CHAPTER VI.
QUEEN ELIZABETH'S WRAITH.
"... Life indeed must always be a compromise between common sense and the ideal,--the one abating nothing of its demands, the other accommodating itself to what is practicable and real."--Amiel.
As they entered the large square hall with Fuss and Fury frolickinground them, a tall respectable-looking woman came forward to meet them.
"I suppose my sister is in the library, Mitchell?" asked Miss Harford,quickly.
"Yes, ma'am. Parker has just taken in the tea."
"Then will you please give this young lady some: take her into my room,and make her comfortable. I must ask you to excuse me for a short time,Miss Ward, as I have to talk over one or two things with my sister; butMitchell will look after you."
"Oh, please do not trouble about me!" returned Waveney; and then shefollowed Mitchell down a long passage, full of beautiful plants, to apleasant sitting-room with a deep bay window overlooking the lawn withthe sundial; the peacock was strutting across the grass with themincing, ambling gait peculiar to that bird, the peahen following himmore meekly.
Through green trellised arches one looked on a tennis lawn, and beyondthat was a large red brick cottage with a porch. When Mitchell broughtin the tea-tray, Waveney asked her who lived there. The woman looked alittle amused at the question.
"No one lives there, ma'am," she answered, civilly. "My mistresses builtit, for their winter evening entertainments. There is only one room,with a sort of kitchen behind it. It is always called the Porch House."
Waveney longed to ask some more questions, but Mitchell had alreadyretired, so she sat down and enjoyed her tea.
How happy she could be in this lovely place if only Mollie were withher! And then she thought of the fifty pounds a year. After all,Erpingham was not so far away. Perhaps they would let her go home once aweek. If she could only have her Sunday afternoons and evenings toherself! And then her heart began to beat quickly. How delicious thatwould be! How Mollie and she would talk! And after tea they would singtheir old hymns, and then they would all go to church together, and herfather and Noel would walk to the station to see her off. And then shewondered if she should mind the long walk across the common; it would berather lonely, she thought, on a dark winter's evening, and perhaps MissHarford would not approve of it.
While Waveney indulged in these surmises and cogitations, Miss Harfordhad walked briskly across the inner hall, and, tapping lightly at adoor, opened it and entered a beautiful long room fitted up as alibrary. It had a grand oriel window, with a cushioned seat, and a tinyinner room like a recess, with a glass door leading to the lawn with thecedar-tree.
A lady writing at a table in the centre of the room uttered a littleexclamation of surprise.
"Why, Doreen, I was just writing to you; but it is the unexpected thatalways happens." And then the two sisters kissed each otheraffectionately.
"You can put away your letter and give me some tea instead," Doreensaid, laughing; and then Althea smiled and walked to a little tea-tablethat had been placed in the window, with two inviting-looking easychairs beside it.
"Sit down, Dorrie, do, and tell me what has brought you over like aflash of lightning on a summer evening," she said, as she took up thetea-pot.
Althea Harford was a better-looking woman than her sister, but she couldnever have been handsome. She was very tall, and her figure wasdecidedly graceful; she walked well, and carried her head with the airof an empress. Her eyes were expressive and even beautiful, but her facewas too long and thin, and her reddish auburn hair and light eyelashesgave her rather a colourless look. She had a long, aquiline nose, andsome people said that she reminded them of Queen Elizabeth, though itmay be doubted whether that Tudor princess had Althea's air ofrefinement and gentleness.
She was evidently a year or two younger than her sister, but her dress,like Doreen's, was very sedate, and suitable to her age. She had a styleof her own, which certainly suited her. When excited, or under theinfluence of some strong emotion, a faint pink colour would come to hercheeks, and a vivid light to her eyes; at such moments she would bealmost beautiful.
The sisters were very unlike in disposition; but in spite of theirdissimilarity they were the best of friends, and understood each otherperfectly.
Doreen took life more lightly; she had a robust cheerfulness that seldomfailed her. Althea had a greater sense of humour, and far moreintellect; but there was a veiled melancholy about her, as though earlyin life she had suffered disillusion; and she would speak sometimes asthough human existence were a comedy where the players wore masks andperformed the shadow dance at intervals.
Both sisters were Ladies Bountiful, and gave nobly of their substance,but Althea could never be brought to acknowledge that she gave enough;she had scruples of conscience, and would sometimes complain that theywere like Dives, and had their good things in this life.
"And as though we were not rich enough," she would grumble, "Aunt Sarais actually going to leave us her money"--for Mrs. Mainwaring had latelymade another will in her nieces' favour. Doreen would have a large sumof money, but Althea, who was her favourite, would be the chief legatee,and Althea had groaned in spirit when she heard it.
"It is such a responsibility," she sighed; but Doreen would not listento this.
"It is such an enjoyment," she retorted. "I do so love spending money,and so do you, Althea, in spite of your grumbling. And as to Aunt Sara'swill, we need not make ourselves miserable about that, for she willprobably live until she is ninety." And this view of the case cheeredAlthea greatly. Althea's temperament was by no means pessimistic, butlike all deep thinkers she had to pay the penalty of her own acuteperceptions. The unsolved problems of life saddened her, and at timesdisturbed her comfort. She envied Doreen her capacity for puttingtroublesome questions out of her mind. "I wish I had your mind, Dorrie,"she said once. "It is such a comfortable, nicely padded mind. Whendisagreeable things happen, you just let down your curtains and keepyourself snug."
"Upon my word, Althea," returned Doreen, good-humouredly, "I am glad noone but myself heard that speech. You make me out a nice selfish sort ofperson."
"No, no, you are not selfish at all, you are far more ready to helppeople than I am. You are a good woman, Doreen, and you know I did notmean that."
"Then what did your riddle mean?"
"Well, just what I said. That you never worry and fret yourself overtroublesome questions--social questions, I mean, difficult problems thatmeet one in this world at every corner; I often make myself quiteunhappy over them, and go to bed with a heartache, but I do not believethat you ever lose an hour's sleep over them."
"I daresay not. In that sense I suppose I have a nicely padded mind;but, Althea, it is not that I do not realise the difficulty. But, mydear child, what is the good of sitting down before a mountain andwaiting for it to open. Earthquakes of that sort won't happen. I put itby until I am grown up;" and as Althea stared at her she nodded herhead. "Quite grown up, I mean; we are only children here, and we are notlikely to get all our lessons perfect." And then, in a low voice, shesaid, a little solemnly, "'What I do thou knowest not now, but thoushalt know hereafter;'" and as Doreen said this her plain, homelyfeatures were transfigured and Althea looked at her with reverence; forin her simple faith Doreen had passed her and taken the higher place.
"Well, Doreen, what has brought you over this evening?" asked Althea,as she handed her sister a cup of tea. "I was thinking of driving overto-morrow to see you and Aunt Sara."
"Well, I wanted to see you about two or three things, Miss Ward amongstthem. I have brought her over, and she is at present partaking of teaand cake in my room."
"Oh--do you think she will do?" asked Althea, quickly.
"Well, that is for you to decide. You shall see her presently and judgefor yourself. At first sight I confess that I was not favourablyimpressed--she is such a childish-looking little thing, with fluffy,babyish hair curling over her head. But for her eyes, and ex
pression, Ishould never have thought her grown up. She is rather like LauraRidgway, only paler."
"Laura has very pretty eyes, Doreen."
"So has Miss Ward; they are quite out of the common. Aunt Sara tookrather a fancy to her."
"Aunt Sara is a very good judge of character," her sister observed.
"Well, I liked her better myself after a time; her voice is deep, but Isomehow admire it, and she read very nicely. She seems anxious to cometo us. They are evidently rather poor. But----" Here Doreen hesitated inrather an embarrassed way.
"Out with it, Dorrie: there is something behind, I see."
"Well, it is for you to judge. I shall leave the decision in your hands.I think Aunt Sara is right, and that Miss Ward is a nice little thing;but she is Everard Ward's daughter."
Althea started; she was evidently quite unprepared for this. She changedcolour slightly. "Are you sure of that, Doreen?" she asked, in a lowvoice. "You know how many Wards there are--dozens and dozens."
"Yes, and I never for a moment imagined that it could be Everard'sdaughter; but directly she mentioned her address--Cleveland Terrace,Chelsea--of course I recognised her. Wait a minute"--as Althea seemedinclined to interrupt her--"let me make it all clear to you. I put thequestion to her, 'Is Everard Ward your father?' That was plain enough,was it not? And when she said yes, I managed to glean two or threeparticulars, that we already know."
"Yes, but tell me, all the same;" and Althea's manner was a littleeager.
"Well, she told me that her mother was dead--we knew that--and that shehad a twin sister who was rather lame, and a brother Noel." Then, at themention of Noel's name, Althea looked a little amused.
"What a strange coincidence!" she murmured.
"Strange enough, but rather embarrassing. Miss Ward was very _naive_ andfrank. It seems the poor man cannot sell his pictures; he has one onhand now. 'King Canute,' she called it, and none of the dealers willlook at it. She says her father is very low about it, and that they wantthe money badly. Well, what now, Althea?" pretending to frown at her;for Althea's face was suffused with colour, and her eyes were verybright.
"Poor Everard!" she said, softly. "There is room for another picture inthe Porch House." And then a queer little smile came to her lips. "Itwill be a valuable lesson to the girls."
Then Doreen shook her head at her.
"It could not be done, you foolish woman. You would be found out."
"We must discover another way, then," returned Althea, who was quite inearnest. "Perhaps Thorold will give it house room."
"But you must be prudent, dear."
"I will be discretion itself. The picture will not be purchased in myname, you can depend on that. I begin to think my nature is notstraightforward, I do so love little plots, and underhand schemes. Ishould have made a good secret conspirator. Now about this girl: if shepleases me, I can see no objection to our engaging her. It is perfectlysimple, Dorrie; they are poor, and the girls have to work. Fate, orrather--for it is no joking matter--Providence, has brought her to us.Is it too superstitious to say that I feel that I dare not refuse totake her. It may be another way of helping them."
"Yes, but in my opinion, Everard ought to know to whom he is sendingher."
"Ah, I agree with you there, in spite of my subterranean and complicatedschemes. I did not propose any fresh masquerade, as far as the girl isconcerned. I am willing to be as open as the day. Now, as we havefinished tea, shall I go to your room?" And Doreen smiled assent.
Waveney was standing by the window, crumbling some sweet-cake for thepeacock. She turned round at the sound of the opening door.
The evening sun was shining into the room, and perhaps the light dazzledWaveney a little; but certainly she gave a very droll description ofAlthea to Mollie afterwards.
"The door opened, and a very tall woman in a grey gown seemed to glidein, for she walked so quietly that I could not hear a footstep; and loand behold, it was Queen Elizabeth's Wraith."
"Oh, Waveney, what nonsense! And I do hate that horrid old Elizabeth."
"Well, so do I; but, all the same, Miss Harford is remarkably likeher--such a long, thin face and nose, and reddish hair; and she had asort of ruff of lace round her throat, and such a stately manner, it wasquite queenly. And, I think, really, that I should have made my curtsy,only she came up to me in the kindest way and took my hand. 'I am sosorry that you have been alone all this time,' she said, in such a sweetvoice, 'but my sister and I had so much business to discuss. She hastold me all about you, so I am not going to trouble you with needlessquestions. You can just tell me anything you like about yourself. I havea great respect for workers, and always love to help them.'"
"It was nice of her to say that."
"Yes; it quite won my heart. I like both the Miss Harfords, Mollie; butMiss Althea--or Queen Bess, as I prefer to call her--is more to mytaste. She interested me directly, and we had such a nice talk, just asthough we were old friends; and she said at once that I could have mySunday afternoons--think of that, sweetheart! I shall be with you everySunday."
Althea's sympathetic nature had at once grasped the girl's trouble atleaving home.
"I think I could arrange for you to spend the greater part of yourSundays at home," she observed, "that is, if you are a good walker, forwe never use our horses on Sundays, unless the weather is very bad. Wedine early, for I always have a busy afternoon in the Porch House, and Icould spare you easily."
"But the long walk back in the dark," faltered Waveney, who knew wellthat her father would make objections to this. Then Althea consideredthe point.
"Yes, you are right. You could not walk alone on dark evenings, and thewinter is coming. There are houses, of course, but they stand so farback, and the gates are locked. Oh, no, my dear, that would never do.Neither my sister nor I could permit you to walk alone." Then her facebrightened, and she continued with more animation, "I have an idea. Mymaid Peachy always goes to see her mother on Sunday afternoons; shelives near Victoria, and she always takes the same train back. We willfind out which that is, and then you can walk up the hill together." Atthis the girl's joy was so evident that Althea had been quite touched.
Just at the close of the interview she had said a few words that greatlysurprised Waveney.
"And now, my dear, I should like you to go home and talk things overwith your people, and then you can write me a line saying whether youwish to come to us. We must not decide things finally until your fathergives his consent. He will know our names." And, as Waveney seemedpuzzled at this, "When we were young he visited at our house. Oh, nothere; we lived in Surrey then."
"But when shall you want me," asked Waveney, anxiously. "Oh, I am surefather will give his consent. He is dreadfully unhappy at the idea ofour working, but he knows it must be done."
"Still you must consult him," returned Althea, gently, and her mannerwas a little stately. "As for my wanting you, I shall be content if youcould come to me in about ten days. Now I hear the carriage cominground. Good-bye. I think I will add _au revoir_;" and then she shookhands very cordially, and the next moment Doreen joined them.
There was very little conversation during the drive back. Miss Harfordwas busy with her letters and note-book, and Waveney leaned back on thecushions, and thought over her talk with Althea.
"How strange that father should have known them!" she said to herself."He often talks of his old friends, but he has never mentioned theirname. Harford--no, I am sure I never heard it until Miss Warburton spokeof them. If I go anywhere it shall be to the Red House--I have made upmy mind to that. I like both of them--they are different somehow fromother people; but I like Queen Bess far the best."