CHAPTER XVIII.
BY THE RIVER.
'And Lancelot look'd, and was perplext in mind; And being weak in body, said no more.' _Tennyson._
It was a lovely afternoon, and the sun shone outside the green traceryof a hornbeam alley in the Deanery garden, leading from the cloisterto the river. Here lay Lancelot, on the long cushion of a sofa, whileWilmet sat stitching at the last of the set of collars that wouldalways bring so many recollections. For this was a Saturday afternoon,and on the Monday Lance was to go to Ewmouth to join Felix, who wasto have his holiday extended another month on that account. Alda, whohad had a quarter's allowance from her uncle, had made this possible;and Wilmet was doubly gratified by its having been her twin's gift andthought.
Wilmet would of course go home, and she found herself almost regrettingthe close of a time that had of late been very pleasant. She had notfelt, as Geraldine would have done, the romance of living in the oldmonastic buildings, in the calm shadow of the grand old minster;yet something of the soothing of the great solemn quiet rested uponthe spirit that had--since six years old--never known freedom fromresponsibility, and--since fifteen--had borne the burthen of householdeconomies and of school teaching. It was a strange novelty to havemeals provided without care of her own, no shortcomings of servants tomake up, no claimant for her attention save a solitary patient, andthat one with Lance's temper. Wilmet had undergone a good deal fromAlda's clashes with the rest, even Felix's was only a temper well inhand, and alternate fretfulness and penitence were regarded by heras part and parcel of Geraldine's ailments; so that it was almost asurprise that her present convalescent never visited his discomfortsupon her, but was always patient and good-humoured, smiling wheneverhe could, like his father before him, as if, according to the prettySpanish saying, the sun had shone on his cradle at his birth. Hisunselfish nature had made him a little uneasy when with cooler senseshe remembered Clement's hint, while love and instinct alike made himfeel utterly unable to dispense with his motherly sister; but when shehad assured him that nothing could make him leave him as yet, and whenSister Constance was known to be at Bexley, he threw it from his mind,and was perfectly happy and contented.
He could still exert no attention, could neither read nor be read to,nor occupy himself in any way; but he was amused by talk around him,and companionship was never lacking. Wilmet, whose forte had never beenconversation, found herself in a stream of small talk with inquiringfriends of all degrees in the hierarchy; but was most at her ease whenthe female Harewoods were prattling good-humoured inconsequent chatter,Willie lying on the grass murmuring with Lance, or John lured intostories of Indian surveying adventures in the cause of the OrdnanceMap. And when she was carried off to have her meals with the family,she had put herself so entirely at the mercy of circumstances, that shenever seemed scandalised by their crazy unpunctuality, their wonderfulfree and easy ways, and customs of putting things to every use butthe right, did not censure Grace or Lucy for dawdling and gossipingwhole mornings away, and took it naturally when their mother inquiredafter her eldest brother by the alternate names of Festus and Frank,and when she mentioned Lance's disaster as his _coup d'etat_. And herewas the last of these pleasant afternoons, full of still sweet sounds,midsummer hum above, the soft ripple of the water close by, the cawingof the rooks in the Close--all such peace, that her heart quailed asshe looked forward to the din of the High Street at Bexley, and shestrangled a sigh half way up her throat.
The click of the cloister door was heard, and Lance awoke from adoze, saying, 'Is that Bill?--You've not been here since morning, youvagabone.'
'See what I've got for you,' said Bill. 'What do you say for that, now?'
For Lance, with sparkling eyes, was rising to his feet. 'Hurrah! Robinherself! O Robin a Bobbin, isn't this jolly?' and Robina was entangledin that wonderful embrace peculiar to their own two selves, tooecstatic for a word between them, though as she received her sister'skiss, she spoke rather pleadingly--'Cherry and Sister Constance said Imight, Wilmet; and Mrs. Harewood was so very kind as to send Willie tofetch me to spend Sunday. Do you mind, Wilmet?'
'Mind! Of course she doesn't,' said Lance. 'I was hungry to see you,Bob.'
'It was very kind in Mrs. Harewood,' said Wilmet. 'I must go and thankher. Only, first, how is Cherry?'
'Much better. She has been out for a drive with Mr. Froggatt. It willbe all right now you are coming home, Mettie! Oh! and Dr. Lee isdelighted to hear of Lance's going to Ewmouth to make Felix stay longerthere. Oh! if ever anything was so delightful as this place! only Imust see your prize, Lancey.'
As the two children linked their arms round one another's waists towalk along the alley, all-sufficient to one another, maybe there shota little pang across Wilmet's breast. No one had raptures for her. Shewas Felix's housekeeper, and represented mother to all; but since Aldahad been taken from her, she had ceased to be any one's perfect equaland delight. She might be valued, but only like air, or bread, or anyother necessary of life, but she was foremost with no one. Lance hadbeen everything to her, and she to Lance, for full four weeks; butshe should never awaken the look on his face she had seen for Robin.Such thoughts as these had never troubled her before; it had beenquite enough to know herself indispensable to all, and there was notime for sentiment; but this strange time of nursing had inspired anew sensation of yearning, a softness and melancholy, that she stroveagainst vainly as weak and unnatural.
The change had not been unperceived by Lance; for as his little sister,looking at his sunken cheeks, and feeling his thin bony hand, pouredout her pity, he answered, 'I've had rather a jolly time of it oflate; Mettie is so delicious, you can't think how her very voice andeyes seemed to do me good. I'm sure that the bella-donna lily, coldhard painted thing, was a mistake; she must have been something muchsweeter. What do you think of a honeysuckle? That's bright red andwhite, and its leaves come out when nothing else does.'
'But it trails about, and doesn't stand alone.'
'It has got a good stout hard stem, that can make a bush of its ownwhen it hasn't anything to twine upon. I say, Robin, that's just whatyou women-folk should be, always ready to twine, and yet able to stickup for yourselves when you've got nothing to hang upon.'
'Well, if Wilmet was the honeysuckle, I'm sure Alda wasn't. O Lance,it has been so horrid coming home without any one I wanted, and allso queer and uncomfortable. I would as soon have been at school, orsooner, for there I had home to think about.'
'The last holidays weren't first-rate,' said Lance.
'No; but then I'd got you!'
'I wish Dr. Manby would prescribe you to come with me,' said Lance.
'It's something to have this little sight! And here! I wanted to givethis back, Lance.'
'Ah!' as he took the key of the violin-case, 'we'll take a look at her,Robin, to see if she's quite well; but I couldn't make her speak, itwould be like sticking daggers through my head.'
'Poor little key! I looked at it so often when you were so bad, andgrieved to think you had missed all that pleasure. Only it was acomfort to know you had been so good about it.'
'I am glad you took it, Robin; I know I should have grown idle if I hadhad it. Depend on it, 'twas that gave me this year of grace and theBishop's prize.'
'Oh! come and show me that! I hope it is not packed up.'
'No; I wanted to take it to show Felix, but Mettie says it is too big,and would come to grief. What prizes have you, Robin?'
'Three. General good marks, catechism, and history--beautiful books.'
'Then the avenging harpies have forgiven you?'
'Pretty well; and they were very kind when you were ill, and the girlsare much nicer; I am glad we stayed on, except for Angel's sake. Do youknow, Lance, I really am afraid she is going in for naughtiness.'
'Give a dog an ill name--' quoted Lance. 'Is that it?'
'I do believe it is that! She is such a Tom-boy! Fancy! One afternoon,there was an awful uproar, and h
er class were all found playing atraces, some riding astride with handkerchiefs round the forms, whichthey had named after the real horses; and the others pretending to beton them, with their books in their hands, shouting out at the top oftheir voices.'
'Go it, Angel,' said Lance, laughing; 'that's the way Clem's sistersimprove the tone of the school.'
Robina still looked distressed, but that was soon forgotten in visitingLance's quarters, and admiring his books, peeping respectfully at hissilent violin, and being lionised as far as his strength would permit.They were hand in hand the whole evening, till he was sent to bed, andhis sisters were claimed by the Harewoods.
The Cathedral was resuming its usual voices on the Sunday morning; andwhen the early bell brought Wilmet from her room, she found Lance upand dressed, his little black gown on, and his trencher cap in his hand.
'That's nice!' he said in admiration, as she advanced in her freshwhite pique and blue ribbons. 'O Mettie, I'm so glad this isn't my lasttime here!' and he added, as she bent over him and kissed him, notquite able to speak, 'Please, Mettie, I beg your pardon for all thetimes I have been tiresome or cross.'
'My dear little boy--' She broke down, and finished with anotherkiss, for Robina was at hand, shy in her thankfulness, and clingingto Lance's hand; but as Will Harewood followed, grave and subdued,Lance went up to him, and put his arm into his. Mr. Harewood, theCaptain, and Lucy, were all likewise there; but the greetings weresilent, and then Mr. Harewood led them all through the library, and wasfollowed by the two boys to the sacristy; for though the celebrationwas not choral, all those of the choir who were present were alwaysrobed. Wilmet hardly liked not to keep her boy beside her, but shecould not be sorry when she saw the two friends once more heading thelittle procession together; and with such happy grave faces, though sodifferent: one broad, ruddy, sandy; the other fair, wasted, delicate,the hollow cheeks scarcely more coloured than the white linen, and yetwith a pure fresh air of bright hope and recovery.
The Cathedral was nobly and calmly beautiful in the summer morning;the sunbeams high up in the slender brilliant windows that crowned theeast, and the voice sounding low and solemn in the distance at theAltar. To Wilmet and Robina it was a great deal more than the joyousfestival they had last shared in there, even though then they hadexulted in their brother's jubilant notes; and now he scarcely breatheda faint response, left his book unopened, and knelt in the dreamypassiveness of one incapable of actions of the mind, but too simplyhappy and thankful to doubt of his welcome. In his place, Clementwould have distressed himself and his advisers over this inabilityto perform his usual mental exercises of devotion; but Lance neverseemed to question but that he ought to lay himself before the Altarin thankfulness as soon as he was able, as certain of being welcomedthere, as by the kind hands that shook his in the sacristy.
He came to breakfast afterwards at the Harewoods', to put an end to hisinvalid ways; but the clatter soon was too much for him; and he spentthe chief part of the day lying on his bed, able now to follow dreamilythe echoes from the minster, the full glories of which his sisterswere enjoying. There was afterwards a rush of his choir mates to shakehands with him; and little Dick Graeme, a delicate, sallow, black-eyedboy, in whom Wilmet believed she recognised the hero of the swans'eggs, could not be got rid of the whole day. He lived at a farm threemiles off, and had been sent in to take his part on the Sunday; indeed,he had often been at the door to inquire, but had only been allowedmomentary glimpses of Lance, whom he followed about like a little dog,till at last, late in the evening, the proposal was started of walkinghim down to the river, along which lay the path leading to his home.
It was a charming summer evening when they set forth; the threeUnderwoods, the two Harewood brothers, and little Graeme, slowly movingalong, Robina in ecstasies with the loose-strife and forget-me-nots,and the boys absorbed in fish and water-rats, till Bill, holding Robina little back, pointed to a pollard, and told her in a low hoarsevoice, 'That was where I left those verses.'
'There!' Robina tried to measure with her eye the distance, whichlooked immense for such a run. She could not speak; but little Dickturned--
'Ay, 'twas a jolly run in the time. Spyers and I tried it, and both gotblown; but nobody runs like Underwood.'
'Well, it does look a goodish distance,' said Lance. 'And Robin, do youknow, it all came of this fellow being too good a poet. He thought itwas the Tiber, you know.'
'The subject was the Tiber, wasn't it?'
'Ay; and Bill here got to spouting about Horace Cocles till he didn'tknow, nor I either, whether we were heathen Romans or not. It was amercy he didn't go home in Cocles' costume.'
Bill did not laugh. He seemed to forget everything, bystanders and all,and threw his arm round his friend's neck. 'O Lancey, don't say a wordmore. If you only could guess what--what this month has been like tome! And now to see you standing here, like your dear old self again!Oh! if I could only--' and he broke off and rushed away behind thetree, where they heard him sobbing.
Lance shrugged his shoulders. 'Poor old Bill! he _will_ treat himselfas if he did it on purpose, but he'll be better now he's had it out.But d'ye see, I can't go no farther now. So you, Dick, be off. Sparethe feelings of your dutiful parents, and get home in Christianabletime.'
'I say, please Underwood, may I have the bed by yours next half?'
'That's not as it pleases Underwood, but Mrs. Drake; but look here,Graeme, there's a little brat of a new treble coming into ourdormitory. You stand his friend, and speak to Harewood if Bolt takes tobullying him.'
'But you'll be back?' said the child, his face all consternation.
'I hope so; but for fear of accidents, you know. Good night, Dick, andthank your mater for those stunning raspberries.'
'That's a good dodge,' said Will Harewood, emerging, 'to keep thelittle ape from bullying the little one himself. But you will be ableto come back, Lance; 'tis as dull as ditch-water without you.'
'I shall be glad enough to come back,' said Lance, 'and make the mostof this year. I didn't know how I cared for this place. There's nothinglike it!' and he leant against a tree, looking back at the Cathedral,where the sunbeams were 'weaving a parting crown' for the tall tower,and the soft grey of the exquisite stone-work of the chapter-housecontrasted with the fresh green of the trees, rising up from thesparkling river and emerald meadows. Presently he burst out, 'Youbeautiful old thing, and did you hush your grand glorious old voiceonly for me? I should like to be your own, and to serve you for ever!'
The other two felt a little awed at the outburst, and possibly Lance alittle ashamed, for he suddenly started from his tree trunk, crying,'I'm sure we ought to go home. However, there are Jack and Mettie onbeyond ever so far.' And he elevated his voice in a coo-ee, after whathe believed to be Australian fashion; but his weakness prevailed, andhe laughed at his own want of power to shout much above his breath.'You do it, Bill.'
'Not I! Coo-ee indeed? 'Tis coo-coo there, river and moonlight and all.'
At one and the same moment, Lance exclaimed, 'Jack and Mettie! Thunderand ages!' and Robina, 'For shame, Willie!' while that personage cuta caper, at once expressive of affirmation and amusement at theirsurprise.
'After all,' sagaciously observed Lance, 'I'm not so much surprised. Ithink I've made a pretty good Cupid.'
'You believe it, then?' cried Robina.
'Bless you,' affirmed Willie, 'we've been roasting Jack about it forthe last fortnight--only the pater was so awfully afraid of yoursister's hearing it, that he said any one who breathed the ghost of ajoke near her should be shipped off to old Aunt Grace that instant.'
'Well, they have my consent and blessing,' said Lance.
'Amen,' responded his friend.
'Ho!' continued Lance, 'that's the meaning of old W. W. being so jolly.I wondered whether it was only that I thought so because I had nothingto do but to look at her.'
'Oh, you know she is a real true beauty and no mistake,' said Bill,beginning to feel a personal pride in her; 'the
re's Miles raving abouther, and every one runs about saying, "Have you seen little Underwood'shandsome sister?" Half the folks that came to ask after you did it toget a look at her; and if she stayed a week longer, she might have adozen offers, only luckily Jack cut in first.'
'Well, I'm glad she is even with Alda,' was Lance's next sentiment.
'That's the one that is booked for the Red Indian you converted, ain'tit?' asked Bill. 'Fact, Robina; we heard a new fellow was coming whohad converted a Cherokee, and that the Bishop had christened him inhis war paint and feathers. Mrs. Shapcote sent out invitations to amissionary tea in honour of him.'
'What, of the Cherokee?'
'No, no, of the little brute of a missionary chap, and we made up ourminds to tar and feather him before he converted us; but long beforewe had found out which of the new trebles was the model Christian, oldShapcote had caught us two pitching into one another, because I saidBexley was a snobbish place full of pots and pans.'
'And that founded your friendship?'
'No, not quite, for we had a worse fight because I shut his Bible up inhis face when he tried to look over the Lessons in the Cathedral.'
'Why, you all do,' said Robina.
'Yes, now; but before Nixon came we were a horrid set of littleruffians. Do you remember, Lance, how Roper offered you a bull's-eye inthe Cathedral, and thrashed you afterwards because you wouldn't haveit?'
'O Lance! but that was persecution!' cried Robina. 'Who would havethought you went through things like that?'
'Ay,' said Bill, 'you believed in the little cherub chorister boys,that sing and look out of their great violet eyes, till they die ofdeclines.'
'Ah!' said Lance, who was leaning on his arm rather wearily, 'Jack willdo for himself if he tells Wilmet her eyes are violet; it is like a redrag to a bull.'
'Yes,' said Robina, 'she says nobody ever had eyes the colour ofviolets, and they would be hideous if they were.'
'I have seen them,' said Willie, gravely.
'Oh! where?' cried Robina. 'Darker blue than Edgar's?'
'It's generally only one at a time.'
'After a cricket match, eh?' suggested Lance.
'But, depend upon it,' said Bill, while Robina was recovering herlaughing disgust, 'he may tell her her eyes are any colour he pleasesby this time.'
'How do you know that?' sharply protested Robin; 'as if she would carefor him more than for all of us, who can't spare her either!'
'I thought you were thick and plenty up the country?'
'Not of that sort,' said Lance.
'I don't believe it,' insisted Robina; 'why, she had never seen him afew weeks ago; she can't have had time to get to like him.'
'That's your simplicity,' said Bill. 'Now ain't that oracular--I meanocular--demonstration? There they are, very moral of people makingfools of themselves in books.'
'I wish they'd have done with it, then,' sighed Lance; 'my legs won'thold out much longer.'
'Yes, you must go in,' said Robin, bringing her sturdy shoulders forhis other arm to rest on.
'But those two?' said Lance. 'Some one must stay to make itrespectable. Don't laugh, you vagabond, you shake up the marrow of mybones; I'm her brother, and bound to see to her.'
'I'll stay out with Willie if that will make it right,' said Robina;'only you must go to bed, and you have to be up so early too.'
So they saw him to the Bailey door, beyond which he declined furtherassistance, saying he could tumble into bed alone, and leaving them totheir pleasant task of making propriety.
It was made after this sort. Bill delivered himself of a deep sigh, andobserved, 'Well! if she's done for, I suppose I must take up with you;and after all, you're the jolliest.'
'I shall never be _jolie_, like Wilmet, if that's what you mean,' saidRobina, not quite understanding whether it were jest or earnest.
'Well, if you ain't a regular stunner like her, it doesn't much matter.I never _did_ see a face that I liked better than your round one, and Iknow I shall like it more and more. Won't you have me, Robina, one ofthese days?'
'O Willie! oughtn't one to wait till we are old enough to think aboutit?'
'I don't see why. I shall always be thinking I'm working for you, and Idon't see why you shouldn't think the same of me. Won't you?' again herepeated. 'At least, of course I shall do all the work for you.'
'Oh no! I should not like that. I had rather be doing something foryou, Willie. Look here, I am learning all I can now, and when I goout--'
'Go out?'
'For a governess.'
'Murther! I'll hinder that!'
'But, Willie, you can't make a fortune in five years, and I shall goout at eighteen. I think I shall begin the fortune soonest;' and shelaughed merrily.
'Mother didn't make a fortune.'
'I didn't mean that exactly; but I'm learning all the superiorbranches, and if I got a hundred a year! Think of that, Will! If I wenton with that till you are a clergyman and have a living, how nice itwould be! There would be plenty to give away; and if we were poor, Iwould take girls to teach.'
'Do you think I shall ever let you do all the work that way?' saidWill, strong in boyhood's infinite possibilities. 'I don't know howit's to be, but I'll keep you out of slaving, though you're a dear girlto think of it. Any way, Robin, you and I will hold together--always.'
'I am sure I shall never like anybody half so much,' said Robin.
'Shall we break a sixpence and keep the halves? That's the thing, ain'tit? I believe I've got one--or fourpence, which is all the same.'
'No, no,' said Robina, backing; 'I don't think Mettie would like it. Itdoesn't seem right.'
'But aren't you in earnest, Robin?'
'Oh yes, indeed, indeed I am;' from the depths of a very earnestchildish heart that little knew to what it pledged itself.
'And so am I! I'll never care for any one else, Robina--never.'
'Nor I, William. Here they come!'
The other two had not got near so far, though Captain Harewood wastalking, and Wilmet listening, as would never have been the casewithout the influence Willie asserted; but the special charm thatenchained Wilmet was entirely unapprehended by her, till just as thefirst star brightened, and the hues faded from the landscape, shebethought her of her patient, and perceived that he had gone in. 'Howlate it must be! I must go and see after him. I hope he is equal to thejourney.'
'I will come and bring you an account of him on my way home, if I may.'
'Oh, thank you; but it is taxing your goodness too--too much.'
'Cannot you believe how glad I am to have a good excuse?' and thetone gave Wilmet a sudden thrill, so that she answered not; and hecontinued, 'I am going to beg leave to be sometimes at Bexley.'
'When Felix is at home,' faltered Wilmet.
'I can hardly afford to wait. My time at home is so short. I shall, _I_hope, make friends with him to-morrow, and perhaps you will neither ofyou forbid me to come again. I am asking nothing now, only opportunityto try to make you--'
'Oh, don't!' hurriedly broke in Wilmet, standing still in consternation.
'Nay,' he said in a pleading voice, 'I know it would be presumption tothink so short an acquaintance could suffice, but you see I have solittle time, and all I want is leave to use it in coming to see you.'
'Oh, don't!' she repeated. 'Indeed you had better not. It would beonly pain. I couldn't! and I can't have Felix worried;' and there wasa startled sob in her voice; but he answered with the strength andsweetness that had upheld her in Lance's most suffering moments.
'I would not distress you or Felix for more than words can utter! Iwould not have breathed a hint of this most earnest wish of my hearttill you had had some preparation, if it were not so impossibleotherwise to have any chance of being with you and striving--'
'Please,' entreated Wilmet, 'that is just what should be avoided; itcan never come to anything, and the sooner it is stopped the better.'
'Why should it never come to anything?' he asked, encouraged bydetec
ting tears in her voice.
'Because you know--no, you don't know, or you never could think of sucha thing--how wrong and impossible it would be for me!'
'No, I don't know. That is what I want to have the opportunity ofknowing.'
'I can tell you before,' she answered, faintly. 'Oh, if you would buttake my word for it, it would save so much--'
'No, that I cannot do,' he repeated. 'I must see for myself yourpreciousness at home.'
She broke in again. 'Please, please, I'm saying what I ought not; butit is to hinder distress. Don't want to let us get to like each otherany better, for as yet it can't be more than what could be got over,and it is only making pain to let it grow.'
'That I deny. So far as I am concerned, the thing is done. If youwanted to save me that pain, you should have turned me out the moment Isaw you call the boy back to life. A month like this is not so easilygot over.'
Wilmet drooped her head, and made no answer.
'So, since you see,' he continued, 'you will spare me nothing byholding me aloof, will you not let me come and gladden myself whileI may in your presence? And then when my time is up it may be morepossible to judge--' (there was a faint 'Oh no,' but he heeded it not)'--whether you can bear such an ugly fellow enough to let him look tothe time when home claims may be less pressing. I look for no answer. Ionly want to be able to ask for one three months hence, and I shall begyour brother to put it into my power so to do.'
'Ah! but to have Felix disturbed and worried is just what must not be.It has made him ill already; and if he thought--'
'I promise not to harass him,' said Captain Harewood, gently. 'You maytrust me to take care that what I shall say will not cause him any verytrying perplexity.'
'If you knew--' sighed Wilmet.
'I hope to know,' he replied. 'I do know enough already to beaware that you stand in no common relation to the rest; and if youhave my heart, Wilmet, it must follow that somehow I share in yourself-devotion. Do not fear my trying to make you less yourself. I wantnot to take you away from your burthens, but to share them.'
'Yes, you--that is your goodness; but would it be right in us?' shefaltered.
'Leave your brother and me to judge of that,' he said.
They were already at the Bailey door, in the shadow of the buildings,the flood of moonlight lying on the tower above, and one littlemysterious lamp under the deep brow of the archway of the passage.No more passed but one 'good-night' from each; he had not even seenher face, under her shady hat; while she hastened to her little room,glad to ascertain that Lance was fast asleep, and with a rush of newsensations bursting on her, against which she was strengthening all thedykes of her resolute nature. 'He--he--that it should be he! how good!how generous! how kind! Oh, it would be so happy! It _will_ make mehappy that he only just thought of it; but it won't do, it is no use.I'm not in love with him; I won't be, I'm not, I'm not!'
And as ardently as Wilmet had ever prayed for Lance's life and reasonby that little bed, did she beseech not to be tempted to desert herduties; and all night she lay between sleep and waking, ever repeatingto herself. 'I'm not in love, I'm not, I'm not!'
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