story without first consulting me. Had shebeen free to confide in Maida Lermont, for instance, Maida might havefound some way of telling it to Mr Gresham, simply and unexaggeratedly;_if_, that is to say, Maida has noticed anything on his side of whatEvey suspects. Maida is very clever and tactful--could I write to her?"But this idea was dismissed as soon as it suggested itself. It was toorepellent to all Mrs Raynsworth's instincts--as if her child, her noblePhilippa, needed "explaining," apologising for!--not to speak of the, tosuch a woman as herself, inexpressible indelicacy of presupposing anyspecial interest in her daughter, before the man in question hadunmistakably declared it!
"No," she decided, "I can do nothing. I could _speak_ to Maida,possibly to her mother. But writing anything of the kind, putting it onpaper, I cannot."
Perhaps she was wrong. A great many things in this often crooked lifeof ours might be put straight if people were less timorous of speakingout, of their doing so being misunderstood. But for many, life-longsuffering, death of every hope, seem preferable to even the shadow ofindelicacy. And of such were Philippa and her mother.
And then again came a species of reaction to Mrs Raynsworth, much ashad been the case that last evening at Cannes with Philippa.
"I am surely after all exaggerating it," thought she, "I am lettingmyself get morbid; at the very worst there is nothing to be reallyashamed of in what the foolish child did, and in the _motives_ which ledto her doing it there is much to be proud of. Any man who was worthy ofPhilippa, who could rise above conventional notions of propriety wherehigher feelings called for doing so, _would_ understand and wouldscarcely blame her, though as we--as her father and I do--he mightregret, bitterly regret, that she had been so rash. No; I will not letmyself be unhappy about it, for there is no real reason, and Philippawould find out if I were so. Her intuitions are so quick and accurate.And, above all, _she_ must not be allowed to grow morbid about it."
It would have been an unspeakable comfort to the mother to have confidedthe whole story, with its sequence of anxieties and misgivings, to hereldest son. But this she had deliberately decided not to do. Charleywas so proud of Philippa; he loved to guard her from every touch ofroughness or coarseness, as if she were too good for common life at all;it might be exaggerated, but it was very sweet and tender all the same,and his mother could not face the thought of his pain and indignationdid he ever come to know what his sister had done, and the detestablegossip and comments that even now might result from it. No, Charleymust never know.
And the unselfish determination to keep her uneasiness to herself madeMrs Raynsworth even more consistently cheerful than usual, so thatPhilippa felt herself justified in dismissing her misgivings, and nowand then, though rarely, for the girl knew the complexities of her owncharacter and its weaknesses, when few would have suspected them--justnow and then she allowed herself a little day-dreaming, of radiant,rose-coloured possibilities, whose beauty any more definite picturingwould, to such a nature as hers, have destroyed.
And some weeks passed, happily and peacefully. Evelyn and her husbandstayed nearly a month at Wyverston, and Philippa enjoyed to the full hermother and elder brother's society. Little Vanda was no trouble now,for she was fast outgrowing her delicacy, and the weather was lovely.And the letters from Wyverston were cheering in the extreme; nothingcould be more satisfactory, wrote Evelyn, than the progressingfriendship between the squire and her husband.
"They all like him, I can see," she wrote, "and who could help it? Dukeis so good and so simple and single-minded. I feel almost certainsomething will be arranged before we leave this, so that we need nevergo back to that dreadful India again."
"Is not that good news?" said Mrs Raynsworth, looking up from theletter which she had been reading aloud.
"Excellent," said Philippa, heartily. "I wonder where their home willbe. Does Evey say," she went on, rather thoughtlessly, for Charles waspresent, and the subject of her sister's maid was always a somewhatnervous one, "does she say how Berthe is getting on?" Berthe was aFrench maid whom Miss Lermont had found for Mrs Marmaduke Headfort.
"Very well, indeed," said her mother, consulting the letter afresh."Ah, yes, here it is: `Berthe is shaping very satisfactorily. Therehave been several inquiries as to why I had parted with--' Oh, yes,nothing of consequence," Mrs Raynsworth went on, confusedly; "let mesee, what more does Evey say? `I am so extremely glad that Bertheneither speaks nor understands English at present. It prevents allpossibility of gossip, and--'"
"Gossip," interrupted Charley; "what can Evey mean? She--we--have noreason to fear servants' gossip. Surely," and he flushed a little,"surely Evelyn is not vulgar-minded enough to be afraid of her maid'stalking of the simple way we live--of our not being rich?"
"Charley!" said Philippa. "How can you dream of such a thing? Ofcourse not; but Duke's position among his relations is a rather delicateone. There might be plenty of gossip about it."
She felt herself crimson as she spoke; she hated herself for the speciesof subterfuge she was condescending to, and afterwards she felt that ithad been scarcely necessary. Charley was not of a suspicious nature.
Her suggestion of a natural reason for her sister's fear of gossipseemed to serve its purpose. Charley gave a kind of grunt ofsemi-apology to the absent Evelyn, and no more was said.
But later in the day, when Philippa and her mother were by themselves,Mrs Raynsworth alluded again to the letter.
"There are one or two things Evelyn asked me to tell you, Philippa," shesaid. "One was that, as I knew she intended to do, she managed to pay aprivate visit to that good Mrs Shepton, and to give her the littlepresent I sent her. And she says she had a `charming talk with her,'and feels so much happier now that Mrs Shepton knows more about how itall happened."
"I am sure _I_ was candid enough about it," said Philippa. "I scarcelysee what more there was for Evey to tell."
"Not much, I daresay. But I think too that it is satisfactory and onlyfair to you yourself, under the circumstances, that what you told shouldhave been, as it were, endorsed by a member of your family. And who sowell able to do it as Evelyn? I know for _her_ own sake, she wasanxious to show Mrs Shepton that she had not joined you in _planning_the thing, though she had not resoluteness enough to stop it. And _I_am glad for the housekeeper to know very distinctly what your father andI felt and do feel about it."
There was a touch of coldness in Mrs Raynsworth's tone, and a slightinference of reproach which her daughter's tender conscience felt to benot entirely undeserved. She had not answered as gently as she mighthave done to her mother.
"Oh, mamma," she exclaimed. "Of course I know you are always right andwise, but somehow any allusion to that--that time at Wyverston makes menervous and cross."
Mrs Raynsworth patted her gently. Philippa had crept up close to her.Evelyn's letter was still lying open before her.
"There is a long postscript, I see, mamma," she said. "You did not readit aloud, did you? Is it anything private?"
Mrs Raynsworth hesitated.
"It is and it isn't," she replied. "But of course Evelyn would leave itto my discretion to tell _you_ or not. She does ask me not to speak ofit to your father or Charley, as Duke wants to tell them himself, onceit is settled. Did you know, Philippa--no, I am sure you did not--thatthe Headforts have considerable property in ---shire, not far from thatplace of Mr Gresham's, Merle-in-the-Wold?"
Philippa looked up with interest.
"No, indeed," she said. "I had no idea of it."
"Nor had Evelyn; it is natural enough, however, that she should not haveheard of it, for it is not what agents call a `residential estate.'There was no house. But quite lately the old squire has bought moreland there, and on it there _is_ a small house, a sort of goodfarm-house, which might easily be converted into a very charming littleplace. And with the increased size of the property he wants some onethere to look after it. _This_ is what he is talking about to Duke; hisidea is for Duke to leave the army and settle down there. T
hey aretalking it over busily, Evey says. Of course, Duke is sorry to give uphis profession, but then, as the squire truly says, there is the futureto think of--his children and--" Here Mrs Raynsworth consulted theletter. "`He says, too,' Evey writes, `that if Duke's future is to bethat of a country proprietor, the sooner he learns some details of thebusiness the better. That is the way he puts it, you see--halfjokingly. But he is too kind and good to mislead us. And in many ways---shire would suit us better at present than farther north. I shallget quite strong in time, no doubt, but India has tried me, and Vanda isnot too robust either. Phil will remember what a lovely part of thecountry it is near
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