They were simple words, but uttered with a winning smile and kindly glance they came like a burst of sunshine on poor Juliet, in her gloomy, frozen mood. Whatever had been the nature of Mrs. Staines' communication, it had not made Lady Ernestine feel it impossible to speak to her. A load was lifted from her heart, and the solace of the lady's smile and gentle accents lingered there.
But Mrs. Staines felt uncomfortable as she went on her way. Lady Ernestine had not taken her hint as she had expected.
A few minutes later, Juliet, with a leap of the heart, caught sight of someone in the room whom she had certainly not expected to see there. This, it seemed, was to be a day of surprises.
Sir Richard Whitehouse had just entered the room accompanied by a tall, broad-chested, stalwart-looking clergyman. Juliet recognised in a moment the strong, rugged features of Arthur Mainprice.
Sir Richard turned to greet an acquaintance, and Mr. Mainprice stood looking curiously around him on the busy scene, with the air of one who found himself a stranger there. Suddenly his eyes lighted on Frances Hayes, and Juliet, with a throb of pain, saw him go forward smilingly to greet her. Happily, some customers now claimed Juliet's attention, and she was too busy for the next ten minutes to have time to watch Mr. Mainprice's movements.
He stood chatting with Frances Hayes for some minutes, ere he perceived that another old acquaintance was present. Frances did not see the little start he gave nor the look of pleasure that came into his eyes ere he said—
"Can I be mistaken? That is surely Miss Tracy I see over there at the flower stall!"
"Yes, it is that girl," said Frances. "Fancy our finding her here! None of the people knew anything of her history till we enlightened them."
"May I ask how you enlightened them?"
"Oh, we told them a few facts about her which made them open their eyes—how badly she behaved, and how she was talked about in our neighbourhood, and all that, you know. It was only right they should know it." The last words were uttered with some nervousness. There was a look in Mr. Mainprice's eyes which made Frances uneasy.
"Do you mean that it was kind and Christian to repeat that sad story, which she would naturally wish forgotten?" he asked, with sternness. "Was it kind to her?"
"Oh, of course she would not wish people to know it," said Frances, looking annoyed; "but I don't think it is right that she should be received here under false pretences."
"Really!" he said, raising his eyebrows. "I don't know where the false pretences are; but I am exceedingly glad to see my friend Miss Tracy again. Excuse me, I must go and speak to her."
The next moment he was by Juliet's side, greeting her with a heartiness which was intensified by his quick perception that she was being wounded and slighted by the people with whom she was associated in this Christian work. It was impossible for Juliet to hide how she was thrilled and gladdened by his warm hand-clasp and cordial greeting.
"I am so glad to see you again, Miss Tracy," he said. "I have often wished that we might meet; but I have not been to town since I came north, and I did not know that you had left London."
"We have lived at St. Anne's for more than a year," Juliet said.
"Mrs. Tracy is well, I trust? She is not here?"
"No, to-day she has one of her bad headaches; but she has been stronger on the whole since we came to St. Anne's."
"I should like to call on her one day, if I may. My sister and I are staying for a few days at the Priory. You remember my sister who lives in Paris?"
Juliet flushed deeply as she replied in the affirmative. He was vexed with himself for awakening a painful memory.
"Do you like St. Anne's?" he asked quickly. "Have you made friends here?"
"We have no friends," said Juliet, with emphasis; "but my mother and I are happy in our little home. We do not desire society."
He saw that he was intensifying her bitter emotions. Could he do nothing to comfort her?
"Have you been introduced to Lady Ernestine Whitehouse?" he asked.
"I have not," Juliet replied, with the slightest upward movement of the head. "I was not deemed worthy of that honour."
The next minute Mr. Mainprice was hastening across the room to where Lady Ernestine stood, near the door, saying a few words to Mrs. Staines ere she took her departure.
"Can you spare me five minutes?" he asked, addressing her with the confidence of a friend. "I have unexpectedly found a friend here, whom I should be glad to introduce to you."
"What! That charming girl at the flower stall?" asked Lady Ernestine, who had observed him talking with Juliet. "I shall be delighted to make her acquaintance."
As they walked up the room together, he had time to give her a hurried explanation of Juliet's miserable position. Lady Ernestine esteemed him so highly that it was enough for her that he wished to befriend this girl. Presently all eyes that cared to turn in that direction saw Lady Ernestine chatting in the pleasantest manner with the vendor of flowers.
"You must really come and see us at the Priory, Miss Tracy," she was saying. "I understand that you know Miss Mainprice. Could you come to us on Friday afternoon? We have invited a few friends to an informal garden-party, and Miss Mainprice has promised to tell us something of her work in Paris. Now don't decline till you have thought more of it," she protested, as Juliet, taken by surprise, and shrinking from the visit proposed, though conscious of the kindness which prompted the invitation, tried to falter out an excuse. "We can send a carriage for you, and I hope your mother will be well enough to accompany you. I will send her a card, trusting she will excuse the brief notice."
Juliet could only murmur her thanks. Then suddenly she remembered the bouquet, which in her disappointment, she had put out of sight. She brought it forward now, and begged Lady Ernestine to accept it.
"I wanted to give it to you, before," she said simply, "but I had not the courage."
"Am I so formidable?" asked Lady Ernestine, laughing. "How good of you to think of giving it to me! The flowers are exquisite, and those Maréchal Niel roses are my special adoration. Now mind, I expect to see you on Friday," she said, loud enough for all in the immediate neighbourhood to hear, as she shook hands with Juliet. "You must not disappoint me."
Then, accompanied by Mr. Mainprice, she walked down the room to join her husband, who was awaiting her at the door.
The selling went on merrily after her departure. Juliet had no difficulty in disposing of her flowers. She was as busy as possible for some time, but not so busy that she failed to observe a difference in the atmosphere about her. Mrs. Staines came presently to ask how she was getting on, and if she would not like someone to relieve her whilst she took a cup of tea. The other stall-holders also dropped their air of aloofness, having speedily come to the conclusion that Miss Hayes' story was probably exaggerated and perhaps malicious. Anyhow, it could not much matter what Miss Tracy did so long ago, since Lady Ernestine Whitehouse was disposed to make so much of her.
Thus the day ended for Juliet better than she could have hoped, a little while before, and she was able to return to her mother in fair spirits, though its strangely mingled experiences had left their impress on her mind.
CHAPTER XXV
AUTUMN AND SPRING
MRS. TRACY was elated when she learned of the invitation to the garden-party at Ainsdale Priory. Not that she was ambitious of entering such distinguished society herself, but she rejoiced for Juliet's sake. Well as she understood her daughter, she perhaps hardly realised what an ordeal the proposed visit presented to Juliet, nor how she dreaded the rush of painful memories which the meeting with Miss Mainprice must inevitably bring.
But though with the sight of Miss Mainprice's face and the sound of her voice there was a vivid renewal for Juliet of the sense of loneliness, despair, and shame which had been hers as she wandered desolate through the crowded streets of Paris, or lay sick in mind and body in her close room beneath the hot roof of the Hotel Rome, Miss Mainprice's greeting was so unfeignedly friendly, her manner so full of sympathy, that the painful feeling could be but momentary.
Lady Ernestine's simple, unaffected kindliness soon made both Juliet and Mrs. Tracy feel completely at ease with her. Mrs. Staines and Mrs. Owen, with their respective husbands, were amongst the guests, and these ladies were much impressed when they saw how Juliet was welcomed by Lady Ernestine and the lady of whom their hostess spoke as "my friend Miss Mainprice," and to hear whose account of her work in Paris she had gathered them together that afternoon.
It was a perfect day for an outdoor gathering. The grounds of the Priory were very beautiful. Grand old trees afforded ample shade, green glades stretched between, where glimpses of shy deer could occasionally be caught, and from every point of view the antique dwelling, once the home of a religious brotherhood, presented a fine picture.
Juliet enjoyed the hours spent there more than she could have believed possible, as she anticipated them with nervous dread. Accompanied by Mr. Mainprice, who was well acquainted with every feature of the place, she thoroughly explored the grounds. The quiet talk she had with him as they walked about was not to Juliet the least valued incident of the afternoon, nor would he perhaps willingly have missed it.
Later, as the company sat on the lawn in the shade of a line of beeches, Miss Mainprice told them in simple, pointed words the history of the home in Paris and the work of which it was the centre. Her words touched Juliet deeply, moving her to a new discontent with her life, and a deeper longing for a wider life of action, which should afford a more complete escape from self.
Juliet had little imagined that it would be her lot to contribute to the entertainment of the company. It was a wonder and amazement to her afterwards to think of it; but when Lady Ernestine in her gentle, persuasive manner begged her to sing to them, she found it impossible to refuse. The piano stood just within the open French window of the drawing-room. The company were grouped partly within the room and partly on the steps and lawn outside. Miss Mainprice played the accompaniment as Juliet in her clear, sweet voice sang Miss Proctor's beautiful song known as "Cleansing Fires."
A great stillness succeeded her singing. It had so taken her audience by surprise that they were not ready to applaud when she ended. But the applause which followed in a few seconds was very hearty. For Mrs. Tracy this was the crowning pleasure of the afternoon. Her heart swelled with pride, as she heard from all around her enthusiastic admiration of her daughter's "lovely voice" and "exquisite singing." But Juliet slipped quickly out of sight. She did not want to hear what people were saying about her singing. Their compliments would have for her a bitter flavour. She was glad it was time to go home.
Mr. Mainprice and his sister were persuaded by Lady Ernestine to prolong their visit, and Mrs. Tracy and Juliet saw a good deal of them during the time that they were staying at the Priory. They went from there to take a brief holiday in Wales; but Mr. Mainprice came again to pass a few days at the Priory ere returning to his northern parish. Lady Ernestine thought she knew the attraction which made him so readily accept her invitation to come again.
On a lovely September evening, Juliet was walking alone along the shore. She and her mother had returned on the previous day from a brief visit to Leeds, and Mrs. Tracy had not yet recovered from the fatigue of the journey, though it was not long.
Juliet was glad to be at home; but it was not with unalloyed satisfaction that she looked forward to passing the winter at St. Anne's. There was no hint of winter in the air yet. It had been a perfect day, and the evening was as perfect. Juliet was disposed to linger on the quiet sands. More than once she stood still to listen to the soft swell of the waves as they broke on the shore, and to gaze at the shimmering golden track with which the sinking sun was marking the sea.
She had stood thus for some minutes lost in thought as she gazed, when, turning with her eyes dazzled by the yellow light, she dimly perceived a dark figure coming towards her. It came nearer, and she heard a voice she had little expected to hear again so soon; for she did not know that Mr. Mainprice had returned to the neighbourhood. She was startled, and the colour flew into her face. He saw that she was greatly moved, but the signs of agitation were such as he rejoiced to see.
"I have just been talking with your mother," he said, as they shook hands. "She told me I should probably find you on the sands."
"Oh, then you came to find me?" said Juliet naïvely. "I never thought of seeing you, for I did not know you were here."
"I came to take the Sunday services at Ainsdale," he replied; "it was arranged when I was there before. I am going away to-morrow. I wanted so much to see you before I went."
"It seemed very strange that you should appear," said Juliet, "for just before I turned and saw you, I had been thinking of that evening when we met at Lynton. Do you remember?"
"When we met upon the cliffs—that grand path along the cliffs? Surely I remember it. The scenery there is very different from this."
"Very; and yet the quiet sea, the sunset hues, the sinking sun brought it all back to me. You did your best to warn me that night, Mr. Mainprice, but it was of no use. I had to learn my own folly by bitter experience. Is it always so? Can no one get wisdom but at such a price? I suppose not, when they are as wilful as I was."
"We most of us, I think, need to suffer ere we become conscious of sin," said Mr. Mainprice; "and we often learn to count as our greatest blessings the pains which first roused us to a sense of danger, and showed us the perilous path we were treading."
"Do you mean that I should be thankful that I have so marred my life?" Juliet asked bitterly.
"Your life is not marred," he said quickly. "I will not allow you to say it. You may surely be thankful for the pain that has tended to correct and purify your character. Juliet,—let me call you so,—it seems to me that your thoughts on this subject are growing morbid. You believe that God has forgiven you the errors of the past. Can you not forgive yourself?"
"I might," said Juliet, in a low voice, "it might be possible to forgive, if I could ever forget."
He came nearer to her, and looked down earnestly into her face.
"Juliet," he said, "let me help you to forget. Put the past quite away from you, and begin a new life with me."
"With you?" she repeated, startled, and not comprehending.
"With me—as my wife. Can you love me and trust me enough for that?"
She did not answer for a moment. She stood looking at him with bewilderment in her eyes. "You ask me to marry you?"
"Yes, darling, because I love you. I cannot tell you how I love you."
"Well," she said slowly, as if thinking aloud, "I always thought you were good and kind, but I never knew till now how good and unselfish you are."
"Neither good nor unselfish, darling. You do not understand, if you think that. Tell me—shall it be as I wish?"
Again she was silent. She was gazing across the sea with a strange expression on her face, as of pride and exultation. But when he again begged for a reply, she shook her head.
"No, no," she said; "you have made me glad and proud, but I will not be your wife."
"You do not like me well enough?" His tone was suggestive of fore-tasted disappointment.
"Because I like you too well," she said. "You shall not have a wife, Mr. Mainprice, of whom people can tell such a story as they were whispering of me the other day at the bazaar. Oh, I know the kind of things they said, although I did not hear them."
"What does it matter what such people say?" he asked hotly; "it would soon die away; it would all be forgotten when you became my wife."
"Do you think so?" she asked, with a sad smile. "Now I am certain that such an event would give the story new life and a quite remarkable growth. No, no; do not urge me. You are very kind—I thank you from the bottom of my heart—but I will not be your wife. It would not be right. I cannot think of it."
"But you do not understand me. You wholly mistake my motive," he said. "How can I persuade you to look at the question from my point of view?"
"I do look at it from your point of view," she replied. She turned as she spoke to walk homeward.
And as he glanced at her, the poise of her head, the set of her small firm lips, the air of resolution with which she stepped out, all told of a will not lightly to be moved. He was in despair as he walked in silence by her side.
He did not speak again till they halted at the gate of the cottage. Then he held out his hand.
"Will you not come in?" she asked.
"No, thank you," he replied. "I have said all I have to say to Mrs. Tracy." Then after a pause he added, "You have misunderstood me this evening. You have imputed to me motives of kindness, of disinterestedness, to which I can lay no claim. I want you to be my wife because I love you, because I believe that our lives might blend into a harmonious, blessed whole. Now I will not add another word, except to ask you quietly and thoughtfully to reconsider your decision. I have perhaps spoken too hastily. I will wait. I cannot take this as your final answer."
"You had better," she said.
"I will come again," he went on, as if he did not hear her words, "I will come again in the spring."
"You had better not," she said.
"I must judge of that for myself," he said hurriedly. "It is enough that you do not forbid me to come."
And he turned and walked quickly away, as if in dread of hearing more words from her.
Juliet lingered long amid the flowers and shrubs in the garden ere she entered the house. The lamp was lighted in the drawing-room, and Mrs. Tracy sat there with a book before her, which, however, she was not reading. She looked up with some eagerness as Juliet entered.
"So you have come, dear! Are you alone?"
"Certainly I am alone," said Juliet, with a faint smile.
"Then you did not meet Mr. Mainprice?"
"Yes, I saw him, but he would not come in. He was going to walk to Ainsdale, I believe."
Juliet's cool, indifferent air was well sustained, but it failed of its effect.
"Have you nothing to tell me, Juliet?" her mother asked.
"What do you expect me to tell you, mother? If Mr. Mainprice confided his intention to you, you know all there is to tell; for, of course, you could have no doubt as to my reply."
"Oh, my dear, I had hoped—"
"What did you hope, you foolish little mother?" Juliet asked, vainly striving to steady her voice. "It was noble—it was generous of him; but how can my life ever be what it might have been if—" She paused, conscious of a choking sensation in her throat.
"My dear, you are too hard upon yourself."
"I am not at all too hard. Think what Salome would say if she heard that I was going to marry a clergyman!"
"Your sister would be glad, Juliet."
Juliet shook her head.
"No, she would be shocked. She would say she was sorry for Arthur Mainprice. And so she might be. But I will not spoil his life."
"There are more ways than one of spoiling it, dear."
Juliet was silent.
"He is not one to love lightly," said Mrs. Tracy. "You must have made him very unhappy."
"He is coming again in the spring," said Juliet, the words breaking from her involuntarily. The next moment she added quickly, "Don't let us speak any more about it. I wish it had not happened; but since it has, the only thing now is to forget it as soon as possible." She quitted the room as she spoke.
So the subject was dropped. Mrs. Tracy did not name Mr. Mainprice again, nor did Juliet ever allude to him; yet her mother doubted if she had succeeded in dismissing him from her mind. Juliet did not appear unhappy, but she was certainly unusually quiet and thoughtful. There was at times a wistful, far-away look on her face, of which her mother thought she knew the significance.
But for the most part Juliet was too busy to indulge in profitless dreaming or bitter retrospect. She was becoming a second Salome in her devotion to the poor. She was ready to undertake any work which Mrs. Staines, who since the garden-party at the Priory had treated Juliet with the utmost consideration, desired to give her. Willing workers have always full hands. Juliet was no exception to the rule, for the winter was severe, even in sheltered St. Anne's, and there was much suffering amongst the poor.
Whether the wintry weeks passed swiftly for her because she was so busy, Mrs. Tracy could not tell. She herself found them drag heavily. But she saw that Juliet was on the watch for signs of spring's awakening in their little garden.
One day she brought her mother two or three snowdrops, which had ventured to push their dainty heads above the heavy clods.
"What lovely harbingers of the spring!" said Mrs. Tracy, as she took them.
"If you could feel how keen the wind is as it blows up the road, you would not think spring was near," said Juliet. "There will be snow again soon."
"Ah, but spring is on the way," said her mother, and she saw a sudden glow on Juliet's face.
Three weeks later, at the end of February, came a burst of real spring weather. The air was mild, the sunshine brilliant; everywhere there was the mysterious breathing forth of new life and hope which makes that season like none other.
One morning, as she dressed, Juliet spied some primroses in the garden, and ran out to pick them ere she took her breakfast.
Her mother was reading a letter, but looked up from it as Juliet laid the primroses beside her on the table, saying—
"See, mother, the first primroses! Spring is really coming."
"Spring is come when the primroses appear," said Mrs. Tracy. "I call it spring now, and so does someone else. See, I have a note from Mr. Mainprice. He is at Preston, and will be here this afternoon."
Juliet started; she grew red, and then pale. She moved to the French window, and opening it, stood in the opening, with her back towards her mother, as if she felt a sudden need for air. Then she said tremulously—
"It is not well that he should come."
"He will come," said her mother, "and you will have to give him your answer again. Oh, Juliet! When the hand of God brings you this great happiness, will you refuse it? Will you let pride and self-will mar your life again?"
"Again! Oh, mother!" Juliet strove to speak steadily. "If—if I thought this was God's way for me—"
Her voice broke. She stepped hastily out through the open window, and turned the corner of the house.
Tears were in Mrs. Tracy's eyes.
"She loves him," she said to herself. "I knew it. Surely now all will come right."
And the mother's heart was no longer afraid. She believed that as spring was renewing the face of the dark earth, changing bareness to beauty, gloom to gladness, bitter blast to gentle breeze, so the life of Juliet, chilled and darkened by the errors of her youth, was to break forth into a spring of love and hope, which no shadows from the past should have power to dim.
THE END.
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