Jock too came home that same evening, as gay and merry apparently as ever, and after dinner, claimed his mother for a turn in the garden.
"Has Drake written to you, mother?" he asked. "I met him the other day at Mrs. Lucas's, and it seems his soul is expanding. He wants to give up the old house-you know the lease is nearly out-and to hang out in a more fashionable quarter."
"Dear old house!"
"Now, mother, here's my notion. Why should not we hide our diminished heads there? You could keep house while the Monk and I go through the lectures and hospitals, and King's College might not be too far off for Armine."
"You, Jock, my dear."
"You see, it is a raving impossibility for me to stay where I am."
"I am afraid so; but you might exchange into the line."
"There would be no great good in that. I should have stuck to the Guards because there I am, and I have no opinion of fellows changing about for nothing-and because of Evelyn and some capital fellows besides. But I found out long ago that it had been a stupid thing to go in for. When one has mastered the routine, it is awfully monotonous; and one has nothing to do with one's time or one's brains. I have felt many a time that I could keep straight better if I had something tougher to do."
"Tell me, just to satisfy my mind, my dear, you have no debts."
"I don't owe forty pounds in the world, mother; and I shall not owe that, when I can get my tailor to send in his bill. You have given me as jolly an allowance as any man in the corps, and I've always paid my way. I've got no end of things about my rooms, and my horses and cab, but they will turn into money. You see, having done the thing first figure, I should hate to begin in the cheap and nasty style, and I had much rather come home to you, Mother Carey. I'm not too old, you know-not one-and-twenty till August. I shall not come primed like the Monk, but I'll try to grind up to him, if you'll let me, mother."
"Oh, Jock, dear Jock!" she cried, "you little know the strength and life it gives me to have you taking it so like a young hero."
"I tell you I'm sick of drill and parade," said Jock, "and heartily glad of an excuse to turn to something where one can stretch one's wits without being thought a disgrace to humanity. Now, don't you think we might be very jolly together?"
"Oh, to think of being there again! And we can have the dear old furniture and make it like home. It is the first definite notion any one has had. My dear, you have given me something to look forward to. You can't guess what good you have done me! It is just as if you had shown me light at the end of the thicket; ay, and made yourself the good stout staff to lead me through!"
"Mother, that's the best thing that ever was said to me yet; worth ever so much more than all old Barnes's money-bags."
"If the others will approve! But any way it is a nest egg for my own selfish pleasure to carry me through. Why, Jock, to have your name on the old door would be bringing back the golden age!"
Nobody but Jock knew what made this such a cheerful Sunday with his mother. She was even heard making fun, and declaring that no one knew what a relief it would be not to have to take drives when all the roads were beset with traction engines. She had so far helped Armine out of the difficulties his lavish assurances had brought him into, that she had written a note to the Vicar, Mr. Parsons, telling him that she should be better able to reply in a little while; but Armine, knowing that he must not speak, and afraid of betraying the cause of his unhappiness and of the delay, was afraid to stir out of reach of the others lest Miss Parsons should begin an inquiry.
The Vicar of Woodside was, in fact, as some people mischievously called her, the Reverend Petronella Parsons. Whether she wrote her brother's sermons was a disputed question. She certainly did other things in his name which she had better have let alone. He was three or four years her junior, and had always so entirely followed her lead, that he seemed to have no personal identity; but to be only her male complement. That Armine should have set up a lady of this calibre for the first goddess of his fancy was one of the comical chances of life, but she was a fine, handsome, fresh-looking woman of five-and-thirty, with a strong vein of sentiment-ecclesiastical and poetic-just ignorant enough to gush freely, and too genuine to be _always_ offensive. She had been infinitely struck with Armine, had hung a perfect romance of renovation on him, sympathised with his every word, and lavished on him what perhaps was not quite flattery, because she was entirely in earnest, but which was therefore all the worse for him.
Barbara had a natural repulsion from her, and could not understand Armine's being attracted, and for the first time in their lives this was creating a little difference between the brother and sister. Babie had said, in rather an uncalled-for way, that Miss Parsons would draw back when she knew the truth, and Armine had been deeply offended at such an ungenerous hint, and had reduced her to a tearful declaration that she was very sorry she had said anything so uncalled for.
Petronella herself had been much vexed at Armine's three days' defection, which was ascribed to the worldly and anti-ecclesiastical influences of the rest of the family. She wanted her brother to preach a sermon about Lot's wife; but Jemmie, as she called him, had on certain occasions a passive force of his own, and she could not prevail. She regretted it the less when Armine and Babie duly did the work they had undertaken in the Sunday-school, though they would not come in for any intermediate meals.
"What did Mrs. Brownlow tell you in her note?" she asked of her brother while giving him his tea before the last service.
"That in a few days she shall be able to answer me."
"Ah, well! Do you know there is a belief in the parish that something has happened-that a claim is to be set up to the whole property, and that the whole family will be reduced to beggary?"
"I never heard of an estate to which there was not some claimant in obscurity."
"But this comes from undoubted authority." Mr. Parsons smiled a little. "One can't help it if servants _will_ hear things. Well! any way it will be overruled for good to that dear boy-though it would be a cruel stroke on the parish."
It was the twilight of a late spring evening when the congregation streamed out of Church, and Elvira, who had managed hitherto to avoid all intercourse with the River Hollow party, found herself grappled by Lisette without hope of rescue. "My dear, this is a pleasure at last; I have so much to say to you. Can't you give us a day?"
"I am going to town to-morrow," said Elvira, never gracious to any Gould.
"To-morrow! I heard the family had put off their migration."
"I go with Lucas. I am to stay with Mrs, Evelyn, Lord Fordham's mother, you know, who is to present me at the Drawing-room," said Elvira, magnificently.
"Oh! if I could only see you in your court dress it would be memorable," cried Mrs. Gould. "A little longer, my dear, our paths lie together."
"I must get home. My packing-"
"And may I ask what you wear, my dear? Is your dress ordered?"
"O yes, I had it made at Paris. It is white satin, with lilies-a kind of lily one gets in Algiers." And she expatiated on the fashion till Mrs. Gould said-
"Well, my love, I hope you will enjoy yourself at the Honourable Mrs. Evelyn's. What is the address, in case I should have occasion to write?"
"I shall have no time for doing commissions."
"That was not my meaning," was the gentle answer; "only if there be anything you ought to be informed of-"
"They would write to me from home. Why, what do you mean?" asked the girl, her attention gained at last.
"Did it never strike you why you are sent up alone?"
"Only that Mrs. Brownlow is so cut up about Janet."
"Ah! youth is so sweetly unconscious. It is well that there are those who are bound to watch for your interests, my dear."
"I can't think what you mean."
"I will not disturb your happy innocence, my love. It is enough for your uncle and me to be awake, to counteract any machinations. Ah! I see your astonishment! You are so simple, my dear
child, and you have been studiously kept in the dark."
"I can't think what you are driving at," said Elvira, impatiently. "Mrs. Brownlow would never let any harm happen to me, nor Allen either. Do let me go."
"One moment, my darling. I must love you through all, and you will know your true friends one day. Are you-let me ask the question out of my deep, almost maternal, solicitude-are you engaged to Mr. Brownlow?"
"Of course I am!"
"Of course, as you say. Most ingenuous! Ah? well, may it not be too late!"
"Don't be so horrid, Lisette! Allen is not half a bad fellow, and frightfully in love with me."
"Exactly, my dear unsuspicious dove. There! I see you are impatient. You will know the truth soon enough. One kiss, for your mother's sake."
But Elvira broke from her, and rejoined Allen.
"I have sounded the child," said Lisette to her husband that evening, "and she is quite in the dark, though the very servants in the house are better informed."
"Better informed than the fact, may be," said Mr. Gould (for a man always scouts a woman's gossip).
"No, indeed. Poor dear child, she is blinded purposely. She never guessed why she was sent to Kencroft while the old Colonel was called in, and they all agreed that the will should be kept back till the wedding with Mr. Allen should be over, and he could make up the rest. So now the child is to be sent to town, and surrounded with Mrs. Brownlow's creatures to prey upon her innocence. But you have no care for your own niece-none!"
CHAPTER XXIX. FRIENDS AND UNFRIENDS.
Ay, and, I think, One business doth command us all; for mine Is money. Timon of Athens.
Before the door of one of the supremely respectable and aristocratic but somewhat gloomy-looking houses in Cavendish Square, whose mauve plate-glass windows and link-extinguishers are like fossils of a past era of civilisation, three riding horses were being walked up and down, two with side-saddles and one for a gentleman. They were taken aside as a four-wheel drove up, while a female voice exclaimed-
"Ah! we are just it time!"
Cards and a note were sent in with a request to see Miss Menella.
Word came back that Miss Menella was just going out riding; but on the return of a message that the visitors came from Mrs. Brownlow on important business, they were taken up-stairs to an ante-room.
They were three-Mr. Wakefield and Mr. Gould, and, to the great discontentment of the former, Mrs. Gould likewise. Fain would he have shaken her off; but as she truly said, who could deprive her of her rights as kinswoman, and wife to the young lady's guardian?
After they had waited a few moments in the somewhat dingy surroundings of a house seldom used by its proper owners, Elvira entered in plumed hat and habit, a slender and exquisite little figure, but with a haughty twitch in her slim waist, superb indifference in the air of her little head, and a grasp of her coral- handled whip as if it were a defensive weapon, when Lisette flew up to offer an embrace with-
"Joy, joy, my dear child! Remember, I was the first to give you a hint."
"Good morning," said Elvira, with a little bend of her head, presenting to each the shapely tip of a gauntleted hand, but ignoring her uncle and aunt as far as was possible. "Is there anything that need detain me, Mr. Wakefield? I am just going out with Miss Evelyn and Lord Fordham, and I cannot keep them waiting."
"Ah! it is you that will have to be waited for now, my sweet one," began Mrs. Gould.
"Here is a note from Mrs. Brownlow," said Mr. Wakefield, holding it to Elvira, who looked like anything but a sweet one. "I imagine it is to prepare you for the important disclosure I have to make."
A hot colour mounted in the fair cheek. Elvira tore open the letter and read-
"MY DEAR CHILD,-I can only ask your pardon for the unconscious wrong which I have so long been doing to you, and which shall be repaired as soon as the processes of the law render it possible for us to change places.
"Your ever loving, "MOTHER CAREY."
"What does it all mean?" cried the bewildered girl.
"It means," said the lawyer, "that Mrs. Brownlow has discovered a will of the late Mr. Barnes more recent than that under which she inherited, naming you, Miss Elvira Menella, as the sole inheritrix."
"My dear child, let me be the first to congratulate you on your recovery of your rights," said Mrs. Gould, again proffering an embrace, but again the whip was interposed, while Elvira, with her eyes fixed on Mr. Wakefield, asked "What?" so that he had to repeat the explanation.
"Then does it all belong to me?" she asked.
"Eventually it will, Miss Menella. You are sole heiress to your great uncle, though you cannot enter into possession till certain needful forms of law are gone through. Mrs. Brownlow offers no obstruction, but they cannot be rapid."
"All mine!" repeated Elvira, with childish exultation. "What fun! I must go and tell Sydney Evelyn."
"A few minutes more, Miss Menella," said Mr. Wakefield. "You ought to hear the terms of the will."
And he read it to her.
"I thought you told me it was to be mine. This is all you and uncle George."
"As your trustees."
"Oh, to manage as the Colonel does. You will give me all the money I ask you for. I want some pearls, and I must have that duck of a little Arab. Uncle George, how soon can I have it?"
"We must go through the Probate Court," he began, but his wife interrupted-
"Ways and means will be forthcoming, my dear, though for my part I think it would be much better taste in Mrs. Brownlow to put you in possession at once."
"Mr. Wakefield explained, my dear," said her husband, "that, much as Mrs. Brownlow wishes to do so, she cannot; she has no power. It is her trustees."
"Oh yes, I know every excuse will be found for retaining the property as long as possible," said the lady.
"Then I shall have to wait ever so long," said the young lady. "And I do so want the Arab. It is a real love, and Allen would say so."
"I have another letter for you," said Mr. Wakefield, on hearing that name. "We will leave it with you. If you wish for further information, I would call immediately on receiving a line at my office."
Just then a message was brought from Mrs. Evelyn inviting Miss Menella's friends to stay to luncheon. It incited Elvira, who knew neither awe nor manners, to run across the great drawing-room, leaving the doors open behind her, to the little morning-room, where sat Mrs. Evelyn, with Sydney, in her habit standing by the mantelpiece.
"Oh, Mrs. Evelyn," Elvira began, "it is Mr. Wakefield and my uncle and his wife. They have come to say it is all mine; Uncle Barnes left it all to me."
"So I hear from Mrs. Brownlow," said Mrs. Evelyn gravely.
"Oh, Elfie, I am so sorry for you. Don't you hate it?" cried Sydney.
"Oh, but it is such fun! I can do everything I please," said the heiress.
"Yes, that's the best part," said Sydney. "I do envy you the day when you give it all back to Allen."
That reminded Elvira to open the note, and as she read it her great eyes grew round.
"SWEETEST AND DEAREST,-How I have always loved, and always shall love you, you know full well. But these altered circumstances bring about what you have so often playfully wished. Say the word and you are free, no longer bound to me by anything that has passed between us, though the very fibres of my heart and life are as much as ever entwined about you. Honour bids my dissolution of our engagement, and I await your answer, though nothing can ever make me other than
"Your wholly devoted, "ALLEN."
Mrs. Evelyn had been prepared by a letter from her friend for what was now taking place; Mr. Wakefield had likewise known the main purport of Allen's note, and had allowed that Mr. Brownlow could not as a gentleman do otherwise than release the young lady; though he fully believed that it would be only as a matter of form, and that Elvira would not hear of breaking off. He had in fact spent much eloquence in persuading Mrs. Brownlow to continue to take the charge of the heiress during the three years be
fore her majority. Begun in generous affection by Allen long ago, the engagement seemed to the lawyer, as well as to others, an almost providential means of at least partial restitution.
He had meant Elvira to read her letter alone, but she had opened it before the two ladies, and her first exclamation was a startled, incredulous-
"Ha! What's this? He says our engagement is dissolved."
"He is of course bound to set you free, my dear," said Mrs. Evelyn, "but it only depends on yourself."
"Oh! and I shall tease him well first," cried Elvira, her face lighting up with fun and mischief." He was so tiresome and did bother so! Now I shall have my swing! Oh, what fun! I won't let him worry me again just yet, I can tell him!"
"You don't seem to consider," began Sydney,-but Mrs. Gould took this moment for advancing.
>From the whole length of the large drawing-room the trio had been spectators, not quite auditors, though perhaps enough to perceive what line the Evelyns were taking.
So Mrs. Gould advanced into the drawing-room; Mrs. Evelyn came forward to assume the duties of hostess; and Sydney turned and ran away so precipitately that she shut the door on the trailing skirt of her habit and had to open it again to release herself.
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