Modern Broods

by Шарлотта Мэри Йондж

  "Very ornamental?"

  "Oh, very," said Jane, warming out of caution, as she felt she might venture showing city gorgeousness all over. "But it is infinitely to his credit. He had a Fortunatus' purse, and was a spoilt child-not in the bad sense-but with an utterly idolising mother, and he tried a good many experiments that made our hair stand on end; but he has sobered down, and is a much wiser man now-though I would not be bound to admire all he does."

  "I see there are Sisters? Do they belong to his arrangements?"

  "Yes. They are what my brother calls Cousins of Mercy. The elder one has tried two or three Sisterhoods, and being dissatisfied with all the rules, I fancy she has some notion of trying to set up one on her own account at Mr. Flight's. They are both relations of his mother, and are really one of his experiments-fancy names and fancy rules, of course. I believe the young one wanted to call herself Sister Philomena, but that he could not stand. So they act as parish women here, and they do it very well. I liked Sister Beata when I have come in contact with her, and I am sure she is an excellent nurse. They will do your nieces no harm, though I don't like the irregular."

  Of this assurance Magdalen felt very glad, when at the door of the parish room, where the ladies were to hold a working party for the missions, Carrigaboola Missions at Albertstown, she and her nieces were introduced to the two ladies in hoods and veils; and Paula's eyes sparkled with delight as she settled into a chair next to Sister Mena. She looked as happy as Vera looked bored! Conversation was not possible while a missionary memoir was being read aloud, but the history of Mother Constance, once Lady Herbert Somerville, but then head at Dearport, and founder of the Daughter Sisterhood at Carrigaboola. To the Merrifields it was intensely interesting, and also to Magdalen; but all the time she could see demonstrations passing between Paula and Sister Mena, a nice-looking girl, much embellished by the setting of the hood and veil, as if the lending of a pair of scissors or the turning of a hem were an act of tender admiration. So sweet a look came out on Paula's face that she longed to awaken the like. Vera meantime looked as if her only consolation lay in the neighbourhood of a window, whence she could see up the street, as soon as she had found whispers to Mysie Merrifield treated as impossible.

  The party at the Goyle had begun to fall into regular habits, and struggles were infrequent. There was study in the forenoon, walks or cycle expeditions in the afternoon, varied by the lessons in music and in art, which Vera and Paula attended on Wednesdays and Fridays, the one in the morning, the other after dinner. It was possible to go to St. Andrew's matins at ten o'clock before the drawing class, and to St. Kenelm's at five, after the music was over. Magdalen, whenever it was possible, went with her sisters on their bicycles to St. Andrew's, and sometimes devised errands that she might join them at St. Kenelm's, but neither could always be done by the head of the household. And she could perceive that her company was not specially welcome.

  Valetta, the only one of the Clipstone family whose drawing was worth cultivating, used to ride into Rockstone, escorted by her brother Wilfred, who was in course of "cramming" with a curate on his way to his tutor, and Vera found in casual but well-cultivated meetings and partings, abundant excitement in "nods and becks and wreathed smiles," and now and then in the gift of a flower.

  Paula on the other hand found equal interest and delight in meetings with Sister Mena, especially after a thunderstorm had driven the two to take refuge at what the Sisters called "the cell of St. Kenelm," and tea had unfolded their young simple hearts to one another! Magdalen had called on the Sisters and asked them to tea at the Goyle, and there had come to the conclusion that Sister Beata was an admirable, religious, hardworking woman, of strong opinions, and not much cultivated, with a certain provincial twang in her voice. She had a vehement desire for self-devotion and consecration, but perhaps not the same for obedience. She sharply criticised all the regulations of the Sisterhoods with which she was acquainted, wore a dress of her own device, and with Sister Mena, a young cousin of her own, meant to make St. Kenelm's a nucleus for a Sisterhood of her own invention.

  Sister Mena had been bred up in a Sisterhood's school, from five years old and upwards, and had no near relatives. Mr. Flight was Saint, Pope and hero to both, and Mena knew little beyond the horizon of St. Kenelm's, but she and Paula were fascinated with one another; and Magdalen saw more danger in interfering than in acquiescing, though she gave no consent to Paulina's aspirations after admission into the perfect Sisterhood that was to be.

  CHAPTER VIII-SNOBBISHNESS

  "Why then should vain repinings rise,

  That to thy lover fate denies

  A nobler name, a wide domain?"-SCOTT.

  The friendship with the Sisters was about three weeks old when, one morning, scaffold poles were being erected in the new side aisle of St. Kenelm's Church, and superintending them was a tall dark-haired young man. There was a start of mutual recognition; and by and by he met Paula and Vera in the porch, and there were eager hand-clasps and greetings, as befitted old friends meeting in a strange place.

  "Mr. Hubert! I heard you were coming!"

  "Miss Vera! Miss Paula! This is a pleasure."

  Then followed an introduction of Sister Mena, whose elder companion was away, attending a sick person.

  "May I ask whether you are living here?"

  "Two miles off at the Goyle, at Arnscombe, with our sister."

  "So I heard! I shall see you again." And he turned aside to give an order, bowing as he did so.

  "Is he the artist of those sweet designs?" asked Sister Mena.

  "Did we not tell you?"

  "And now he is going to execute them? How delicious!"

  "I trust so! We must see him again. We have not heard of Edie and Nellie, nor any one."

  "He will call on you?" said Sister Mena.

  "I do not think so," said Paula. "At least his father is really an artist, but he is drawing-master at the High School, and Hubert works for this firm. They are not what you call in society, and our sister is all for getting in with Lady Merrifield and General Mohun and all the swells, so it would never do for him to call."

  "She would first be stiff and stuck up," said Vera, "and I could not stand that."

  "I thought she was so kind," said Mena.

  "You don't understand," said Vera. "She would be kind to a workman in a fever; but this sort-oh, no."

  "To be on an equality with the man painting the church?" said Paula. "No, indeed! not if he were Fra Angelico and Ary Scheffer and Michelangelo rolled into one."

  At that moment the subject referred to in that mighty conglomeration reappeared. He was a handsome young man, his touch of Italian blood showing just enough to give him a romantic air; and Sister Philomena listened, much impressed by the interchange of question and answer about "Edie and Nellie," and the dear Warings, and the happy Christmas at the Grange; and Vera blushed again, and Paula coloured in sympathy, as it appeared that Mr. Delrio had never had such a splendid time.

  The colloquy was ended by Mr. Flight being descried, approaching with his mother, whereupon the two girls fled away like guilty creatures.

  Presently Vera exclaimed, "Oh, Polly dear, what a complication! Poor dear fellow! he cares for me as much as ever."

  "And you will be staunch to him in spite of all the worldly allurements," said Paula.

  "Well, I mean Mr. Wilfred Merrifield is not half so handsome," returned Vera.

  "Nor is he engaged in sacred work; only bent on frivolity," said Paula; "yet see how the M.A. encourages him with tennis and games and nonsense."

  Poor M.A., when the encouragement had only been some general merriment, and a few games on the lawn Paulina, who had heard many confidences when Vera returned from Waring Grange, believed altogether in the true love of the damsel and Hubert Delrio, who had been wont to single out the prettiest of the girls at Filstead, and she was resolved to do all she could in their cause, being schoolgirl enough to have no scruple as to secrecy towards Magdalen, though
on the next opportunity she poured out all to Sister Philomena's by no means unwilling ears.

  Lovers had never fallen within the young Sister's experience, either personally or through friends; and they had only been revealed to her in a few very carefully-selected tales, where they were more the necessary machinery than the main interest, for she had been bred up in an orphanage by Sister Beata, and had never seen beyond it. So to her Paula's story, little as there was of it, was a perfect romance, and it gained in colour when she related it to her senior.

  Sister Beata hesitated a little, having rather more knowledge of the world, remembering that Vera Prescott was not eighteen years old, and doubting whether an underhand intimacy ought to be encouraged; but then Mr. Flight had spoken of Mr. Delrio as a highly praiseworthy young man, of decided Catholic principles; he was regular at Church services, and had dined or supped at the Vicarage. The intercourse, as the girls had explained, had been sanctioned by Mrs. Best in their native town, where all parties were well known, and thus there could be no harm in letting it continue. While as to the elder Miss Prescott, she was understood to be unduly bent on county and titled society, and to be exclusive towards inferiors. Moreover, she was an attendant at St. Andrew's Church, and thus regarded as out of the pale of sympathy of the St. Kenelm's flock.

  So no obstacle was put in the way of the gossips, for they were really nothing more, except that there was admiration of the designs for the side chapel, which were of the Scripture children on one side, and on the other of child martyrs. Now and then there was a reference to the chilliness and hardship of living with an unsympathising sister, and being obliged to go to churches of which they did not approve. Sometimes too there were airy castles of a distant future to be shared by the magnificent architect, together with Vera, while Paula nursed in the convent with Mother Beata and Sister Philomena.

  But all this did not prevent an excitement and eager laughter and chatter whenever Wilfred Merrifield came in the way, and he certainly was enough attracted by Vera's pretty face and lively graces to make his sisters think him very absurd; but his mother had seen so many passing fancies among her elder sons as to hold that blindness was better than serious treatment.

  There was the further effect that Magdalen had no suspicion that the vehement attraction to St. Kenelm's went beyond the harmless quarter of the two nursing Sisters and some hero worship of Mr. Flight. Miss Mohun, who knew everything, had indeed hinted that something foolish might be going on there; but Magdalen had not decided on the mutual fairness of the two congregations, and deferred investigation till Agatha should come home, when she would have a reasonable, if cold, person to deal with. Nor did Thekla's chatter excite any suspicion; for the only time when she had been present at a meeting with Mr. Delrio, she had been half bribed, half threatened into silence, and she was quite schoolgirl enough to feel that such was the natural treatment of authority, though she had become really fond of "sister."

  CHAPTER IX-GONE OVER TO THE ENEMY

  "Can I teach thee, my beloved? can I teach thee?"

  E. B. BROWNING.

  Agatha came home in due time, and Magdalen sent her sister to meet her at the station, where they found a merry Clipstone party in the waggonette waiting for Gillian, who was to come home at the same time. There was so much discussion of the new golf ground, that Vera had hardly a hand or a glance to bestow on Mr. Delrio, who jumped out of the same train, shook hands with Agatha, and bestirred himself in finding her luggage and calling a cab.

  "How he is improved! What a pleasing, gentlemanly fellow he looks!" she exclaimed, as she waved her thanks, while driving off in the cab.

  "Is he not?" said Paula, while Vera bridled and blushed. "You will be delighted with his work. I never saw anything more lovely than little St. Cyriac the martyr."

  "He is taken from Mrs. Henderson's little boy," added Vera; "such a dear little darling."

  "And his mother is to be done; indeed, he has sketched her for St. Juliet."

  "Flapsy! St. Romeo, too, I suppose?"

  "Nonsense, Nag! There really was a St. Juliet or Julitta, and she was his mother, and they both were martyrs. I will tell you all the history," began Paula; but Agatha interposed.

  "You must like having him down here. Sister must be much pleased with him. She used to like old Mr. Delrio."

  "Well, we have not said much about him," owned Paula. "He does not seem to wish it, or expect to be in with swells."

  "We could not stand his being treated like a common house-painter and upholsterer," added Vera.

  "Surely no one does so," said Agatha.

  "Not exactly," said Paula; "at least, he has had supper at St. Kenelm's Vicarage with Lady Flight, and luncheon at Carrara with Captain and Mrs. Henderson."

  "Because he was doing the child," interposed Vera; "and Thekla says that Primrose Merrifield says that her Aunt Jane-that is, old Miss Mohun-says that Lady Flight is not a gentlewoman."

  "What has that to do with Magdalen?"

  "Why, she is so taken up with those swells of hers, especially now that there is a talk of Lord Somebody's yacht coming in, that she would never treat him as on equal terms, but just keep him at a distance, like a mere decorator."

  "That seemed to me just what you were doing," said Agatha, "when he was so kind and helpful about my box."

  "Oh, they were all there, and we did not want to be talked of," said Vera, blushing. "He understands."

  "He understands," repeated Paula. "We do see him at the church and at the Sisters'. Those dear Sisters! There is no nonsense about them. You will love them, Nag."

  "Well, it does not seem to me to be treating our own sister Magdalen fairly."

  "The M.A.!" said Vera, in a tone of wonder.

  "No; not to be intimate with a person you do not introduce to her, because you do not think she would consider him as on equal terms."

  "Sister Beata quite approves," added Paula, sincerely, not guessing how little Sister Beata knew of the situation, of which she only heard through the medium of her own representations to Sister Mena.

  The two girls rushed into the charms of these two Sisters, and the plan for an entertainment for the maidens of the Guild of St. Milburgha, at which they were to assist. It lasted up to the gate of the Goyle, where Magdalen and Thekla were ready to meet them; and they trooped merrily up the hill, Agatha keeping to Magdalen's side in a way that struck her as friendly and affectionate. It seemed to be more truly coming home than the elder sister had dared to anticipate; nor, indeed, did she feel the veiled antagonism to herself that had previously disappointed her.

  The talk was about St. Robert's, about Oxford in general, the new friends, the principal, the games, the debates, the lectures, the sermons, the celebrities, the undergraduates, the concerts, the chapels, the boats, the architecture; all were touched on for further discussion by and by as they sat at the evening meal, and then on the chairs and cushions in the verandah; and through all there was no exclusion of the elder sister, but rather she was the one who could appreciate the interest of what Agatha had seen and heard; and even she was allowed to enter into the amusement of an Oxford bon mot, sometimes, indeed, when it was far beyond Paula and Vera.

  There was no doubt that the term had much improved Agatha even in appearance and manner. She held herself better, pronounced better, uttered no slangish expressions, and twice she repressed little discourtesies on the part of her sisters, and neglects such as were not the offspring of tender familiarity, but of an indifference akin to rudeness. Magdalen had endured, knowing how bad it was for their manners, but unwilling to become more of an annoyance than could be helped. The indescribable difference in Agatha's whole manner sent Magdalen to bed happier than she had been since the arrival of her sisters, and feeling as if Agatha had come to her own side of a barrier.

  Perhaps it was quite true; for the last two months had been a time of growth with the maiden, changing her from a schoolgirl to a student, from the "brook to the river." She had, indeed, studied h
ard, but that she had always done, as being clever, intellectual and ambitious. The difference had been from her intercourse with persons slightly her elders, but who did not look on authorities as natural enemies, to be tolerated for one's own good. There had been a development of the conscience and soul even in this first term that made her regard her elder sister not merely with a sense of compulsory gratitude and duty, but with sympathy and fellow feeling, which were the more excited when she saw her own chilliness of last spring carried further by the two young girls.

  So breakfast went off merrily; and after the round of the garden and the pets, Agatha promised to come, when summoned, to hear how well Thekla could read French. In the meantime she waited in the morning-room, looking at her sisters' books; Vera pushed aside the Venetian blind.

  "Don't come in that way, Flapsy!" called Paula. "You'll be heard in the dining-room, and the M.A. will tremble at your dusty feet."

  "They aren't dusty," said Vera, pulling up the blind with a clatter.

  "Aren't they?" laughed Paula, pointing.

  "You had better go and wipe them," said Agatha.

  "I don't believe in M.A.'s fidgets," returned Vera.

  "But I do, in proper deference to the head of the house," said Agatha, gravely.

  "Murder in Irish!" cried Vera, bouncing away, while Paula argued, "Really, Nag, life is not long enough to attend to all the M.A.'s little worries."

  "Polly, dear, I am afraid we have been on a wrong tack with our sister. I don't like calling her by that name."

  "You began it!" exclaimed Vera, dashing in by the door as she spoke.

  "I could not have meant it as a nickname to be always in use."

  "Oh yes, you did, I remember"-and an argument was beginning, which Agatha cut short by saying, "Any way, it is bad taste."

  "Nag has been so much among the real M.A. that she is tender about their title."