by L. T. Meade
CHAPTER IV.
THE BEST GIRL.
Immediately after the funeral Mrs. Richmond took Nan's hand.
"Now, dear," she said, "you come home with me."
Nan turned first red and then very white. She was just about to replywhen Mr. Pryor came forward.
"Madam," he said, "may I make a request? I want to ask a very greatfavour."
"If possible I will grant it," replied Mrs. Richmond.
"I have known Mrs. Esterleigh, this dear little girl's mother, for twoor three years; and on the whole, although I am not specially fond ofchildren, I think I also know Nan well. Now, I want to know if youwill grant me the great favour of allowing me to take Nan home to myrooms until this evening. I will promise to bring her to you thisevening."
"Oh yes, I will go with you and with Phoebe," said Nan. She claspedhold of Mr. Pryor's hand and held it to her heart, and she looked roundfor Phoebe, who in her shabby frock was standing on the outskirts ofthe group.
Phoebe was nodding to Nan and making mysterious signs to her. Mrs.Richmond looked full at Mr. Pryor.
"I do not wish to make Nan more unhappy than I can help to-day," shesaid; "so if you will bring her to my house by six o'clock thisevening I will be satisfied."
She turned away and entered her own carriage, and Mr. Pryor looked atNan.
"It is only two o'clock," he said; "we have four hours. A great dealcan be done in four hours. What do you say to our spending the day outhere in the country?"
"Oh," said Nan, "in the country! Is this the country?"
"This is Highgate. I have a carriage, and I will get the man to driveus quite out into the country parts--perhaps to Barnet. The dayhappens to be a lovely one. I have a kind of desire to go into theHadleigh Woods with you; what do you say?"
Nan gave a vague nod, and looked round for Phoebe.
"You would like your little friend Phoebe to come too?"
Nan's whole face lit up.
"Oh, very, very much!" she said.
"Well, she is standing there; go and ask her."
So Nan rushed up to Phoebe.
"Phoebe," she said, "shall we go into the country with Mr. Pryor? Ineed not be back till six o'clock."
"I don't know if my mistress would wish it," said Phoebe.
"I will take upon myself to say that Mrs. Vincent will not be angrywith you," said Mr. Pryor, coming up at this moment. "Now, children,get into my carriage; I will give the driver directions."
So they left the cemetery and drove away and away into the heart ofthe country. It took them some little time to reach it, but at lastthey got where the trees grew in numbers and houses were few and farbetween; and although it was winter the day was a lovely one, andthere was a warm sunshine, and it seemed to Nan that she had come outof the most awful gloom and misery into a peace and a joy which shecould scarcely understand.
Mr. Pryor dismissed the carriage when it set them down at a prettylittle inn, and he took Nan by the hand and led her into the parlour,and asked the landlord for a private room; and there he and Nan andPhoebe had dinner together.
It was a simple dinner--the very simplest possible--and Sophia Mariasat on Nan's lap while she ate, and Mr. Pryor talked very little, andwhen he did it was in a grave voice.
Phoebe looked somewhat awed; and as to Nan, the sense of grief andbewilderment grew greater each moment.
"Now, Phoebe," said Mr. Pryor when the meal was over, "I want ourlittle party to divide. There are four of us, for of course I considerSophia Maria quite one of the family."
"Oh, she is quite, the darling!" said Nan.
"Will you take charge of her for a little, Phoebe," said Mr. Pryor,"while Nan and I go for a walk?"
"Oh, must we?" said Nan, looking full at him.
He smiled very gravely at her.
"We will not be long," he said. "There are a few things your motherhas asked me to say to you. I would rather say them to you alone,without even Sophia Maria listening."
Then Nan's little white face lit up.
"Phoebe," she said, "Mr. Pryor and I have something most important tosay to each other. Be sure you take great care of Maria, and don't lether catch cold."
Phoebe promised, and Mr. Pryor and Nan, hand in hand, walked in thedirection of the Hadleigh Woods.
They walked in absolute silence until they reached the woods, and thentheir steps became slower, and Nan looked up into the face of hercompanion and said:
"I wish you would tell me. What did mother say?"
"My dear Nan, your mother knew very well that the day was soon comingwhen God would send for her. She did not like to talk to you about it,although she often tried to; she was anxious about you, but not veryanxious."
"I wonder mother was not very anxious when she thought of leaving meso far, far behind," said Nan.
"You see, she did not think that, for in reality those who go to Godare not separated very far from those they leave."
"Then is mother near me?"
"You cannot see her, nor can you realise it, but I should not besurprised if she were quite near you."
"She knows all about my black dress and my crape?" said Nan. "Phoebesaid she would be so glad about the crape!"
"Well, Nan, the fact is that the crape could not make her glad, northe black dress; but the thought that you, her little girl, made itand wore it for love of her would make her glad. It is not the colourof the dress makes her happy; it is the love you put into it."
"Oh! I don't quite understand," said Nan.
"You will when you think it over. You see, she is in white; she has acrown and a harp. That is what we have learnt about those who leaveus--that if they have loved God they go into His presence, and theirdress is white and glistening, and they have harps to sing to andcrowns to wear; and we know the more we love the nearer we get tothem. So, Nan, the message your mother has left me is this: 'Tell Nanto be as good as girl can be--to be the best girl she knows. By beingthe best she must be the most loving, she must be the most unselfish.She must not wish to be the best to be thought well of by herfellow-men, but she must be the best because God loves those who tryto follow Him.' Do you follow me, Nan, when I say these words?"
"I follow you," said Nan. "You want me to be good, but I do not thinkI can; and as to being the best, that I can never be. You want me tohave a great deal of love, and I only love mother and Phoebe a littlebit. And to-night everything is to be changed; I won't even have you."
"I am going to ask Mrs. Richmond to send you to see mesometimes--perhaps once a fortnight or so."
"Will you?" said Nan. "I think if I could like anything I should likethat."
"I will arrange it then; and perhaps although you do not exactly loveme now, you will regard me as your friend and love me presently. Butthere is something else I want to say. Your mother wished all thesethings for you, but she knew that you would have certain difficultiesin your life. I am sorry to have to tell it to you, my dear littlegirl, but it is the fact: your mother left you without any money."
"But mother could scarcely do that, because we had something to liveon," said Nan. "Has mother taken our money away with her up to God?"
"No, dear. In the home where she is now money is not needed; but thelittle money she had was only to be here during her lifetime. It waswhat is called an annuity; that means, she could have the use of itfor her life, but only for her life. So, my dear little girl, you haveno money."
"Then I expect," said Nan, drawing herself up and fixing her eyes fullon Mr. Pryor's face, "that I had best go to the workhouse. I can go tothe workhouse until I am old enough to take a place as servant; and Iwould like, please, to go into the same house with Phoebe. Perhaps Mrs.Vincent would have me as her little servant, and Phoebe could teachme."
"That is not necessary; you are not suited for that kind of life, andGod does not require it of you. Mrs. Richmond is very well off; she hasmore money than she knows what to do with, and she always loved yourmother, so she is going to take you to bring you up with her two
little girls. You will be trained and educated, and have everythingthat a little girl can require, and all Mrs. Richmond wants in returnis your love and your obedience."
"But I don't think I can love her. I wish--oh, I wish she would not doit!" said Nan.
"Now, Nan, the first proof of your love for your mother has arrived,for she wanted you to go to Mrs. Richmond. She would be dreadfullypained--far, far more pained, if trouble could reach her in heaven, byyour not going there than even if you still wore a coloured frock."
"Oh, how puzzling it is, and how difficult!" said Nan. "I shall quitehate to go to Mrs. Richmond. I never liked her much, and now to thinkthat I owe everything to her!"
"I have something more to say. There is a man who owed your fathermoney long ago, and he has promised to adopt you in case you are nothappy with Mrs. Richmond; but you must spend quite a year with herbefore you go to him. You would have a different life with him--freer,wilder. Your mother preferred the idea of your being with Mrs.Richmond, but if you are unhappy with her you are to go to theAsprays; when last I heard of them they lived in Virginia, in theStates of America."
Nan pressed her hand to her forehead.
"That does not seem much better," she answered; "and I think my headaches, but I am not sure. Shall we go back again now, Mr. Pryor?"
