by L. T. Meade
got.
She knew all the family troubles, and regarded them as her own; if shecould have brought Alwyn back or cured Edgar, she would have sacrificedherself with entire and unconscious devotion. That Miss Geraldine "didnot have the advantages nor the company of other young ladies" was aconstant regret to her. She had a cat and a canary bird which lived inharmony together; and in her room Wyn frequently nursed white mice, ordormice, on the plea that they would amuse Mr Edgar; they certainlyamused himself, and possibly Granny too. When Mrs Warren and Florriearrived Wyn was already established, eating buttered toast, with hisinfant dormice asleep on his pocket-handkerchief. Granny never thoughtthat animals or babies were dirty, noisy, or troublesome. She preferredher cat to her carpet, and her young masters and mistresses andgrandchildren to her afternoon nap.
As she was filling up her brown teapot, which had already for some timebeen drawing on the hob, and was setting Wyn and Florence to fetch outvarious delicacies from her cupboard, a quick step sounded, andGeraldine came rushing in, and, flinging her arms round the old woman'sneck, kissed her heartily.
"How d'ye do, Bunny? Oh! good afternoon, Mrs Warren. I didn't knowyou were having tea. Sit down, please."
Florence had stood up because all the others did.
"Have a bit of cake, Miss Geraldine, my dear?" said Granny coaxingly.
"Miss Geraldine grows a tall young lady," said Mrs Warren.
"They don't give us half such nice cake in the schoolroom. Oh!--babydormice! How lovely!"
"Would you be pleased to accept of a pair, Miss Geraldine?" said Wyn.
"You don't think Apollo would eat them? He _has_ eaten my Germanexercises and half a sheet of music."
"There now, you'd better bring him up to me, Missy, and only have himout sometimes," said Granny.
"He likes German--I don't," said Geraldine. "Wyn, if you like you cantake Florence Whittaker to see the peacocks."
"Thank you, ma'am, I will," said Wyn, while Florence grinned andsniggered.
Geraldine went off in a whirlwind as she had come, and after tea Wyn andFlorence went out together, leaving daughter and mother-in-law for acomfortable chat.
"That's a fine girl of poor Jane Whittaker's, but she don't seem to haveno manners at all," said Granny.
"She hasn't," said Mrs Warren. "She don't seem to know how to behaveto anyone, except as if they were girls like herself. Liza Stroud wantsto get her into good service, but she ain't anyhow fit for it. No lady,nor no lady's housekeeper, would put up with her for a week with themmanners. But I'm in hopes to stroke her down gradually andunconscious-like, for she's very like her poor brother, and 'tis nomanner of use driving her. Miss Geraldine's a fine young lady too, andfavours poor Mr Alwyn remarkably."
"Yes, there it is again," said the old lady. "Miss Geraldine's kept sostrict in the schoolroom that she don't know what to do when she getsout of it. She ought to be with ladies in the drawing-room, as wouldbring her on to receive company like her dear mamma, and sit down nicewith her needlework. Oh, dear! that was a sore time, that there unluckynight at Ravenshurst."
"Granny," said Mrs Warren, "I've often wondered what _you_ thoughtbecame of the jewels."
"My dear, I've thought of they jewels day and night, nor never couldgive a guess about them. I knew the young gentlemen had some mischiefon hand, laughing and plotting, and Mr Edgar told me some of the tricksas they played on each other up at Ravenshurst--which I told him weren'tsuch as young gentlemen and ladies should condescend to. But there,they all went off on their visit, and only the master and Mr Edgar cameback."
"I was sitting here," pursued Granny, "in the dusk that next evening,when Mr Alwyn came rushing up the stairs--dear, dear! Miss Geraldinedo fly up them just as he used--and told me to fetch Edgar to wish himgood-bye, as he'd never see or speak to his father again. So I foundMr Edgar, and he came, but slow, and looking as white as thathandkerchief. But they joked and laughed, and tried to be the one asfierce as the other. Then Mr Alwyn turned round to me, and swore HarryWhittaker never saw the jewels. `And you don't think I've got 'em,Bunny?' said Mr Alwyn, laughing. But they wouldn't say not anotherword, and they was both awful hard when they spoke of master. But theymade believe to laugh and make a mock of it when they was wishing eachother good-bye, only I could see poor Mr Edgar was half-choking all thetime, and when his brother was gone he near fainted. But never did Ithink when he laughed again, and said he'd had a slip and twisted hisback, and the pain took him sudden, of all that was to come of it, andthat he'd never come running up they stairs again."
"Well, then," said Mrs Charles Warren, "all we ever knew was that therewas that bit put in the paper about a foolish and unjustifiable trickhad been taken advantage of by dishonest people--valuable jewels, hiddenin play, had disappeared. The person who hid them had owned that it hadbeen done without the connivance of the young men whose names had beenmentioned. But who _were_ that person?"
"Well," said Granny, "I don't know, and I don't know as even Mr Edgarknows. But there, the fact's against them, and 'twas a terrible endingto a foolish trick."
"Ravenshurst is full again this summer," said Mrs Warren. "Sir Philipand Lady Carleton are coming down, and if Florrie were a sensible girl Imight get her a temporary place under the housekeeper there; but it dogo against me to have anything to do with that house."
"Well, I'd not send her _there_," said Granny; "she's a deal toobouncing now for any lady's house." Mrs Warren saw no occasion forsome time to change this verdict. Florence "bounced" more as she becamemore at her ease. She did not mean to misbehave herself, but hernotions of behaviour were so very unlike Mrs Warren's. The kindestthing that could be said of her was that she meant well, butunfortunately she did very badly. Moreover, she did not appear to havea single aspiration after better things. She had lived the life of alittle animal, bent on nothing but on pleasing herself; but as she wasnot a mere animal, but a human soul, with human powers for good or evil,evil was getting terribly the upper hand. It was not so much whatFlorence did as what she was that was the pity. Girls are refined andsoftened, sometimes by intellectual tastes and a mental power ofchoosing the better part, and more often, in Florence's rank of life, bythe many self-denials, the care of little ones, the constantunselfishness born of the hard struggle of life in the working class.Florence had no intellectual tastes, and had never known any struggle.She had been ignorant and comfortable all her life, and her mind wasfull of silly common thoughts and fancies, and thoughts and fanciesworse than merely silly. She was vain and selfish, saucy and curious.She did not love anyone very much; she had no wants or wishes except toplease herself. She was so much bolder than other girls that sheattracted more notice, but she was not at all exceptional, unhappily.As for religion, what religion can a creature have who never felt asuperior and never knew a need? And religion had not come much beforeFlorence except in the form of respectable observance. Mrs Warren, whoin a still and quiet way was a religious woman, wondered how to teachher better, before, as she put it to herself, "the poor thing was taughtby trouble."
There was teaching of an unusual kind coming to Florence, and theabsence of irritation caused by Mrs Warren's quiet management waslaying her open to new impressions. But the attraction she felt toGeraldine Cunningham was really the only new idea that at presenttouched her, and it took the form of an intense curiosity. She staredat her whenever she had the chance--at school, in church, wherever shemet her; she tried to find out what the young lady did; she questionedWyn, and at last was suddenly struck by a connecting link. Both theirbrothers were missing. Florence had never cared a straw about Harry,nor, indeed, had Geraldine for Alwyn; but the idea was quite pleasant.They each had a strict father and a lost brother. The odd touch ofromance was Maud Florence Nellie's first awakening and softening.
CHAPTER NINE.
IN THE WOOD.
One night, about a fortnight after Florence Whittaker's arrival atAshcroft, Edgar Cunningham had a dream--a vivid dream--of his brotherA
lwyn's face. Edgar could scarcely have called up the face before hismind's _eye_; but this dream-face was as vivid and as real as Alwyn'sown had been when he planned out the fatal trick that had led to so muchmisery. Only, instead of the bold mocking eyes, half mirthful, halfscornful, of the old Alwyn, these eyes were earnest and full oftenderness. Edgar woke, feeling as if his brother had really been nearhim. He had never dreamed of him in any marked way before. Although hehad been fond of him in a boyish way, he had no reason to think well ofhim, and, though he could make many excuses for him, he would
