Philippa
Philippa, rathermaliciously; "as far as I understand, it seems to have been MichaelGresham who came to the rescue."
"No thanks to him," said Evelyn; "it was very horrid and interfering ofhim. I do believe he is jealous of his cousin. And I was forgetting totell you that afterwards I believe he was conscious of having seemedvery disagreeable, for he came and sat down beside me and began talkingfar more nicely than he has ever done yet, rather as if he wanted to`make up,' you know."
"I don't quite know why you have taken a dislike to him," said Philippa,listlessly. "I should think he's nice in some ways, kind-heartedperhaps, or else his dog wouldn't be so fond of him."
"I don't know how you can judge," said Evelyn; "you have only seen himin the train."
Philippa did not reply. She was up again by this time, and busyingherself as usual with the preparations of Evelyn's evening attire, andbefore her sister left her, a promise had been extracted that the girlwould not sit up till Evelyn's reappearance that night.
The next day passed without event of any moment. It seemed long andwearisome to Philippa, for in her increased terror of discovery shealmost exaggerated her precautions, and scarcely ventured to leave herown room. Late in the afternoon she was sitting by the open window ofher sister's apartment, which looked out on the front of the house, whenthe sound of wheels caught her attention, and glancing out she saw adog-cart coming round from the stables.
It was hidden from view for a few minutes as it stood under the largeporch, but the sound of voices and laughter reached her ears, tellingtheir own tale, as she distinguished, "good-bye, old fellow," "too badof you," and the like. And in another minute the cart drove off, thoughnot so rapidly as to prevent her perceiving that one of its occupantswas Michael Gresham; and leaning forward slightly she caught sight ofSolomon's little brown person comfortably ensconced on the seat besidehis master. Just at that moment the young man looked up. That he sawher there could be no question, for he instinctively lifted his hand tohis cap, and Philippa, crimsoning, drew back hastily behind thewindow-curtains.
"It was rather nice of him," she said to herself, "though rash. I dohope no one saw it. Poor old Solomon, I wonder if I shall ever strokehis smooth little back again!"
What would she have thought had she known that the departure of bothmaster and dog had been hastened by some forty-eight hours or so, as theonly means Michael could see of putting a stop to his cousin'sdisastrous proposal of escorting Mrs Marmaduke Headfort on her homewardway?
There are--there must be such things as "brainwaves." What had madeMichael look up at the first-storey windows as he drove away fromWyverston?
Philippa, as she got up from her seat by the window and began somepreparations for Evelyn's packing, was conscious of some interminglingof feelings with regard to her former fellow-traveller's departure. Itwas, in a sense, a relief to know that the only person who, besides thekindly old housekeeper, was in possession of her secret, had left theplace; a salve to her wounded dignity to be no longer in dread of comingacross the man to whom circumstances had forced her to appeal sounwillingly. Yet, with Michael Gresham there went a certain sense ofprotection and security. Somehow or other she was instinctively assuredthat however he might blame her, he would have stood by her in any worsecomplication, had such arisen, and would have exerted himself to theutmost to ward off more serious trouble.
"I am happier than I can express to know that we shall so soon be awayfrom this place," she said to herself over and over again that evening."To think that it is not now days but _hours_ only that have to passbefore we are safe on our way home--dear home, dearest home! I do notcare how angry my darling mother is; I do not care how shocked fatherlooks; I have deserved it for my headstrong presumption; I only care forthe delight of being safe with them again. And I _don't_ think anythingworse can happen now, so very near our going, and good Mrs Shepton soon the alert." Her hopes were fulfilled. Nothing more to startle oralarm the sisters occurred. And if there were any remarks in theservants'-hall about "Miss Ray's" headache, which again incapacitatedher from coming down to supper or joining in the more or less harmlessgossip which went on at that sociable meal, remarks friendly or thereverse, Philippa did not hear them. Their early start the next morningwas a reason too for Mrs Marmaduke's coming up to bed betimes, and whenshe congratulated her sister on her cleverness in having the boxes allbut ready to lock, Philippa turned to her with a radiant face.
"Oh, Evey," she exclaimed, "I _am_ so thankful to be going home!"
"I am sure you are, you poor dear," said Evelyn, tenderly. "It musthave been unutterably dull for you, poked up here by yourself, exceptwhen you were forced to--Pah! I can't think of it--_you_, my beautifulPhil, sitting at table with a crew of _servants_--common servants."
"They were not all common," said her sister. "Some, on the contrary,were very uncommon. I have told you about the dear old housekeeper.No, as regards that part of it all, I have been really very lucky."
"Don't talk of it all the same," said Evelyn. "I do not know, honestlyI don't, how I should have got on here without you, but yet I cannotendure to think of it. I don't think I _could_ have stood it, even whenevery one was so nice and I was really enjoying myself, if I had notresolutely _determined_ to put you out of my mind for the time."
"You are very fortunate in possessing any power of the kind," saidPhilippa, with some amusement at her sister's emphasising of her ownstrength of will.
"Yes," said Evelyn, "it is an excellent thing to possess."
"It is the thought of being at home again and rid of all this acting andplanning and watching, that I am so happy about," Philippa went on. "Ido really and truly feel as if I never shall want to leave mamma again.I don't mind if she--"
It was perhaps as well that Evelyn here interrupted her.
"Nonsense, dear," she said. "You will get quite different again. Youmustn't give way to such morbid feelings, for _my_ sake even, you mustnot, or else I should always have a wretched self-reproach that somehowI had spoilt your girlhood--though of course it was not my doing. But Isuppose I _might_ have been resolute and insisted on your returning, oreven taken you back myself and telegraphed to them here that I wasdelayed."
"I would not have gone back," said Philippa, stoutly.
"Well, then, if it wasn't my fault, don't punish me for it by sayingdreadful things. You shall come to Merle-in-the-Wold whenever we getMr Gresham's invitation, and enjoy yourself with Duke and me."
"I would not mind _so_ much if Duke were with us," said Philippa,doubtfully.
"Of course not; there would be nothing to mind. And _some_ day, you maycome back here--who knows?" But at this Philippa shook her head.
"I cannot imagine such a thing; it has grown into a sort of nightmare tome," she replied, and in her heart she devoutly hoped that circumstanceswould combine to delay the invitation to Merle-in-the-Wold indefinitely.But at nineteen, feelings change.
With every mile on the homeward road the next day the girl's spiritsrose. And not even the constraint and unusual seriousness of hermother's manner as she met the travellers at the station, whither shehad expressly come to meet them, could prevent the relief and delight ofknowing herself at home again.
"I have brought one of your hate and ordinary jackets for you to changeat once," Mrs Raynsworth said eagerly. "They are in the waiting-roomin a small bag with my name on. Run and put them on while I look afterthe luggage with Evelyn. I could not risk the servants seeing you inthat masquerade."
The word stung Philippa. But she knew she had deserved it, and she felttouched by her mother's thoughtfulness. Two minutes later she stood onthe platform with the others, looking for all the world like theeveryday Philippa, though a trifle paler and thinner than her wont, whohad come to meet her sister on her arrival.
Evelyn glanced at her approvingly. But by tacit consent no allusion wasmade to the transformation, or the circumstances that had led to it,during the drive home of the mother and daughters in the Marlby fly; andth
e elder sister, who, whatever in the way of thoughtfulness she wasdeficient in, was certainly not wanting in tact, above all, where thosedear to her were concerned, managed to ward off any painful sense ofconstraint by her graphic accounts of her visit and its undoubtedsuccess, intermingled with her delight at "coming home" again, home toher mother and the darling children.
"Bonny's cough is better, you say, dear mamma? Oh, then it _can't_ begoing to be whooping-cough. Indeed I have never felt really anxiousabout it. I don't see how he _could_ have caught it, with all the careyou have taken of him. I