The Pillars of the House; Or, Under Wode, Under Rode, Vol. 2 (of 2)

  CHAPTER XLVII.

  THE TASK OVER.

  'If you might, would you now Retrace your way, Wander through stormy wilds, Faint and astray? Night's gloomy watches fled, Morning all beaming red, Hopes smiles around us shed, Heavenward away!' _Lady Nairne._

  Felix, Cherry, and Gerald were taking one of their slow drives withMaster Ratton, when a tall horse passed them, and with the shout 'Asright as a trivet,' Charles Audley the younger waved his hat and rodeon, leaving them to meditate on his announcement. 'A three leggedarticle,' as Cherry said, 'hardly suited the felicity he seemed tointend.'

  Charlie had not gone in for honors, but had obtained the flatteringassurance that he would have had them if he had tried. Theannouncement, backed perhaps by some mediation of his uncle, hadbrought an offer of a private secretaryship from Lord Liddesdale, andtherewith armed, he had made the awful plunge at the Hall--his fatherand uncle both waiting to defend his independence.

  Behold! Sir Robert and Lady Margaret had comported themselves likelambs. Either the scheme for Charlie's union with his cousin had beena figment, or they were glad to get the sole hope of their housemarried at all, or they were gratified by Lord Liddesdale's estimateof him, and had learnt wisdom by the ill effects of former opposition.Anyway their consent had been startlingly facile. They heeded birthmore than wealth: Stella, with her own legacy and Theodore's, wasnot unportioned, and an Underwood of Vale Leston had such undeniablecounty blood that they never connected the younger Charles's ravingswith the alarms that had elicited their consent to the elder Charles'sexpatriation fourteen years ago. Moreover Lady Liddesdale, who hadbeen the young man's confidante, had promised to be a mother to hisbride. She had just married off her last daughter, and wanted a youngcompanion, and she offered rooms at the Embassy, and whatever Charliecould wish for his wife in the way of help and kindness.

  So here was the young gentleman in tempestuous ecstasy, announcing thatthere could be no delay, for he was wanted at the Embassy by the middleof February.

  The elder brothers and sisters expected to see their nestlingdistracted by the summons to a distant home in a strange land, but herequanimity amazed them all. She was Charlie's property, and it was onlynatural to be claimed. 'Every one did,' she said, and she would havebeen quite as contented to go with him to a City lodging or to theAustralian bush as to the splendours of the Embassy.

  Wilmet thought her too young to realize what it all meant, and heldthat she ought to wait a year or two; but Felix would hear of this aslittle as the captain, having no doubt that the calm, self-contained,thoughtful nature would be equal to whatever it might be called onto meet; and though Charlie was the younger in character, he was athoroughly good, trustworthy fellow, nor would they begin with anindependent home. Besides, was not Lady Liddesdale own sister to'Sister Constance'?

  The announcement of this splendid engagement mollified Marilda, whowrote heartily, and offered services either of hospitality or ofchoice of wedding clothes. Stella could not bear to leave home, butshe was overruled. It was due to the Ambassadress that her outfitshould neither be countrified nor left to Marilda's taste; so Wilmettook her to London for a week, and by Felix's desire expended thechild's own original inheritance from her father in garments that mightnot disgrace the suite; the chief difficulty being that Stella hadmade Charlie consent to her completing her year of mourning for herbrothers--a terrible grievance to Mrs. Underwood. Wilmet was meantimethe recipient of all Marilda's views as to the folly of Felix'srejection of her offer to Gerald, over whom she absolutely seemed toyearn--and she caught at the invitation to the wedding as at leastaffording her a chance of seeing him, if not of bringing his uncle tohear reason.

  The marriage was to take place on New Year's Day, and as soon as thebustle was over, 'Sister Constance' was actually coming to Vale Lestonto arrange for the branch of the St Faith's Sisterhood which was to beestablished in connection with the future Church of the Comforter atEast Ewmouth. She was to choose among houses to let the temporary abodeof the sisters, but in the first place was to have a few days for theyoung friends, who now ranked as old, and on Charles Audley the elder.

  The oculist's verdict had not been hopeless, but it had obliged himto give up all prospect of a return to a climate so noxious to theeyes as that of Western Australia. His visit to his home had made itevident that his place was no longer there. His parents were old andself-occupied, and had little in common with him, chiefly depending ontheir daughter-in-law, a complete woman of the world, thoroughly aliento the clergyman who had spent his strength on wild 'black fellows'and rude convicts. He was more trouble than pleasure to any of theparty, and deemed it inadvisable to endure the penance of idleness anduncongeniality in their stately halls, since they gave him no openingfor being of use to them; and his brother, who would not leave him,was always miserable there. Once the pet at home, 'poor Charles' wasmourned over for his peculiarities, and coughed down if he endeavouredto explain them.

  So as Clement was in the usual case of country Vicars, curate-huntingin vain, Mr. Audley proffered himself as a 'demi-semi-assistant,'able to do a good deal without book, and thankful for a refuge fromtotal inefficiency. Clement was rather shocked at finding himself insuch relations towards his old Guardian, almost a Bishop elect, butrejoiced in the counsel and support of his experience even more thanin the actual aid, which indeed he greatly needed. And to Felix, theintercourse with his first friend was the greatest delight, while therewas a rally in his health in the autumn that made even those who knewthe worst hope the evil was averted, and every one else viewed him asrecovering.

  Perhaps he ventured a little too much in the greater sense of strength,for Lady Hammond being unable to go out, and warmly anxious to seethe young couple, he took the long drive thither with them, and a fewdays later went to a public meeting. There was an attack upon Churchinfluence in the Ewmouth hospital, and he went late, expecting only tohave to give his vote, but he found a storm raging such as he did notexpect, and his side of the question so inefficiently defended by itsfew lay representatives, that he stood up and spoke for nearly an hourwith all his remarkable force and facility.

  'I don't agree with you, Underwood,' said Mr. Walsh, as Felix, flushedand panting, waited till the rush to the door was over to get to hiscarriage, 'but you ought to be in the House; and that's much for a manto say when you've just been the means of beating him. You are one ofthe few who can make any life or sense out of the old cause.'

  Clement was far from knowing whether to be glad or sorry, as Felixmade answer with very little more than a languid smile. The speechcertainly had, as the saying is, 'taken a great deal out of him,' andwas Cherry's '_cheval de bataille_' whenever any of the wedding guestsfound fault with his appearance.

  There was a grand family gathering, bringing together all the survivingbrothers and sisters, for the unexceptionable baronet connection hadeven induced Sir Adrian Vanderkist to bring his wife and two eldestchildren, who were to act bridesmaids, together with Robina and Angela,Gertrude May and Miss Audley. Geraldine and Marilda had paired offon the score of age, and little Mary Harewood was to wear a modifiededition of the bridesmaid's white cashmere and stars of Bethlehem,whose green leaves gave the only colour the little bride would permit.The calmly decided manner in which she obtained her own way againstfashion and conventionality amused everybody. Felix had hoped to havebrought Ferdinand Travis and Marilda together on this occasion, butas soon as he found that Alda was coming, he had thought it better toabstain, and was rather relieved when the clerk at Peter Brown's sentinformation that Mr. Travis had left Barcelona, it was not known forwhat place, and so that his letter could not yet be forwarded.

  The Vanderkists arrived late on the Monday, and the next morningBernard conducted Sir Adrian to the covers he had been nursing up forthis great occasion, Fulbert stalking along with him, thinking howhardly pressed stay-at-home people must be for something to do, if_this_ were a sort of duty.


  That last day of the old year was that on which Felix attainedhis object of signing away the lay rectory. The action was sounprecedented, and involved so many complications, that his strenuousefforts had only succeeded in getting the needful documents broughtdown from London with the marriage-settlements.

  'Let me witness that,' said Mr. Audley: 'I am glad to have eyes enoughat least for such a sight.'

  Felix's face was calmly happy as he wrote the 'Felix ChesterUnderwood,' laid his finger on the seal, and spoke the 'I deliverthis as my act and deed,' by which the Rectory returned to be Churchproperty.

  'It is a great load off my mind,' he said, handing the pen to Mr.Audley and William Harewood, who said nothing to him, but merrily shookhands with the new Rector, joking him on the additional substance andconsequence the title called for, jests the readier because they allknew them to be empty, since East Ewmouth carried off the surplustithe, and he only obtained the title and the power over his Chancel.Then Felix required their witness and the lawyer's to the will whichthe numerous recent changes had necessitated, and they afterwardscarried the lawyer off to see the buildings, while Felix might resttill the arrival of the other parties to the marriage-settlements.

  However, they had not been gone long before a gentle knock came to thedoor. 'Alda, my dear, are you come to pay me a visit?' and Felix mether affectionately, and drew a chair for her close to his own.

  'I thought I might come when your business was over,' she said. 'I havescarcely seen you.'

  'Have you been over the house? You remembered it! You have seen yourlittle girls in our own cribs at last.'

  'Yes, I have so often wished to come, ever since you have been here.You quite understand that I should have been so glad, only journeys areso expensive, and we are so many.'

  'I see.'

  'That is one of the few ways in which I can save,' she said. 'It issuch an anxiety to have so many daughters.'

  'Seven now?'

  'Seven! Adrian says it makes us ridiculous. Poor children! That's whatI came to speak to you about, Felix. I want you to talk to Adrian.'

  'About what?' asked Felix, not sanguine of either talking the daughtersinto sons, or their father into preference of the sex.

  'About some provision for them,' said the mother; and there ensuedan explanation that nothing was secured to the children but her ownportion from uncle Tom, while as to the estate, so long as there wasno male heir, Sir Adrian could do as he pleased with it, and at therate of his present expenditure there would be little left for hissuccessors; and Alda, with some vague idea of Felix's helpfulness, hadcome to beg him to persuade her husband to insure his life, contracthis expenses, or do something that might secure her children fromdire poverty. She began with a wife's natural reticence and a guardedvoice, but gradually, as the home sense of being with the brotherlyprotector of earlier days wrought upon her, she dropped her caution,and disclosed the harass of her life. Her husband, it seemed, was moreand more devoted to the turf, and the display he thought needful tohis position, but while he grudged his wife every outlay needful tomaintain that ostentation, he was still more unwilling to allow her therequisites for the health, comfort, and education of the children.

  'He thinks anything will do for them,' said Alda, with a dismalsharpness in her voice; 'he can't bear spending on anything buthimself.'

  'No, no, Alda, it is hardly well to put such things into words.'

  'I would not except to you, Felix; but indeed it does me good to haveit out. I get so disheartened, I would let everything take its chance,but for my poor little girls. There is a wrangle over every cheque! IfI try to save in the housekeeping, he is angry about the dinners, and Ican't ask for money to pay bills without being blamed for extravagance.Indeed, whether I get it or not, he is always cross with me all therest of the day. I'm ashamed to see all here in black, but he would notlet me do more than just wear a little slight mourning myself, and thatfor a short time. He would not hear of it for the children. Felix, whenI see your peaceful faces and unruffled ways, I feel as if this were aworld of peace.'

  'You must contribute gentleness yourself, my poor Alda.'

  She had never answered him so humbly. 'Indeed I am obliged to try, butyou know I never was the good-tempered one at home, and it is very,very hard when one is never very well, and always harassed and anxious.I don't think, in the worst of times, Wilmet had to spend more thoughton pinching here and there to make both ends meet than I have, and atleast she had the comfort of keeping out of debt, and was thanked andnot despised! Will you speak to Adrian, Felix; of course not lettinghim guess I told you, but beginning as if of yourself about thechildren?'

  'My dear, I can hardly promise, but whatever I can do for you I will.Your little maidens seem to be sweet little, well-trained children, andif they grow up united and affectionate they may be happier on smallmeans than you suppose.'

  'The dinner of herbs and stalled ox,' said Alda; 'I have thought ofMettie's rice stews many a time when I have sat quaking because therewere no truffles in the soup. Dear children, I am so glad they seemnice to you. I do believe they have the good tempers of our family;there are never any quarrels, and their grandmamma is so fond of them.I do try to keep them good, and'--there were tears in her eyes--'itdoes make one think more about _things_ to have those little ones roundone.'

  'That is the blessing little Gerald brought to poor Edgar,' said Felix,pressing the hand she had laid upon his knees. 'The greatest of all.'

  'When I see you I know it is,' said poor Alda; 'but sometimes I thinkif I had not been brought up religiously I should be happier, I shouldnot think things so bad; and then Adrian is never so cross as if hethinks me wanting to be serious, or to make the children so. It makeshim dislike our being with his mother, though nothing is such a comfortto me.'

  'My dear, comfort will grow if you go on striving to submit meekly; doyour best with your children, and look beyond.'

  He was really more hopeful about Alda than he had ever been. Just thenshe said: 'One thing more. Mary and Sophy are old enough to need agoverness. I have managed so far with a _bonne_, but I have neithertime, spirits, nor ability to teach, and Adrian would be furious if Iasked him for a proper salary. Do you think Robina would come to us--tolive of course as my sister, on an equality? The delight and comfort itwould be----'

  To poor Alda, thought Felix, but Robina ought not to be sacrificed. 'Itwould not be right to ask her, remembering her engagement.'

  'What engagement?'

  'To Will Harewood.'

  'My dear Felix, you don't mean that you have consented to anything sofoolish! How are they to live?'

  'They have been for the last four years endeavouring to save. He makesa good deal by his pupils, and by his writings, besides his fellowship,and she adds something from her salary. They mean to get L5000 togetherbetween them--her salary, and his fellowship, pupils and books--andthen take either a parish or a mastership at a school.'

  'It seems to me sheer imprudence,' said the old Alda, half peevishat the opposition; 'I did think she might have been glad to leavestrangers for the sake of her sister, and her natural position.'

  'You forget the difference the salary makes to her prospects. Shehas L150 a year, and it would not be right to ask her to give it up,considering----'

  'I can't see why my children should be sacrificed to William Harewood!'

  'Perhaps not, but Robina might. No, Alda, it will not do. The De laPoers have made her so happy that she feels Repworth another home, andI should not like to ask her to leave it till she marries.'

  'It is hard,' sighed Alda, in a tone not unlike those heard over theshop of Bexley; but then followed another question: 'I want to knowwhat you think about Marilda?'

  'About Marilda? You know she is coming this evening.'

  'Yes, but about her intentions.'

  'I did not know she had any intentions.'

  'You see it is plain she will never marry now, and I used to be nearerto her than any one. Don't look so amazed, Felix! I know s
he is only ofmy age, and of course it is not so much with any immediate expectationsas for the sake of the influence there might be on Adrian. We used tosee a good deal of her at one time, but I believe he tried to borrowmoney of her, and she spoke out in her rough way, so that he grewangry, and made me hold aloof; but now I am sure he wants to make it upwith her again, he was so much put out about that little boy.'

  'Little Gerald? How or why?'

  'For fear she should want to adopt him, or make him her heir. Oh!Felix, you will do nothing to promote that. Remember, my poor littlegirls are just as near to you.'

  'There's no fear of my promoting anything of the kind,' said Felix,coldly; 'Gerald is provided for. No one here will scheme for him.'

  'Don't be displeased with me, Felix,' she said, more meekly. 'Only ifMarilda should say anything----'

  'The child whom dear Edgar expressly left to us we should not give upto any one.'

  'I thought not; only if anything should pass, do turn her mind to us.It is not, of course, for the sake of the property, but if she justshowed that sort of interest, it would give her weight with Adrian, andthen if she suggests anything about the children he would be sure toattend. I can't say it, but you might.'

  The motive was, after all, not so blameworthy; but before any answercould be given to this strange mixture of tokens of the long-dormantgood seed, and the choking weeds of worldly care, the door was softlyopened, a pretty glowing face peeped in, and was retreating with 'Oh!I didn't know,' but the morrow's bride might interrupt anything, andshe was called back. 'Stella, my sweet Fair-Star, come in! Why, whathave you got there? How it sparkles! What is it?'

  'Eh!' exclaimed Alda, 'I declare it is a bouquet of diamond flowers andemerald leaves! I never saw anything more splendid. Where did it comefrom?'

  'Out of Aladdin's cave? or is it dewdrops fixed by star-light?' saidFelix, as the sparkles flashed on him. 'Stella, how did you come by it?It is not Audley family jewels, eh?'

  'The Audleys never had--' but Alda checked what would have been spite,though Stella would not have minded it.

  'Oh no,' she said. 'Cherry said you would guess.'

  'Ferdinand Travis?' said Felix. 'Did he send it?'

  'Charlie rowed him up in the skiff an hour ago, and ever since he hasbeen showing us how to put it together, for it was all in separatevelvet cases. It is all brooches and bracelets and necklaces, and athing for one's head--a complete set really, you see,' said Stella,'but it is just like a puzzle putting it up like this, and it is muchprettier so.'

  'Are you going to carry it as your bouquet to-morrow?'

  'Oh no, that would never do!' interposed Alda.

  'Oh no, I should not like that,' said Stella. 'Charlie has got me mybouquet, and that's best.'

  'Much better taste,' said Alda; 'but this is truly magnificent. Youwill be prepared for the occasion, little Stella, even if you end as anambassadress. The cost must have been enormous.' And she sighed.

  'I am afraid so,' said Stella, a little oppressed; 'but Charlie is sopleased.'

  'Yes, and Fernan can not only afford it, but must have thoroughlyenjoyed doing it, my Star; so you need not scruple; he has robbednothing he ought to benefit, you may be sure; so you may take lawfulpleasure in it, little one, and "rejoice in your jewels as a bridedoth."'

  She smiled, but gravely. 'It is too beautiful,' she said. 'Isn'tit a pomp?' she whispered into her brother's ear, as he turned theglittering thing about, enjoying the magic flashes of many-colouredrays.

  'It might be,' he said, 'but it is not yet. It is the gift of a trueand grateful spirit, and for itself--I never knew how beauteous thesethings were. Nay, Stella,' speaking low, as he laid a hand on her arm,and looked up into the sweet, thoughtful face, 'recollect that such arein the walls of the City above, and yet they are but the same stuff asearthly clay after all, showing us how dust can be sublimated. Look,the mysterious glory of those diamond lights may help us to dwell onthe glories that eye hath not seen nor ear heard, and you know therainbow round about the Throne is in sight like unto an emerald.'

  'You've consecrated them, brother,' she said, with a sweet smile on herpensive face. 'When I think of that, it will keep them from being atemptation.'

  He played silently with the flashing gleams a little longer, as ifcontinuing the strain of thought, then said, 'Did you say he was here?'

  'Yes; he only came back from Spain yesterday, and came down to bringthis, though he did not know _it_ was to be so soon.'

  'Take your fairy bouquet, Princess Fair-Star, I'll come to him in aminute.'

  'O yes, brother! There's the carriage coming down the drive!' and thevoice was rather awe-struck.

  'We will come too and help you through the introduction, little one,'said Felix, 'though I think you have self-possession to meet it.'

  The little bride sprang away, and while Felix was slowly liftinghimself up, he heard Alda murmur, 'Ferdinand Travis gave that! I wonderhow many hundreds it cost.'

  Certainly it was a contrast to the pinching and anxiety she haddescribed. If she had but known, as Mrs. Underwood had said! Felixpaused in the doubt whether to take any notice of the predicament,and said, 'He had gone to Barcelona, and I did not expect him to havereturned by this time.'

  'He has purchased a welcome,' said Alda, but her face glowed, and atthe same moment the carriage crashed up to the door, containing theAudley party, who had all arrived at the Captain's the day before,except old Lady Margaret, who never left home.

  'Thank you, Felix,' said Lady Vanderkist, as they repaired to thedrawing-room in readiness for the reception. 'You have done me good.'

  He could not quite see how, but no doubt there had been much in hislook and manner of listening.

  Sir Robert Audley was a pompous, formal old gentleman, tremendouslycondescending and courtly, and his first bow, his first tone showedGeraldine what a trial he must be to his sons--indeed the elder lookedmore bored than she had ever seen him.

  'And where is the sweet young lady I am so soon to hail as mygranddaughter?'

  'Here she is, sir,' said Charlie, about to pull her forward, but she,by some intuition, advanced with a beautiful courtesy, perfect in gracebut full of modesty and respect. Sir Robert was delighted, met her witha gracious gesture and kiss, and presented her to his daughter-in-law,Mrs. Somerville Audley--a dame stiff and fashionable-looking, and toMiss Audley, small, dark, and reminding Cherry of the old word 'modish.'

  Alda was a great help, and so were the wedding presents. FerdinandTravis had fled to Major Harewood's, but his bouquet evoked rapturesfrom the ladies, though Cherry doubted whether the baronet were equallydelighted that the Audley jewels he had produced for the bride ofthe heir presumptive should be eclipsed, for he kept on impressingon the young couple that these last were family relics, and must notbe exposed to any risk, until Stella was ready to suggest that itwould be wiser not to take them abroad, and was only withheld by thefear of seeming to slight them. Her habitual silence and observationhad fostered a remarkable amount of simple tact, and this, togetherwith her unusual loveliness, rendered her a great success; but theceremonious speeches and grand politeness rendered the visit veryfatiguing, and when the settlements had been duly signed, and the otherhigh contracting power had bowed himself off, Felix looked so worn outthat every one acquiesced in his shutting himself into his study. Noone saw him again till the late dinner with which Sir Adrian must beregaled.

  It was strictly a family party, and only the Harewoods, Vanderkists,and Mr. Travis, besides the whole eleven who still bore the name ofUnderwood, were assembled in the drawing-room. Marilda was there,hearty and good-natured as ever, but better looking at two-and-thirtythan at two-and-twenty, for she had somewhat fined down, and actualwork in business and charity had given meaning to her countenance, andenergy instead of temper to her manner. She was assiduously courtinglittle Gerald, and he backing out of her way into the more congenialsociety of Mary and Sophy Vanderkist. Cherry could not help thinking itan odd turn of the wheel of fortune that
Alda should have so much nicerand better-regulated children than Wilmet. To be sure, Christopher andEdward were perfectly satisfactory to their parents, and obeyed them ata word, but the licence they enjoyed was a continual contrast to thestrict rule Wilmet had maintained over her former charge, and did notrender them agreeable company to their uncles and aunts. Moreover, theruddy locks and freckles of the Harewoods had mastered the Underwoodblonde complexion, while the two Vanderkists reproduced the elder twinsat the same age, and were exemplary little maids, taught meekness bydifficulties and yielding by seniority, grateful for notice from theiruncles, and enchanted to find a boy so unlike their notions of thespecies. On the other hand, Gerald watched them like fairies, laidhimself at their feet with precocious devotion, and mourned that hecould not marry them both on the spot.

  The grown-up party looked each other over rather as they had done onmeeting fifteen years before at their mother's funeral--the years thathad made their baby the fair little bride who was nestling as close asshe could to her eldest brother that she might feel his hand on hershoulder. Those years had brought the 'little ones' of those days tobe 'the tall ones' of the present, Bernard exceeding all the rest instature, even Fulbert and Clement, with regular features, brilliantcomplexion, and glossy light-brown hair and moustache, but withoutas yet any particular expression except good-humoured complacency inhis own appearance and deportment, being persuaded that Charlie wouldhave to-morrow a true _best_ man, unrivalled in looks and equipments;and without a regret, save that Felix was courteously deaf to all SirAdrian's strictures on the scandalous state of his covers. Whateverthose years had done for Bernard's outer man, his mind, or perhaps moreproperly his will, had not grown much older.

  This could not be said of Angela, who sat so still and meek that Aldawas meditating on transferring the governess proposal to her, butwith a latent energy in the corner of the down-cast eye and firmlyclosed mouth, and the most anxious watchfulness of Felix's slightestmovement. The change was comparatively small in sober Robina, whosesteady equable nature had been early moulded, and who sat at the windowcurtain, with Will hovering over her, both trying not to contrastother people's love affairs with their own. The three brothers whosebickerings had then been so troublesome were now the most inseparable.If their paths had severed them, they liked each other better now, asthey stood all in a row, with their backs against the mantel-piece, thebig, bearded, sunburnt Australian, the close-shaven, alert clergyman,and the little bright-eyed, thin-faced, moustached tradesman, alleagerly talking in under tones of old Bexley pranks and comrades,laughing as they never did but in such a trio, and yet each bearingtokens of toil with the full might of vigorous manhood, unlike as wastheir work.

  Geraldine's little bending figure had chiefly altered for the better.The mixture of arch lively grace and pathetic depth which gave herpeculiar charm had increased rather than lessened, and though she hadgained in dignity and confidence, anxieties and perplexities made hercheeks glow and her eyes wander restlessly as she tried to make talkfor Sir Adrian.

  The twin sisters were together on the sofa, both in black velvet.Wilmet had a bad cold, and indeed had never looked her best since theshock at Whitsuntide, so that Alda had regained the palm of beauty;but it was matronly content that had plumped the chiselled contour offeature, and if the colouring showed less clear and flower-like, it wasby contrast with Alda's defined, over-transparent white and carnation,and the wasted look that threw out the perfection of the delicatemoulding. One gave the notion of comfortable, peaceful motherliness,the other of constant anxious wear and tear; and the blue eye, so muchlarger and more hollow than the soft, calm one, rather weighed down bythe cold, no doubt were rendered additionally restless by the presenceof the man she had not seen since she had cast him off like a worn-outglove.

  It was she who had married, but upon which had the impression lastedmost painfully? There was a nervous quiver of her nostril, and asullen scowl in her husband's eye, when, after the casual greeting,Ferdinand sat down among the children, took Gerald on his knee, andmade friends with the little girls. He was indisputably the wealthiestman present, and the handsomest, except perhaps Bernard, whose goodlooks were merely the fair, scarcely developed graces of early youth,while his was the matured nobleness of countenance stamped on naturallyfine outlines by a life of brave, unselfish activity and dutifulness.It was a calm, serious, dignified face, less melancholy than in hisyounger days, for the liquid wistfulness of the dark eyes had givenplace to vigilance and authority, and though there was still a want ofsusceptibility and animation, the dark colouring and statuesque outlinedid not need them.

  'And he the chieftain of them all,' as Cherry liked to call herSquire--he was leaning back in the easy-chair by the fire, with aweary, placid smile on his face, and his fingers clasped lightly intoone another, as his elbows rested on the arms of his chair. There was astrange monumental fixity of repose about him as if he were only halfattending to the talk that passed by him, and cared more to gaze thanto speak. However, on the announcement of dinner, he roused himself,gave his arm to Lady Vanderkist, and talked cheerily to her through thesoup and fish, but while carving the turkey, he paused, a flush andthen a whiteness came over his face, and saying to Alda, 'I'm afraid Imust go, this is too much for me,' he rose, while Clement pushed backhis chair and hastily followed.

  Startled looks went round, and--'A tiring day'--'He has not doneso much for a long time'--'That stuck-up old bore might _do_ foranybody'--but in a few moments Clement came back, and said, whiletaking the seat at the bottom of the table, 'He is better now,' thentried to divert Alda's anxious inquiries whether using the arm hadrenewed the strain. Geraldine put on a defiant brightness, appealingto John whether Sir Robert were not enough to account for any fatigue,and with questionable taste in her excitement, giving Sir Adrian asarcastic account of his compliments. Luckily, Stella was out ofhearing, but John detected the ring of anxiety in every ironical word.

  Knowing that a crowd coming after him was always oppressive to Felix,no one followed Wilmet when on leaving the drawing-room she went atonce to the study door. She found Felix on the Squire's chair in itsmost couch-like form, looking even in the firelight exceedingly pale,but greeting her with a smile of welcome.

  'Yes, I am better,' he said, in answer to her enquiry. 'I'll come intothe drawing-room presently.'

  'You had better not, you are overtired.'

  'I like to look at them all,' was the answer.

  They both sat silent awhile; there was something in the stillness thatforbade Wilmet even to feel in her pocket for her tatting; but at lastFelix surprised her by saying:

  'I have been thinking about Jacob.'

  'Jacob Lightfoot?'

  'No, Israel. I think I enter a little into his surprise and gratitude.I look back--don't you, Wilmet?--to a shivering sense of loneliness andresponsibility when we first realized the task before us.'

  'I don't think I ever did,' said Wilmet; 'I never thought of mamma'snot getting well, till I had grown quite used to it. It never occurredto me that our position was unusual till I heard people talking of it.'

  'So much the better; but I recollect one cold winter day, soon after myfather's death, reading Jacob's vow at Bethel to devote his best, ifGod would only give him bread to eat and raiment to wear, and longingfor some assurance that we should have it--I felt so helpless, and thefuture so vague--and when I see how richly blessings and prosperityhave flowed in on us, and look at those fine, happy, strong creatures,it seems to me like his return across the Jordan, or as if I could say,as he did at last, "The God that led me all my life through, the Angelthat redeemed me from all evil, bless the lads."' And as the firelightshone upon his face, Wilmet recollected another saying about Jacob, andhow the 'Angels of God met him,' but her answer sounded flat. 'Yes, itis a great comfort to see so many launched and doing well.'

  'And, Wilmet, how much was owing to you! If you had not been the girlyou were, we must have broken up; it could not have been done at all.Do you remember our c
ouncils over that spotted account book on Saturdaynights, and our misery when Fulbert spoilt a new pair of boots in theriver?'

  'And your new coats! They used to weigh on my mind for months. I usedto look at your elbows every evening, and reckon whether they wouldhold out till I had saved enough for the next.'

  'Ah!' added Felix, laughing a little, 'do you remember my worst offenceof all? No? My having my hair cut at Slater's--instead of letting youdo it. I believe you had designs on the shilling, and that you thoughtme corrupted by the vanities of this world!'

  'Yes, I was very hard and narrow then. John has shown it to me.'

  'It could not be otherwise--you had to live in a continual state ofresistance.'

  'But how many mistakes we made!'

  'It is those very mistakes that make me so thankful; that they shouldhave been so many, and yet for the most part remedied, and that thoseboys and girls should have come out so sound-hearted, right-minded,and affectionate as all of them are, is to me as wonderful as it ismerciful.'

  'They could not well help it. John says it shows the force ofexample--that not one for whom you were responsible has gone wrong.'

  'Of prayer--of being the children of the righteous, more likely,' saidFelix; 'and there _is_ a coming home, you know; I see the dawnings inAlda, poor child, though there is much to smother it. I am happierabout her than ever before.'

  'Poor Alda,' said Wilmet, 'I hope she will be happy in her children,though I should not like mine to be so stiff and prim, poor littledears!'

  One by one Felix dwelt lovingly on the good points of each of thebrothers and sisters on whom he had been gazing--speaking with anenjoyment that made Wilmet loth to leave him even for the sake ofmaking the most of her brief time with her twin sister. When at lasthe recollected Alda and bade Wilmet return, blaming himself forhaving detained her so long, he said as she rose, 'Give me one kissfirst, my Wilmet, for the sake of the old times when we worked andstruggled together, and I think we tasted of the special promise to thefatherless.'

  Wilmet, somewhat surprised, bent over him and gave the kiss. He heldher a moment, saying, 'May God bless you, and return it into your bosomin your children.' The solemnity startled her, but the blessing was ajoy to her for the rest of her life.

  The sound of music drew him back to the drawing-room ere long. Alda hadnever heard Lance since his chorister's alto had passed from him, andeveryone, even Fulbert, called for some old echo of the old times overthe cracked piano. Sir Adrian had musical taste enough to be tamed andkept amiable by the domestic concert; and even Angela did her part,controlled by the resolution not to vex Felix. He indeed could takeno share, except that of evident delight, and now and then his lowvoice chimed into one or other of his best loved choruses, but he toldAlda when she regretted the lack of his tones, 'Lance was better worthhearing.'

  'Let us have "Lead, kindly Light" again to-night, Clem,' said Felix, asthey moved towards the Oratory. 'Little Stella will not think it a sadfarewell.'

  'No, indeed,' she said, holding his hand. 'I am sure we want the kindlyLight; going so far away, and so young!'

  The hymn sounded even more sweetly than on the first arrival, so sweetthat Sir Adrian said to his wife, 'If all family prayers were likethat, they would not be such a bore.'

  Wilmet went home by the bridge in the carriage, taking Marilda withher, but Will and Ferdinand returned by boat. It was a splendid frostynight, and Felix came out with them as far as the terrace. Lance, whohad gone down to the river, on returning found him still gazing at theglories of the stars--Sirius flashing with most dazzling brightness,and the Pleiades twinkling with their silvery mystery, and Aldebarangazing down like a great eye.

  'Still out, Fee; don't get a chill.'

  'Everything is so goodly--so good--without and within doors,' heanswered, 'that one hardly knows how to leave it. I wonder whether weshall recognise what our foretastes have been!'

  Lance recollected how strangely that word 'foretaste' had fallen onhis ear by Tranquillity Bridge as he sat in the solitude of his heavytrance of disappointment; and as his brother's face came again into thelights of the hall, something in it struck him with a sense that eventhen he had been far from knowing what sorrow could be.

  Of course the wedding morning was a scramble, though no one beyond thefamily was invited, except that Dr. May brought his daughter Gertrudeto act as bridesmaid. Felix, who had since the hospital meeting ceasedto leave his room before breakfast, sent word that he should keep quiettill Stella was dressed, and then that she would find him in the study.

  How lovely the little white Star looked may be imagined. She was quitecalm and self-possessed, softly tender and loving, but too gravelyserious to be excited or agitated as she went, in deep, trustful love,to meet the great unknown life, carrying about with her a certain hushof sweet gentle awe.

  So in her snowy robe and veil and wreathed brow, with her modest headstill bearing the long shining curls, she floated down the dark oakstair, and crossed the hall, without casting a look on those who werewatching her, and knocked at the study door.

  'Come in.' Felix rose to greet her, taking both her hands and kissingher through her veil. 'My Star of the East, my happy gift!' he said.'Stella, eighteen years ago father put you two freshly christenedbabies into my arms. I gave dear little Theodore in his innocence backto him last Whitsuntide. I am thankful to be allowed to give you inyour bridal white to the home that is to cherish you for the betterHome.'

  She looked up in his face, which a flush of rosy colour was restoringto something of its old self. 'Oh! brother,' she said, 'I am so gladyou spoke of dear Theodore. Charlie says we may take him my flowers assoon as it is over. I wonder if he knows.'

  'It may be, better than if he were here,' said Felix. 'Then it wouldhave been a sad day for him.'

  'I could not have done it,' said Stella, and lowering her voice, 'Idon't know how I can have done it now. Oh, brother, nothing ever can belike you!'

  'It is one of my great comforts that you have done it, my Star, my ownespecial child. I am glad you are the one I give away. Are they allready?'

  'I think so.' And just then Geraldine knocked to intimate that theAudley party were known to be arrived at the church, and that theclergy and choir were ready. So Stella took the arm, not clinging, lestshe should hurt him, but lightly resting her fingers on it, and theycame forth, he with that youthful flush of colour on his cheek, withall his scrupulous grace of attire, and with a white camellia in hiscoat, but with that far-away look in his eyes; and she with bent head,and deep concentrated spirit, never lifting her eyes from the ground.The bridesmaids fell in behind, first the three small nieces, MaryHarewood trotting between the other two, then the two sisters--Robinain her sedate reserve, and Angela, flushing, quivering and trembling,and never taking her eyes from Felix; and next the ill-matched pairGertrude May and Margaret Audley, the former thrilling at the smileand clasp of the hand she had exchanged with Felix, the latter'slittle black eyes taking note of everything not accordant with Audleyconventionalities.

  Then came the rest in due order, Geraldine upon Ferdinand's arm, gladit was so strong and friendly; for this, the first home wedding, madeher shiver with nervous excitement.

  The elder Charles Audley, who had assisted in the twins' baptism bytheir dying father, and had stood as their sponsor, was standing robedat the inner archway of the tower, with Clement and William on eitherside, while behind were the choir, Lance leading them.

  Of course the whole parish was in the seats, Miss Isabella herself,unable to help feeling that the marriage was infinitely more solemn,and full of real praise and prayer, than those whose 'simplicity' shehad been wont to uphold.

  No one ever forgot the quietly loving gesture with which the fatherlybrother put his fair young sister into the hands of the Church to be'given to this man,' and the movement after the trothplight up to thefestally decked chancel was an exceedingly beautiful sight in itself.Mr. Audley took the licence of giving a short but beautiful address ofhis own on th
e significance and glory of holy wedlock, and then theunion was crowned and sealed by the hallowed Feast; for it had not beenthought fit to hurry it over out of sight beforehand, out of deferenceto the two baronets, who, like the children and idler gazers, left thechurch, and loitered outside, observing that 'this was too strong.'

  After this, the signatures were to be made in the north transept thatserved as vestry, and it was while the movement in consequence wasgoing on that Bernard felt a convulsive grasp on his arm, and thewhispered words, 'Help me home,' were so full of suffering that hewas not surprised to see his eldest brother's face deadly pale, andcontracted by pain.

  Ere they had moved five steps, Fulbert too was supporting Felix, andnot without need, and Dr. May and Wilmet were following.

  Consternation communicated itself to those around the little table.'Felix ill!' The last Underwood that Stella Eudora ever signed herselfshowed her start of dismay, and Clement, who was presiding over theregister book, turned pale, and gave a groan.

  'God in His mercy help us! It is come!'

  'I knew! I knew,' cried Angela--darting away.

  'You apprehended'--began the amazed bridegroom.

  'He was in some pain in the early part of the night, but slept towardsmorning, and was resolved to go through with it. Stay--you must writehere while we know what we are about; this can't be left half done.'

  The blow was known to all that sad wedding party as, instead of makinga joyous procession to the great door, they found their way throughthe cloister to the house. The crisis that Felix had been led toexpect would steal on him by slow degrees, and with full warning, hadcome suddenly on, accompanied with acute inflammation, producing painso terrible to witness that the great strong Fulbert came downstairssobbing like a child at the sight, and Geraldine was taken by bothhands by Bernard and dragged away to the painting-room, with almostangry orders not to come near that door. The poor boy held her tightby her wrists, as if he feared she would disobey, reiterating, 'Hesaid--he said you mustn't come.' Fain would John Harewood have usedequally decisive measures with his wife; but neither he nor Dr. Maycould prevail on her to relinquish her place as foremost in theattempts at alleviation.

  No one could be allowed to come even to the door who had not nerve toendure the sight of severer anguish than most of them had ever deemedpossible. Clement and Angela were doing their utmost under Dr. May'sdirections, but Mr. Audley found himself less needed there than bypoor Cherry, whom he let loose from Bernard's grip, and after sendingthe boy for a cordial for her, gave them both a clearer explanation ofthe state of the case than they had yet understood. At first she feltit hard to have been in ignorance all this time, but when Mr. Audleyhad helped them both to pray, she fastened upon the hope that the verysuddenness and violence of the attack proved that the evil would thesooner be over and leave no ill effect.

  A report was circulated that Dr. May had given some such hope, andtherewith that there was some respite in the paroxysms of suffering.There was a little movement among the crushed and dismayed party whohad at first straggled up to the hall and drawing-room, and sat, orstood about, as if a thunderbolt had descended among them.

  Alda was the first to make any sort of move, impelled by the fear ofher husband's impatience, and recollecting the guests. Sir Robertand his daughter-in-law were stiff and uncomfortable, wondering thatthings should have been allowed to go so far, and wishing themselvesaway. Alda looked about for her sisters, but could only find Robina,who assisted in proposing that the strangers should come and eat. SirRobert, on this, uttered polite condolences, begging that his carriagemight be sent for, but consenting to come into the dining-room.

  Where were the bridal pair? Poor young things, they were found in oneof the hall window seats, where they could catch sounds from the sickroom, all crushed up together, his arms round her, and her head, withwreath and veil pushed aside, on his shoulder, as if she were passivelysubmitting to such support as he strove to afford.

  'My dear children,' began Sir Robert, as they stood up startled, 'itis indeed a mournful turn that this festive occasion has taken, butI am relieved to hear that the patient is somewhat relieved, and youwill, as Lady Vanderkist suggests, assume your places at the table. Orperhaps our bride will first change her dress, as it may be better tohasten your departure.'

  'I can't go away.'

  But Sir Robert with his conventionalities, Mrs. Audley with herproprieties, nay the Captain with his morbid horror of everythingpainful, all came round, declaring that Charlie was bound to takehis bride away; they need not go far; they might wait where theirrooms were engaged, but go they must; and appeals were made to bothVanderkists on the necessity.

  There however quiet, gentle Stella became wild, nay almost frantic. Shebroke away from her husband, whose 'You shall do exactly as you please'was drowned in the authoritative commands of his grandfather. 'No!No!' she cried,' I will not go! No one can take me, while my brotheris so ill,' and she burst into an irrepressible passion of weeping,leaning against the tall post of balusters, and pushing Charlie awaywhen he would have taken her hand. 'No, no, don't, I don't want anyone. I won't go away from my brother,' and she flung her arm round thepost as if she fancied she would be forcibly dragged away, and not somuch as hearing, 'This is very amiable feeling,' from Sir Robert, orif she did, it distracted her the more, while Charlie stood in utterperplexity, for it was of no use to protest that he did not mean totake her away, when it only on the one side made his grandfather orderhim the more decidedly, and Stella cling the more desperately wheneverhe tried to approach, scarcely restraining her screams as her agitationbecame uncontrollable. 'No, no, let me alone, trouble only comes withme--I want no one but my brother!'

  A step on the stairs startled her into breathless silence. It wasClement. 'Hush, Stella,' he said, sternly and shortly. 'Felix wants youand Charlie.'

  'He heard,' some one said reproachfully.

  'Yes. Don't detain her,' he added, as Alda would have modified herdishevelment by removing the wreath and veil. 'I don't know how longthis interval may last.'

  Stella, instantly controlled by the home voice, and ashamed and grievedat having disturbed her brother, made no resistance to Charlie's takingher trembling hand as Clement preceded them to the room, all silentnow save for the constrained breathing which showed the interval to befar from painless. The ashy face of suppressed suffering recalled toStella her watch by that same spot during the suspense about Theodore,and she dropped on her knees, trying to hide her tears and stifle hersobs in the bed-clothes. Felix after laying his hand on the poor littlehead held it out to Charlie, and evidently commanding his voice withgreat difficulty said, 'I did not think _this_ would have come till youhad her safe away, Charlie.'

  'I am very sorry,' was all the poor bridegroom could say.

  'I am very sorry,' repeated Felix, his hand resting on her hair again,'but as it can't be helped, I think it will come harder to her if sheis taken away just now. This can't go on long as it is now. Ask Dr.May. And when you see--'

  He paused from inability to achieve a steady tone, and Charlieanswered, 'I never meant to go. I'll stay till you are better, as longas ever she likes, indeed I will, my sweet--' but again she seemed toshiver away from him with a sort of repugnance, which Felix perceived.More faintly he said, 'You'll be his happy gift, my child, I'm so gladto leave you to--Oh! go now!'

  The fingers grew rigid and seemed to push her away. Wilmet half lifted,half thrust her into Charlie's arms. He almost carried her, pressingher face against him that she might not catch a glimpse of thosespasms and uncontrollable writhings of anguish that were returning.The door was shut, and the young creatures cowered in the gallery inone another's arms, catching the sad sounds that neither patience norresolute will could prevent. Stella slid down on her knees, and Charliewas fain to do the same, thankful that she let him hold her in his arminstead of repelling him.

  'There! it is all quiet. He must be better again,' he whisperedafter a time, and this was confirmed by Angela coming to
send outa prescription of the doctor's. The chill look of her white dresssuggested to Charlie to say, 'You will be as cold as ice in thatwhiteness, my Star. Suppose you took it off, while I go and tell SirRobert that nothing shall move us till he is all right again. Youcouldn't think me such a brute.'

  Poor little Stella held up her tear-stained face for a kiss with avague sense of having been naughty and wanting forgiveness.

  'You'll come back to me when you have dressed! I'll come and wait uphere again.'

  'Do. I'll be quick. They can't send us away, can they?'

  'I'll see them shot first,' then repenting the schoolboy defiance ofthe words: 'No, Stella, I'm your husband, you know, and can guard you.I had no intention of going, not a bit. Only they can't see when one isa man, and they frightened you with the noise, poor little thing! If Itell them _he_ wishes it, no one can say a word. Don't be long.'

  He nearly walked over a pair sitting on the stairs, too dejected toheed anything, namely, Lance and Gertrude, drawn together by the fellowfeeling of being both too unhappy to speak or be spoken to, yet findinga sort of companionship in wretchedness as they listened and caughtfragmentary tidings from above.

  Charlie showed his manhood in quiet self-assertion. He told hisgrandfather that it would not be right to take his wife away, and thather brother wished them to stay; and though this was viewed as veryill-judged, there was no gainsaying it, especially as his uncle hadcome down decidedly of the same opinion.

  Geraldine had likewise descended. The sanguine view she had contrivedto take up had given her strength to take up her necessary part asmistress of the house making farewells and excuses. Marilda had, shefound, swept off all the children to the Harewoods' house, includingGerald, who had allowed Ferdinand to carry him away, and in the presentstate of things she could only be thankful he was beyond hearing andquestioning.

  As the hours passed, and winter twilight gave way to early night, therewas something of a lull. The alleviations had not been entirely withouteffect, and Dr. May felt obliged to go home, promising that he or hisson, or both, would come early on the morrow. When Felix understoodthis, he asked whether Gertrude were still in the house, and hearingthat she was, begged for her presence for a moment.

  'Most certainly,' said her father. 'Where is she?'

  'She has been sitting on the stairs all day with Lance,' Angelaanswered.

  'With Lance?' Felix nearly smiled.

  Dark as were the stairs, there they still were. Lance had executednumerous errands, and had made Gertrude swallow some tea, but they hadnot spoken ten words to one another. There Dr. May found his daughter,and, with a word or two of warning and preparation, led her in. Shecould not see much, for the light was shielded from the face, and onlythrew up the shadow of the cross and the angel's hovering wings on theceiling above. The hand that lay on the sheet, curved, but not withrepose, closed on hers with a '_krampfhaft_' pressure. 'You have beencomforting Lance,' said Felix. 'Thank you.'

  'I couldn't,' she faltered, more overcome by voice than look, it was sothin and weak.

  'You prayed! You will pray! "Each on his cross still let us hangawhile." Pray that I may not let go. "Suffer us not at our last hour,"'his lips moved on--'Pray that for me.'

  'Indeed! indeed I will!'

  'Thank you; it will be your greatest kindness. And one day rememberthat wish--that one wish. I wanted to wish you good-bye. God bless you.Kiss me once, my _sister_ Gertrude.'

  She could not have staid a moment longer than to give and receive thatkiss. She almost fled into the room where her wraps were, and therecried as if her heart would break, feeling scarcely able to bear itwhen Robina came to see whether she had warm things enough.

  But Gertrude had a twelve miles' drive with her father, and in itshe experienced as never before, the depths of his tenderness anddelicacy of his sympathy, and he found what were his once wilful pettedchild's yearnings towards that lofty noble character just out ofreach, yearnings by his own forbearance just not stirred into activeconscious love, such as would have left her heart entirely widowed. Forin reply to the questions she scarce durst utter, the Doctor declaredplainly that his own hope was small, though there still remained thepossibility of a turn for the better, and Tom's more modern sciencemight have further resources.

  This was what he had left with the family, and most of them turned 'nothopeless' into hopeful, more especially as the most distressing form ofsuffering had not recurred, though even now Felix begged that Cherrymight not see him, and feebly tried to send Wilmet home, but nothingwould induce her to leave him. Her whole self seemed bound up in thesingle thought of ministering to him, and she was almost incapable ofattending to remonstrance from husband or doctor on the special risksin her case, as if her strong will had mastered her very understanding,and they feared that to insist might do her more harm than to let herhave her way. Clement kept equally close at hand, resolved that sheshould never be alone with the patient to bear the first brunt of thoseappalling attacks of suffering, and Angela was never further off thanthe next room, with the door open.

  Those downstairs achieved a conventional cheerfulness. Stella was therein her ordinary black dress, and it was not easy to realize that shewas Mrs. Audley, while Charley hung over her, petting her, though veryanxious to be useful.

  The chief use to which Geraldine wanted to put him or any one else,was to entertain Adrian, who looked as if he thought the illness ofthe master of the house a special injury and act of inhospitality tohimself, and was, besides, much disposed to be rude to Ferdinand.

  'Can't you take him into the long room and play billiards?' she askedBernard.

  'You'd hear the balls up in Felix's room. I never saw such a selfishbrute.'

  Bernard had found his Helot at last. 'Best way would be to get Fulbertto take him somewhere to smoke. I don't suppose he'll go for me.'

  The somewhere was Sibby's sitting-room, and when Sir Adrian was carriedoff, Alda, Geraldine, Ferdinand, and Marilda had rather a comfortabletalk over old St Oswald's Buildings days, in which Mr. Audley presentlyjoined them.

  The calm lasted, so that every one except the three actual nurseswent to bed peacefully; but before the morning broke there was worsedistress than ever. The worst attacks there had been at all set in,lasting longer, and with far less power of mitigation from the remedialmeasures, which seemed to be losing more effect every time, till thewatchers scarcely durst wish to see the sufferer begin to revive onlyto undergo fresh torture.

  That terrible morning broke Wilmet down. She had gone through all withunremitting energy and unflinching courage, but when Professor May hadarrived, and brought some new anaesthetic, so that there was some reliefand the strain slackened, she just crept into the next room withAngela and fainted away, only reviving to swoon again as soon as shetried to move.

  The doctors were unanimous in sending her away, even while scarcelyyet conscious, to her own house, and she was too faint to make anyresistance or remonstrance. About an hour later, Ferdinand and Marilda,who were waiting in the billiard-room for the report of Professor May'sopinion, were auditors of the following conversation, evidently the endof something that had been going on all the way from Major Harewood'shouse:

  'Adrian! it is absolute cruelty! Why cannot you go alone, and send homethe children?'

  'Oh I daresay, and leave you to sentiment with that nigger fellow.'

  'You need not have insulted me;' and her silk rustled upstairs, hissteps following.

  Marilda's eyes flashed and gave utterance to a fierce whisper. 'Thecowardly ruffian! Can't you horsewhip him?' clenching her fist as shespoke.

  But Ferdinand's dark face had indeed reddened, and his nostrilsquivered, though not at the personal offence, as he muttered under hisbreath: 'To shoot him were the only cure for her! God forgive me forthe thought, but to think of any woman in such hands, and to be theperson most entirely unable to defend her!'

  'I forgot! Of course you could only make it worse, but poor dearAlda!--It drives one out of one's senses;
' and tears of anger were inher eyes.

  'It stirs the devil within, and makes me wish I had never forgivenhim,' said Ferdinand between his teeth.

  'You need not forgive him this! _I_ don't.'

  After a few moments' pause Fernan said, 'The only service I can do heris to go away. Would that make him consent to her remaining?'

  'Oh! we can't spare you. What shall I do with Gerald without you orMary Vanderkist? He is always whining for Cherry!'

  'Of course I can't bear to be away, but if I excite this idioticaljealousy, what can I do but take myself off? I'll go to London, and youcan telegraph every hour. Go up and tell Alda--Lady Vanderkist, I mean.Casually ask what I can do for her.'

  'That would stir him up again. And I don't think it would be of anyuse. He doesn't want to stay here, and means spite.'

  'Then she could insist on staying.'

  'She would be afraid. You see when people have used one another as theyused you, it can't help rankling.'

  'I ought not to have come here, but of course I thought the whole thingas utterly gone by with them as with myself.'

  Marilda looked up with a curious expression of blushing gladness thatmade him exclaim,' How like you are to what you were when first I sawyou!'

  She blushed still more.

  'That time!' he said, musing. 'Did you ever think I used you wrongly?'he suddenly added.

  '_I_ never did. I knew the difference between myself and Alda.'

  'Nay, let me tell you, I never should have seen how beautiful she was,unless--I suppose it wasn't true, now--'

  'What wasn't true?'

  'That you and Felix--'

  'Felix! No indeed! He is far too independent and disinterested. Whocould have told you? You won't say? Not Edgar?'

  'No. It was that poor lady herself.'

  'Well,' said Marilda, infinitely shocked, 'I do call that wicked!' andas her mind glanced back to all the pain of those two years, she added,'What did she say? Don't mind telling me. I'm old enough now.'

  'Are you?' he said, with a quick glance of his dark eyes that made herglow again, and he continued: 'She gave me to understand that there wasan old inclination between you and him, and that your father had sucha regard for him as to be likely to yield if nothing more advantageouscame in his way.'

  'If you had only asked poor Edgar! Well! perhaps she flattered herselfit was so! Yet, what could have put it into her head.'

  'You know the rest, and how I was dazzled both by her beauty and thecharm of her connection, but for years past the sense of my hugemistake has been upon me; yet till Felix came into possession here, Istill thought it was his punctilious feeling alone that kept you apart.'

  'As if he had ever cared for me except in a cousinly, brotherly sort ofway! Did you think that was what made me hush up poor Edgar's affair,though indeed I never felt so thankful to any one as to you for havingsaved that secret.'

  'Do you know what your generosity made me wish, though I never durstspeak it before? That you would forget all these mistakes and forgiveme, and come back to what things were before that misunderstanding.'

  'Oh!' cried Marilda, with a long breath, 'you can't really mean it.'

  'What else should I mean? If you will only forgive and overlook.'

  'Don't talk in that way,' cried Marilda. 'Why I never cared for anyoneelse, and always have--but'--breaking off in the midst--'hark, thereare wheels. That poor thing will be gone.'

  'You had better go up and tell her.'

  'Not _this_--I can't. It would only make him more savage; besides atsuch a time.'

  'True. No--only let them know I'll go. I'm gone. No, I can't leave theplace till I've heard his opinion--but I'll go over to Ewmouth. I'llsee you again and settle--only don't let her be dragged away.'

  Marilda was obliged to go up, with the vaguest ideas as to what tosay, in a case that even she felt to be delicate, but on coming to thescene of action, she found that the words she had overheard amountedto no more than an ebullition of temper. Sir Adrian did not wish toleave behind him a character for brutality, and since he could pleadan appointment and escape from the house of mourning, he could endureleaving his wife to it; and an excuse for yielding was afforded by themaid who, coming up with the two little girls, brought word that Mrs.Harewood was asking for my Lady.

  So Mary and Sophy were sent back to Ironbeam, their father went to meethis pheasants, and their mother hurried back to her twin, all thatold tenderness reviving instinctively so as to render the sisterlycontact the greatest comfort then possible to either. Ferdinand hadtaken care to inform the departing Sir Adrian that he was about toleave Vale Leston, and was in fact only waiting for the opinion of theLondon doctor who had seen Felix before, and for whom, with Tom May'ssanction, he had telegraphed.

  Gratitude to him for having devised this, and trust to further advicebuoyed Cherry up, as she watched in the painting-room, giving orders,answering inquiries, and never swerving from hope and that intenseprayer for her brother's restoration, which no one could discourage,nor even qualify in vehemence. Why should not a life so valuable begiven back to her entreaties and those of many another suppliant? YetMr. Audley, going backwards and forwards between her and the patient,could not but be struck by observing that Felix himself rather allowedthan demanded the supplications for recovery, and though extremity ofpain often wrung from him cries for relief and sobs for mercy, yetin the calmer periods these became sighs for the power of enduringhis cross better, and of not loosening his hold on his Saviour, andsometimes even the moan had more of praise than of plaint. He was stillquite sensible, but the intervals between the paroxysms were so farfrom painless that he never showed any wish to see or speak to any butthose immediately about him, namely, Clement and Angela, with Lance andRobina as supplementary helpers, and Mr. Audley, when he could bear it.

  Tom May waited all day, doing his best till his London friend came, andcould do nothing but confirm his treatment, and agree that the shadowof hope was not yet absolutely impossible, though human means wereunavailing. However, between exhaustion and a fresh form of anodyne, asort of stupor was induced towards the evening, and this was again arelief, at least to those who durst call it sleep.

  Ferdinand profited by it to tear himself away according to his promise,and Marilda betook herself and her much aggrieved maid to the Rood,carrying the children with her, to spend the day, though there wasno room to lodge them at night; poor Gerald submitting passively, asthe fresh misfortune of losing both Fernan and Mary Vanderkist fellon him. Marilda's quarters were left to Sister Constance, who arrivedat the appointed time, to find herself less needed at the Priory thanthe cottage, where the greeting she received from the sorrowful andanxious Lady Vanderkist was no small contrast to the manner in whichAlda Underwood had requited her services.

  The beneficent torpor lasted far into the night, and in some way orother all, save Clement and Angela, consented to take a certain amountof rest. Even Angela, though refusing to lie down, must have dozed inher chair by the fire, for as her perception gradually returned to her,she heard broken tones from Felix, and saw Clement standing over him.The first words that fully met her ear were the conclusion of what hadgone before. 'There! stained, weak, failing, erring, more than I cansay--more than I can recollect--I can only trust all to the washing inmy Saviour's precious blood. Let me hear His message.'

  The deep, thankful intensity of the gaze, looking far beyond Clementstanding over him and pronouncing the Absolution, impressed Angela withstrange awe.

  Full of the past, all shuddering twilight, Man waits his hour with upward eye, The golden keys in love are brought, That he may hold by them and die.

  It was a face of love, eagerness, absorption, that no one could everforget, as the voice of pardon was listened to with folded hands.

  She dared not move till there was again need of her assistance. Whenshe could utter a word to Clement, it was: 'Is not he better?' butClement shook his head. Still the last doctor's advice had enabled theworst pa
rt of the suffering to be so far kept in abeyance, that beforethat morning's dawn the Feast could be held in the sick chamber, amongthose whom Clement ventured to call together for it. The greater calmmuch encouraged Cherry, and she went away cheered by the face thatcould still give her a smile, declaring that Felix did not look worsethan when he was bloodless after the accident.

  Both she and Bernard hugged their hope. Even when, before the day wasout, all the family knew of Tom May's verdict that those symptoms hadset in which extinguished all chance of recovery without a miracle;still those two upheld one another in shutting their eyes to theinference, and continued to rejoice in the comparative relief from theheartrending spasms of the previous days, while others knew but toowell that this was only the token that the struggle of the constitutionwas over.

  Other forms of suffering had set in, but attention was sometimesfree. Ferdinand and Marilda, though ashamed of having fallen intotheir engagement at such a time, could not help believing that to himat least it would give pleasure, and it had been breathed into Mr.Audley's ear. In one of these pauses of tranquillity Felix was told ofit, and said with a smile, 'That is well. God is giving me every wishof my heart--"Grant thee thy heart's desire--"'

  For his words had a tendency to flow into psalms and prayers, whichthe others took up and finished; but he was generally quite sensible,though sometimes restless and sometimes torpid. He asked for Wilmet,and hearing she had gone home, and that Alda was with her, seemedsatisfied. He murmured something about Sir Adrian, and on learninghis departure, said, 'I meant to have spoken to him--I don't supposeI could--some one tell him--he must be kind to Alda and the littleones--poor Alda!'

  The day passed in this manner, and when at its close the familiarsounds indicated shutting up for the night, he showed an expectation ofgood nights. Geraldine came, and was charmed with the calmed, soothedcountenance; she kissed him and told him he was better, and wouldsleep. He answered, 'Thank God, yes; thank God for you, my Cherie.'

  Clement was afraid to let her agitate herself or him, and led her awayto her own door, appealing to him all the way whether the worst werenot over. He trusted that it was.

  To Stella Felix gave only a blessing and good-night, but he thankedCharlie again for letting her remain, and to Bernard he said what thelad at the moment thought wandering, 'You'll swim for yourself now yourplank is gone.'

  There were no such positive farewells to those immediately about him.He depended most for aid both bodily and spiritual on Clement, but hetook the most notice of Angela, often thanking her, with some tendername, even while he seemed continually drifting further and further outof reach.

  Life is strongly bound into a frame scarcely at the midway of age,and the change came so slowly that Cherry had begun to say that whenthe Epiphany was past, the day of his father's death, she was surethe corner would be turned. He was very weak, but he had been as weakbefore.

  Weak? Yes. The mind was failing now, not the soul. The ears stillopened to prayer, the lips joined in it, the speech was of anotherworld. "The hours of the cross--when will it be over?" Or thewedding might guide the thought to "the Bride prepared." "The whitearray"--"the diamonds--the jewels He will make up--the emerald rainbowround about the Throne."

  Falterings very feeble ensued, as if he were talking to his father:'Indeed I tried. I think they are all coming. Father, may I come now?Isn't it done?'

  That was the last word they caught distinctly, except fragments ofprayer, before the long hour when he lay on Clement's breast, eachlong labouring breath heaving up as though the last. Lance had fetchedCherry, telling her Felix was going. He had had to change the word todying, actually dying, before she could understand its force. Then shestood, gripping his arm, at the foot of the bed, while nothing washeard but those gasps, and the continued prayer of Mr. Audley, untilthe moment came when he bade the Christian soul depart into the handsof the Father of Spirits.

  That was just as the winter night was darkening on the Saturdayevening.