The Long Vacation

by Charlotte M. Yonge

  She saw a forget-me-not in the grass, Gilly-flower, gentle rosemary, Ah! why did the lady that little flower pass, While the dews fell over the mulberry-tree? KENEALY.

  Such of the party as were not wanted for the second day of the bazaar,and were not afraid of mal de mer, had accepted the yachting invitation,except the three elders at St. Andrew's Rock. Even Adrian and Felixwere suffered to go, under Sophy's charge, on the promise to go nowherewithout express permission, and not to be troublesome to any one.

  "Sophy can say, 'Now, boys,' as effectively as Wilmet," said Geraldine,when she met Lance, who had been to the quay to see them off.

  "She did not say so to much advantage with her own boys," said Clement.

  "We weren't Harewoods," returned Lance, "and John never could bear tosee a tight hand over them; but there's good in them that will come outsome day."

  Clement gave an emphatic "Humph!" as he sat down to the second breakfastafter Anna had gone to the cliff to resume her toils.

  "Who are gone?" asked Geraldine.

  "Poor Marilda, smilingly declaring she shall be in misery in the cabinall the time, Fernan, and four Vanderkists, General Mohun, Sir Jasper,and some of his progeny; but others stay to help Miss Mohun finish upthe sales."

  "Does Lord Ivinghoe go?"

  "Oh yes, he came rushing down just in time. Francie was looking like amorning rose off the cloister at Vale Leston."

  "I am sorry they have another day of it. I don't see how it can come togood," said Geraldine.

  "Perhaps her roses may fade at sea," said Clement, "and disenchantmentmay ensue."

  "At least I hope Alda may not hear of it, or she will be in an agony ofexpectation as long as hope lasts. Gerald is gone, of course?"

  "Oh yes!" said Lance, who had had a farewell from him with the words,"Get it over while I am out of the way, and tell them I don't mind."

  Cursory and incomprehensible, but conclusive; and Lance, who mindedenough to have lost sleep and gained a headache, marvelled over youngmen's lightness and buoyancy. He had seen Dr. Brownlow, and arrangedthat there should be a call, as a friend, in due time after thecommunication, in case it should hurt Clement, and when Geraldineobserved merrily that now they were quit of all the young ones theycould feel like old times, he was quite grieved to disturb her pleasure.

  Clement, however, began by taking out a letter and saying--

  "Here is a remarkable missive left for me yesterday--'If the Rev.Underwood wishes to hear of something to his advantage, he shouldcommunicate with Mr. O'L., care of Mr. John Bast, van proprietor,Whitechapel.' An impostor?" said he.

  "I am afraid not," said Lance. "Clement, I fear there is no doubt thatshe is that singing Hungarian woman who was the ruin of Edgar's life."

  "Gerald's mother!" exclaimed Geraldine.

  "Even so."

  "But she is gone! She gave up all rights. She can't claim anything. Hasshe worried him?"

  "Yes, poor boy! She has declared that she had actually a living husbandat the time she married our poor Edgar."

  Of course both broke out into exclamations that it was impossible,and Lance had to tell them of his interview with the woman at Gerald'sentreaty. They were neither of them so overcome by the disclosure as hehad feared during his long delay.

  "I believe it is only an attempt at extortion," said Clement.

  "Very cruel," said Geraldine. "How--how did my poor boy bear it all thistime?"

  "He was very much knocked down at first, quite overwhelmed, but less bythe loss than by the shame, and the imputation on his father."

  "It was no fault of dear Edgar's."

  "No, indeed. I am glad Fernan is here to go over again what Edgar toldhim. We may be quite satisfied so far."

  "And is it needful to take it up?" asked Geraldine wistfully. "If wedon't believe it, the horrid story would get quashed."

  "No, Cherry," said Clement. "If you think it over you will see that wemust investigate. I should be relieved indeed to let it alone, but itwould not be fair towards Lance there and his boys."

  Lance made a strange noise of horror and deprecation, then added--

  "I don't believe Gerald would consent to let it alone."

  "No, now he knows, of course. He is a right-minded, generous boy," saidGeraldine. "I was wrong. Did you say he was very much upset?"

  "Just at first, when he came to me at night. I was obliged to dragoonhim, and myself too, to throw it off enough to be able to get throughour performance yesterday. How thankful I am to the regatta that it isnot our duty to the country to go through it again to-day! However, heseems to have rebounded a good deal. He was about all the latter part ofthe day with Miss Mohun."

  "I saw him dancing and laughing with some of them."

  "And he parted from me very cheerfully, telling me to assure you 'he didnot mind,' whatever that may mean."

  "He knows that nothing can disturb our love for him, Edgar's littlecomfort, passed on to bear us up," said Cherry tearfully. "Oh yes, Iknow what he meant--Felix's delight, my darling always."

  "It strikes me," said Lance, "that if he can save his sister--"

  Geraldine started.

  "Oh, the cigar-girl! Only by that mother's side."

  "That is true, but she is his half-sister, and he is evidently muchdrawn towards her. She is a nice little thing, and I believe hemade much of her on the rehearsal day. I saw they got on much bettertogether, and I think she was aware of the relationship."

  "Yes, it is quite right of him," said Geraldine, "but she will be adrag on him all his life. Now what ought we to do? Shall you answer thisletter to the care of the van-man, Clem?"

  "I shall think, and wait till I have seen Gerald and Travis. This letteris evidently written simply in the hope of raising money from me, not inany friendly spirit."

  "Certainly not," said Lance. "Having failed to black-mail Gerald, anddiscovered that you are the heir, they begin on you, but not from anygratitude to you. Sweetie Bob, as they call the ex-errand-boy, gives afine account of their denunciations of the tall parson who brought thebobbies down on them."

  Lance felt much reassured by Clement's tone, and all the more when hehad seen Dr. Brownlow, who made a thorough examination, and came to theconclusion that Clement had recovered tone, so that the shock, whateverit was, that his brother dreaded had done no present damage, but that hewas by no means fit for any strain of work or exertion, should be keptfrom anxiety as much as possible, and had better spend the winter in awarm climate. It was not likely--Jock Brownlow said it with griefand pain--that he would ever be able to return to the charge of St.Matthew's, but as he had a year's holiday, there was no need to enter onthat subject yet, and in a quiet country place, with a curate, he mightlive to the age of man in tolerable health if he took care of himself,or his sister took care of him for some time to come.

  So much relieved was Lance that he recollected that he had laid in nostock of presents for those at home, and went up to profit by the secondday's reductions, when he secured Geraldine's portrait of Davy Blakefor his wife, and a statuette of St. Cecilia for Dr. May, some charmingwater-colours for Robina and Ethel, besides various lesser delights forthe small fry, his own and the flock at Vale Leston, besides a cushionfor Alda's sofa. John Inglesant had been bought by a connoisseur byspecial commission. He heard at every stall triumphant accounts of thegrand outlay of the Travis Underwoods and Rotherwoods, and just thecontrary of Mrs. Pettifer, whom he encountered going about in search ofbargains, and heard haggling for a handsome table-cover, because it wasquite aesthetic, and would not do except in a large house, so of courseit had not sold.

  The Mouse-traps had been a great success, and there were very few leftof them. They really owed as much to Lance as did the play, for he hadnot only printed them at as small a cost as possible, but had edited,pruned, and got them into shape more than any of the young lady authorssuspected. The interpretation of handwriting had likewise succeeded inobtaining many clients, a
nd a large pile of silver coins. Anna, who washovering near, was delighted to show him that her sister Sophy'swriting had been declared to indicate homely tastes, an affectionatedisposition, great perspicuity of perception, much force of character;and Franceska's, scarcely yet formed, showed that she was affectionate,romantic, and, of all things in the world, fond of horses and ofboating. Emilia's was held as a great blunder, for she was said tohave an eye devoted to temporal advantages, also volatile, yet of greatdetermination, triumphing over every obstacle, and in much danger ofself-deception.

  "The triumph at least is true," said Anna, "now she has her way aboutthe nursing."

  "Has she? I did not know it."

  "Yes, she is to try it for a year, while Cousins Fernan and Marilda goout to their farm in the Rocky Mountains."

  Just then there was a little commotion, and a report came up that a boathad been run down and some one drowned. Somebody said, "One of thoseacting last night--a buccaneer." Somebody else, "A naval man." Then itwas "The Buccaneer Captain," and Mrs. Pettifer was exclaiming, "PoorCaptain Armytage! He was in our theatricals, I remember, but theythought him rather high. But he was a fine young man! Poor CaptainArmytage!"

  Lance had sufficient interests in those at sea to be anxious, and turnedhis steps to the gates to ascertain the facts, when he was overtaken byGillian, with a hat hastily thrown over her snooded hair and Highlandgarb, hurrying along, and looking very white.

  "Mr. Underwood! Oh! did you hear who it was?"

  "No certainty. I was going down to find out. You," as he saw herpurpose, "had better not come. There will be a great crowd. I will comeback and tell you."

  "Oh no, I must. This is the short way."

  Her hands trembled so that she could hardly undo the private fasteningof Miss Mohun's garden, and she began to dash down the cliff steps. Justat the turn, where the stair-way was narrowest, Lance heard her exclaim,and saw that she had met face to face no other than Captain Armytagehimself.

  "Oh! is it?" and she so tottered on the rocky step that the hand he hadput out in greeting became a support, and a tender one, as Lance said(perhaps with a little _malice_)--

  "We heard that the Buccaneer Captain had come to grief."

  "I?" he laughed; and Gillian shook herself up, asking--

  "Weren't you run down?" seeing even as she spoke that not a drop of wetwas traceable.

  "Me! What! did you think I was going to peril my life in a 'longshoreconcern like this?" said he, with a merry laugh, betraying infinitepleasure.

  "But did nothing happen? Nobody drowned?" she asked, half disappointed.

  "Not a mouse! A little chap, one of the fairies yesterday, tumbled offthe sea-wall where he had no business to be, but he swam like a cork. Wethrew him a rope and hauled him up."

  Wherewith he gave his arm to Gillian, who was still trembling, andclasped it so warmly that Lance thought it expedient to pass them assoon as possible and continue his journey on the staircase, giving a lowwhistle of amusement, and pausing to look out on the beautiful bluebay, crowded with the white sails of yachts and pleasure-boats, withbrilliant festoons of little flags, and here and there the feather ofsteam from a launch. He could look, for he was feeling lighter of heartnow that the communication was over.

  Perhaps Lance would have been edified could he have heard the colloquy--

  "Gillian! you do care for me after all?"

  Gillian tried to take her arm away and to say, "Common humanity," butshe did not get the words out.

  "No, no!" he said. "Confess that if it had been that fisher-boy, youwould not be here now!" and he kept tight the arm that she was going totake away. Her face was in a flame.

  "Well, well; and if--if it wasn't, you need not make such a fuss aboutit."

  "Not when it is the first ray of hope you have afforded me, for the onlyjoy of my life?"

  "I never meant to afford--"

  "But you could not help."

  "Oh, don't! I never meant it. Oh dear! I never meant to be worried abouttroublesome things like this till I had got older, and learnt agreat deal more; and now you want to upset it all. It is very--verydisagreeable."

  "But you need not be upset!" poor Ernley Armytage pleaded. "Remember, Iam going away for three years. May I not take hope with me?"

  Gillian paused.

  "Well," again she said, "I do like you--I mean, I don't mind you as muchas most people; you have done something, and you have some sense."

  His look of rapture at these very moderate words quite overpowered her,and the tears welled up into her eyes, while she made a sudden change oftone.

  "There, there--of course it is all right. I'm a nasty creature, and ifyou like me, it is more than I deserve, only, whatever you do, don'tmake me cry. I've got all the horrid dolls and pen-wipers, and bags andrags to get rid of."

  "May I talk to your mother?"

  "Oh yes, if you can catch her. She will be ever so much more good to youthan I; and I only hope she will warn you what a Tartar I am."

  Wherewith Gillian threw off her hat, swung open the gate, and dashedlike a hunted hare up to her mother's stall, where in truth she had beenwanted, since only two helpers had remained to assist in the cheapeningand final disposal of the remnants. Lady Merrifield read something inthose wild eyes and cheeks burning, but the exigencies of the momentobliged her to hold her peace, and apply herself to estimating thehalf-price of the cushions and table-cloths she rejoiced to seedeparting, as well as to preserve wits enough not to let Gillian sellthe Indian screen for two shillings and sixpence, under the impressionthat this was the half of five pounds. Mysie was the only one who kepther senses fairly undisturbed, and could balance between her duty to theschools and her desire to gratify a child, happy in that she never sawmore than one thing at a time. Valetta and Primrose were yachting, sothat the distraction was less, and Captain Armytage lingered round,taking messages, and looking in wistful earnestness for some one tobe disengaged. Yet there was something in his eyes that spoke of thecalmness of an attained object, and Miss Mohun, who had sold off allher remaining frocks and pinafores at a valuation to Marilda for someinstitution, and was free to help her sister, saw in a moment that hismind was settled.

  Yet speech was scarcely possible till the clearance was finallyeffected by a Dutch auction, when Captain Armytage distinguished himselfunexpectedly as auctioneer, and made an end even of the last sachet,though it smelt so strongly of lip-salve that he declared that a bearermust be paid to take it away. But the purchaser was a big sailor, whoevidently thought it an elegant gift for his sweetheart.

  By the time it was gone the yachters had come home. Captain Armytageseized on Sir Jasper, who already know his purpose, and wished himsuccess, though withheld from saying a word to urge the suit by LadyMerrifield's assurances, that to hurry Gillian's decision would be fatalto success, and that a reproof for petulance would be worse. She didnot know whether to wish for the engagement or not; Gillian was her verydear and sufficient companion, more completely so than Mysie, who wasfar less clever; and she had sometimes doubted whether common domesticlife beginning early was for the girl's happiness and full development;but she knew that her husband would scout these doubts as nonsense, andboth really liked Ernley Armytage, and had heard nothing but what wasto his advantage in every way, when they had been in his own county,and had seen his neighbours and his family. However, she could only keepquiet, and let her heart rise in a continual aspiration at every silentmoment for her child's guidance.

  Before she had had her moment of speech with either, she heard herhusband calling Gillian, and she knew that he was the one person withwhom his daughter never hid her true self in petulance or sarcasm. SoGillian met him in the General's sitting-room, gasping as she turned thehandle of the door. He set a chair for her, and spoke gravely.

  "My dear," he said, "I find you have gained the heart of a good man."

  "I am sure I never meant it," half whispered Gillian.

  "What is that--you never meant it? I never supposed you capabl
e of suchan unladylike design. You mean that you were taken by surprise?"

  "No; I did see what he was at," and she hung her head.

  "You guessed his intentions?"

  "Yes, papa; but I didn't want--"

  "Try to explain yourself," said Sir Jasper as she broke off.

  "I--I did wish to go on improving myself and being useful. Surely it wasnot wrong, papa. Don't you see, I did not want to let myself beworried into letting myself go out, and spoiling all my happiness andimprovement and work, and getting to care for somebody else?"

  "But you have consented."

  "Well, when I was frightened for him I found I did care, and he got holdof me, and made me allow that I did; and now I suppose nobody will giveme any peace."

  "Stay, Gillian--keep yourself from this impatient mood. I think Iunderstand your unwillingness to overthrow old associations and admit anew overmastering feeling."

  "That's just it, papa," said Gillian, looking up. "I can't bear thatovermastering feeling, nor the being told every one must come to it. Itseems such folly."

  "Folly that Eve was given to be a helpmeet, and as the bride, the Churchto her Bridegroom? Look high enough, Gillian, and the popular chatterwill not confuse your mind. You own that you really love him."

  "Oh, papa, not half so much as mamma, or Mysie, or Jasper, but--but Ithink I might."

  "Is that all, Gillian? No one would coerce you. Shall I send him away,and tell him not to think of it? Remember, it is a serious thing--nay,an unworthy thing to trifle with a right-minded man."

  Gillian sat clasping the elbow of her chair, her dark eyes fixed. Atlast she said--

  "Papa, I do feel a sort of trust in him, a sort of feeling as if my lifeand all goodness and all that would be safe with him; and I couldn'tbear him to go quite away and hear no more of him, only I do wish itwouldn't happen now; and if there is a fuss about it, I shall get crossand savage, and be as nasty as possible, I know I shall."

  "You can't exercise enough self-command to remember what is due--I wouldsay kind and considerate--to a man who has loved you through all yourpetulance and discouragement, and now is going to a life not withoutperil for three years? Suppose a mishap, Gillian--how would you feel asto your treatment of him on this last evening?"

  "Oh, papa! if you talk in that way I must, I must," and she burst intotears.

  Sir Jasper bent over her and gave her a kiss--a kiss that from him wassomething to remember. It was late, and summonses to a hurried meal wereringing through Beechcroft Cottage, where the Clipstone party waited tosee the illuminations.

  Talk was eager between the sellers and the sailors as Valetta describedthe two parties, the fate of the Indian screen, and the misconduct ofCockneys in their launches were discussed by many a voice, but Gillianwas unwontedly silent. Her mother had no time for more than a kissbefore the shouts of Wilfred, Fergus, and Primrose warned them that theilluminations were beginning. She could only catch Mysie, and beg herto keep the younger ones away from Gillian and the Captain. Mysie openedher brown eyes wide and said--

  "Oh!" Then, "Is it really?"

  "Really, my dear, and remember that it is his last evening!"

  "Oh!" said Mysie again. "I never thought it of Gill! May I tellValetta?"

  "Better not, my dear, if it can be helped."

  A screaming for Gill was heard, and Mysie hastened to answer it. LadyMerrifield was too much tired to do anything but sit in the gardenwith Miss Mohun and look out at the ships, glittering with festoons ofcoloured lamps, reflected in the sea, but the young people went furtherafield, out on the cliff path to Rotherwood Park. The populace weremainly collected on the quay, and this formed a more select promenade,though by no means absolute solitude. Sir Jasper really did keep guardover the path along which Gillian allowed her Captain to conduct her,not exactly knowing which way they were going, and quite away from thebay and all its attractions.

  She heard him out without any of the sharp, impatient answers in whichher maiden coyness was wont to disguise itself, as he told her of hishopes and plans for the time when his three years of the Mediterraneanshould be over.

  "And you see you can go on studying all the time, if you must be soclever."

  "I think one ought to make the most of oneself, just as you want to risein your profession! No, indeed, I could not bear you if you wanted me tosit down and idle, or to dawdle yourself."

  "Don't grow too clever for me."

  "Mother always says that a real man has stuff in him that is quitedifferent from cleverness, and yet I could not bear to give that up. Iam so glad you don't mind."

  "Mind! I mind nothing but to know you are caring for me. And you willwrite to me?"

  "I shan't know what to say. You will tell of volcanoes, and Athens, andConstantinople, and Egypt, and the Holy Land, and I shall have nothingto say but who lectures in college."

  "Little you know what that will be to me."

  It was a curious sensation all the time to Gillian, with a dawning sensethat was hardly yet love--she was afraid of that--but of somethinggood and brave and worthy that had become hers. She had felt somethinganalogous when the big deer-hound at Stokesley came and put his headupon her lap. But the hound showed himself grateful for caresses, and sodid her present giant when the road grew rough, and she let him draw herarm into his and talk to her.

  It was the parting, for he had to go to London and to his own family thenext day early. Gillian spoke not a word all through the dark drive toClipstone, but when the party emerged into the light her eyes were fullof tears. Lady Merrifield followed her to her room, and her words halfchoked were--

  "Mamma, I never knew what a great, solemn, holy thing _it_ is. Will youlook me out a prayer to help me to get worthy?"

  CHAPTER XXIII. -- ILLUMINATIONS