Meredon was silent for a little.
"That would be a very great comfort," he said at last, "and possiblyeven more. I can't bear to take up your time just now, when you haveall the teaching to do; but if you were freer I might perhaps go on withsome of the work I had in hand when my eyes first got so bad. I coulddictate to you," and Mr Meredon looked up eagerly.
But the brighter expression soon faded.
"I am afraid," he said, "we are reckoning on our chickens not onlybefore they are hatched, but before we have got any eggs! In the firstplace, Mrs Carteret may not think Claudia fit for it. No man is aprophet in his own country--and you see they have known her since shewas a baby."
Mrs Meredon smiled.
"I will ask Mrs Carteret about it," she said.
"And then the two years' schooling for her. Where is that to comefrom?" he asked.
"Ah! that _is_ the question. Well, Basil, I love our independence asmuch as you do, but with this prospect of steady and remunerativeemployment for her, I think we should swallow our false pride,--itsurely would be false pride in such a case,--and ask Lady Mildred tohelp us. It would not be asking much, or burdening her for long."
"I will think it over," Mr Meredon replied, "and you perhaps had bettersound Mrs Carteret, and, if you like, Mr Fade also."
Perhaps Mrs Meredon had already done so. Be that as it may, theresults were satisfactory. And a few days later the letter on whichhung so many hopes was written by his wife to Mr Meredon's dictation.
"And now," she said wisely, "we have done what we could. Let us try inthe mean time to put the matter off our minds."
Their patience, however, was not so taxed as often happens in suchcases. Nor was the answer what they had expected. How seldom, howstrangely seldom _are_ expectations realised! If ever in the long runthings turn out as we have anticipated, the details of their fulfilmentare so curiously unlike what we had pictured that we scarcely recognisethem. Mrs Meredon and Claudia, the blind father too probably, had lainawake many an hour reading in imagination Lady Mildred's reply. Wouldit be curt and cold, at once negativing all hopes, or condescendinglybenevolent, or simply kind and kinswomanlike? The last, after so manyyears, and after too her expressed disapproval of her nephew's marriage,was scarcely to be hoped for. It was none of all these, for in theshape of a letter her answer never came at all.
But one late August afternoon, about a month before the rainy Saturdaywhen Charlotte and Gervais Waldron sat discussing the expected "newgirl" at Miss Lloyd's, the nameless heiress of Silverthorns, the old flyfrom Welby, the Britton-Garnett railway station, turned in at theRectory gate and slowly crawled up the drive, already slushy with earlyautumn rains and want of rolling,--for carriage wheels were rare at theMeredons'--and in answer to the scared little maid's information that"missus was at home," a tall, upright old lady in deep mourningdescended, and was ushered into the drawing-room. It was empty. Shehad time to look about her--to note the shabby furniture, the scrupulouscare with which the carpet, faded though it was, was covered to protectit from the sun, the darned curtains looped up so as to show to the bestadvantage, the one real ornament of the room, a lovely nosegay of roses,freshly cut and fragrant, placed so as to make a bright spot where mostwanted.
"Yes," she decided, "there has been no exaggeration. They are verypoor, but they are not degraded by it. They have kept up theirself-respect."
But she was scarcely prepared for the vision that met her eyes when, aninstant later, the door opening made her turn round.
It was Claudia--Claudia in a little washed-out cotton frock, which mightonce have been blue, with snowy collar and cuffs, and a rosebud at herthroat, her lovely hair fluttering over her forehead, her hazel eyesraised in half-perplexed inquiry,--Claudia, the most exquisite pictureof girlhood that Lady Mildred's gaze had ever rested on.
She half started forward to meet the child; but Claudia was absorbed inher commission, and did not notice it.
"Mamma is very sorry," she began, "she--she has been busy writing forpapa. She will be here in a moment. Can you kindly tell me your name--and is there anything I can say to mamma for you?"
"My dear, yes. Tell her not to hurry; I can wait. Tell her and yourfather that I am Aunt Mildred, and that I have come to spend the daywith them if they will have me. And before you run away, can you notkiss your old aunt?"
"Of course, of course. I had no idea it was you, dear aunt," saidClaudia. "How strange of me not to guess, and we so often speak ofyou!"
"You knew that your mother, or perhaps I should say your father, wroteto me lately?" asked Lady Mildred.
"Yes," said Claudia simply, "I knew all about it. And oh! I am so gladyou have come. It is ever so much better than a letter."
"She is lovely and good, I feel sure, and I should imagine clever, likeher mother," thought Lady Mildred. "What a pity it seems! But they areright--their idea is infinitely better than making a governess of such agirl, even if she were not a Meredon."
And the result of that August day that Lady Mildred Osbert spent withher nephew and his family was, that a fortnight later Claudia Meredonwas installed at Silverthorns.
Lady Mildred, when free from prejudice, could do things both kindly andsensibly, though nevertheless "in her own way."
"I cannot do much for you," she said to her nephew and his wife; "but Iam heartily sorry for you,--I had no idea Basil's eyes were so bad,--andwhat I can do I will. I am not so rich as is generally thought."
"That I know," Mr Meredon interrupted.
"Yes, I have always wished my own family to know it. As for theOsberts, time enough for them to know it when I am dead. It is no lovefor them that actuates me, but my determination to carry out myhusband's wishes. Thanks to this, the property will be all butunencumbered again when it leaves my hands. But this state of thingscripples me. However, that is no one's concern but my own. Of allthings I hate gossip, so I keep my own counsel. Now as to Claudia--Ishould like, I tell you frankly, to get some personal gratification outof what I do. I have taken a great fancy to the child. Suppose you letme have her for the two years, instead of sending her away to school--Ihate girls' schools, by the way, even the best of them. But I have madeinquiry, and I find that at Wortherham, near me, she could haveexcellent teaching. There is a _sort_ of school there, a day schoolonly, for some of the girls of the place, which is most highly spokenof--the principal of it, Miss Lloyd, is very capable herself, and hasfirst-rate teachers to help her. If Claudia attended these classes shecould live with me and cheer me up a little. I am very lonely. The twoyears may see the end of me--"
"Don't say that, Aunt Mildred," Mr Meredon interrupted; "it makes mefeel as if I should have done something--written to you, or had somecommunication with you before. Has it been false pride?"
"Perhaps," said Lady Mildred, bluntly. "I was not cordial about yourmarriage. You know it, my dear," she added, turning to Mrs Meredon."But it was no ill-feeling to you personally. And as things are--well,I see plainly that Basil could not have a better wife."
"Thank you for saying so," said Mrs Meredon simply.
"And let me say I think your plan for Claudia a delightful one."
"But I have more to explain," Lady Mildred went on. "I like doingthings in my own way. If she comes to me it must not be in the guise ofa poor relation. I won't have all the old women in Wortherham,--dreadful radical place, that it is,--nor my county neighbours either,for that matter, gossiping about the poverty-stricken Meredons. Everyone knows the Meredons are poor, but let us keep all details toourselves. Claudia must not let any one at this school know anythingabout her motives for studying as hard as I am sure she will do; and shemust not overdo it. She is well advanced already, you say?"
"I hope so," said the mother. "But it is difficult to judge till onecompares her with others. In French and German I am sure she will standwell."
"Yes, I know she could not have had a better teacher than you."
"I had unusual advantages myself ce
rtainly," said Mrs Meredon, who hadbeen many years in France and Germany.
Lady Mildred nodded her head without speaking. She had the greatestbelief in her niece's ability, and with good reason.
"Well, then," she said, "we may consider it settled. I shall meetClaudia in London a week hence and see to a `trousseau' for her, so giveyourself no trouble on that head. You can explain to her all I havesaid. She will understand why I do not wish her to make friendshipswith any of the Wortherham girls whom she will be thrown with?"
"She will thoroughly understand that she is to follow your wishes in_everything_," said Mrs