Uncle Max

LADY BETTY

The next evening I was refused admittance to Phoebe's room. Miss Locke met me at the door, looking more depressed than usual, and asked me to follow her into the kitchen, where we found Kitty in the rocking-chair by the hearth, dressing her new doll.

'It is just as she treated the vicar and Mr. Tudor,' she observed disconsolately. 'I don't quite know what ails her to-day; she had a beautiful night, and slept like a baby, and when I took her breakfast to her she put her arms round my neck and asked me to kiss her,—a thing she has not done for a year or more; and she went on for a long time about how bad she had been to me, and wanting me to forgive her and make it up with her.'

'Well?' I demanded, rather impatiently, as Susan wiped her patient eyes and took up her sewing.

'Well, poor lamb! I told her I would forgive her anything and everything if she would only let me go on with my work, for I had Mrs. Druce's mourning to finish; but she would not let me stir for a long time, and cried so bitterly—though she says she never can cry—that I thought of sending for you or Dr. Hamilton. But she cried more when I mentioned you, and said, No, she would not see you; you had left her more miserable than she was before: and she made me promise to send you away if you came this evening, which I am loath to do after all your kindness to her.'

'I have brought her some fresh flowers this evening,' was my reply. 'Do not distress yourself, Miss Locke; we must expect Phoebe to be contrary sometimes.' And the words came to my mind, "And ofttimes it casteth him into the fire, and oft into the water." 'You have discharged your duty, but I am not going just yet. Let me help you with that work. I am very fond of sewing, and that is a nice easy piece. Shall you mind if I sing to you and Kitty a little?'

I need not have asked the question when I saw the fretted look pass from Miss Locke's face.

'It is the greatest pleasure Kitty and I have, next to going to church,' she said humbly. 'Your voice does sound so sweet; it soothes like a lullaby. It is my belief,' speaking under her breath so that the child should not hear her, 'that she is just trying to punish herself by sending you away.'

I thought perhaps this might be the case, for who could understand all the perversities of a diseased mind? But if Phoebe's will was strong for evil, mine was stronger still to overcome her for her own good. I was determined on two things: first, that I would not leave the house without seeing her; and, secondly, that nothing should induce me to stay with her after this reception. She must be disciplined to civility at all costs. Max had been wrong to yield to her sick whims.

I must have sung for a long time, to judge by the amount of work I contrived to do, and if I had sung like a whole nestful of skylarks I could not have pleased my audience more. I was sorry to set Miss Locke's tears flowing, because it hindered her work; tears are such a simple luxury, but poor folk cannot always afford to indulge in them.

I had just commenced that beautiful song, 'Waft her, angels, through the air,' when the impatient thumping of a stick on the floor arrested me; it came from Phoebe's room.

'I will go to her,' I said, waving Miss Locke back and picking up my flowers. 'Do not look so scared: she means those knocks for me.' And I was right in my surmise. I found her lying very quietly, with the traces of tears still on her face; she addressed me quite gently.

'Do not sing any more, please; I cannot bear it; it makes my heart ache too much to-night.'

'Very well,' I returned cheerfully. 'I will just mend your fire, for it is getting low, and put these flowers in water, and then I will bid you good-night.'

'You are vexed with me for being rude,' she said, almost timidly. 'I told Susan to send you away, because I could not bear any more talk. You made me so unhappy yesterday, Miss Garston.'

I was cruel enough to tell her that I was glad to hear it, and I must have looked as though I meant it.

'Oh, don't,' she said, shrinking as though I had dealt her a blow. 'I want you to unsay those words: they pierce me like thorns. Please tell me you did not mean them.'

'How can I know to what you are alluding?' I replied, in rather an unsympathetic tone; but I did not intend to be soft with her to-day: she had treated me badly and must repent her ingratitude. 'I certainly meant every word I said yesterday,'

To my great surprise, she burst into tears, and repeated word for word a fragment of a sentence that I had said.

'It haunts me, Miss Garston, and frightens me somehow. I have been saying it over and over in my dreams,—that is what upset me so to-day: "if we will not lie still under His hand,"—yes, you said that, knowing I have never lain still for a moment,—"and if we will not learn the lesson He would fain teach us, it may be that fresh trials may be sent to humble us."'

Pity kept me silent for a moment, but I knew that I must not shirk my work.

'I am sorry if the truth pains you, Phoebe, but it is no less the truth. How am I to look at you and think that God has finished His work?'

She put up both her hands and motioned me away with almost a face of horror, but I took no notice. I arranged the flowers and tended the fire, and then offered her some cooling drink, which she did not refuse, and then I bade her good-night.

'What!' she exclaimed, 'are you going to leave me like that, and not a word to soothe me, after making me so unhappy? Think of the long night I have to go through.'

'Never mind the length of the night, if only you can hear His voice in the darkness. You wanted to send me away, Phoebe; well, and to-morrow I shall not come; I shall stay at home and rest myself. You can send me away, and little harm will happen; but take care you do not send Him away.' And I left the room.

When I told Miss Locke that I was not coming the next evening she looked frightened. 'Has my poor Phoebe offended you so badly, then?' she asked tremulously.

'I am not offended at all,' I replied; 'but Phoebe has need to learn all sorts of painful lessons. I shall have all the warmer welcome on Wednesday, after leaving her to herself a little.' But Miss Locke only shook her head at this.

The next day was so lovely that I promised myself the indulgence of a long country walk; there was a pretty village about two miles from Heathfield that I longed to see again. But my little plan was frustrated, for just as I was starting I heard Tinker bark furiously; a moment afterwards there was a rush and scuffle, followed by a shriek in a girlish treble; in another moment I had seized my umbrella and flown to the door. There was a fight going on between Tinker and a large black retriever, and a little lady in brown was wandering round them, helplessly wringing her hands, and crying, 'Oh, Nap! poor Nap!'

I took her for a child the first moment, she was so very small. 'Do not be frightened, my dear,' I said soothingly, 'I will make Tinker behave himself.' And a well-aimed blow from my umbrella made him draw off growling. In another moment I had him by the collar, and by dint of threats and coaxing contrived to shut him up in the kitchen. He was not a quarrelsome dog generally, but, as I heard afterwards, Nap was an old antagonist; they had once fallen out about Peter, and had never been friends since.

I found the little brown girl sitting in the porch with her arms round the retriever's neck; she was kissing his black face, and begging him to forget the insult he had received from that horrid Barton dog.

'Poor old Tinker is not horrid at all, I assure you,' I said, laughing; 'he is a dear fellow, and I am already very fond of him.'

'But he nearly killed Nap,' she returned, with a little frown; 'he is worse than a savage, for he has no notion of hospitality. Nap and I came to call,' rising with an air of great dignity. 'I suppose you are Miss Garston. I am Lady Betty.'

I had never heard of such a person in Heathfield; but of course Uncle Max would enlighten me. As I looked at her more closely I saw my mistake in thinking she was a child; little brown thing as she was, she was fully grown up, and, though not in the least pretty, had a bright piquant face, a nest retroussé, and a pair of mischievous eyes.

She was dressed rather extravagantly in a brown velvet walking-dress, with an absurd little hat, that would have fitted a child, on the top of her dark wavy hair; she only wanted a touch of red about her to look like a magnified robin-redbreast.

'Well,' she said impatiently, as I hesitated a moment in my surprise, 'I have told you we have come for a call, Nap and I; but if you are going out—'

'Oh, that is not the least consequence,' I returned, waking up to a sense of my duty. 'I am very pleased to see you and Nap; but you must not stop any longer in this cold porch; the wind is rather cutting. There is a nice fire in my parlour.' And I led the way in.

I was rather puzzled about Nap, for I seemed to recognise his sleek head and mild brown eyes; and yet where could I have seen him? He trotted in contentedly after his mistress, and stretched himself out on the rug Tinker's fashion; but Lady Betty, instead of seating herself, began to walk round the room and inspect my books and china, making remarks upon everything in a brisk voice, and questioning me in rather an inquisitive manner about sundry things that attracted her notice; but, to my great surprise and relief, she passed Charlie's picture without remark or comment—only I saw her glancing at it now and then from under her long lashes. This mystified me a little; but I thought her whole behaviour a little peculiar. I had never before seen callers on their first visit perambulating the room like polar bears, or throwing out curious feelers everywhere. As a rule, they sat up stiffly enough and discussed the weather.

Lady Betty was evidently a character; most likely she prided herself on being unlike other people. I was just beginning to wish that she would sit down and let me question her in my turn, when she suddenly put up her eye-glasses and burst into a most musical little laugh.

'Oh, do come here, Miss Garston; this is too amusing! There goes her majesty Gladys of Gladwyn, accompanied by her prime minister. Don't they look as though they were walking in the Row?—heads up—everything in perfect trim! They are coming to call—yes!—no!—They are going to the Cockaignes first. What an escape! my dear creature, if they come here I shall fly to Mrs. Barton. The prime minister's airs will be too much for my gravity.'

I gave her a very divided attention, for I was watching Miss Hamilton and her companion with much interest. I could see that Miss Darrell was chatting volubly; but Miss Hamilton's face looked as grave and impassive as it had looked on Sunday. When they had passed out of sight I turned to Lady Betty rather eagerly; she had dropped her eye-glasses, but an amused smile still played round her lips.

'La belle cousine is improving the occasion as usual. Poor Gladys, how bored she looks! but there is no escape for her this afternoon, for the prime minister has her in tow. I wonder from what text she is preaching? Ezekiel's dry bones, I should think, from her majesty's face.'

'Do you know the Hamiltons of Gladwyn very intimately?' I asked innocently; but I grew rather out of patience when Lady Betty first lifted her eye-glass and stared at me, with the air of a non-comprehending kitten, and then buried her face in a very fluffy little muff in a fit of uncontrolled merriment.

I was provoked by this, and determined not to say a word. So presently she came out of her muff and asked me, with mirthful eyes, for whom I took her.

'You are Lady Betty, I understood,' was my stiff response.

'Yes, of course; every one calls me that, except the vicar, who will address me as Miss Elizabeth. I never will answer to that name; I hate it so. The servants up at Gladwyn never dare to use it. I would get Etta to dismiss them if they did. Is it not a shame that people should not have a voice in the matter of their name,—that helpless infants should be abandoned to the tender mercies of some old fogey of a sponsor? Miss Garston, if I were ever to hear you address me by that name it would be the death-warrant to our friendship.'

'Let me know who you really are first, and then I will promise not to offend your peculiar prejudice.'

'Dear me!' she answered pettishly, 'you talk just like Giles. He often laughs at me and makes himself very unpleasant. But then, as I often tell him, philanthropists are not pleasant people with whom to live; a man with a hobby is always odious. Well, Miss Garston, if you will be so prying, my name is Elizabeth Grant Hamilton; only from a baby I have been called Lady Betty.'

'I shall remember,' I replied quietly, for really the little thing seemed quite ruffled. This was evidently more than a whim on her part. 'It would have seemed to me a liberty to use a family pet name. But of course if you wish me to do so—'

'I do wish it,' rather peremptorily. 'That is partly why Mr. Cunliffe and I are not good friends,—that, and other reasons.'

'Oh, I am sorry you do not like Uncle Max,' I said, rather impulsively; but she drew herself up after the manner of an aggrieved pigeon. She was rather like a bright-eyed bird, with her fluffy hair and quick movements.

'Oh, I like him well enough, but I do not understand him. Men are not easy to understand. He is quiet, but he is disappointing. We must not expect perfection in this world,' finished the little lady sententiously.

'I have never met any one half as good as Uncle Max,' was my warm retort. 'He is the most unselfish of men.'

'Unselfish men make mistakes sometimes,' she returned drily. 'Giles and he are great friends. He is up at Gladwyn a great deal; so is Mr. Tudor. Mr. Tudor is not a finished character, but he has good points, and one can tolerate him. There, how vexing, we were just beginning to talk comfortably, and I see the shadow of her majesty's gown at the gate. Come, Nap, we must fly to Mrs. Barton's for refuge. Au revoir, Miss Garston.' And, kissing her little gloved hand, this strangest of Lady Betties vanished, followed by the obedient Nap.

My pulses quickened a little at the prospect of seeing the beautiful face of Gladys Hamilton in my little room; but it was not she who entered first, but Miss Darrell, whose sharp incisive glance had taken in every detail of my surroundings before her faultlessly-gloved hand had released mine; and even when I turned to greet Miss Hamilton, her peculiar and somewhat toneless voice claimed my attention.

'How very fortunate,' she began, seating herself with elaborate caution with her back to the light. 'We hardly hoped to find you at home, Miss Garston. My cousin Giles informed us how much engaged you were. We have been so interested in what Mr. Cunliffe told us about it. It is such a romantic scheme, and, as I am a very romantic person, you may be sure of my sympathy. Gladys, dear, is this not a charming room? Positively you have so altered and beautified it that I can hardly believe it is the same room. I told a friend of ours, Mrs. Saunders, that it would never suit her, as it was such a shabby little place.'

'It is very nice,' returned Miss Hamilton quietly. 'I hope,' fixing her large, beautiful eyes on me, 'that you are comfortable here? We thought perhaps you might be a little dull.'

'I have no time to be dull,' I returned, smiling, but Miss Darrell interrupted me.

'No, of course not; busy people are never dull. I told you so, Gladys, as we walked up the road. Depend upon it, I said, Miss Garston will hardly have a minute to give to our idle chatter. She will be wanting to get to her sick people, and wish us at Hanover. Still, as my cousin Giles said, we must do the right thing and call, though I am sure you are not a conventional person; neither am I. Oh, we are quite kindred souls here.'

I tried to receive this speech in good part, but I certainly protested inwardly against the notion that Miss Darrell and I would ever be kindred souls. I felt an instinctive repugnance to her voice; its want of tone jarred on me; and all the time she talked, her hard, bright eyes seemed to dart restlessly from Miss Hamilton to me. I felt sure that nothing could escape their scrutiny; but now and then, when one looked at her in return, she seemed to veil them most curiously under the long curling lashes.

She was rather an elegant-looking woman, but her face was decidedly plain. She had thin lips and rather a square jaw, and her sallow complexion lacked colour. One could not guess her age exactly, but she might have been three-or four-and-thirty. I heard her spoken of afterwards as a very interesting-looking person; certainly her figure was fine, and she knew how to dress herself,—a very useful art when women have no claim to beauty.

Miss Darrell's voluble tongue seemed to touch on every subject. Miss Hamilton sat perfectly silent, and I had not a chance of addressing her. Once, when I looked at her, I could see her eyes were fixed on my darling's picture. She was gazing at it with an air of absorbed melancholy: her lips were firmly closed, and her hands lay folded in her lap.

'That is the picture of my twin-brother,' I said softly, to arouse her.

To my surprise, she turned paler than ever, and her lips quivered.

'Your twin brother, yes; and you have lost him?' But here Miss Darrell chimed in again:

'How very interesting! What a blessing photography is, to be sure? Do you take well, Miss Garston? They make me a perfect fright. I tell my cousins that nothing on earth will induce me to try another sitting. Why should I endure such a martyrdom, if it be not to give pleasure to my friends?'

To my surprise, Miss Hamilton's voice interrupted her: it was a little like her step-brother's voice, and had a slight hesitation that was not in the least unpleasant. She spoke rather slowly: at least it seemed so by comparison with Miss Darrell's quick sentences.

'Etta, we have not done what Giles told us. We hope you will come and dine with us to-morrow. Miss Garston, without any ceremony.'

'Dear me, how careless of me!' broke in Miss Darrell, but her forehead contracted a little, as though her cousin's speech annoyed her. 'Giles gave the message to me, but we were talking so fast that I quite forgot it. My cousin will have it that you are dull, and our society may cheer you up. I do not hold with Giles. I think you are far too superior a person to be afraid of a little solitude; strong-minded people like you are generally fond of their own society; but all the same I hope you do not mean to be quite a recluse.'

'We dine at seven, but I hope you will come as much earlier as you like,' interposed Miss Hamilton. 'No one will be with us but Mr. Tudor.'

'You forget Mr. Cunliffe, Gladys,' observed Miss Darrell, in rather a sharp voice. 'I am sure I do not know what the poor man has done to offend you; but ever since last summer—' But here Miss Hamilton rose with a gesture that was almost queenly, and her impassive face looked graver than ever.

'I did not know you had invited Mr. Cunliffe, Etta, or I should certainly have mentioned him. Good-bye, Miss Garston: we shall look for you soon after six.'

There was something wistful in her expression; it seemed as though she wanted me to come, and yet I was a complete stranger to her. I felt very reluctant to dine at Gladwyn, but that look overruled me.

'I will try to come early,' was my answer, and then I drew back to let them pass.

Miss Darrell bade me good-bye a little stiffly; something had evidently put her out. As they went down the narrow garden path I could see she was speaking to Miss Hamilton rather angrily, but Miss Hamilton seemed to take no notice.

What did it all mean? I wondered; and then I suddenly bethought myself of my other visitor. I had wholly forgotten her existence in my interest in her beautiful sister. What could have become of Lady Betty?

LADY BETTY LEAVES HER MUFF

This question was speedily answered.

The gate had scarcely closed behind my visitors when I heard a gay little laugh behind me, and Lady Betty tripped across the passage and took possession of the easy-chair in the friendliest way.

'Now we can have a chat and be cosy all by ourselves,' she said, with childish glee; and then she stopped and looked at me, and her rosy little mouth began to pout, and a sort of baby frown came to her forehead.

'You don't seem pleased to see me again. Shall I go away? Are you busy, or tired, or is there anything the matter?' asked Lady Betty, in an extremely fractious voice.

'There is nothing the matter, and I am delighted to see you, and'—with a sudden inspiration—'if you will be good enough to stay and have tea with me I will ask Mrs. Barton to send in one of her excellent tea-cakes.'

This was evidently what Lady Betty wanted, for she nodded and took off her hat, and began to unbutton her long tan-coloured gloves in a cool, business-like way that amused me. I ran across to the kitchen, and gave Mrs. Barton a carte blanche for a sumptuous tea, and when I returned I found Lady Betty quite divested of her walking-apparel, and patting her dark fluffy hair to reduce it to some degree of smoothness. She had a pretty little head, and it was covered by a mass of short curly hair that nothing would reduce to order.

'This is just what I like,' she said promptly. 'When Giles told us about you, and I made up my mind to call, I hoped you would ask me to stay. I do dislike stiffness and conventionality excessively. I hope you mean to be friends with us, Miss Garston, for I have taken rather a fancy to you, in spite of your grave looks. Dear me! do you always look so grave?'

'Oh no,' I returned, laughing.

'That is right,' with an approving nod; 'you look ever so much nicer and younger when you smile. Well, what did the prime minister say? Was she very gushing and sympathetic? Did she patronise you in a ladylike way, and pat you on the head metaphorically, until you felt ready to box her ears? Ah! I know la belle cousine's little ways.'

This was so exact a description of my conversation with Miss Darrell that I laughed in a rather guilty fashion. Lady Betty clapped her hands delightfully.

'Oh, I have found you out. You are not a bit solemn, really, only you put on the airs of a sister of mercy. So you don't like Etta; you need not be afraid of telling me so; she is the greatest humbug in the world, only Giles is so foolish as to believe in her. I call her a humbug because she pretends to be what she is not; she is really a most prosaic sort of person, and she wants to make people believe that she is a soft romantic body.'

'You are not very charitable in your estimate of your cousin, Lady Betty,'

'Then she should not lead Gladys such a life. Poor dear majesty, to be ruled by her prime minister! I should like to see Etta try to dictate to me. Why, I should laugh in her face. She would not attempt it again. I can't think how it is,' looking a little grave, 'that she has Gladys so completely under her thumb. Gladys is too proud to own that she is afraid of her, but all the same she never dares to act in opposition to Etta.'

Lady Betty's confidence was rather embarrassing, but I hardly knew how to check it. I began to think the household at Gladwyn must be a very queer one. Uncle Max had already hinted at a want of harmony between Mr. Hamilton and his step-sisters, and Miss Darrell seemed hardly a favourite with him, although he was too kind-hearted to say so openly.

'Has your cousin lived long with you?' I ventured to ask.

'Oh yes; ever since Gladys and I were little things; before mamma died. Auntie lived with us too: poor auntie, we were very fond of her, but she was a sad invalid; she died about three years ago. Etta has managed everything ever since.'

'Do you mean that Miss Darrell is housekeeper? I should have thought that would have been your sister's place.'

'Oh, Gladys is called the mistress of her house, but none of the servants go to her for orders. If she gives any, Etta is sure to countermand them,'

'It is partly Gladys's fault,' went on Lady Betty, in her frank outspoken way. 'She tried for a little while to manage things; but either she was a terribly bad housekeeper, or Etta undermined her influence in the house; everything went wrong, and Giles got so angry,—men do, you know, when the dear creatures' comforts are invaded: so there was a great fuss, and Gladys gave it up; and now the prime minister manages the finances, and gives out stores, and, though I hate to say it, things never went more smoothly than they do now. Giles is scarcely ever vexed.'

I am ashamed to say how much I was interested in Lady Betty's childish talk, and yet I knew it was wrong not to check her. What would Miss Hamilton say if she were to hear of our conversation? Jill was rather a reckless talker, but she was nothing compared with this daring little creature. Lady Betty told me afterwards, when we were better acquainted, that it had amused her so to see how widely I could open my eyes when I was surprised. I believe she did it out of pure mischief.

Our talk was happily interrupted by the appearance of Mrs. Barton and the tea-tray, which at once turned Lady Betty's thoughts into a new channel.

There was so much to do. First she must help to arrange the table, and, as no one else could cut such thin bread-and-butter, she must try her hand at that. Then Nap must have his tea before we touched ours; and when at last we did sit down she was praising the cake, and jumping up for the kettle, and waiting upon me 'because I was a dear good thing, and waited on poor people,' and coaxing me to take this or that as though I were her guest, and every now and then she paused to say 'how nice and cosy it was,' and how she was enjoying herself, and how glad she felt to miss that stupid dinner at Gladwyn, where no one talked but Giles and Etta, and Gladys sat as though she were half asleep, until she, Lady Betty, felt inclined to pinch them all.

We were approaching the dangerous subject again, but I warded it off by asking how she and her sister employed their time.

She made a little face at me, as though the question bothered her. 'Oh, I do things, and Gladys—does things,' rather lucidly.

'Well, but what things, may I ask?'

'Why do you want to know?' was the unexpected retort. 'I don't question you, do I? Giles says women are dreadfully curious.'

'I think you are dreadfully mysterious; but, as you are evidently ashamed of your occupations, I will withdraw my question.'

'I do believe you are cross, Miss Garston: you are not a saint, after all, though Giles says you sing like a cherub: I don't know where he ever heard one, but that is his affair. Well, as you choose to get pettish over it, I will be amiable, and tell you what we do. Etta says we waste our time dreadfully, but as it is our time and not hers, it is none of her business.'

I thought it prudent to remain silent, so she wrinkled her brows and looked perplexed.

'Gladys—let me see what Gladys does: well, she used to teach in the schools, but she does not teach now; she says the infants make her head ache; that is why she has dropped the Sunday-school. Now Etta has her class. Then there was the mothers' meeting; well, I never knew why she gave that up,—I wonder if she knows herself,—but Etta has got it. And she has left off singing at the penny readings and village entertainments; Etta would have replaced her there, only she has no voice. I think she works a little for the poor people at the East End of London, but she does it in her own room, because Etta laughs at her and calls her 'Madam Charity.' Gladys hates that. She takes long walks, and sketches a little, and reads a good deal; and—there, that is all I know of her majesty's doings.'

Poor Miss Hamilton! it certainly did not sound much of a life.

'And about yourself, Lady Betty?'

'Oh, Lady Betty is here, there, and everywhere,' mimicking me in a droll way. 'Lady Betty walks a little, talks a little, plays a little, and dances when she gets a chance. At present, lawn-tennis is a great object in her life; last winter, swimming in Brill's bath and riding from Hove to Kemp Town or across the Brighton Downs were her hobbies. In the summer a gardening craze seized her, and just now she is in an idle mood. What does it matter? a short life and a merry one,—eh, Miss Garston?'

I would not expostulate with this civilised little heathen, for she was evidently bent on provoking a lecture, and I determined to disappoint her. We had sat so long over our tea that the room was quite dark, and I rose to kindle the lamp. Lady Betty, as usual, was anxious to assist me, and went to the window to lower the blind. The next moment I heard an exclamation of annoyance, and as she came back to the table her little brown face was all aglow with some suppressed irritation.

'What is the matter, Lady Betty?' I asked, in some surprise.

'It is that provoking Etta again,' she began. 'She has guessed where I am, and has sent for me, the meddlesome old—' But here a tap at our room door stopped her outburst.

As Lady Betty made no response, I said, 'Come in,' and immediately a respectable-looking woman appeared in the doorway.

She looked like a superior lady's-maid, and had a plain face much marked by the smallpox, and rather dull light-coloured eyes.

'Well, Leah,' demanded Lady Betty, rather sulkily, 'what is your business with Miss Garston?'

'My business is with you, Lady Betty,' returned the woman good-humouredly. 'Master came in just now and asked where you were; I think he told Miss Darrell that it was too late for you to be out walking: so Miss Darrell said she believed you were at the White Cottage, for she saw your muff lying on Miss Garston's table; so she told me to step up here, as it was too dark for you to walk alone, and I was to tell you that they would be waiting dinner.'

'It is just like her interference,' muttered Lady Betty. 'But I suppose there would be a pretty fuss if I let the dinner spoil. Help me on with my jacket, Leah; as you have come when no one wanted you, you had better make yourself useful.'

She spoke with the peremptoriness of a spoiled child, but the woman smiled pleasantly and did as she was bid. She seemed a civil sort of person, evidently an old family servant. Something had struck me in her speech. Miss Darrell had seen Lady Betty's muff, and knew of her presence in the cottage, and yet she had made no remark on the subject; this seemed strange, but would she not wonder still more at my silence?

'Lady Betty,' I said hastily, as this occurred to me, 'your cousin will think it odd that I never spoke of you this afternoon; but you ran out of the room so quickly, and then I forgot all about it.'

'Oh, Etta will know I was only playing at hide-and-seek. Most likely she will think I bound you to secrecy. What a goose I was to leave my muff behind me,—the very one Etta gave me, too! why, she would see a pin; nothing escapes her: does it, Leah?'

'Not much, Lady Betty: she has fine eyes for dust, I tell her. The new housemaid had better be careful with her room. Now, ma'am, if you are ready?'

'Good-bye, Miss Garston; we shall meet to-morrow,' returned Lady Betty, standing on tiptoe to kiss me, and as they went out I heard her say in quite a friendly manner to Leah, as though she had already forgotten her grievance,—

'Is not Miss Garston nice, Leah? She has got such a kind face.' But I did not hear Leah's reply.

I had not seen the last of my visitors, for about an hour afterwards, as I was finishing a long chatty letter to Jill, there was the sharp click of the gate again, and Uncle Max came in.

'Are you busy, Ursula?' he said apologetically, as I looked up in some surprise. 'I only called in as I was passing. I am going on to the Myers's: old Mr. Myers is ill and wants to see me.' But for all that Max drew his accustomed chair to the fire, and looked at the blazing pine-knot a little dreamily.

'You keep good fires,' was his next remark. 'It is very cold to-night: there is a touch of frost in the air; Tudor was saying so just now. So you have had the ladies from Gladwyn here this afternoon?'

'How do you know that?' I asked, in a sharp pouncing voice, for I was keeping that bit of news for a tidbit.

'Oh, I met them,' he returned absently, 'and they told me that you were to dine with them to-morrow. I call that nice and friendly, asking you without ceremony. What time shall you be ready, Ursula? for of course I shall not let you go alone the first time.'

I was glad to hear this, for, though I was not a shy person, my first visit to Gladwyn would be a little formidable; so I told him briefly that I would be ready by half-past six, as they wished me to go early, and it would never do to be formal on my side. And then I gave him an account of Lady Betty's visit, but it did not seem to interest him much: in fact, I do not believe that he listened very attentively.

'She is an odd little being,' he said, rather absently, 'and prides herself on being as unconventional as possible. They have spoiled her among them, Hamilton especially, but her droll ways amuse him. She has sulked with me lately because I will not give in to her absurd fad about Lady Betty. I tell her that she ought not to be ashamed of her baptismal name; the angels will call her by it one day.'

'She is very amusing. I think I shall like her, Max; but Miss Darrell does not please me. She is far too gushing and talkative for my taste; she patronised and repressed me in the same breath. If there is anything I dislike, it is to be patted on the head by a stranger.'

'Miss Hamilton did not pat you on the head, I suppose.'

'Miss Hamilton! Oh dear, no; she is of another calibre. I have quite fallen in love with her: her face is perfect, only rather too pale, and her manners are so gentle, and yet she has plenty of dignity; she reminds me of Clytie, only her expression is not so contented and restful: she looks far too melancholy for a girl of her age.'

'Pshaw!' he said, rather impatiently, but I noticed he looked uncomfortable. 'What can have put such ideas in your head?—you have only seen her twice: you could not expect her to smile in church.'

Max seemed so thoroughly put out by my remark that I thought it better to qualify my speech. 'Most likely Miss Darrell had been nagging at her.'

His face cleared up directly. 'Depend upon it, that was the reason she looked so grave,' he said, with an air of relief. 'Miss Darrell can say ill-tempered things sometimes. Miss Hamilton is never as lively as Miss Elizabeth; she is always quiet and thoughtful; some girls are like that, they are not sparkling and frothy.'

I let him think that I accepted this statement as gospel, but in my heart I thought I had never seen a sadder face than that of Gladys Hamilton; to me it looked absolutely joyless, as though some strange blight had fallen on her youth. I kept these thoughts to myself, like a wise woman, and when Max looked at me rather searchingly, as though he expected a verbal assent, I said, 'Yes, you are right, some girls are like that,' and left him to glean my meaning out of this parrot-like sentence.

I could make nothing of Max this evening: he seemed restless and ill at ease; now and then he fell into a brown study and roused himself with difficulty. I was almost glad when he took his leave at last, for I had a feeling somehow—and a curious feeling it was—that we were talking at cross-purposes, and that our speeches seemed to be lost hopelessly in a mental fog; the cipher to our meaning seemed missing.

But he bade me good-night as affectionately as though I had done him a world of good: and when he had gone I sat down to my piano and sang all my old favourite songs, until the lateness of the hour warned me to extinguish my lamp and retire to bed.

I was just sinking into a sweet sleep when I heard Nathaniel's voice bidding some one good-night, and in another moment I could hear firm quick footsteps down the gravel walk, followed by Nap's joyous bark.

Mr. Hamilton had been in the house all the time I had been amusing myself. I do not know why the idea annoyed me so. 'How I wish he would keep away sometimes!' I thought fretfully. 'He will think I am practising for to-morrow: I will not sing if they press me to do so.' And with this ill-natured resolve I fell asleep.

My dinner-engagement obliged me to go to Phoebe quite early in the afternoon. Miss Locke looked surprised as she opened the door, but she greeted me with a pleased smile.

'Phoebe will hardly be looking for you yet,' she said, leading the way into the kitchen in the evident expectation of a chat; 'she did finely yesterday in spite of her missing you; when I went in to her in the morning she quite took my breath away by asking if there were not an easier chair in the house for you to use. "'Deed and there is, Phoebe, woman," said I, quite pleased, for the poor thing is far too uncomfortable herself to look after other people's comforts, and it was such a new thing to hear her speak like that: so I fetched father's big elbow-chair with a cushion or two and his little wooden footstool, and there it stands ready for you this afternoon.'

'That was very thoughtful of Phoebe,' was my reply.

'Well, now, I thought you would be pleased, though it is only a trifle. But that is not all. Widow Drayton was sitting with me last afternoon, when all at once she puts up her finger and says, "Hark! Is not that your Kitty's voice?" And so I stole out into the passage to listen. And there, to be sure, was Kitty singing most beautifully some of the hymns you sang to Phoebe; and if she could not make out all the words she just went on with the tune, like a little bird, and Phoebe lay and listened to her, and all the time—as I could see through the crack of the door—her eyes were fixed on the picture you gave her, and I said to myself, "Phoebe, woman, this is as it should be. You may yet learn wisdom out of the lips of babes and sucklings."'

'I am very glad to hear all this, Miss Locke,' I returned cheerfully. 'Kitty will be able to take my place sometimes. She will be a valuable little ally. Now, as my time is limited, I will go to Phoebe.'

I was much struck by the changed expression on Phoebe's face as soon as I had entered the room. She certainly looked very ill, and when I questioned her avowed she had suffered a good deal of pain in the night; but the wild hard look had left her eyes. There was intense depression, but that was all.

She evidently enjoyed the singing as much as ever: and I took care to sing my best. When I had finished I produced a story that I thought suitable, and began to read to her. She listened for about half an hour before she showed a symptom of weariness. At the first sign I stopped.

'Will you do something to please me in return?' I asked, when she had thanked me very civilly. 'I want you to go on with this book by yourself now. I know what you are going to say—that you never read—that it makes your head ache and tires you. But, if you care to please me, you will waive all these objections, and we can talk over the story to-morrow.' Then I told her about my invitation for this evening, and about the beautiful Miss Hamilton, whose sweet face had interested me. And when we had chatted quite comfortably for a little while I rose to take my leave.

Of course she could not let me go without one sharp little word.

'You have been kinder to me to-day,' she said, pausing slightly. 'I suppose that is because I let you take your own way with me.'

'Every one likes his own way,' I said lightly. 'If I have been kinder to you, as you say, possibly it is because you have deserved kindness more.' And I smiled at her and patted the thin hand, as though she were a child, and so 'went on my way rejoicing,' as they say in the good old Book.

UP AT GLADWYN

Uncle Max had never been famous for punctuality. He was slightly Bohemian in his habits, and rather given to desultory bachelor ways; but his domestic timekeeper, Mrs. Drabble, ruled him most despotically in the matter of meals, and it was amusing to see how she kept him and Mr. Tudor in order: neither of them ventured to keep the dinner waiting, for fear of the housekeeper's black looks; such an offence they knew would be expiated by cold fish and burnt-up steaks. Uncle Max might invite the bishop to dine, but if his lordship chose to be late Mrs. Drabble would take no pains to keep her dinner hot.

'If gentlemen like to shilly-shally with their food, they must take things as they find them,' she would say; and if her master ever ventured to remonstrate with her, she took care that he should suffer for it for a week.

'We must humour Mother Drabble,' Mr. Tudor would say good-humouredly. 'Every one has a crotchet, and, after all, she is a worthy little woman, and makes us very comfortable. I never knew what good cooking meant until I came to the vicarage.' And indeed Mrs. Drabble's custards and flaky crust were famed in the village. Miss Darrell had once begged very humbly that her cook Parker might take a lesson from her, but Mrs. Drabble refused point-blank.

'There were those who liked to teach others, and plenty of them, but she was one who minded her own business and kept her own recipes. If Miss Darrell wanted a custard made she was willing to do it for her and welcome, but she wanted no gossiping prying cooks about her kitchen.'

As I knew Max's peculiarity, I was somewhat surprised when, long before the appointed time, Mrs. Barton came up and told me that Mr. Cunliffe was in the parlour. I had commenced my toilet in rather a leisurely fashion, but now I made haste to join him, and ran downstairs as quickly as possible, carrying my fur-lined cloak over my arm.

'You look very nice, my dear,' he said, in quite fatherly fashion. 'Have I ever seen that gown before?'

The gown in point had been given to me by Lesbia, and had been made in Paris: it was one of those thin black materials that make up into a charming demi-toilette, and was a favourite gown with me.

I always remember the speech Lesbia made as she showed it to me. 'When you put on this gown, Ursula, you must think of the poor little woman who hoped to have been your sister.' This was one of the pretty little speeches that she often made. Poor dear Lesbia! she always did things so gracefully. In Charlie's lifetime I had thought her cold and frivolous, for she had not then folded up her butterfly wings; but even then she was always doing kind little things.

It was a dark night, neither moon nor stars to be seen, and after we had passed the church the darkness seemed to envelop us, and I could barely distinguish the path. Max seemed quite oblivious of this fact, for he would persist in pointing out invisible objects of interest. I was told of the wide stretch of country that lay on the right, and how freshly the soft breezes blew over the downs.

'There is the asylum, Ursula,' he observed cheerfully, waving his hand towards the black outline. 'Now we are passing Colonel Maberley's house, and here is Gladwyn. I wish you could have seen it by daylight.'

I wished so too, for on entering the shrubbery the darkness seemed to swallow us up bodily, and the heavy oak door might have belonged to a prison. The sharp clang of the bell made me shiver, and Dante's lines came into my mind rather inopportunely, 'All ye who enter here, leave hope behind.' But as soon as the door opened the scene was changed like magic; the long hall was deliciously warm and light: it looked almost like a corridor, with its dark marble figures holding sconces, and small carved tables between them.

'I will wait for you here, Ursula,' whispered Uncle Max; and I went off in charge of the same maid that I had seen before. Lady Betty had called her Leah, and as I followed her upstairs I thought of that tender-eyed Leah who had been an unloved wife.

Leah was very civil, but I thought her manner bordered on familiarity: perhaps she had lived long in the family, and was treated more as a friend than a servant. She was an exceedingly plain young woman, and her light eyes had a curious lack of expression in them, and yet, like Miss Darrell's, they seemed able to see everything.

Seeing me glance round the room,—it was a large, handsomely furnished bedroom, with a small dressing-room attached to it,—she said, 'This is Miss Darrell's room. Mrs. Darrell used to occupy it, and Miss Etta slept in the dressing-room, but ever since her mother's death she has had both rooms.'

'Indeed,' was my brief reply: but I could not help thinking that Miss Darrell had very pleasant and roomy quarters. There were evidences of luxury everywhere, from the bevelled glass of the walnut-wood wardrobe to the silver-mounted dressing-case and ivory brushes on the toilet-table. A pale embroidered tea-gown lay across the couch, and a book that looked very much like a French novel was thrown beside it. Miss Darrell was evidently a Sybarite in her tastes.

Uncle Max was waiting for me at the foot of the stairs, and took me into the drawing-room at once.

To our surprise, we found Miss Hamilton there alone. The room was only dimly lighted, and she was sitting in a large carved chair beside the fire with an open book in her lap.

I wonder if Max noticed how like a picture she looked. She was dressed very simply in a soft creamy cashmere, and her fair hair was piled up on her head in regal fashion: the smooth plaits seemed to crown her; a little knot of red berries that had been carelessly fastened against her throat was the only colour about her; but she looked more like Clytie than ever, and again I told myself that I had never seen a sweeter face.

She greeted me with gentle warmth, but she hardly looked at Max; her white lids dropped over her eyes whenever he addressed her, and when she answered him she seemed to speak in a more measured voice than usual. Max too appeared extremely nervous; instead of sitting down, he stood upon the bear-skin rug and fidgeted with some tiny Chinese ornaments on the mantelpiece. Neither of them appeared at ease: was it possible that they were not friends?

'You are not often to be found in solitude, Miss Hamilton,' observed Max; and it struck me his voice was a little peculiar. 'I do not think I have ever seen you sitting alone in this room before.'

'No,' she answered quickly, and then she went on in rather a hesitating manner: 'Etta and Lady Betty have been shopping in Brighton, and they came back by a late train, and now Etta is shut up with Giles in his study. Some letters that came by this morning's post had to be answered.'

'Miss Darrell is Hamilton's secretary, is she not?'

'She writes a good many of his letters. Giles is rather idle about correspondence, and she helps him with his business and accounts. Etta is an extremely busy person.'

'Miss Hamilton used to be busy too,' returned Max quietly. 'I always considered you an example to our ladies. I lost one of my best workers when I lost you.'

A painful colour came into Miss Hamilton's face.

'Oh no,' she protested, rather feebly. 'Etta is far cleverer than I at parish work. Teaching does not make her head ache.'

'Yours used not to ache last summer,' persisted Uncle Max, but she did not seem to hear him. She had turned to me, and there was almost an appealing look in her beautiful eyes, as though she were begging me to talk.

'Oh, do you know, Miss Garston,' she said nervously, 'that Giles was very nearly sending for you last night? He was with Mrs. Blagrove's little girl until five this morning; the poor little creature died at half-past four, and he told us that he thought half a dozen times of sending for you.'

'I wish he had done so. I should have been so glad to help.'

'Yes, he knew that, but he said it would have been such a shame rousing you out of your warm bed; and he had not the heart to do it. So he stopped on himself; there was really nothing to be done, but the parents were in such a miserable state that he did not like to leave them. He was so tired this afternoon that he dropped asleep instead of writing his letters: that is why Etta has to do them.'

'Who is talking about Etta?' observed Miss Darrell, coming in at that moment, with a quick rustle of her silk skirt, looking as well-dressed, self-possessed, and full of assurance as ever. 'Why are you good people sitting in the dark? Thornton would have lighted the candles if you had rung, Gladys; but I suppose you forgot, and were dreaming over the fire as usual. Miss Garston, I suppose I ought to apologise for being late, but we are such busy people here; every moment is of value; and though Gladys asked you to come early, I never thought you would be so good as to do so. Friendly people are scarce, are they not, Mr. Cunliffe? By the bye,' holding up a taper finger loaded with sparkling rings, 'I have a scolding in store for you. Why did you not examine my class as usual last Sunday?—the children tell me you never came near them.'

'I had so little time that I asked Tudor to take the classes for me,' he returned quickly, but he was looking at Miss Hamilton as he spoke. 'I am always sure of the children in that class: they have been so thoroughly well taught that there is very little need for me to interfere.'

'It would encourage their teachers if you were to do so,' returned Miss Darrell, smiling graciously. She evidently appropriated the praise to herself, but I am sure Uncle Max was not thinking of her when he spoke. Just then Lady Betty came into the room, followed by Mr. Tudor.

Lady Betty looked almost pretty to-night. She wore a dark ruby velveteen that exactly suited her brown skin; her fluffy hair was tolerably smooth, and she had a bright colour. She came and sat down beside me at once.

'Oh, I am so vexed that we are so late! but it was all Etta's fault: she would look in at every shop-window, and so of course we lost the proper train.'

'What does the child say?' asked Miss Darrell good-humouredly. She seemed in excellent spirits this evening; but how silent Miss Hamilton had become since her entrance! 'Of course poor Etta is blamed; she always is if anything goes wrong in the house; Etta is the family scapegoat. But who was it, I wonder, who wanted another turn on the pier? Not Etta, certainly.'

'Just as though those few minutes would have mattered; and I did want another look at the sea,' returned Lady Betty pettishly; 'but no, you preferred those stupid shops. That is why I hate to go into Brighton with you.' But Miss Darrell only laughed at this flimsy display of wrath.

Just then Mr. Tudor had taken the other vacant chair beside me. 'How is the village nurse?' he asked, in his bright way. I certainly liked Mr. Tudor, he had such a pleasant, friendly way with him, and on his part he seemed always glad to see me. If I had ever talked slang, I might have said that we chummed together famously. He was a year younger than myself, and I took advantage of this to give him advice in an elder-sisterly fashion.

'You must take care that the clergy do not spoil the village nurse,' observed Miss Darrell, who had overheard him, and this time the taper finger was uplifted against Mr. Tudor.

'Oh, there is no fear of that,' he returned manfully; 'Miss Garston is too sensible to allow herself to be spoiled; but it is quite right that we all should make much of her.'

'We will ask Giles if he agrees with this,' replied Miss Darrell, in a funny voice, and at that moment Mr. Hamilton entered the room.

I do not know why I thought he looked nicer that evening: one thing, I had never seen him in evening dress, and it suited him better than his rough tweed; he was quieter and less abrupt in manner, more dignified and less peremptory, but he certainly looked very tired.

He accosted me rather gravely, I thought, though he said that he was glad to see me at Gladwyn. His first remark after this was to complain of the lateness of the dinner.

'Parker is not very punctual this evening, Etta,' he observed, looking at his watch.

'I think it was our fault, Giles,' returned his cousin plaintively. 'We kept Thornton such a long time in the study, and no doubt that is the cause of the delay. Parker is seldom a minute behindhand; punctuality is her chief point, as Mrs. Edmonstone told me when I engaged her. You see,' turning to Uncle Max, 'we are such a regular household that the least deviation in our nature quite throws us into confusion. I am so sorry, Giles, I am, indeed; but will you ring for Thornton, and that will remind him of his duty?'

Miss Darrell's submissive speech evidently disarmed Mr. Hamilton, and deprived him of his Englishman's right to grumble to his womankind: so he said, quite amiably, that they would wait for Parker's pleasure a little longer, and then relapsed into silence.

The next moment I saw him looking at me with rather an odd expression; it was as though he were regarding a stranger whom he had not seen before; I suppose the term 'taking stock' would explain my meaning. Just then dinner was announced, and he gave me his arm.

The dining-room was very large and lofty, and was furnished in dark oak. A circular seat with velvet cushions ran round the deep bay-window. A small oval table stood before it. Dark ruby curtains closed in the bay.

My first speech to Mr. Hamilton was to regret that he had not sent for me the previous night.

'Oh no,' he said pleasantly. 'I am quite glad now that your rest was not disturbed.' And then he went on looking at me with the same queer expression that his face had worn before.

'Do you know, Miss Garston, your remark quite startled me? Somehow I do not seem to recognise my nurse to-night. When I came into the drawing-room just now I thought there was a strange young lady sitting by Tudor.'

Of course I was curious to know what he meant; but he positively refused to enlighten me, and went on speaking about his poor little patient.

'She was an only child; but nothing could have saved her. The Blagroves are well-to-do people,—Brighton shopkeepers,—so they hardly come under the category of your patients. Miss Garston, you call yourself a servant of the poor, do you not?'

'I should not refuse to help any one who really needed it,' was my reply. 'But, of course, if people can afford to hire service I should think my labour thrown away on them.'

'Ah! just so. But now and then we meet with a case where hirelings can give no comfort. With the Blagroves, for example, there was nothing to be done but just to watch the child's feeble life ebb away. A miracle only could have saved her; but all the same it was impossible to go away and leave them. They were young people, and had never seen death before.'

I was surprised to hear him speak with so much feeling. And I liked that expression 'servant of the poor.' It sounded to me as though he had at last grasped my meaning, and that I had nothing more to fear from his sarcasm.

I wondered what had wrought such a sudden change in him, for I had only worked such a few days. Certainly it would make things far easier if I could secure him as an ally; and I began to hope that we should go on more smoothly in the future.

Mr. Hamilton was evidently a man whom it would take long to know. His was by no means a character easy to read. One would be sure to be startled by new developments and curious contradictions. I had known him only for ten days; but then we had met constantly in that short time. I had seen him hard in manner and soft in speech, cool, critical, and disparaging, at one moment satirical and provoking, the next full of thoughtfulness and readiness to help. No wonder I found it difficult to comprehend him.

When we had finished discussing the Blagroves, Mr. Hamilton turned his attention to his other guests, and tried to promote the general conversation: this left me at liberty to make my own observations.

Miss Hamilton sat at the top of the table facing her brother, and Uncle Max and Mr. Tudor were beside her; but she did not speak to either of them unless they addressed her, and her replies seemed to be very brief. If I had been less interested in her I might have accused her of want of animation, for it is hardly playing the rôle of a hostess to look beautiful and be chary of words and smiles.

It was impossible to attribute her silence to absence of mind, for she followed with grave attention every word that was spoken; but for some inexplicable reason she had withdrawn into herself. Uncle Max left her to herself after a time, and began to talk politics with Mr. Hamilton, and Mr. Tudor was soon compelled to follow his example.

Poor Mr. Tudor! I rather pitied him, for his other neighbour, Lady Betty, had turned suddenly very sulky, and I had my surmises that Miss Darrell had said something to affront her; for she made snapping little answers when any one spoke to her, and, though they laughed at her, and nobody seemed to mind, most likely they thought it prudent to give her time to recover herself.

Miss Darrell's radiant good-humour was a strange contrast to her two cousins' silence. She threw herself gallantly into the breach, and talked fast and well on every topic broached by the gentlemen. She was evidently clever and well read, and had dabbled in literature and politics.

Her energy and vivacity were almost fatiguing. She seemed able to keep up two or three conversations at once. The lowest whisper did not escape her ear; if Mr. Hamilton spoke to me, I saw her watchful eye on us, and she joined in at once with a sprightly word or two; the next moment she was answering Uncle Max, who had at last hazarded a remark to his silent neighbour. Miss Hamilton had no time to reply; her cousin's laugh and ready word were before her.

I found the same thing happen when Mr. Tudor addressed me: before he had finished his sentence she had challenged the attention of the table.

'Giles,' she said good-humouredly, 'do you know what Mr. Tudor said in the drawing-room just now, that it was the bounden duty of the Heathfield folk to spoil and make much of Miss Garston?'

Both Mr. Tudor and I looked confused at this audacious speech, but he tried to defend himself as well as he could.

'No, no, Miss Darrell, that was not quite what I said; the whole style of the sentence is too laboured to belong to me: "bounden duty,"—no, it does not sound like me at all.'

'We need not quarrel about terms,' she persisted; 'your meaning was just the same. Come, Mr. Tudor, you cannot unsay your own words, that it was right for you all to make much of Miss Garston.'

I thought this was spoken in the worst possible taste, and I am sure Mr. Hamilton thought so too, for he smiled slightly and said, 'Nonsense, Etta! you let your tongue run away with you. I daresay that was not Tudor's meaning at all; he is the most matter-of-fact fellow I know, and could not coin a compliment to save his life. Besides which, I expect he has found out by this time that it would be rather difficult to spoil Miss Garston. That cuts both ways, eh!' looking at me rather mischievously.

'Oh, if all the gentlemen are in conspiracy to defend Miss Garston, I will say no more,' returned Miss Darrell, with a shrug, but she did not say it quite pleasantly. 'Gladys dear, I think we had better retire before I am quite crushed: Giles's frown has quite flattened me out. Miss Garston, if you are ready,' making me a mocking little courtesy; but Miss Hamilton waited for me at the door and linked her arm in mine, taking possession of me in a graceful way that evidently pleased Max, for he looked at us smiling.

'Come into the conservatory, Gladys,' whispered Lady Betty in her sister's ear. 'Etta has a cold coming on, and will be afraid of following us.'

The conservatory led out of the drawing-room, and was lighted by coloured lamps that gave a pretty effect; it was full of choice flowers, and two or three cane chairs filled up the centre. It was not so warm as the drawing-room, certainly, but it was pleasant to sit there in the dim perfumed atmosphere and peep through the open window at the firelight. Miss Darrell followed us to the window with a discontented air.

'I hope you are not going to stay there many minutes, Gladys: you will certainly give yourself and Miss Garston a bad cold if you do. There is something wrong with the warming-apparatus, and Giles says it will be some days before it will be properly warmed. I thought I told you so this morning.'

'I do not think Miss Garston will take cold, Etta, and it is very pleasant here'; but, though Miss Darrell retreated from the window, I think we all felt as much constrained as though she had joined us, for not a word could escape her ears if she chose to listen.

But this fact did not seem to daunt Lady Betty for long, for she soon began chattering volubly to us both.

'I am not so cross now as I was,' she said frankly. 'I am afraid I was very rude to Mr. Tudor at dinner; but what could I do when Etta was so impertinent? No, she is not there, Gladys; she has gone out of the room, looking as cross as possible. But what do you think she said to me?'

'Never mind telling us what she said, dear,' returned Miss Hamilton soothingly.

'Oh, but I want to tell Miss Garston: she looks dreadfully curious, and I do not like her to think me cross for nothing. I am not like that, am I, Gladys? Well, just before we went in to dinner, she begged me in a whisper not to talk quite so much to Mr. Tudor as I had done last time. Now, what do you want, Leah?' pulling herself up rather abruptly.

'I have only brought you some shawls, Lady Betty, as Miss Darrell says the conservatory is so cold. She has told Thornton to mention to his master when he takes in the coffee that Miss Gladys is sitting here, and she hopes he will forbid it.'

'You can take away the shawls, Leah,' returned Miss Hamilton quietly, but there was a scornful look on her pale face as she spoke. 'We are not going to remain here, since Miss Darrell is so anxious about our health. Shall we come in, Miss Garston? Perhaps it is a trifle chilly here.' And, seeing how the wind blew, and that Miss Darrell was determined to have her way in the matter, I acquiesced silently; but I was not a bit surprised to see Lady Betty stamp her little foot as she followed us.

Miss Darrell was lying back on a velvet lounge, and welcomed us with a provoking smile.

'I thought the threat of telling Giles would bring you in, Gladys,' she said, laughing. 'What a foolish child you are to be so reckless of your health! Every one knows Gladys is delicate,' she went on, turning to me; 'everything gives her cold. Giles has been obliged to forbid her attending evening service this winter: you were terribly rebellious about it, were you not, my dear? but of course Giles had his way. No one in this house ventures to disobey him.'

Miss Hamilton did not answer: she was standing looking into the fire, and her lips were set firmly as though nothing would make her unclose them.

'Oh, do sit down,' continued her cousin pettishly; 'it gives one such an uncomfortable feeling when a tall person stands like a statue before one.' And as Miss Hamilton quietly seated herself, she went on, 'Don't you think religious people are far more self-willed than worldly ones, Miss Garston? I daresay you are self-willed yourself. Gladys made as much fuss about giving up evening service as though her salvation depended on her going twice or three times a day. "What is to prevent you reading the service in your own room?" I used to say to her. "It cannot be your duty to disobey your brother and make yourself ill."'

'The illness lay in your own imagination, Etta,' observed Miss Hamilton coldly. 'Giles would never have found out my chest was delicate if you had not told him so.'

Miss Darrell gave her favourite little shrug, and inspected her rings.

'See what thanks I get for my cousinly care,' she said good-humouredly. 'I suppose, Gladys, you were vexed with me for telling him that you were working yourself to death,—that the close air of the schoolroom made your head ache, and that so much singing was too much for your strength.'

'If you please, Etta, we will talk about some other subject; my health, or want of health, will not interest Miss Garston.' She spoke with dignity, and then, turning to me with a winning smile, 'Giles has told me about your singing. Will you be good enough to sing something to us? It would be a great pleasure: both Lady Betty and I are so fond of music.'

'Miss Garston looks very tired, Gladys; it is almost selfish to ask her,' observed Miss Darrell softly; and then I knew that Miss Hamilton's request did not please her.

I had vowed to myself that no amount of pressing should induce me to sing that evening, but I could not have refused that gentle solicitation. As I unbuttoned my gloves and took my place at the grand piano, I determined that I would sing anything and everything that Miss Hamilton wished; Miss Darrell should not silence me; and with this resolve hot on me I commenced the opening bars of 'The Lost Chord,' and before I had finished the song Miss Hamilton had crept into the corner beside me, and remained there as motionless as though my singing had turned her into stone.