she wereabout to break down once more. 

Rex looked at her with the same odd mingling of tenderness and vexationwhich he had shown a few minutes earlier. 

"Of course it will be different! We are not children any longer, andcan't expect to go on as we have been doing. What was the Vicar's textthe other Sunday?--`As an eagle stirreth up her nest'--I liked thatsermon! It has been very happy and jolly, but it is time we stirred outof the old nest, and began to work for ourselves, and prepare for nestsof our own. I am past twenty-one, my father need not be afraid to trustme, for I can look after myself, and though the life will be verydifferent out there, I'll try to do nothing that I should be ashamed totell you, Norah, when I come home!"

Norah turned round with a flush, and an eager, outstretched hand, butonly to behold Mr Rex marching along on the edge of the veryflowerbeds, with a head in the air, and a "touch me if you dare"expression, at the sight of which his companion gave a dismal littlesmile. 

That was Rex all over! In spite of his masterful ways, he was intenselyshy where his deeper feelings were concerned. To say an affectionateword seemed to require as painful an effort as to drag out a tooth, andif by chance he was betrayed into such an indiscretion, he protectedhimself against its consequences by putting on his most "prickly" airs, and freezing the astonished hearer by his frigid tones. Norahunderstood that having shown her a glimpse of his heart in the lastremark, he was now overcome with remorse, and that she must be wise andtake no notice of the indiscretion. 

CHAPTER TWENTY. 

MORE CHANGES. 

For the next ten minutes conversation was of the most desultorycharacter; then the sound of wheels was heard in the distance, and Rexbecame eager and excited once more. 

"There's my father! Go and meet him, Norah. Get hold of him beforeHilary comes with her everlasting chatter. He wants to speak to you. Bring him along here, and I'll go into the house!"

Norah sped off obediently, and met the Squire as the cart turned in atthe gate. He pulled up at once, handed the reins to the man, and jumpeddown to join her. His ruddy face looked drawn and anxious, and thefirst glance at the girl showed that she was, like himself, in a woe-begone state of mind. 

"Oh, you know all about it! That boy of mine has been talking to you, Ican see!" he said, as they shook hands, and turned along the windingpath. "Well, well, this is a fine ending to all my hopes. The lad's asobstinate as a mule--I am sure I don't know where he got hisdisposition; if he once takes a thing in his head there's no moving him. Now he wants to go and bury himself in the wilds of India! I've talkeduntil I am tired, and I can't make him see what mad folly it is. Afteran expensive college education--"

"Yes, but, Squire, I don't think that's a fair argument! Rex didn'twant to go to college; he went against his own wishes because you wereset on it. He said it would be waste of money. "

"Tut, tut! nonsense! Waste of money, indeed! I don't grudge a fewhundreds spent on my only son's education, I hope. Things would havecome to a pretty pass if that were the case, " cried the Squire, turningoff at a tangent, as usual, the moment he found his position attacked bythe enemy. "I thought the boy would have come to his senses long beforethe three years were over. I have told him--" And he launched off intoa lengthy account of the interview of the night before, repeating hisown arguments and his son's replies, while Norah listened with downcasteyes. "There!" he cried in conclusion, "that is the matter in anutshell, and everyone must see that I am perfectly reasonable andwithin my rights. Now, my dear, you talk to him; he thinks a great dealof your opinion. Just tell him plainly that if he persists in hisfolly, he is ruining his life, and behaving in a very wrong, undutifulmanner to his mother and to me. Talk to him plainly; don't spare yourwords!"

"I can't do that, Squire. I'm sorry, but I don't agree with you. Rexhas given in to your wishes for three whole years, though, from hispoint of view, it was waste of time. He has worked hard and notgrumbled, so that he has kept every word of his promise. Now he asksyou to fulfil yours. I am sure you must feel sad and disappointed, butI don't think you ought to be angry with Rex, or call him undutiful. "

"Eh--eh, what's this? Are you going to side against me? This is apretty state of affairs. I thought I could count upon your help, andthe boy would have listened to what you said. Well, well, I don't knowwhat is coming over the young folk nowadays! Do you mean to say thatyou _approve_ of Rex going abroad?"

"Yes, I do! It is better to be a good planter than a bad lawyer, " saidNorah steadily; and the Squire pursed up his lips in silence. 

The girl's words had appealed to his pet theory, and done more tosilence objections than any amount of arguing. The Squire was alwayslecturing other people on the necessity of doing the humblest work aswell as it was possible for it to be done, and had been known onoccasions to stand still in the middle of a country lane, brandishinghis stick while he treated a gang of stone-breakers to a dissertation onthe dignity of labour. The thought that his son might perform hisduties in an unsatisfactory manner was even more distasteful than theprospect of separation. 

"Well, well, " he sighed irritably, "no one need envy a man for havingchildren! They are nothing but trouble and anxiety from beginning toend. It's better to be without them at all. "

"You don't mean what you say. You know quite well you would not give upyour son and daughter for all the money in the world. You love Edna allthe more because she needs so much care, and you are just as proud ofRex as you can be. Of course he is self-willed and determined, but ifyou could change him into a weak, undecided creature like the vicar'sson, you would be very sorry to do it!"

"You seem to know a great deal about my sentiments, young lady, " saidthe Squire, trying hard to look ferocious. Then his shoulders heaved, and he drew a long, weary sigh. "Well, my last hope has gone if yourange yourself against me. The boy must go and bury himself at the endsof the earth. Goodness knows when he will come back, and I am gettingold. Ten to one I may never see him again!"

"It will be your own fault if you don't. Westmoreland is sweet andbeautiful, but if I had no ties and plenty of money like you, I wouldnever be content to settle here for the rest of my life, while thegreat, wide world lay beyond. If Rex goes to India, why should you notall pack up some year and pay him a visit? You could sail down theMediterranean and see all the lovely places on the way--Gibraltar, andMalta, and Naples, and Venice; stay a month or two in India, and comehome overland through Switzerland and France. Oh, how delightful itwould be! You would have so much to see and to talk about afterwards. Edna would get fat and rosy, and you and Mrs Freer would be quite youngand skittish by the time you got home! If you went to see him betweeneach of his visits home, the time would seem quite short. "

"I daresay! I daresay! A very likely prospect. I am too old to begingadding about the world at my time of life, " said the Squire; but hestraightened his back even as he spoke, and stepped out as if wishing todisprove the truth of his own words. Norah saw his eyes brighten, andthe deep lines down his cheeks relax into a smile, and knew that hersuggestion had met a kindly welcome, "Well, there's no saying! If allthe young people go away and leave us, we shall be bound to make a movein self-defence. You are off to London for the winter. It seems a yearof changes--"

"Oh, it is, it is, and I am so miserable! Lettice--my own, dearLettice--is going to be married, and she will never come back to livewith us any more. I have been looking forward to London, just to bewith her, and now it is further off than ever. It will never come!"

Norah had fought hard for the self-possession which she had shown duringthe whole of the interview; but now her lips trembled, and the tearsrushed into her eyes. The future seemed dreary indeed, with Rex abroad, Lettice appropriated by Arthur Newcome, and Edna at the other end ofEngland. She had hard work not to cry outright, to the great distressof the Squire, who was the kindliest of men, despite his red face andstentorian voice. 

"Ha, humph--humph! Sorry, I'm sure. Very sorry! Come, come, my dear, cheer up! Things may turn out better than we expect. I didn't know youhad a trouble of your own, or I would not have intruded mine. Shall wego up to the house? There, take my arm. What a great, big girl youare, to be sure!"

Norah found time for a whispered conference with Rex before he took hisseat behind his father and Edna in the dog-cart. 

"It's all right! I have spoken to him and he means to give in. Be askind and patient as possible, for he _does_ feel it, poor old man, andhe is very fond and proud of you!"

"Humph!" said Rex shortly. He knitted his brows and looked anxiously atthe girl's face. "You are awfully white! Don't cry any more, Norah, for pity's sake. We are not worth it, either Lettice or I. " Then hewas off, and Raymond turned to his sister with a long, lazy yawn. 

"Well, and so Rex is bound for India! He has just been telling me aboutit. Lucky beggar! When I take my degree I mean to ask father to let metravel for a year or two before settling down to work. "

"Oh, dear, dear!" sighed Norah to herself, "what a stirring up of thepoor old nest! There will be no eagles left if this sort of thing goeson much longer. And we were so happy! Why, oh, why did I ever wish fora change?"

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. 

LETTICE AT HOME. 

Lettice's annual summer visit was postponed this year until the middleof August, for Arthur Newcome had gained his point, as Mr Bertrand hadprophesied, and the wedding was arranged to take place at the end ofSeptember. Mr Bertrand had done his best to gain more time, but it wasdifficult to fight against a man who was so quiet, so composed, and soimmovably determined as Arthur Newcome. He listened to what was saidwith the utmost politeness, and replied to all argument with thestatement that he was twenty-eight, that he was in a good position, andsaw no reason for waiting indefinitely. After this performance had beenenacted four or five times, Mr Bertrand's patience gave way, and hedeclared that he was powerless to stand out any longer, and that perhapsit was a good thing to get the wedding over, since if he had much to dowith Arthur Newcome, he should certainly collapse, and fall into anervous decline. 

"His very presence oppresses me. It is all I can do not to yawn in hisface when he is telling those long-winded yarns. Poor little Lettice!I wonder what sort of conversation he treats her to when they are alone. I thought she looked very tired yesterday at dinner. Get her all thepretty things she wants for this _trousseau_, Helen. I must do what Ican for the poor child, for I fear she has a dull time before her. "

Miss Carr sighed, and shook her head. As time went on she was more andmore distressed about her ward's engagement, for now that his time ofsuspense was over, Arthur Newcome had lost his temporary gleam ofbrightness and had settled down into the old solemn ways which made himso different from other young men of his age. The previous night wasnot the only occasion on which Lettice had seemed weary and dispiritedafter a _tete-a-tete_ with her lover, but she showed plenty of interestin the selection of her _trousseau_ and in the equipment of the handsomehouse which Mr Newcome was preparing for his bride. 

By the middle of August dressmakers and upholsterers had received thenecessary instructions, and could be left to complete their work, whilethe tired little bride-elect went north to recoup her energies. Howglad she was to escape from London only Lettice herself knew; while atCloudsdale, the whole house was turned upside down in excitement at theprospect of her arrival. Lettice, as an engaged young lady, a bride onthe eve of her marriage, had assumed a position of vast importance inher sisters' eyes, and the questions as to how she would look, how shewould bear herself, formed the subject of many lengthy discussions. 

The hour came at last. Lettice was once more among them. She camerushing in, in the old impetuous way, kissing everyone in turns, andexclaiming in delight at being once more at home. There had never beenany unpleasantness connected with Lettice's home-comings. Though shehad lived in the lap of luxury for the last three years, she was utterlyunspoiled by its influence, and so far from being dissatisfied with herown home, seemed to take an affectionate delight in finding it unchangedin every particular. Her sisters followed her from room to room, listening with smiles to her ecstatic exclamations. 

"Oh, how nice it looks--the dear old place! What a sweet, sweet smellof mignonette! Oh, look at the old red table-cloth, and the ink-stainin the corner, where I upset the bottle. Oh, how lovely to see it allagain! And the dear old sofa where we used to camp out all together--Ihave never found such a comfy sofa anywhere else. Tea! How pretty theurn looks! I love that cheerful, hissing sound! And what cream! Younever see cream like that in London. "

She was all smiles and dimples, and though decidedly thinner, the flushupon her cheeks made her look so bright and well that she was a pictureof a radiant young bride. Hilary and Norah watched her with fascinatedeyes as she flitted about the room, or lay back in the chintz-coveredchair. What a vision of elegance she was! The blue serge coat andskirt was exactly like those which the village dressmaker had made fortheir own wear--exactly like, and yet how different! The sailor hat wasof a shape unknown in northern regions; each little detail of her attirewas perfect in its unobtrusive beauty, and with every movement of thehand came the flash of precious stones. If she had been a whit lesslike herself Norah would have been awed by the presence of this elegantyoung lady; but it was the old Lettice who flung her arms round her neckthe moment they were left alone together in their own room; the oldLettice who kissed, and hugged, and caressed with a hundred lovingwords. 

"Oh, Norah, I _have_ wanted you! I longed for you so, but father wouldnot let me write. It was a horrid, horrid time, and I was wretchedlylonely. Dear, darling Norie! I am so glad to be back. "

"And, oh, Lettice, I am so glad to have you! I have a hundred questionsto ask. Let me look at your ring. It is a beauty, far nicer than theordinary row of diamonds. And are you awfully happy? I was very muchsurprised, you know; but if you are happy, it doesn't matter what anyoneelse thinks!"

"N-no!" said Lettice slowly. "Yes, of course I am happy. It hasn'tbeen as nice as I expected, for Miss Carr has behaved so queerly, andfather was not pleased. But--oh yes, I am quite happy. Madge isdelighted about it, and Arthur does everything I like. He is verykind!"

"You funny old Lettice! Kind! of course he is kind!" cried Norahlaughing, and kissing the soft, fair cheek. The flush of excitement hadfaded by this time, and the girl's face looked pale and wan, while theblue shadows beneath her eyes gave a pathetic expression to the sweetface. "Lettice, " cried Norah anxiously, "how ill you look! You wereexcited before, and I didn't notice it, but you are as white as a ghost, and so thin! Aren't you well, dear? Have you a head-ache? Can I doanything: for you?"

"Oh, no, no!" Lettice stretched out her arms over her head with a long, weary sigh. "I shall be quite well now that I am at home, and with you, Norah. I have been tired to death in London lately. You have no ideahow tiring it is to be engaged. I have stood such hours and hours atthe dressmaker's being tried on, and Arthur and I were always going tothe house. The workmen are so stupid; they have no idea of colourings. The drawing-room was painted three times over before Arthur wassatisfied. I was so tired that I would have left it as it was, but heis so obs--, he likes to have things done exactly in his own way, andworries on and on until he gets it. I thought it would be funfurnishing a house, but it gets a little tiresome when people are sovery, very particular. We will have a nice lazy time, won't we, Norah?Arthur is not coming up for three weeks, so we shall be alone and haveno one to bother us. "

"Ye-es!" stammered Norah confusedly. 

This novel way of regarding the presence of a lover was so amazing thatit took away her breath, and before she recovered, Miss Briggs enteredthe room, and there was no more chance of private conversation for thepresent. 

Nothing could have been sweeter or more amiable than Lettice's demeanourduring the first week at home. She seemed to revel in the simplecountry life, and to cling to every member of the household withpathetic affection. She went into the kitchen and sat on the fenderstool, talking to the cook and inquiring for "your aunt at Preston, ""the little niece Pollie, " "your nephew at sea, " with a kindlyremembrance which drew tears from the old soul's eyes. She made dressesfor Geraldine's dolls, trimmed Miss Briggs' caps, and hovered about herfather and sisters on the watch for an opportunity to serve them. Everyone was charmed to have her at home once more, and fussed over herin a manner which should have satisfied the most exacting of mortals;but sweet and loving as she was, Lettice did not look satisfied. Thegrey eyes seemed to grow larger and larger until her face appeared alleyes, and her cheeks showed a faint hollow where the dimples used toplay. One miserable night, too, Norah woke to find Lettice sobbing withher head buried in the pillow, and heard a pitiful repetition of thewords, "What shall I do? What shall I do?" But when she inquired whatwas wrong, Lettice declared that a tooth was aching, and sat up in thebed and rubbed her gums obediently with a lotion brought from themedicine cupboard. Norah blamed herself for doubting her sisters word, but she could not help noticing that the toothache yielded very rapidlyto the remedy, and the incident left a painful impression on her mind. 

Norah was not the only member of the household who was anxious aboutLettice's happiness. Mr Bertrand had a serious conversation on thesubject with his eldest daughter one morning when Lettice's pallor andsubdued voice had been more marked than usual. 

"I can't stand seeing the child going about like this. She looks theghost of what she was five or six months back, and seems to have nospirit left. I shall have to speak to her. It is most painful andawkward on the very eve of the marriage, but if she is not happy--"

"Perhaps it is only that she is tired, and feels the prospect of leavinghome, " said Hilary; and at that very moment the door was burst open andin rushed Lettice herself, cheeks flushed, hair loose, eyes dancing withmerriment. She and Raymond had just played a trick upon unsuspectingMiss Briggs with magnificent success. She was breathless with delight, could hardly speak for bursts of laughter, and danced up and down theroom, looking so gay and blithe and like the Lettice of old, that herfather wont off to his study with a heartfelt sigh of relief. Hilarywas right. The child was happy enough. If she were a little quieterthan usual it was only natural and fitting under the circumstances. Hedismissed the subject from his mind, and settled contentedly to work. 

One thing was certain: Arthur Newcome was a most attentive lover. Lettice contented herself with scribbling two or three short notes aweek, but every afternoon the postman brought a bulky envelope addressedto her in the small neat handwriting which was getting familiar to everymember of the household. Norah had an insatiable passion for receivingletters, and was inclined to envy her sister this part of herengagement. 

"It must be so lovely to get long epistles everyday. Lettice, I don'twant to see them, of course, but what sort of letters does he write?What does he talk about? Is it all affection, or does he tell youinteresting pieces of news?"

Lettice gave the sheets a flick with her white fingers. 

"You can read it if you like. There is nothing private. I must say hedoes not write exciting letters. He has been in Canterbury, and thisone is a sort of guide-book about the crypt. As if I wanted to hearabout crypts! I must say I did not think when I was engaged that Ishould have letters all about tombs and stupid old monuments! Arthur isso serious. I suppose he thinks he will `improve my mind, ' but if I amto be improved I would rather read a book at once and not be lectured inmy love letters. "

She had never spoken so openly before, and Norah dared not let theopportunity pass. 

"Oh, Lettice, dear! aren't you happy? aren't you satisfied?" she criedearnestly. "I have been afraid sometimes that you were not so fond ofArthur as you should be. Do, do speak out, dear, if it is so, and putan end to things while there is time!"

"An end! What do you mean? I am to be married in less than a month--how could I put an end to it? Don't be foolish, Norah. Besides, I docare for Arthur. I wish sometimes that he were a little younger andless proper, but that is only because he is too clever and learned for astupid little thing like me. Don't talk like that again; it makes memiserable. Wouldn't you like to have a house of your own and be able todo whatever you liked? My little boudoir is so sweet, all blue andwhite, and we will have such cosy times in it, you and I, and Edna mustcome up and stay with me too. Oh, it will be lovely! I am sure itwill. I shall be quite happy. I am glad father insisted upon havingthe wedding up here; it will be so much quieter than in a fashionableLondon church with all the rabble at the doors. Dreadful to be staredat by hundreds of people who don't know or care anything about you, andonly look at you as part of a show. Here all the people are interestedand care a little bit for `Miss Lettice. ' If only Rex were to be here!It seems hard that he should leave home just a fortnight before mywedding. "

Norah sighed and relapsed into silence, for it was all settled aboutRex's departure by this time. The Squire had given way, Mrs Freer andEdna had wept themselves dry, and were now busily occupied in preparingwhat Rex insisted upon describing as his "_trousseau_. "

"I have one hundred and fifty `pieces' in my _trousseau_; how many haveyou in yours?" he asked Lettice one day; and the girls were muchimpressed at the extensiveness of his preparations, until it wasdiscovered that he counted each sock separately, and took a suit ofclothes as representing three of the aforesaid "pieces. " Having oncegiven way, the Squire behaved in the most generous manner, and at hissuggestion, Rex was to travel overland to Brindisi, spending a month invarious places of interest on the Continent. In order to do this andcatch the appointed boat, it was necessary to leave Westmoreland at theend of August. Ten days more, and then good-bye to Rex, good-bye to thehappy old day which could never come back again! Four days more, threedays, two days, one day--the last afternoon arrived, and with a sinkingheart Norah went to meet Rex in the drawing-room for the last time forlong years to come. 

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. 

GOOD BYE!

It was a gloomy afternoon. The rain was felling in a persistentdrizzle; the clouds were low and grey. It seemed as if nature itselfshared in the depression which settled on the little party gatheredtogether in the drawing-room at Cloudsdale. What merry times they hadspent together in this room! What cosy chats there had been round thefireside in winter! what refreshing hours of rest in summer, when thesun blinds were lowered, and the windows stood open to the green lawn!And now they were all over. A melancholy feeling of "last time" settledon each of the beholders as they looked at Lettice with the betrothalring sparkling on her finger, at Rex, so tall and man-like in histravelling suit of rough grey tweed. To make matters worse, the curatehad taken this opportunity to pay a call, so that they were not evenalone, and the rain prevented an adjournment to the garden. Norah satat the extreme end of the room from Rex, trifling with her teacup andspoon, with a feeling of such helpless misery as she had never knownbefore in the course of her short life. The Mouse cried openly, MissBriggs whisked her handkerchief out of her pocket at intervals of everyfew minutes and Hilary's forced cheerfulness was hardly less depressing. As for Rex himself, he was perfectly quiet and composed, but his voicehad a hard, metallic ring, and his face looked drawn and old. Letticecould not bear to look at him, for it seemed to her that there was moreevidence of suffering in his set composure than in all the demonstrativegrief of his companions. 

Conversation languished over tea, and at last Hilary suggested music asa last resort. If there were music there would be a chance of movingabout, and putting an end to these death-like pauses, and Rex would alsohave an opportunity of speaking to Norah, which no doubt he was longingto do; but so soon as music was suggested, the curate begged eagerly tohear Miss Norah play, and she rose to get her violin with the usualready acquiescence. Norah had made immense strides during the threelast years, and was now a performer of no mean attainments. It wasalways a treat to hear her play, and this afternoon the wailing notesseemed to have an added tenderness and longing. Lettice bit her lips tokeep back the tears, while she watched Rex's face with fascinatedattention. He had pushed his chair into the corner when Norah began toplay, and shaded his eyes with his hand, and beneath this shelter hegazed at her with the unblinking, concentrated gaze of one who isstoring up a memory which must last through long years of separation. How often in the bungalow home in India the scene in this Englishdrawing-room would rise before him, and he would see again the girlishfigure in the blue serge dress, the pale face leant lovingly against theviolin, the face which was generally so gay and full of life, but whichwas now all sad and downcast! Lettice followed Rex's example and turnedto look at her sister. Dear Norie! there was no one in the world likeher! How sweet and gentle she looked! No wonder Rex hated to say good-bye--he would never find another girl like Norah Bertrand. 

The curate was loud in his expression of delight when Norah laid downher bow, but Rex neither spoke nor moved, and Hilary in despair calledfor a song. The curate had a pleasant little tenor pipe of his own, andcould play accompaniments from memory, so that he was ready enough toaccede to the request. His selection, however, was not very large, andchiefly of the ballad order, and this afternoon the sound of the openingbars brought a flush of nervousness to Hilary's cheeks--"The Emigrant'sFarewell!" What in the world had induced the man to make such a choice?An utter want of tact, or a mistaken idea of singing somethingappropriate to the occasion? It was too late to stop him now, however, and she sat playing with the fringe of the tea-cloth, hardly daring tolift her eyes, as the words rang through the room--

 "I'm bidding you a long farewell, My Mary kind and true, But I'll not forget you, darling, In the land I'm going to. They say there's bread and work for all, And the son shines always there, But I'll ne'er forget old Ireland, Be it fifty times as fair!"

Could anything be more painful--more disconcerting? As the last notesrang out she darted a quick glance at Rex, and to her horror saw theglimmer of tears in those "masterful" eyes, which had hitherto been soscornfully free from signs of weakness. 

The next moment, before the choruses of "thank you's" had died away, Rexwas on his feet, holding out his hand with an air of defiantindifference. 

"I must go; it is getting late. Good-bye, Hilary. Good luck!"

"Oh, good-bye, Rex! I am so very, very sorry--"

"Good-bye, Lettice. You will be an old married woman when I see youagain. "

"Good-bye, dear, dear Rex. Take care of yourself. Co-come back soon!"

"Miss Briggs! Mr Barton! Thank you very much. Oh, yes, I shall geton all right! Good-bye, little Mouse--give me a kiss!"

"Good-bye, darling, darling Rex--and I've worked a book-marker for youwith `Forget-me-not' in red worsted. It's gone in the post to-day, andyou will get it in the morning. "

"Thank you, Mouse. I'll use it every day of my life. . .. Good-bye, Norah--!"

"Good-bye, Rex!"

That was all. A short grasp of the hand, and he was gone. The doorbanged, footsteps went crunching down the gravel, and Norah stood like astatue of despair in the dim, flagged hall. For one moment only, thenLettice seized her by the arm, and dragged her hurriedly along thepassage. Such a flushed, determined Lettice, with sparkling eyes, andquick, decisive tones!

"Norah! You can't let him go away like that. You _can't_! It'sinhuman! The poor boy was crying when Mr Barton was singing. I sawthe tears in his eyes. He went away because he could not bear to stayany longer. And you never said a word! Oh run, run!--go out of theside door, and cut across the shrubbery to meet him at the gate. Oh, Norah, quick! It is your last chance! Think! You may never see himagain!"

The last words put an end to any hesitation which Norah may have felt. Lettice held the door open, and she rushed out into the drizzling rain, hatless, cloakless, as she was, forgetting everything but that awfulsuggestion that she might never see Rex again. Down the narrow path, where a few weeks before she and Rex had first discussed the journey toIndia; across the plot of grass where Geraldine had her garden, andthere, at the opening into the carriage drive, stood Rex himself, staring before him with a strained, expectant glance, which gave way toa flash of joy as Norah's tall figure came in sight. 

"I thought you would come! I thought you would not let me go awaywithout a word!" he said, and Norah gave a little sob of emotion. 

"What can I say? You know all I feel. I shall think of you all thetime, and wish you good luck; and every night when I say my prayers--"

"I know! Thank you, Norah. " Rex turned his head aside quickly, butNorah saw that he was trembling with emotion, and waited in awedsuspense for his next words. 

"Norah--it is a long time--three years--five years--I can't tell whichit may be. I shall think of you all the time. There never will beanyone else for me; but it will be different with you. You will meetnew friends up in London. There will be other fellows--better than Iam--who will care for you too. Perhaps when I come back you may bemarried too!"

"No, Rex, don't be afraid. I am not like that. I never forget. "

He gripped her hand, but made no answer, and they stood together in asilence which was sweet to both, despite the rain, the gloom, the comingseparation. Norah was the first to find her voice. 

"You will write home often; and we will send you all the news. The timewill soon pass, and you will enjoy the life and the strange newcountry. " She looked into his face with a flickering smile. . .. "Theysay there's bread and work for all, and the sun shines always there. .. "

"But I'll not forget you, _darling_, be it fifty times as fair!" camethe answer, in a strained, hoarse whisper. Poor, shy Rex! Even at themoment of parting it was agony to him to speak that word of endearment, and having said it, he was consumed with embarrassment. Norah was stilltingling with delight, when her hand was seized in a painful grip, agruff "Good-bye, Norah!" sounded in her ears, and she was left alone inthe garden path. 

She put up her hands to her face and sobbed in helpless misery. 

"Oh, Rex, Rex! Five long, long years! Oh, God, be good to my boy--takecare of him! Bring him back safe and well!"

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. 

A CONFESSION. 

"And so you are engaged too, Norah!"

Half an hour had passed since Rex had left Cloudsdale, and Lettice andNorah wore seated in the bedroom which they shared together, Norah stilltrembling and tearful, Lettice full of wide-eyed interest. 

"And so you are engaged too!"

"No, not engaged. There is nothing definite, but I know that he caresfor me, and I have promised to wait--"

"It's the same thing, but--five years! It is a terribly long time! Somuch may happen before then. You may change your mind!"

"No! I can't explain, but I simply could not think of anyone else whileRex was alive. It would be all the same if it were fifteen years. Youneed not pity me, Lettice. I shall keep house for father after you andHilary are married, and I shall be quite happy. I don't think anythingcould make me unhappy again, now that I know Rex cares for me, and thatwhen he comes back--" Norah stopped short, and Lettice drew in herbreath with a painful respiration. 

"Oh, Norie, I envy you! I wish I felt like that. I could never, nevermarry Arthur if I had to go out to India, and leave you all behind. Even now-- Norah! if I speak out to you, will you keep it to yourself?Will you promise faithfully not to repeat a word to father or Hilary, oranyone else? Will you? Answer, Norah, yes or no!"

"I--I--yes, I promise, Lettice, if you wish it, but wouldn't it bebetter--"

"No! no! I can speak to no one else, and not even to you unless youpromise not to repeat a single word. Sometimes I am so miserable! Inever intended to marry Arthur--never for a moment; but he was very niceto me--and I know you will be shocked, Norah, but I wanted him to go onbeing attentive, and sometimes I did pretend I liked him a little bit, when he seemed discouraged, or as if he were beginning to care less thanhe used. Then that day on the river he asked me to marry him, and Isaid No! I was horrified at the idea, and I tried to refuse him, Ireally did, but he looked so miserable--I couldn't bear to see him. Iwas quite happy for a little time after that, and when he was away Ilonged for him to come back; but since then father and Miss Carr havebeen so cross; there have been such worries with the house, and workmen, and dressmakers, that I have felt sometimes as if I would give the worldto run away and hide, and never see any of them again!"

Norah sat motionless, gazing at her sister in horrified silence. Herheart beat in quick, painful throbs--even Rex himself was forgotten inthe shock of hearing her worst fears confirmed in Lettice's own words. Unhappy! within three weeks of her marriage, with presents arriving byevery post, the wedding breakfast ordered, the guests bidden to thechurch! It was some time before she could command her voicesufficiently to speak. 

"But--Lettice! If you were happy at first, perhaps you are onlymiserable now because you are tired and overdone. I think even if Iwere going to marry Rex, I should feel sad the last few weeks when Ithought of leaving father and the old home, and all the rest of you. Itseems only natural. It would be rather heartless if one feltdifferently. "

"Do you think so, Norah--do you?" queried Lettice eagerly. "Oh, I am soglad to hear you say that! I have said so to myself over and overagain, but I thought I ought to be happy. I have been so wretched. That night when you thought I had toothache--"

"I know. But I was afraid it was that. But, Lettice, if you are notsatisfied it is not too late even now. You could tell Mr Newcome. "

But Lettice gave a shriek of dismay. "Oh, never, never! I daren't eventhink of it, Norah. The house is ready--all the furniture--my dresses--the wedding presents! I could never, never break it off. Poor Arthurwould be broken-hearted, too, and his mother would be so angry; shewould never let Madge speak to me again. Oh, no! I feel better alreadyfor talking to you. I get nervous, and imagine things that are nottrue. I shall be very happy--of course I shall be happy. Arthur is sokind--and the house is so pretty. Don't look so miserable, Norah dear;indeed, indeed, I shall be all right. "

"I hope so; but, Lettice, do think well over it while there is time. Itwould be terrible to have to break off your engagement now; but, at theworst, all the gossip and upset would be over in two or three months, and if you married it would be for your whole life. Father would beangry, but I would help you. I would stay with you, Lettice, and helpyou every minute of the time. "

"I know you would, I know you would. " Lettice spoke in a quick, breathless whisper; her eyes were fixed as if she were a prisonerlooking through the barred window and trying to summon up courage toescape--then a shudder shook the slight shoulders, and she jumped up, holding out her hands with a gesture of dismay. 

"Oh no, no! Don't talk of anything so dreadful. Arthur is coming onSaturday, and I shall be quite happy. I am dull because I have not seenhim for so long, but you will see how bright I am when he is here! Iwas very weak and foolish to speak as I did, but I can trust you, Norah. You have promised not to tell. "

"Yes, I have promised. " Poor Norah was only too willing to beconvinced, and surely what Lettice said was reasonable enough. Shewould wait, at any rate, until Saturday before making any furtherattempt to persuade her sister to a step which must bring so muchsuffering and humiliation in its train. 

Two days later the bridegroom arrived. Lettice went to the station tomeet him. A very handsome couple they looked as they drove up to thedoor, Mr Newcome immaculate as ever despite the long, dusty journey, and so large and impressive, that Norah was quite embarrassed by thesuggestion that she should address him as "Arthur. " Lettice was allsmiles and radiance, much delighted with a necklace of turquoise anddiamonds which her lover had brought as his wedding present, and whichshe exhibited proudly to every member of the household. 

Father, brothers and sisters were alike so relieved to see her happinessthat they were prepared to welcome Arthur Newcome with open arms, and toacknowledge that their prejudices were unfounded. They listened withsmiling faces to his tedious description of his journey north, ofprevious journeys, or journeys still to come; they tried to show aninterest in the items of stale information which he offered in words ofstudied length and elegance, and with the air of imparting a startlingnovelty; but alas! it was all in vain. After three days' experience, the unanimous verdict proclaimed that such a well-behaved and withaltiresome and prosy young gentleman had never before worn frock coats, orwalked about country lanes in a tall hat and immaculate kid gloves. 

"He must be different with Lettice. She could never endure it if hebored her as much as he does us, " reiterated Hilary firmly, upon whichRaymond's eyes twinkled with mischievous intentions. 

"Well--do you know, I should like to feel certain about that!" he said, and forthwith strolled out into the garden through the open doorway. 

Lettice and Arthur Newcome were pacing their favourite walk, the narrowshrubbery path which encircled the lawn, and at intervals of every threeor four minutes the two figures came into sight as the path opened todrive and tennis ground. Master Raymond strolled across to the first ofthese openings, leant nonchalantly against a tree, and waited theapproach of footsteps. They came--a strong, steady crunching of thegravel, a pattering of quick, uneven little steps, and the sound of adeep bass voice struck on the ear. 

". .. And further on, in the transept aisle, I came upon a particularlyheavy and unattractive cenotaph to the memory of--"

Raymond gasped, and rolled his eyes; then, as the footsteps died away, he sped lightly across the lawn, and ensconced himself at the next pointof vantage. The boom of Mr Newcome's big voice came again to his ear. Poor little Lettice was evidently a good listener!

". .. The epitaph is in the inflated style of the period--bombastic incharacter, and supposed to be written by--"

"Bombastic!" echoed Raymond in despair. "I know someone else to whomthat epithet would apply uncommonly well. This is worse than Iexpected! I'll give him one more chance, and then--" But at the thirdhearing Mr Newcome was discoursing on "allegorical figures and pseudo-classic statues, " whereupon Raymond dashed off into the house andhorrified his sisters by an account of his experiences. 

"What a shame to listen like that! Lettice would be furious if sheknew. "

"It was for her own good. Poor little soul! I'm sorry for her. Whaton earth made him choose tombstones as a topic of conversation. "

"I know. He has been staying in Canterbury. Lettice told me that hehad written to her about the Cathedral, " said Norah dolefully. "Iwonder if I ought to go and join them! She asked me, and pinched my armto make me say yes, but I thought Arthur looked as if he didn't want me. Can't we make an excuse and call her in? She looks _so_ tired. "

"Well, they are the funniest pair of lovers I have ever seen!" saidRaymond, nodding his head with a knowing look, as if he had had anextensive knowledge of engaged couples, whereas he had never been in thehouse with one before. And just at that moment in marched Lettice, herfair face disfigured by a weary, irritable expression. 

"I think you are all very unkind! I asked you to come into the garden. It's very mean to leave me all alone, when I have only a f-f-fortnightmore at home!" The last word in a burst of tears, and she ran hurriedlyupstairs to her own room. 

What was to be the end of it all? Her sisters stared at each other withwide, frightened eyes, too miserable and uneasy to speak. 

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. 

BEFORE THE WEDDING. 

A week before the wedding Miss Carr came down from London, and with hercame also Mr Herbert Rayner, who had paid frequent visits toWestmoreland during the last few years, and was now regarded as a familyfriend who could not be spared on such an historical occasion. Hislameness was not any better for the lapse of time, but Hilary'sexhortations had taken effect, for he was much less sensitive about hisinability to do as the other men did, while as for the rest, he hadevery reason to be cheerful nowadays, for his writings were so highlypraised that Mr Bertrand affected jealousy, and declared that his ownsun was eclipsed. There was a very warm friendship between the two men;both declared that they gained inspiration from the other, and Raymonddubbed them "The Mutual Admiration Society, " because Mr Bertrand waswont to declare that Rayner was an infinitely finer writer than himself, while Mr Rayner in his turn despaired of accomplishing anything fit tocompare with the work of his friend. 

With Miss Carr arrived a cart-load of boxes containing bride andbridesmaids' dresses, feathers and furbelows of all descriptions, and anumber of presents from acquaintances in London. 

The other girls were full of excitement over the opening of thesetreasures, but Lettice herself was silent and indifferent, and hardlytroubled herself to look at the beautiful gifts which were showered uponher. She excused herself on the plea of a chronic head-ache, and layhalf the day on a sofa in the schoolroom, while Miss Briggs fed her withbeef-tea, and fussed over her in kindly, motherly fashion. Everyonepetted her and treated her with consideration, but no one said a word tosuggest that she was unhappy in the thought of the coming marriage. Itwas too late for that; she had determined to keep to her engagement, andit was only natural to account for her indisposition on the ground ofexcitement and fatigue. Circumstances combined, moreover, to keepLettice a good deal apart from the others during these last busy days. Miss Carr's maid was employed making the alterations which wererequisite in the dresses from London, so that Lettice was continuallybeing summoned to the sewing-room, and when she was not being "tried on"she had many letters to write acknowledging the gifts which arrived insuch numbers. 

Hilary was too busy to have any time for confidential talks, and whenNorah had a moment's leisure, her thoughts were far away fromWestmoreland, journeying over foreign lands with a certain tall youngEnglishman with grey eyes and a crop of close-cut, curly hair. EvenLettice herself was apt to be forgotten in this all-absorbingoccupation!

The Newcome contingent, and those London friends who were to accompanythem, were to come down on the day before the wedding, and to put up atan hotel in Windermere, and every day brought with it a host ofpreparations which kept the little mistress of the house busy frommorning until night. 

Hilary showed to advantage under these circumstances. Always brisk, alert and smiling, never worried or unduly anxious, she shared a gooddeal of Rex's boasted "gift of management, " and contrived to keep thehouse comfortable for the visitors, despite the general disarrangement, and the everlasting arrival of packing-chests and boxes. Hampers offlowers, hampers of fruit, crates of china and glass, rolls of redbaize, boxes containing wedding-cake, confectionery, dresses, presents--in they came, one after another, in an unending stream, until to getacross from the front door into the dining-room was like running theblockade, and wisps of straw were scattered all over the house. Norahand Hilary swathed themselves in big white aprons and unpacked frommorning till night: a more interesting task than it sounds, for theboxes were full of pleasant surprises, and Mr Rayner, Raymond, andtheir father played the part of "dress circle, " and kept everyonelaughing with their merry sallies. It was a cheery, bustling time, foreveryone was in good spirits and prepared to enjoy the happy-go-lucky, picnic life. Lunch and dinner were movable feasts, held either indining- or morning-room, or in the garden itself, as proved mostconvenient, and when afternoon tea was served three days before thewedding, the cups were scattered about on the top of packing-chests inthe hall, the cake basket hung on the hat rail, and the teapot wasthrust out of reach of harm beneath the oak bench. Lettice was lyingdown upstairs, but all the rest of the household were gathered together, the visitors provided with chairs in honour of their position, Norahseated on the stairs, Raymond straddle-leg over the banister, MrBertrand and Geraldine lowly on buffets, while Hilary was perched on thetop of a huge packing chest, enveloped in a pink "pinafore, " and lookingall the prettier because her brown hair was ruffled a little out of itsusual immaculate order. 

"I wish we could have tea like this every day!" cried the Mouse, drawinga long breath of enjoyment. "May we have it like this every day, father, instead of properly in the drawing-room?"

"Ah, Mouse, I see you are a Bohemian at heart, for all your quiet ways!I agree with you, my dear, that it would be quite delightful, but thedifficulty is that we could not persuade people to shower presents andhampers upon us in the ordinary course of events. It takes a wedding, or some celebration of the kind, to start such a flood of generosity. "

"Well, may we have tea like this when Hilary is married?" insistedGeraldine, with a gravity which caused a hearty laugh. 

"Ask Hilary, my dear!" said Mr Bertrand mischievously; and Hilarytossed her head and said that one wedding was enough at the time--shehad no strength to think of two. 

"Indeed, my dear, I wonder you are not laid up as it is, " said Miss Carrkindly. "You are on your feet from morning till night, and everyonecomes to you for directions; I am afraid you will break down when theexcitement is over. There is generally a collapse on these occasions. Have you any idea what you are all going to do after the young couplehave departed?"

"Get the house in order, and go to bed for a week, " said Hilarybrightly, flushing with pleasure at Miss Carr's words of praise, and atthe murmur of assent which they had evoked from her companions; but itappeared that other people were more energetically inclined thanherself, for both Miss Briggs and Raymond seized the opportunity to airsecret plans of their own. 

"I wanted to speak to you about that, Mr Bertrand! My sister inScarborough is most anxious that I should pay her a visit, and takeGeraldine with me, and I think the sea air would do us both good. "

"And I should like to have some shooting with Ferrars in Scotland. Hehas asked me so often, and I could just fit it in this year. "

Mr Bertrand looked at his two daughters--at Hilary, bright and natty, but with shadows under her eyes which spoke of the fatigue she would notacknowledge; then, with an anxious tenderness at Norah, whose unusualquietness for the last few days he understood better than she suspected. 

"Really, " he said, "if all the world is going off pleasuring, I don'tsee any reason why we should be left behind! What do you say, girls--shall we go off for a tour on our own account? I think we deserve aholiday after our hard work and a run on the Continent would do us allgood. Helen, what do you say? Will you come and take care of thegirls? Rayner, I can't tackle three ladies unassisted. You had betterjoin us, and take care of me!"

"I should certainly not leave the girls to your tender mercies, youscatter-brained man, " said Miss Carr, smiling, as though well pleased atthe suggestion. "You might forget all about them, as as you did onanother memorable occasion, and the consequences would be disastrous. Yes!--if you take plenty of time, and don't rush about from place toplace, I should be glad of a change myself. This wedding--"

"It is too good of you to include me. Wouldn't I like it!" cried MrRayner, with a smile which made him look quite young and boyish. "September is lovely in Switzerland. The rush of tourists is over, andthe autumn tints are wonderful. But we ought to get off as soon aspossible. You will have to give up your week in bed, Miss Hilary!"

"I may as well give up bed altogether, I think, for I shall not sleep awink for thinking of it. Oh, father dear, you are good! I drink toyou!" And Hilary held up her teacup, bowing and smiling, and looking sobright and pretty that it was a pleasure to see her. 

Well, it was a happy hour, and the memory of it remained all the morevividly because of the contrast which it afforded to the dark days whichfollowed. At twelve o'clock the same evening, Mr Bertrand took up hiscandle and went the usual tour of inspection through the house. Hepeered into the drawing-room, fragrant with plants and cut blossoms, into the dining-room, where the village carpenters were already puttingup the horse-shoe table; into the pantry, where the more valuablepresents were locked away in the great iron safe. All was quiet andsecure. He returned to his study, and was just settling down for aquiet read, when the sound of footsteps smote on his ear. He opened thedoor, and started back at the sight of a white figure which camefloating towards him, with flowing locks and outstretched hands. 

"What is it?--who is it? What is the matter?--_Lettice_!"

The next moment two arms were clasped round his neck; he felt theheaving of breathless sobs, and an agonised voice called on him byname--

"Oh, father, father! save me! save me! I can't go on! I can't marryhim! My heart will break--!"

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. 

BROKEN PLANS. 

The light was still dim the next morning when Hilary woke with a startto find her father standing by her bedside. Even in the first sleepyglance she was struck by the pale distress of his face, and sat uphurriedly, pushing back the hair from her face, and murmuring a confused"What--what--what?"

"My dear, I am sorry to disturb you, but I need your help. " MrBertrand seated himself on the edge of the bed, and took the girl'shands in his. "Hilary, a great trouble has come upon us. Letticewishes to break off her engagement. She cannot bear the idea ofmarrying Arthur Newcome. There will be no wedding on Thursday as weexpected. "

Hilary stared at him with dazed eyes. Her awakening from sleep had beenso sudden, and the news was so overwhelming, that it was some momentsbefore she could grasp its full meaning. 

No wedding! But the preparations were made--everything was ready. Itcould not be stopped at the very last moment. She drew in her breathwith a quick, frightened respiration:

"Oh, father! is it true? Is she _sure_? Does she really mean it?"

"I am afraid there is no doubt about that, Hilary. Now that she hassummoned up courage to speak, she acknowledges that she has been unhappyall along. She is in great distress, as is only natural. Norah is withher. I put off disturbing you as long as I could, for you have had toomuch fatigue lately, but I need your help, dear. You must get up atonce. We have some painful duties before us. "

"Oh, father--Arthur! What will he--how will you--?"

Mr Bertrand drew a sharp sigh. "I have wired to him to stop allpreparations, and come down himself by the early train. He will be herethis afternoon. Poor fellow! he has been cruelly used. I am bitterlyashamed. I have told Mary to bring you up a breakfast tray at once, andhere she comes; so eat as much as you can before you get up, and thencome to me in my study. Be brave! Remember I rely on your help!"

"Yes, father, " said Hilary tremblingly; and the next moment Mary enteredthe room, her rosy face awed and frightened, her ready tongue silencedby the seriousness of the situation. 

That breakfast seemed like a hideous nightmare to Hilary. Every momentbrought a fresh pang of recollection. In every direction in which hereyes glanced, they lighted upon some object which accentuated hermisery--the long dress box, in which the bridesmaids' finery lay readyfor use; the pile of letters on the table; the hundred and one etceterasof preparation. Could it be possible that they were all for nothing--that she must now set to work to undo the labour of weeks? And themisery of it all! the humiliation--the dreadful, dreadful publicity!Hilary leapt out of bed in despair, unable to remain idle any longer, dressed with feverish rapidity, and ran downstairs to join her father. As she reached the foot of the staircase, Mr Rayner came forward tomeet her. Their hands met in a close, sympathetic grasp, but neitherspoke during the moment that it lasted. Then came the sound of a heavyfootstep on the tiled floor, and the village joiner crossed the hall onhis way to complete the erection of the tables in the dining-room. Hetouched his cap to Hilary as he passed, and the girl drew back, growingpale to her lips. 

"Oh, he must be stopped! I can't do it. It is too dreadful!"

"Leave it to me. It's so seldom I can do anything--do let me help younow. Go to your father, and leave all this to me. " He led her forward, unresisting, to the study, where her father greeted her with anexclamation of relief. 

"Ah, here you are, dear! Sit down. We must get to work at once on thiswretched business. I have sent off notes already to the vicar and thecurate, who will stop preparations at the church; the domesticarrangements I must leave to you; and there will be notes to write toall invited guests. Rayner will help, and Raymond also. I will draw upa form which you can copy, but the letters must go off by the afternoonpost, so the sooner they are written the better. Newcome will be withus before many hours are over--"

He broke off with a sigh, which Hilary echoed from the depths of anaching heart. 

"I will go at once and speak to the servants. I will set them to workto put the house in order, and hide all the preparations out of sight, and then come back here, and get the writing done first of all. "

"That's my good girl!" said her father warmly; and they kissed eachother with sympathetic affection. 

Poor Hilary! She had need of all her courage to enable her to gothrough that morning's work. The servants received her orders withtears of distress and disappointment Norah came stealing out of the roomwith the news that Lettice had cried all night long, could not beinduced to eat, and lay on her bed icy cold and trembling as if with anague. Miss Carr was too much upset to be able to leave her bed, andGeraldine's straightforward questions were for once agonising to thelisteners. 

"Has Lettice been naughty?" she inquired. "Has Mr Newcome beennaughty? Will she never wear her pretty dresses? Shall I never wear mydress? What shall we do with all the presents? Shall we have to sendback the cake?"

"Oh, Mouse, be quiet, for pity's sake!" cried Hilary in desperation. "If you ask any more questions you must go to bed. It's very naughtyand unkind;" at which unexpected reproof Geraldine's eyes filled withtears. 

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Hilary; I only thought if youdidn't want it, perhaps Miss Briggs's sister in Scarborough might likesome cake--"

"Come along with me, Mouse, and I'll give you a swing in the garden, "said Mr Rayner, coming to the rescue for the twentieth time. Hispresence was a comfort to every member of the household, and Hilarycould never think of that dreadful morning without recalling the quiet, unobtrusive way in which he watched over her, and shielded her fromevery possible aggravation. When afternoon came, he insisted upontaking her to a quiet little coppice near the gates, so that she shouldnot be in the house at the time of Arthur Newcome's visit; but fromtheir seat among the trees they heard the sound of wheels as the flyturned down the drive, and knew that the dreaded interview was at hand. 

"Lettice begged and prayed not to see him, father says, but he insistedthat she should go down. He said it was only due to Arthur. Fancy whatit must be to the poor, poor fellow, to lose her at the last moment, andto have to go back to London and explain everything to his friends--whenthe house is ready, and all preparations made. I feel so angry andhumiliated that I can't be sorry for Lettice. She deserves all shesuffers!"

Mr Rayner did not answer; and they sat in silence for five or tenminutes, at the expiration of which Hilary stole a glance at his face, and ventured a timid question. 

"Are _you_ sorry?"

"Sorry for your sister? Yes--intensely sorry!"

"You think I am hard--unsympathetic?"

"I think you are hardly in a fit state to understand your own feelingsto-day. It has been a great strain, and you have kept up bravely andwell. "

Hilary's lip trembled, and she covered her face with her hands. "Oh, Idon't want to be hard, but it does seem so dreadful! She had a wholemonth to think over it--and then to bring all this misery upon him atthe last moment. I feel _ashamed_! Surely, surely, it is easy to knowwhether one cares or not. If I were engaged--"

"Yes?"

"Oh, I don't know--I should never, never promise to marry anyone unlessI loved him with my whole heart; but when I did, I'd stick to him if thewhole world were against us. "

"I believe you would. " Mr Rayner hesitated at the end of these wordsas if he were about to say something further, but the hesitation endedin silence, and presently Hilary leapt to her feet and began to pace upand down. 

"Oh, let us walk about. I can't sit still. I am too nervous. If we goalong this path we shall not meet anybody, and it will pass the time. Ican't bear to think of what is going on inside the house. " So for thenext hour they walked up and down trying in vain to talk upon outsidetopics, and coming back again and again to the same painful theme. Atlast the sound of wheels came to their ears again. The fly could beseen wending its way down the country lane, and Hilary lost no time inrunning home to rejoin her father in his study. 

He was standing with his arms resting upon the mantelpiece, his headburied in his hands, and when he turned to meet her, it struck the girlwith a stab of pain that for the first time he looked old--an old man, tired and worn with the battle of life. 

"Well?" she gasped; and he answered with a long-drawn sigh. 

"Well--it is over! The most painful scene I have ever gone through inmy life. He wouldn't believe me, poor fellow! Then Lettice came in. He looked at her, and--the light died out of his face. It was verypitiful. He was brave and manly; would not blame her, or hear herblamed. I admired him more than I could have believed possible. Hesaid very little. Stricken to the heart, poor fellow, and I could donothing for him! He has gone back to town to stop preparations. Iwould have given my right hand to help him. "

"Father dear! You look so ill! It has been too much strain. What canI do for you now? Let me do something!"

"Send in Rayner to have a smoke with me. How thankful I am that he ishere. He is a comfort and strength to us all!"

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. 

THE SUNNY CLIMES. 

The sun was shining over the lake of Thun, and the little steamer waspuffing cheerily through the water. Behind lay the picturesque town, with its rushing river, and quaint, old-world buildings; in front lay--ah! what a scene of beauty and grandeur! Surely, it were worth while totravel from the ends of the earth to see this marvellous sight. Theblue waters, fringed with brilliant foliage; the trees in their autumnglory, the rowan-berries making patches of scarlet here and there, thesolemn pines capping the mountain height, and at the head of the lake--beautiful, dazzling, majestic--the snow-clad range of Eiger, Monck, andJungfrau. 

In all the beautiful world there can be few spots so beautiful as thelake of Thun, as seen upon a glorious September afternoon!

The passengers on board the steamer displayed a special interest in anEnglish party who walked up and down the deck. A father and threedaughters; an elderly lady whose relationship it was difficult to guess, and a young man with a clever, sensitive face, who managed his crutcheswith marvellous agility, and who was obviously neither husband norbrother. The girls themselves received a full share of admiration fromthe French and German visitors who are in the majority in Switzerland inautumn. The eldest was so neat and dainty, with her pretty Englishcomplexion and trim little figure; the tall, dark girl was _spirituelle_and uncommon; while the third had an air _tres chic_, and would havebeen quite _ravissante_ if she had been a trifle less pale and_serieuse_, but even the surprising beauty of the scene seemed powerlessto bring a smile to her face. 

It was chiefly owing to Mr Rayner's persuasion that Mr Bertrand hadleft Westmoreland on the very day after that fixed for his daughter'smarriage. The painful duty of returning the wedding presents had beenaccomplished, and it was so distressing to all concerned to remain in aplace where they felt themselves to be the subject of continual gossip, that they were thankful to get away to fresh surroundings. They hadtravelled straight through to Thun, engaging sleeping-carriages inadvance, and had been ensconced for over a week in the hotel on theshores of the lake, taking daily excursions, and resting beneath thebroad verandah, while, by common consent, no reference was made to thepainful events of the past week. 

"If we are going away, we must try to get as much good as we can fromthe change. What is past, is past. There is no use fretting over itany longer, " Mr Bertrand had said; and Hilary found so littledifficulty in following his advice and being radiantly happy, that shefelt a pang of remorse when suddenly confronted by Lettice's pale face, and reminded thereby of her sadness and Arthur Newcome's suffering. 

Lettice had ceased to cry, but she was very silent, and her eyes wore astrained, frightened look which it was sad to see in so young a face. Everyone was studiedly kind to her, but Lettice was sensitive enough tofeel the effort which lay behind the kindness. Norah alone was just asloving and whole-hearted as ever. Dear Norah! she had been shocked anddistressed beyond measure, but how loyally she had kept her promise tohelp "every moment of the time"! During those two first awful days, what a comfort it had been to have her near; to clutch that strong, faithful hand when the others came into the room, and looked on fromafar with cold, sad eyes! Norah was the same, but all the rest hadchanged. They had been grieved, shocked, humiliated by her behaviour, and though she was nominally forgiven, the chill ring of disapprovalsounded in every word they spoke, and Lettice faded like a flowerdeprived of light and sunshine. Instead of gaining strength by thechange she grew every day paler, thinner, and more ghost-like, until atlast her father became alarmed, and questioned her closely as to herhealth. 

"Does your head ache, Lettice?"

"No, father. "

"Do you sleep well at night?"

"I think--sometimes I do, father. Pretty well. "

"Have you any pain?"

Lettice raised her eyes and looked at him--a look such as a wounded stagmight cast at its executioner. She trembled like a leaf, and claspedher hands round his arm in an agony of appeal. 

"Oh, father, father! I am _all_ pain. I think of it day and night--itnever leaves me. I think I shall see it before me all my life. "

"See what, Lettice? What do you mean?"

"_His face_!" quivered Lettice, and was silent. Mr Bertrand knew thatshe was referring to the stricken look with which Arthur Newcome hadleft the room where he had received the deathblow to his hopes, and theremembrance brought a cloud across his own face. 

"Ay! I don't wonder at that; but it will only add to our trouble, Lettice, if you fell ill--and we have had enough anxiety. "

He was conscious of not being very sympathetic, but his feeling was sostrong on the subject that he could not control his words, and whenLettice spoke again it was with no reference to herself. 

"Father, do you think he will ever--forget?--get over it?"

Mr Bertrand hesitated. "With most young men I should have saidunhesitatingly--yes! but I think Arthur Newcome will probably rememberlonger than most, though I sincerely hope he will recover in time. Butat the best, Lettice, you have caused him bitter pain and humiliation, and, what is worse, have shaken his faith in women for the rest of hislife. "

Lettice gave a little cry of pain. "Oh, father! I want to talk to you. I want to tell you how I feel, but I can't, while you speak in thathard, dry voice! Don't you see--don't you see that you are all killingme with your coldness? I have made you miserable, and have been weak, and foolish, and vain; but, father, father! I have not base wicked, andI have suffered most of all! Why do you break my heart by treating melike a stranger, and freezing me by your cruel, cruel kindness? You aremy father--if I have done wrong, won't you help me to be better in thefuture? It isn't as if I were careless of what I have done. You see--you _see_ how I suffer!" And she held out her arms with a gesture sowild and heart-broken that her father was startled, and caught her tohim with one of his old, fond gestures. 

"My poor child! My little Lettice! Heaven knows I have not intended tobe cruel to you, dear, but I have been so worried and distressed that Ihave hardly known what I was about. You must forgive me, dear, and Iwill help you in every way I can. I do indeed see that you aremiserable, poor child; but that I cannot help. It is only right thatyou should realise--"

"Father, I don't think you or anyone else can tell how intensely I feelit all. You know I have been a coward all my life--afraid to grieveanyone, always trying to avoid disagreeable things; and now to feel thatI have ruined Arthur's life and wrecked his happiness, goes through myheart like a knife. And his poor, poor face! Father, I am toomiserable and ashamed to be sure of anything, but I do believe this willbe a lesson to me all my life. I can never, never be so cruel again! Iwill never marry now, but I will try to be a comfort to you, fatherdear, and do everything I can to make up for the misery I have caused--only do, do love me a little bit. Don't everybody stop loving me!"

Mr Bertrand smiled to himself as he stroked the girl's soft hair. Small fear that he or anyone else would cease caring for lovely, lovableLettice; but all the same, his smile was more sad than bright. 

"I shall always love you, dear, " he said; "but, Lettice, try to thinkless of people's love for you, and more of your own love for them. Thatis the secret of happiness! This constant craving to receive love isnot far removed from selfishness, when you go down to the root ofthings. Try to think of other people first--"

"I will, father--I really will; but don't lecture me to-day, plea-se! Ifeel so low and wretched that I can't stand anything more. I am not--all--all--altogether bad, am I?"

Mr Bertrand laughed despite himself. "No, indeed. Very well, then--nomore lectures. We understand each other now, and there are to be nomore clouds between us. Off with you into the hotel! Put on your hatand cloak, and we will go for a row on the lake before lunch. "

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. 

A GLAD SURPRISE. 

The weather continued so warm and sunny that Mr Bertrand and his partylingered in Thun, day after day, enjoying the Indian summer, and loathto tear themselves away from the lovely surroundings. Lettice remainedsilent and subdued, but there was no longer any coldness between her andher companions, and her face had lost the strained, despairingexpression which had been so painful to behold. The news from London, moreover, was as satisfactory as could be hoped for under thecircumstances. A friend of Arthur Newcome's, who was also engaged to bemarried, had come forward and offered to take the house and furniture ata valuation, while his father had recalled his business manager inAmerica and was sending Arthur to take his place for the next two orthree years. Everyone felt that the change would be the best cure whichthe poor fellow could have, while it was an immense relief to know thatthere would be no danger of painful encounters in London. Even withthis dread removed, Mr Bertrand was in ten minds about his plans forthe coming winter. There seemed many reasons why it would be better toremain quietly in Westmoreland for another year. He puzzled over thequestion in private, and finally confided his difficulty to Mr Rayner, with startling and unexpected results. 

"You see, the boys could go on as they are for some time to come; Norahis not over anxious for the change, and I cannot say I am willing to letLettice go much into society just now. She is so very lovely that sheis bound to attract attention, and after this painful business it wouldbe in better taste to keep out of the way until it is forgotten. Allthings considered, I think I should be wise to give up the idea ofcoming to town until next winter. "

Mr Rayner's face had clouded over while his friend was speaking, andhis answer came in dry, irritated tones. 

"When you say, `all things considered, ' you forget, of course, that youhave entirely overlooked Miss Hilary's feelings in the matter. As youreldest daughter, I should have thought that her wishes might have beenconsulted; but it appears that all the others are put before her!"

"Hallo, what's this? And pray when did you constitute yourself Hilary'schampion?" cried Mr Bertrand, turning round in his seat with a laugh, and an amused expression on his face, which gave place to one ofblankest astonishment as he met the flash in his companion's eyes, andheard the firm tone of the answer--

"How long ago? I don't know! But I _am_ her champion, now and forever, if she will have me!"

"Rayner! What is this? You cannot possibly be in earnest?"

Herbert Rayner laughed shortly. No one could look at him for a momentand doubt that he was deeply in earnest, but there was a bitter ring inhis laughter which showed that he misunderstood the reason of hisfriend's surprise. 

"I don't wonder that you are astonished! A fine lover I am--am I not, to dare to aspire to a bright young girl?"

"My dear fellow, you misunderstood me. I know to what you refer, butthat never even entered my mind. What I can't realise is that you canpossibly entertain any feeling of the kind for Hilary. You! If I everthought of your possible marriage it was always with some clever, charming woman of the world who would help you with your work, and enterinto your plans. Hilary is a mere girl. She has no special ability ofany kind--"

"No?"

"Not the slightest literary gift!"

"No. "

"Absolutely ignorant of your world. "

"Yes. "

"You are ten years older than she is. "

"Yes. "

"Well--well--well--"

"Well, Bertrand, we can't argue about these things. There it is, and Ican't account for it. I want Hilary, and I don't want the `clever, charming woman. ' She satisfies me, and--"

"Have you spoken to her?"

"Certainly not! I don't know that I should have ever summoned upcourage to speak to you, if you had not taken me by surprise. It wouldbe different if I were now as I was ten years ago, but I feared youmight think my health an insuperable objection. "

"No--no! I can't say that--if you have really set your heart on it. How long has this been going on?"

Mr Rayner smiled--a quick, whimsical smile, which was like a flash ofsunshine. 

"Well, you have heard the story of the scarlet slippers? That evening, after you left, I went to look for them behind the curtains, andsmuggled them downstairs beneath my coat. I don't know what possessedme to do it, but I did, and I have them still!"

Mr Bertrand threw back his head with a burst of laughter. 

"Oh, after that! If you have got the length of treasuring worstedslippers, there is no more to be said. Rayner, my dear fellow, Isuppose I ought to be distressed, but I believe I am--uncommonly pleasedand proud! Little Hilary! It would be delightful to feel that you wereone of us. And have you any idea as to whether she cares for you inreturn?"

"We have always been great friends. I cannot say more. And do youreally give me permission to speak to her? Would you give her to me, inspite of my weakness and infirmity? How can I ever express my thanks?"

"If Hilary cares for you, I will put no hindrance in your way; but wemust have no more mistakes. I will not allow an engagement until I havesatisfied myself as to her feelings. There is one comfort: she knowsher own mind uncommonly well, as a rule. You can speak to her when youwill. .. "

Although the conversation lasted for some time longer, the same thingswere practically repeated over and over again, and when the twogentlemen came in to lunch, the girls and Miss Carr all noticed theunusual radiance of their expressions. The last few weeks had containedso much trouble and worry, that it was quite inspiriting to see brightfaces again, and to hear genuine laughter take the place of the forced"ha, ha!" which had done duty for so long. Even Lettice smiled once ortwice in the course of that meal, and Norah's eyes lost their dreamy, far-away look and twinkled with the old merry expression, while Hilarynodded gaily across the table in answer to her father's searching look, and chattered away all unsuspecting of the great event which was soclose at hand. 

When Mr Rayner asked her to take her work to the seat overlooking thelake, in the afternoon, she said, "Won't you come too, Lettice?" andtripped after him, humming a lively air. 

It was a very different Hilary who returned to the hotel two hourslater, and went to join her father on the verandah. Her face was paleand serious; she looked older and more womanlike; but there was a steadylight of happiness in her eyes which told its own tale. 

"Well, Hilary, " he asked gravely, "and what is it to be?"

"There is no doubt about that, father! It is to be as he wants--now andalways!"

"I thought as much. But you must realise what you are doing, dear. When most girls are married they look forward to having a strong man'sarm between them and the world; they expect to be shielded from trouble;but if you marry Rayner, this will not be your lot. You will have towatch over him, to spare him fatigue and anxiety, and take the burden onyour own shoulders, for he is a man who will require constant care. "

"I know that. It is what I long to do. I should be so happy lookingafter him. "

"And perhaps--it seems brutal to mention it, but the possibility must befaced--he might not be spared to you for many years! A delicate fellowlike that--"

"Strong men die unexpectedly, father, as well as weakly ones. Everyonehas to run that risk. I would rather be his wife even for two or threeyears than marry any other man. And I will nurse him so well--take suchgood care--"

"Ah, I see your mind is made up! Well, dear, some people would think Iwas doing a foolish thing in consenting to this engagement, but I _do_consent. I do more than that, I rejoice with all my heart in yourhappiness, and in my own happiness, for it will be a joy to every one ofus. Rayner will be a son-in-law worth having, and a husband of whom anywoman might be proud. Ah, well! this is something like an engagement!That other unhappy affair was nothing but trouble from first to last. You know your mind, my dear, and are not likely to change. "

"Never!" said Hilary. And her eyes flashed with a bright, determinedlook, at which her father smiled. 

"That's good hearing! Well, dear, we will have another talk later on, but now we had better go and join the others. They are curious to knowwhat we are whispering about over here. "

Miss Carr had come out of the hotel after her afternoon nap, and wasseated on the verandah beside the two younger girls. Mr Rayner hadjoined them, and was listening with mischievous enjoyment to theirspeculations about Hilary's conference with her father. 

"How interested they seem! Now he is kissing her. Why don't they comeover here and tell us all about it?" cried Norah; and, as if anxious togratify her curiosity, Mr Bertrand came towards the verandah at thatvery moment, and presenting Hilary to them with a flourishing hand, cried roguishly--

"Allow me to introduce to you the future Mrs Herbert Rayner!"

The excitement, joy, and astonishment of the next few minutes can bebetter imagined than described. Miss Carr shed tears into her teacup;the girls repeated incoherently that they had always expected it, andthat they had never expected it; and Mr Bertrand was as mischievous inhis teasing ways as Raymond himself could have been under thecircumstances; but the lovers were too happy to be disturbed by hissallies. It was both beautiful and touching to see Mr Rayner's quietradiance, and to watch how his eyes lightened whenever they lit onHilary's face, while to see that self-possessed young lady looking shyand embarrassed was something new indeed in the annals of the family!Shy she was, however, beyond possibility of doubt, hardly daring to lookin Mr Rayner's direction, and refusing outright to address him by hisChristian name for the edification of the listeners. 

"What is there to be frightened at? I am not frightened! Herbert, doyou take sugar, Herbert? Will you have two lumps, Herbert?" criedLettice saucily, and everyone smiled, pleased to see the lovely facelighted up by the old merry smile, and to hear a joke from the lipswhich had drooped so sadly. 

"Will you put me in a story, Herbert, if I'm very good, and promise notto tease?" said Norah, determined not to be outdone; and the new brotherlooked at her with admiring eyes. 

"I think I rather enjoy being teased, do you know; it is so very new andsatisfactory! But I shall certainly make a heroine of you some fineday, Norah, when I have manufactured a hero worthy of the occasion!"

Norah's laugh rang out merrily, but as she turned her head to look atthe distant mountains, a little film of moisture dimmed her eyes. Impossible to see two people so happy together as Herbert and Hilary, and not think of the long years which must pass before such a joy cameto herself. But Rex was true--he would not change; he was worth all thewaiting--

"Well, Helen, " said Mr Bertrand to his faithful old friend as the youngpeople moved off at last and left them alone together. "Well, Helen, and what do you think of this latest development? Are you satisfied?Have I been wise?--Do you think he is the right man for her?"

Miss Carr looked at him with a little flash of disdain. 

"I think, " she said slowly, "that Hilary has improved so wonderfullyduring the last few years, that there is now some chance of her being_almost_ good enough for him! My dear Austin, he is a king among men!Hilary may be a proud woman that his choice has fallen upon her. Theywill be very happy. "

"I trust, I think they will! It seems strange that it should be Hilary, who was always so careful of her own interests, who should have chosento marry a delicate, crippled fellow who must be more or less of a careall his days; but I believe it will make a splendid woman of her, drawout all the tenderness of her nature, and soften her as nothing elsecould have done. Yes! I am thoroughly happy about it, more especiallyas it has the honour of your distinguished approval. These engagementscome thick and fast upon us, Helen. Let us hope there will be abreathing time now for some time to come. Lettice is bound to marrysooner or later, but we will pray for `later, ' and as for Norah, Isuppose her future is practically settled. Poor child! it will be along waiting, but Rex is a fine lad, and is bound to succeed. He knowshis own mind, too, and will not be likely to change; while Norah--"

"Yes, she is one of the steadfast ones, but she is only a child, Austin, and will be none the worse for the time of waiting. "

"And I cannot regret it, since through it I shall be able to keep one ofmy little lasses with me for some years at least. I shall be a lonelyman when they all take flight! . .. Come, it is getting chilly. Let usgo into the house. "