"Miss Brownlow," said he, handing them in-Babie first, next Janet, and then Elvira.
He then bowed to Miss Ogilvie, took his seat, handed in the appurtenances, received, showed, and pocketed the tickets, negotiated Janet's purchase of newspapers, and constituted himself altogether cavalier to the party.
Sir James Evelyn! Janet had no turn for soldiers, and was not gratified; but Elvira saw that her blue eyes and golden hair were producing the effect she knew how to trace; so she was graciously pleased to accept Punch, and to smile a bewitching acceptance of the seat assigned to her opposite to the old general.
Barbara was opposite to Mrs. Evelyn, and next to Sydney, a girl a few months older than herself, but considerably taller and larger. Mother and daughter were a good deal alike, save that the girl was fresh plump, and rosy, and the mother worn, with the red colouring burnt as it were into her thin cheeks. Yet both looked as if smiles were no strangers to their lips, though there were lines of anxiety and sorrow traced round Mrs. Evelyn's temples. Their voices were sweet and full, and the elder lady spoke with a tender intonation that inspired Babie with trustful content and affection, but caused Janet to pass a mental verdict of "Sugared milk and water."
She immersed herself in her Pall Mall, and left Babie to exchange scraps of intelligence from the brother's letters, and compare notes on the journey.
By-and-by Mrs. Evelyn retired into her book, and the two little girls put their heads together over a newly-arrived acrostic, calling on Elfie to assist them.
"Do you like acrostics?" she said, peeping up through her long eyelashes at the old general.
"Oh, don't tease Uncle James," hastily interposed Sydney, as yet inexperienced in the difference between the importunities of a merely nice-looking niece, and the blandishments of a brilliant stranger. Sir James said kindly-
"What, my dear?"
And when Elvira replied-
"Do help us to guess this. What does man love most below?" he put on a droll face, and answered-
"His pipe."
"O Uncle James, that's too bad," cried Sydney.
"If Jock had made this acrostic, it might be pipe," said Babie; "but this is Armine's."
It was thereupon handed to the elders, who read, in a boyish hand- writing-
Twins, parted from their rocky nest, We run our wondrous race, And now in tumult, now at rest, Flash back heaven's radiant face.
1. While both alike _this_ name we bear, And both like life we flow, 2. And near us nestle sweet and fair What man most loves below.
Alike it is our boasted claim To nurse the precious juice 3. That maddened erst the Theban dame, With streaming tresses loose.
4. The evening land is sought by one, One rushes towards midday, One to a vigil song has run, One heard Red Freedom's lay.
Tall castles, glorious battlefields Graced this in ages past, But now its mighty power that yields 5. To work my busy last.
"Is that your brother Armine's own?" asked Sir James, surprised.
"O yes," said Janet with impressive carelessness, "all my brothers have a facility in stringing rhymes."
"Not Bobus," said Elvira.
"He does not think it worth while," said Janet, again absorbing herself in her paper, while the public united in guessing the acrostic; and the only objection was raised by the exact General, who would not allow that the "Marseillaise" was sung at the mouth of the Rhone, and defended Ino's sobriety.
Barbara and Sydney lived upon those acrostics in their travelling bags till they reached Folkestone, and had grown intimate over them. Sir James looked after the luggage, putting gently aside Janet's strong-minded attempt to watch over it, and she only retained her own leathern travelling case, where she carried her personals, and which, heavy as it was, she never let out of her immediate charge.
They all sat on deck, for there was a fine smooth summer sea, and no one was deranged except the two maids, whom every one knew to be always disabled on a voyage.
Janet had not long been seated, and was only just getting immersed in her Contemporary, when she received a greeting which gratified her. It was from somewhat of a lion, the author of some startling poems and more startling essays much admired by Bobus, who had brought him to some evening parties of his mother's, not much to her delectation, since there were ugly stories as to his private character. These were ascribed by Bobus to pious malevolence, and Janet had accepted the explanation, and cultivated a bowing acquaintance.
Hyde Corner was too agreeable a haunt to be despised, and Janet owed her social successes more to her mother's attractions than her own. Conversation began by an inquiry after her brothers, whose adventures had figured in the papers, and it went on to Janet's own journey and prospects. Her companion was able to tell her much that she wanted to know about the university of Zurich, and its facilities for female study. He was a well-known advocate of woman's rights, and she scrupled not to tell him that she was inquiring on her own account. Many men would have been bored, and have only sought to free themselves from this learned lady, but the present lion was of the species that prefer roaring to an intelligent female audience, without the rough male argumentative interruption, and Janet thus made the voyage with the utmost satisfaction to herself.
Mrs. Evelyn asked Babie who her sister's friend was. The answer was, "Do you know, Elfie? You know so many more gentlemen than I do."
"No," replied Elvira, "I don't. He looks like the stupid sort of man."
"What is the stupid sort of man?" asked the General, as she intended.
"Oh! that talks to Janet."
"Is everyone that talks to Janet stupid?"
"Of course," said Elvira. "They only go on about stupid things no better than lessons."
Sir James laughed at her arch look, and shook his head at her, but then made a tour among the other passengers, leaving her pouting a little at his desertion. On his return, he sat down by his sister- in-law and mentioned a name, which made her start and glance an inquiry whether she heard aright. Then as he bent his head in affirmation, she asked, "Is there anything to be done?"
"It is only for the crossing, and she is quite old enough to take care of herself."
"And it is evidently an established acquaintance, for which I am not responsible," murmured Mrs. Evelyn to herself.
She was in perplexity about these friends of her son's. Ever since Cecil had been at Eton, his beloved Brownlow had seemed to be his evil genius, whose influence none of his resolutions or promises could for a moment withstand. If she had acted on her own judgment, Cecil would never have returned to Eton, but his uncle disapproved of his removal, especially with the disgrace of the champagne supper unretrieved; and his penitent letter had moved her greatly. Trusting much to her elder son and to Dr. Medlicott, she had permitted the party to continue together, feeling that it might be life or death to that other fatherless boy in whom Duke was so much interested; and now she was going out to judge for herself, and Sir James had undertaken to escort her, that they might together come to a decision whether the two friends were likely to be doing one another good or harm.
Mrs. Evelyn had lived chiefly in the country since her husband's death, and knew nothing of Mrs. Joseph Brownlow. So she looked with anxiety for indications of the tone of the family who had captivated not only Cecil, but Fordham, and seemed in a fair way of doing the same by Sydney. The two hats, brown and black, were almost locked together all the voyage, and indeed the feather of one once became entangled with the crape of the other, so that they had to be extricated from above. There was perhaps a little maternal anxiety at this absorption; but as Sydney was sure to pour out everything at night, her mother could let things take their course, and watch her delight in expanding, after being long shut up in a melancholy house without young companions.
Elvira had a tone of arch simplicity which, in such a pretty creature, was most engaging, and she was in high spirits with the pleasure of being with new people, away from her schoolroom and from England, neither of which she
loved, so she chattered amiably and amusingly, entertained Mrs. Evelyn, and fascinated Sir James.
Janet and her companion were less complacently regarded. Certainly the girl (though less ancient-looking at twenty-one than at fourteen) had the air of one well used to independence, so that she was no great subject for responsibility; but she gave no favourable impression, and was at no pains to do so. When she rejoined the party, Mrs. Evelyn asked whether she had known that gentleman long.
"He is a friend of my brother Robert," she answered. "Shall I introduce you?"
Mrs. Evelyn declined in a quiet civil tone, that provoked a mental denunciation of her as strait-laced and uncharitable, and as soon as the gentleman returned to the neighbourhood, Janet again sought his company, let him escort her ashore, and only came back to the others in the refreshment-room, whither she brought a copy of a German periodical which he had lent her. With much satisfaction Mrs. Evelyn filled the railway carriage with her own party, so that there was no room for any addition to their number. Nor indeed did they see any more of their unwelcome fellow-traveller, since he was bound for the Hotel du Louvre, and, to Janet's undisguised chagrin, rooms were already engaged at the Hotel Castiglione.
They came too late for the table d'hote, and partook of an extemporised meal in their sitting-room immediately on their arrival, as the start was to be early. Then it was that Janet missed her bag, her precious bag! Delrio was sent all over the house to make inquiries whether it had been taken to any other person's room, but in vain. Mrs. Evelyn said she had last seen it when they took their seats on board the steamer.
"Yes," added Elvira, "you left it there when you went to walk up and down with that gentleman."
"Then why did not you take care of it? I don't mean Elfie-nobody expects her to be of any use; but you, Babie?"
"You never told me!" gasped Babie, aghast.
"You ought to have seen; but you never think of anything but your own chatter."
"It is a very inconvenient loss," said Mrs. Evelyn, kindly. "Have you sent to the station?"
"I shall, as soon as I am satisfied that it is not here. I can send out for the things I want for use; but there are books and papers of importance, and my keys."
"The key of mother's davenport?" cried Babie. "Was it there? O Janet, Janet!"
"You should have attended to it, then," said Janet sharply.
Delrio knocked at the door with an account of her unsuccessful mission, and Sir James, little as the young lady deserved it, concerned himself about sending to the station, and if the bag were not forthcoming there, telegraphing to Boulogne the first thing in the morning.
While Janet was writing particulars and volubly instructing the commissionaire, Mrs. Evelyn saw Babie's eyes full of tears, and her throat swelling with suppressed sobs. She held out an arm and drew the child to her, saying kindly, "I am sure you would have taken care of the bag if you had been asked, my dear."
"It's not that, thank you," said Babie, laying her head on the kind shoulder, "for I don't think it was my fault; but mother will be so sorry for her key. It is the key of her davenport, and father's picture is there, and grandmamma's, and the card with all our hairs, and she will be so sorry."
And Babie cried the natural tears of a tired child, whom anything would overcome after her long absence from her mother. Mrs. Evelyn saw how it was, and, as Delrio was entirely occupied with the hue and cry, she herself took the little girl away, and helped her to bed, tenderly soothing and comforting her, and finding her various needments. Among them were her "little books," but they could not be found, and her eyes looked much too tired to use them, especially as the loss again brought the ready moisture. "My head feels so funny, I can't think of anything," she said.
"Shall I do as I used when Sydney was little?" and Mrs. Evelyn knelt down with her, and said one or two short prayers.
Babie murmured her thanks, nestled up to her and kissed her, but added imploringly, "My Psalm. Armie and I always say our Psalm at bed-time, and think of each other. He did it out on the moraine."
"Will it do if you lie down and I say it to you?"
There was another fond, grateful nestling kiss, and some of the Psalms were gone through in the soft, full cadences of a voice that had gained unconscious pathos by having many times used them as a trustful lullaby to a weary sufferer.
If Babie heard the end, it was in the sweetness of sleep, and when Mrs. Evelyn left her, it was with far less judicial desire to inquire into the subject of that endless conversation which had lasted, with slight intermission, from London to Paris. She was not long left in ignorance, for no sooner had Sydney been assured that nothing ailed Barbara but fatigue, than she burst out, "Mamma, she is the nicest girl I ever saw."
"Do you like her better than Elvira?"
"Of course I do," most emphatically. "Mamma, she loves Sir Kenneth of the Leopard as much as I do."
Mrs. Evelyn was satisfied. While Sir Kenneth of the Leopard remained the object of the young ladies' passion, there was not much fear of any nonsense that was not innocent and happy.
No news of the bag. Janet was disposed to go back herself or send Delrio, but Sir James declared this impossible; nor would the Evelyns consent to disturb the plan of the journey, and disappoint those who expected them at Engelberg on Saturday by waiting at Paris for tidings. Janet in vain told herself that she was not under their control, and tried to remain behind by herself with her maid. They had a quiet, high-bred decisive way of taking things for granted, and arranging for her and she found herself unable to resist; but whenever, in after times, she was unpleasantly reminded of her loss, she always charged it upon them.
Otherwise the journey was prosperous. Elfie was on the terms of a saucy pet with the General, and Babie's bright, gentle courtesy and unselfishness won Mrs. Evelyn's heart, while she and Sydney were as inseparable as ever.
In fact Sydney had been made free of Jotapata. That celebrated romance had been going on all these years with the elision of several generations; because though few members of the family were allowed to see their twenty-fifth year, it was impossible to squeeze them all into the crusading times; and besides the reigning favourites must be treated to an adventure with Coeur de Lion.
Even thus abridged, it bade fair to last throughout the journey, both the little maidens being sufficiently experienced travellers to care little for the sights from the French railway, and being only stimulated to talk and listen the more eagerly when interrupted by such trifles as meals, companions, and calls to look at objects far less interesting.
"Look, my dears; we are coming to the mountains. There is the first snowy head."
"Yes, mamma," but the hats were together again in the corner.
"Come, Sydney, don't lose this wonderful winding valley."
"I see, Uncle James. Beautiful!" popping back instantly with, "Go on, Babie, dear. How did Sir Gilbert get them out of that horrid defile full of Turks? It is true, you said."
"True that Louis VII. and Queen Eleanor got into that dreadful mess. Armine found it in Sismondi, but nobody knew who Sir Gilbert was except ourselves; and we are quite sure he was Sir Gilbert of the Ermine, the son of the brother who thought it his duty to stay at home."
"Sir Philibert? Oh, yes! I know."
"There are some verses about the Iconium Pass, written out in our spotted book, but I can say some of them."
"Oh, do!"
"'The rock is steep, the gorge is deep, Mount Joye St. Denys; But King Louis bold his way doth hold, Mount Joye St. Denys.
Ho ho, the ravine is 'narrow I ween, Lah billah el billah, hurrah. The hills near and far the Frank's way do bar, Lah billah el billah, hurrah.'
"It ought to be 'Allah el Allah,' but you know that really does mean a holy name, and Armine thought we ought not to have it. It was delightful making the ballad, for all the Christian verses have 'Mount Joye St. Denys' in the different lines, and all the Turkish ones 'Lah billah,' till Sir Gilbert comes in, and then his war-cry goes instead-
>
"'On, on, ye Franks, hew down their ranks, Up, merry men, for the Ermine! For Christian right 'gainst Pagan might, Up, merry men, for the Ermine!'
but one day Jock got hold of it, and wrote a parody on it."
"Oh what a shame! Weren't you very angry?"
"It was so funny, one could not help laughing.
"'Come on, old Turk, you'll find hot work- Pop goes the weasel! They cut and run; my eyes, what fun!-- Pop goes the weasel!'"
"How could you bear it? I won't hear a bit more. It is dreadful."
"Miss Ogilvie says if one likes a thing very much, parodies don't hurt one's love," said Babie.
"But what did Sir Gilbert do?"
"He rode up to where Louis was standing with his back against a rock, and dismounted saying 'My liege-'"
"I thought he was an Englishman?"
"Oh, but you always called a king 'my liege,' whoever you were. 'My liege,' he said-"
"Look at that charming little church tower."
"I see, thank you."
"I see, Uncle James. No, thank you, I don't want to look out any more. I saw it. Well, Babie, 'My liege-'"
"Never mind, James," said Mrs. Evelyn, "one can't be more than in Elysium."
There were fewer conveniences for the siege on the last day of the journey, when railroads were no more; but something could be done on board the steamer in spite of importunities from those who thought it a duty to look at the shores of the Lake of Lucerne, and when arrival became imminent, happy anticipation inclined Barbara to a blissful silence. Mrs. Evelyn saw her great hazel eyes shining like stars, and began to prefer the transparent mask of that ardent little soul to the external beauty which made Elvira a continual study for an artist.
CHAPTER XXIV. THE ANGEL MOUNTAIN.
To your eager prayer, the Voice Makes awful answer, "Come to Me." Once for all now seal your choice With Christ to tread the boisterous sea. Keble.
The Leukerbad section of the party had only three days' start of the others, for Jock was not released till after a whole month's course of the baths, and Armine's state fluctuated so much that the journey would not have been sooner possible.
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