by L. T. Meade
Charley. "I suppose sheis precious ugly. Catch father choosing a woman with good looks! Why,he doesn't know blue eyes from brown, or a straight nose from a crookedone, or a large mouth from a small one. He never looks at any woman; Ican't imagine how he got hold of her."
"Hannah said," remarked Alex, "that she got hold of him."
"Well, surely that doesn't matter," said Von Marlo. "Describe her, MissRachel."
"I will if you wish it," I answered.
"Yes, do," said Charley. "You have seen quite a lot of her."
"I must be honest at all costs," I said, "and if she had not marriedfather--yes, it is quite true--I'd have liked her. She is what youwould--I mean she _was_--I don't suppose she is now, for when people aredreadfully wicked they change, don't they? But _before_ she waswicked--before she married father--she was a very--very--well, a veryjolly sort of woman."
"Jolly?" said Charley. "I like that! How do you mean jolly?"
"Round and fattish--not too fat--with laughing eyes."
"We haven't much of laughing eyes in this house," said Alex.
"Well, her eyes seem to be always laughing, even when her face is grave;and she makes delicious things to eat--at least she did make them."
"Let's hope she has not lost the art," said Alex. "If we must have herin the family, let us trust that she has at least some merits. Goodthings to eat? What sort?"
I described the food at Hedgerow House, and described it well. I thenwent on to speak of the stuffed birds. The boys were wildly excited. Ispoke of other things, and gave them a very full and true account ofMiss Grace Donnithorne.
"It seems to me she must be a splendid sort of woman," said Alex.
"Hurrah for Miss Grace Donnithorne!" said Charley. "She must be a mostcharming lady," said Von Marlo in his precise way.
Then I sprang to my feet.
"Now listen," I said. "I have told you about her as she was. When Isaw her she had not done this wicked thing."
"But she was going to do it; she had made up her mind pretty straight,"said Alex.
"Well, she hadn't done it, and that makes all the difference," I saidstoutly. "She will be changed; I know she will be changed."
"I hope she won't have got thin (I'm sick of Hannah's sort of figure)and cross and churlish and miserly," said Charley.
"I don't think so," I answered. "I don't suppose she'll be as changedas all that; but, anyhow, I know--"
"I tell you what," interrupted Von Marlo; "she is coming here, andnothing living will stop her."
"That's true enough," I said gloomily.
"Then can't you three be sensible?"
"What do you mean now, Von?" said the boys.
"Why can't you make the best of it? Don't hunt the poor lady into hergrave by being snappish and making the worst of everything. Just giveher a fair trial--start her honest, don't you understand?"
Alex stared; Charley blinked his eyes.
I said slowly, "I don't mean to be unkind; I mean to be kind. I am notgoing to say a word to father--I mean not a word of reproach--"
"Much use if you did!" muttered Alex.
"But, all the same," I said very distinctly, "not for a single instantwill I love _her_. She can come and take her place, and I will try todo what she wishes, but I will never love her--never!"
"Hurrah!" said Charley.
"Quite right, Dumps; you show spirit," cried Alex.
But Von Marlo looked dissatisfied.
"It doesn't seem right," he said. "It doesn't seem quite fair; and thepoor lady hasn't done you any harm."
PART ONE, CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
PUTTING THE HOUSE IN ORDER.
The play was as lively as any four children could desire. It was called_The Grand Duke Alexis_; it had a great deal to do with Nihilism andwith the Russians generally. There was a very handsome woman in it whohad a mission to kill somebody, and a very evil-looking man whosemission it was to get her arrested; and the handsome woman and thewicked man seemed to chase each other on and off the stage, and tomingle up in the plot, and to fasten themselves in some unpleasantmanner into my brain. I am sure the boys enjoyed themselves vastly, andthere is no doubt that I was interested.
"Your eyes are like the eyes of an owl," whispered Charley to me; "ifthey get any rounder they'll drop out like marbles."
I was accustomed to this kind of remark, and was too much fascinatedwith the lovely lady and the man who was trying to arrest her to takeany notice of his words. The Grand Duke was certainly the mostappallingly wicked person I had ever imagined. Even father's new wifeseemed pale and commonplace and everyday beside him. Even the fact thatmy own precious mother was superseded by another was of no consequenceat all when I recalled to memory that lovely lady's face, and the faceof the man who was trying to have her arrested.
The play came to an end, but when we arrived home Hannah had not yetreturned. We let ourselves in, in lordly fashion, with the latchkey.Von Marlo bade us good-bye, and promised to come in again on thefollowing day. He said he would stand by us. He gave my hand anaffectionate squeeze.
"Make the best of things," he said; "there's a good girl."
I began to think Von Marlo a very comfortable sort of friend. I wishedthat he was a girl instead of a boy. I could have been quite fond ofhim had he been a girl.
We three sat in the parlour; we would not go to bed until Hannah camein. We began to nod presently, and Alex dropped off to sleep. It waspast midnight when we heard Hannah's steps creeping upstairs towards herbedroom. Charley immediately rushed on tiptoe to the parlour door,opened it a tenth of an inch, and peeped out.
"She is off to bed. She is walking as straight as a die. She has goton her best bonnet. I hope she'll be in a better temper in the morning.Now then, I'm going to follow her example; I'm dead-beat I shall beasleep in a twinkling."
He went off; his good-humoured, boyish face flashed back at us full offun. Father's marriage, the knowledge that there would soon be a ladyin the house, whom some people would call his new mamma, did not affecthim very deeply.
I went up to Alex and spoke to him.
"You and I will stand shoulder to shoulder, won't we?" I said.
"Why, yes, Dumps--of course," he replied.
"I mean," I said, "that you will do what I do."
"What do you exactly mean by that?"
"I'm prepared to be quite kind and lady-like, and not to storm or scoldor say ugly things, and I want you to do just the same. You will, won'tyou? We'll understand each other. We'll be most careful, truly, not toput her in dear mother's place."
My voice trembled.
"It's a long time since mother died," said Alex.
"But, Alex, you remember her."
"No, I don't," said Alex.
"Nor do I," I said. "Sometimes I try to. But I have got her miniature;father gave it to me. Wouldn't you like to see it?"
"A miniature? That's a picture of her, isn't it? Have you got one?"
"Yes."
"I knew father had one, but I didn't know he would part with it."
"He never would until now."
"Once," said Alex, "years ago, he was very ill in bed for a few days,and I went into his room. He was sitting up in bed, and he had apicture in a frame; he was looking at it, and there were tears in hiseyes. When he saw me he fired up--you know his hasty sort of way--andstuffed the picture under his pillow. I believe it was mother's picturehe was looking at. He must have loved her then."
"But he doesn't love her now," I said. "He has given the picture to mebecause he has put another woman in her place."
"Well, most of them do," said Alex.
"What do you mean?"
"Most men marry again. There are two masters at our school, and they'vemarried again jolly quick--one of them within a year and a half, and theother even in a shorter time. All the fellows were talking about it.It was mighty unfortunate, I can tell you, for we had to subscribe togive them both wedding presents, otherwise we wouldn't have noti
ced.They were widowers, and they had no right to do it. It was beastly hardon the boys; that's what I think."
"What do you mean?"
"The wedding presents, I mean."
"Oh Alex! that is a very trivial part of the matter."
"I expect they'll collect something jolly for father."
"Well, we needn't subscribe," I said.
"Of course not; that's the best of it."
"I hope they won't," I said.
"They're certain to. They just worship him in the school. You haven'tthe least idea how popular he is. They just adore him. He's such asplendid teacher, and so sympathetic over a difficulty. He is a greatman, there's no doubt of that."
But I was not in a humour to hear his praises.
"Let's think of our own dear little mother to-night," I said.
"All right, Rachel."
"Come up with me to my room and I'll show you her portrait."
"All right, old girl."
We went up together. I thought if Alex would stand my friend--if hewould lean on me as a very superior sort of sister, and allow me to takethe place of sister and mother--then I could endure things. Father'snew wife might go her own way, and I would go mine. I just wanted Alexat least to understand me. Charley was a good boy, but he was hopeless.Still, I had a vague sort of hope that Alex would keep on my side.
When we got to my room I lit all the bits of candle, and made quite astrong light; and then I opened the miniature frame, and told Alex tokneel down by me and I would show it to him. He looked at it veryearnestly. He himself was strangely like the miniature, but I don'tthink the likeness struck him particularly. Nevertheless, he had hissensibilities, and his lips quivered, and his soft, gentle brown eyeslooked their very softest and gentlest now as they fixed themselves onmy face.
"Poor mother!" he said. He bent his head and kissed the glass whichcovered the pictured face.
I shut up the case hastily.
"You are in rare luck to have it," he said.
"Yes," I answered; "it is a great comfort to me. This is mother; thisis the woman I love; no other can ever take her place."
"Of course not," said Alex. "And some day when I'm rich you'll let mehave it photographed, won't you?"
"Indeed I will. We'll stick to our bargain, won't we, Alex?"
Alex rose to his feet. He yawned slightly.
"I'm dead-tired, and I must go to school to-morrow. I haven't looked atone of my lessons, but it doesn't really matter. When the Professor isaway marrying, you know, he can't expect his children to work as hard asthey do when he is at home."
"Oh Alex, Hannah said something dreadful!"
"As though anybody minded what she said!"
"She said that mother--our little, young, pretty mother--was killed.She said mother would have been in the world now if she hadn't beenkilled."
"That's all stuff!" said Alex. "Why do you speak in that exaggeratedsort of way? If she had been killed there would have been a coroner'sinquest and a trial, and the murderer would have been discovered and--and hanged. Why do you talk such rot?"
"Oh, there are many ways of killing a person, and mother died for wantof sunshine."
"Oh, I see. Well, well! good-night."
He kissed me again and left the room.
During the next day or two I was very busy. Father had said that thehouse was to be put in order. Now, what that meant I could not tell,but the house on the whole was about in as much order as such a great,desolate, and unfurnished abode could be. But when the next day atbreakfast I found a second letter from father on my plate, and when Iopened it and read father's own directions that the spare room was to begot ready for the reception of himself and his wife on the followingSunday, I knew that Hannah and I must come either to open war or to adismissal of the latter. I went down to the kitchen and told her atonce.
"The spare room, forsooth!" she said. "Well, yes, I thought of thatlast night. Master said it was to be put in order, but he needn't havewritten; I'd have seen to it."
I was greatly relieved at this change of front. Hannah was lookingquite gentle. She was moving about in the kitchen in quite an orderlyfashion. The little cooking-stove was black instead of grey; there wereno ashes to be seen anywhere, and a bright little fire burned in it.There was a pot on, and there was something boiling in the pot, and thething that boiled and bubbled gave forth a most appetising smell. WhenI spoke Hannah turned and opened the oven door, and I saw inside a greatcake.
"Why, Hannah!" I said.
"It's only right to have cake and that sort of thing handy," she said."Don't talk nonsense, Dumps. There's a deal for you and me to do. Beyou going to school to-day?"
"No," I said.
"Why will you keep away?"
"Because I won't go."
"You will get a report; your mistress will be very angry."
"I don't care," I said; "I won't go. I'll go afterwards. I won't gothis week."
"Highty-tighty!" said Hannah. "Well, you'll catch it!"
"Seems to me I'm always catching it," I said.
"Seems to me you are," said Hannah.
"Well, Hannah, what about the spare room?"
"I'll see to it myself. I'll have it ready."
"Can I help you, Hannah?"
"No; but you can come and look on if you like."
"Don't you want Mrs Herring? She is so strong. Everything should beturned out; the place should be made very clean."
"I don't want none of your herrings nor your sprats neither," repliedHannah in her most aggressive tone. This was a very old joke ofHannah's.
I went upstairs now. The spare room was on the same landing as thedrawing-room, and, as far as I could tell, had never been of any use atall to any single member of the family. Perhaps in mother's time it hadbeen of service to some long-forgotten guest. The door was alwayslocked. I supposed Hannah had the key. At nights sometimes, when thewind was blowing high, there was a moaning, through the keyhole of thatlocked door, and there were times when I flew past it up and up and upto my own attic bedroom. But now I stood outside the door. At theother side of the landing was the drawing-room. It was a very big roomwith three windows. We sat there sometimes when father had hisprofessors, men very nearly as learned as himself--not quite, ofcourse--to visit him.
I went into the drawing-room. It was very ugly, and not nearly as cosyas the parlour. The spare room I had never seen the inside of that Icould remember. Hannah came up now, and took a great bunch of keys fromher pocket and opened the door, and we went in.
"Oh, how musty it smells!" I said.
"In course it do," said Hannah. "When a room's shut up for going onfourteen years, why shouldn't it smell musty? But there, child! don'tyou go and catch your death of cold. The first thing is to air the roomand then to light a fire. Afterwards I'll rub up the furniture and putup clean hangings. It won't be exactly a cheerful sort of room, but Isuppose the master must be content."
There were grey-looking curtains hanging at the three tall windows.There were green Venetian blinds, which looked almost white now, socovered were they with dust. There was a sort of rough drugget stuff onthe floor, which was quite as grey as the curtains which surrounded thewindows. There was a huge four-poster bed, drawn out a little from thewall, and taking one of the best positions in the room. This also washung with grey moreen, and looked as desolate and as uninviting as acouch could look. There was a huge arm-chair, covered also with thesame grey moreen; and there were a few other chairs, hard and dirty.There was a very tall brass fender to the grate, which in itself waslarge and of generous proportions. There was a chest of drawers, madeof mahogany, with brass handles; and a huge wardrobe, almost as big as asmall house. I really don't remember the rest of the furniture of theroom, except that there were engravings hanging on the walls, and one inparticular portraying Herodias bearing the head of John the Baptist on acharger, hanging exactly over the fireplace. The picture was as ghastlyas the room.
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br /> "I wouldn't sleep here for the world," I said.
"Well, you won't have the chance," said Hannah. "Now, you can just goout and make yourself useful somewhere else, while I'm beginning toclean up and get things in order."
PART ONE, CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
THE PROFESSOR'S RETURN.
When Sunday morning dawned the place was, according to Hannah's ideas,in perfect order. She had not got in any one to help her, and I amafraid she must have been nearly dropping with fatigue. She allowed meto dust a little, but would not permit me to do any harder work.
"No, no," she said--"no, no; you're the young lady, and I'm a poordrudge. It's right that the drudge should work, and not the younglady."
I proceeded to try to remind her that she had not considered my youngladyhood much in the past.
"Things is different now,"
