Chapter Thirteen.

Chapter Thirteen.A Tête-à-Tête.During the next few days the girls could not help noticing a peculiar contradiction in their father’s manner towards themselves. He was alternately demonstratively affectionate and unreasonably irritable. He snubbed Norah’s performance on the violin, scolded Lettice because she was wearing white dresses instead of her old blue serge, and called attention to flaws in the housekeeping in a manner which sent the iron into Hilary’s soul. And then, when a chance meeting occurred on the landing or stairs, he would throw his arms round them and kiss them over and over again with passionate tenderness.“Something is happening, but I haven’t the remotest idea what it is,” said Norah to her sisters; and it added to their curiosity to notice that Miss Carr was openly amused at their father’s demeanour, while he was as evidently embarrassed by her quizzical smiles.Mr Bertrand had decided to say nothing of Miss Carr’s invitation until that lady had made her final choice; but when the third day came he could restrain himself no longer, and taking the girls aside he proceeded to inform them of the new life which was before one of their number. The news was received in characteristic fashion. Hilary stood in silence, thinking deeply; Lettice promptly burst into tears, and clung round her father’s arm; and Norah blurted out a dozen contradictory speeches.“How horrid of her! I won’t go! I should hate to leave you all. It’s very kind. ... The best masters! It would be lovely, of course, but— Oh, dear! whom will she choose?”“I couldn’t leave home, father. Who would look after the house? It would be impossible for Lettice to do the housekeeping. Miss Carr knows me best. I should love it if it were not for leaving home.”“I don’t want to go! I don’t want to leave you. Oh, father, father! I’d be so homesick! Don’t let me go!”Mr Bertrand stroked Lettice’s golden locks, and looked on the point of breaking down himself.“Whichever Miss Carr chooses will have to go,” he said slowly. “I have promised as much, and I think it will be for the best. I shall be in town every two or three months, and she will come home for the Christmas and the summer holidays, so that it will not be a desperate matter. Don’t cry, my pet; you are only one of three, remember; it is by no means certain that Miss Carr would have you, even if you begged to go. Perhaps I should not have said anything about it; but it was on my mind, and I was bound to speak. London is a fascinating place. It is the centre of the world—itisthe world; you will find many compensations.”“I shall see a great deal of Mr Rayner. I’m sure she will choose me. It’s only fair. I’m the eldest, and she knows me best,” thought Hilary to herself.“I should go to the Royal College of Music, learn from the best masters, and play at the concerts,” thought Norah. “I wonder if it would stop Edna’s lessons! I should feel mean if it did that, and Idoenjoy going over every fortnight and having fun at the Manor!”Lettice sobbed on her father’s shoulder, and tried to smother the thought that it would be “nice” to know grand people, and drive in the park dressed in pretty, fashionable clothes.Very little more was said on the subject. The girls were shy of revealing their secret thoughts, and Mr Bertrand was already beginning to repent the confidence which had had the effect of damping their high spirits.“We must get up an excursion of some kind to-morrow, or we shall all be in the blues,” he said to himself, and when tea-time arrived he had all the plans cut and dried.“A char-à-banc will be at the door at half-past ten to-morrow, good people. We will drive over to Grasmere and lunch at the Rothay. It is convenient for the churchyard and the gingerbread shop, and there is a good garden. We can lounge about in the afternoon, and get back in time for a late dinner. There will be eight of us, and the char-à-banc holds twelve, so we shall have plenty of room.”“Oh, father!—Rex and Edna! Do let us ask them! There is time to send a letter to-night, and we could pick them up at the cross-roads. Oh, father!”“Oh, Norah! Certainly, my dear; ask your friends if you wish. I shall be pleased to have them,” said Mr Bertrand laughingly; and Norah rushed off in delight to scribble her note of invitation.When the char-à-banc came to the door the next morning, Hilary busied herself looking after the storage of cloaks, cushions, camp-stools, and various little etceteras which would add to the comfort of the excursion. She looked a very attractive little mistress of the ceremonies as she bustled about, with a sailor hat on her head and the nattiest little brown shoes in the world peeping out from beneath the crisp, white, pique skirts. Hilary was one of the fortunate people who seemed to have been born tidy, and to have kept so ever since. The wind which played havoc with Norah’s locks never dared to take liberties with her glossy coils; the nails which tore holes in other people’s garments politely refrained from touching hers; and she could walk through the muddiest streets and come home without a speck upon boots or skirt.Mr Rayner leant on his crutches and watched her active movements with the wistful glance which was so often seen upon his face. Hilary knew that for the thousandth time he was chafing at his own inability to help, and made a point of consulting him on several matters by way of proving that there were more ways than one in which he could be of service.“I don’t know. In the front—in the back; put them where you like. Are you going to sit beside me?” he replied hurriedly, and with an undisguised eagerness which brought a flush of pleasure into the girl’s cheek.“Oh, yes, I should like to!”Hilary stood still in a little glow of exultation. The last few days had been delightful with their experiences of lounging, driving, and boating, but the coach-drive along the lovely roads, side by side with Mr Rayner, able to point out each fresh beauty as it appeared, and to enjoy a virtualtête-à-têtefor the whole of the way—that was best of all! And he had chosen her as his companion before Lettice, before Norah, before any one of the party! The thought added largely to her satisfaction.As Miss Carr refused point-blank to take the box seat, and as Mr Bertrand insisted that it should be taken by the other visitor, Hilary advanced to the ladder, and was about to climb up to the high seat, when she turned back with an expression of anxious inquiry.Mr Rayner stood immediately behind, but his “Please go on!” showed that he understood her hesitation, and was annoyed at the suggestion of help. She seated herself, therefore, and tried in vain to look at ease while he followed. For two or three steps he managed to support himself on his crutches with marvellous agility; on the fourth they slipped, and if he had not been seized from behind by Mr Bertrand and pulled forward by Hilary’s outstretched hand, he must have had a serious fall. Hilary literally dare not look at his face for the first ten minutes of the drive, for with an instinctive understanding of another person’s feeling which was a new experience to this self-engrossed little lady, she realised that he was smarting beneath the consciousness of having made himself an object of general commiseration. Whatever happened, he must not think that she was pitying him. She racked her brain to think of something to say—some amusing stories to tell. “I wish we were going on a coach instead of a char-à-banc. I love to see the drivers in their white hats and red coats, and to hear the horns blowing. There is something so cheerful about a horn! We are getting to know all the drivers quite well now. I say ‘getting to know,’ because it takes quite three years to know a North-countryman. They are so terribly reserved! Last year I was on the box seat of a coach sitting next to the driver whom we knew best of all. There were some American ladies behind who kept worrying him with questions all the while. ‘Driver, will you show us Wordsworth’s house?’ ‘Driver, you won’t forget Wordsworth’s house?’ ‘Driver, hev you passed by Wordsworth’s house?’ He just sat like a statue and took no notice whatever. Poor man! I wonder how many thousand times he has been asked those questions! One of the horses had bandages round his front leg, and at last I said—I believe I was trying to show off a little bit, you know, just to let them see how polite he would be with me—I said, ‘Oh, Robert, why has the off leader got gaiters on to-day?’ His face was just as blank as if I had never spoken. We drove along in silence for about ten minutes, while I got hotter and hotter. Then he cleared his throat deliberately, and said, ‘Well, in the first place—he needs ’em! and in the second place—he likes ’em! and in the third place—he can’t do without ’em!’ I felt so small!”A forced “Humph!” being the only reception which the story received, Hilary braced herself to fresh efforts. Two or three experiences of North-country manners were suggested by the last; she related them in her liveliest manner, and even forced herself to laugh merrily at the conclusion. “So funny, wasn’t it? Don’t you think it was good?”The char-à-banc had now reached Bowness, and, for the first time, she ventured a glance into her companion’s face. He met her eyes and smiled, the slow, sweet smile that transformed his expression.“I know someone who is good,” he said meaningly. “You have talked yourself out of breath trying to drive away the evil spirit. It’s too bad! I am ashamed of my own stupidity.”“I wish—” began Hilary eagerly, and stopped short as suddenly as she had begun.“You wish? Yes, what is it? Tell me, do! I want to hear—”Hilary paused for a moment and turned her head over her shoulder. A reassuring clatter of voices came to her ear. Rex, Norah, and Lettice chattering away for their lives, and Edna’s soft laughter greeting each new joke. The young folks were too much taken up with their own conversation to have any attention to spare for the occupants of the box seat. She could speak without fear of being overheard.“I wish you would try not to be so cross with yourself for being lame!”Mr Rayner winced in the old, pained manner, but the next moment he began to smile.“‘Cross’! That’s a curious way of expressing it. How am I cross?”“Oh, always—every way! Every time it is alluded to in the most distant way, you flare up and get angry. You have snubbed me unmercifully three or four times.”“I have snubbed you? I!” He seemed overcome with consternation. “Miss Hilary, what an accusation. I have never felt anything but sincerest gratitude for your sympathy—I suppose I am stupid. I ought to be hardened to it by this time, but after being so strong, so proud of my strength, it is a bitter pill to find myself handicapped like this—a burden to everybody.”“You have been with us now for nearly a week, and there have only been two occasions on which you have seemed any different from another man, and each time,” said Hilary, with unflinching candour, “it has been entirely your own fault! You would not let yourself be helped when it was necessary. If I were in your place, I would say to myself—‘I am lame! I hate it, but whether I hate it or not, it’s the truth. I am lame! and everybody knows it as well as I do. I won’t pretend that I can do all that other people do, and if they want to be kind and help me, I’ll let them, and if they don’t offer, I’llaskthem! Whatever happens, I am not going to do foolish, rash things which will deceive nobody, and which may end in making me lamer than ever!’ And then I’d try to think as little about it as I could, and get all the happiness that was left!”“Oh, wise young judge!” sighed Mr Rayner sadly. “How easy it is to be resigned for another person. But you are quite right; don’t think that I am disputing the wisdom of what you say. I should be happier if I faced the thing once for all, and made up my mind as to what I can and cannot do. Well—Miss Carr told me her plans last night. If you come to London, you must keep me up to the mark. I shall hope to see a great deal of you, and if you find me attempting ridiculous things, such as that ladder business to-day, you must just—what is it I am supposed to have done?—‘snub’ me severely as a punishment.”Hilary smiled with two-fold satisfaction. So Mr Rayner agreed with her in believing that Miss Carr’s choice was practically certain. The prospect of living in London grew more and more attractive as the various advantages suggested themselves, and she was roll of delicious anticipations.“Oh, I will,” she said merrily. “I am glad that I did not know you before you were ill, because I see no difference now, and I can do it more easily. I think I am like the Mouse; I like you better for being different from other people. She spent a whole morning searching for twigs in the garden, and now all her dolls are supplied with crutches.”“Dear little mortal! I never met a sweeter child,” cried Mr Rayner, and the conversation branched off to treat of Geraldine and her pretty ways.

During the next few days the girls could not help noticing a peculiar contradiction in their father’s manner towards themselves. He was alternately demonstratively affectionate and unreasonably irritable. He snubbed Norah’s performance on the violin, scolded Lettice because she was wearing white dresses instead of her old blue serge, and called attention to flaws in the housekeeping in a manner which sent the iron into Hilary’s soul. And then, when a chance meeting occurred on the landing or stairs, he would throw his arms round them and kiss them over and over again with passionate tenderness.

“Something is happening, but I haven’t the remotest idea what it is,” said Norah to her sisters; and it added to their curiosity to notice that Miss Carr was openly amused at their father’s demeanour, while he was as evidently embarrassed by her quizzical smiles.

Mr Bertrand had decided to say nothing of Miss Carr’s invitation until that lady had made her final choice; but when the third day came he could restrain himself no longer, and taking the girls aside he proceeded to inform them of the new life which was before one of their number. The news was received in characteristic fashion. Hilary stood in silence, thinking deeply; Lettice promptly burst into tears, and clung round her father’s arm; and Norah blurted out a dozen contradictory speeches.

“How horrid of her! I won’t go! I should hate to leave you all. It’s very kind. ... The best masters! It would be lovely, of course, but— Oh, dear! whom will she choose?”

“I couldn’t leave home, father. Who would look after the house? It would be impossible for Lettice to do the housekeeping. Miss Carr knows me best. I should love it if it were not for leaving home.”

“I don’t want to go! I don’t want to leave you. Oh, father, father! I’d be so homesick! Don’t let me go!”

Mr Bertrand stroked Lettice’s golden locks, and looked on the point of breaking down himself.

“Whichever Miss Carr chooses will have to go,” he said slowly. “I have promised as much, and I think it will be for the best. I shall be in town every two or three months, and she will come home for the Christmas and the summer holidays, so that it will not be a desperate matter. Don’t cry, my pet; you are only one of three, remember; it is by no means certain that Miss Carr would have you, even if you begged to go. Perhaps I should not have said anything about it; but it was on my mind, and I was bound to speak. London is a fascinating place. It is the centre of the world—itisthe world; you will find many compensations.”

“I shall see a great deal of Mr Rayner. I’m sure she will choose me. It’s only fair. I’m the eldest, and she knows me best,” thought Hilary to herself.

“I should go to the Royal College of Music, learn from the best masters, and play at the concerts,” thought Norah. “I wonder if it would stop Edna’s lessons! I should feel mean if it did that, and Idoenjoy going over every fortnight and having fun at the Manor!”

Lettice sobbed on her father’s shoulder, and tried to smother the thought that it would be “nice” to know grand people, and drive in the park dressed in pretty, fashionable clothes.

Very little more was said on the subject. The girls were shy of revealing their secret thoughts, and Mr Bertrand was already beginning to repent the confidence which had had the effect of damping their high spirits.

“We must get up an excursion of some kind to-morrow, or we shall all be in the blues,” he said to himself, and when tea-time arrived he had all the plans cut and dried.

“A char-à-banc will be at the door at half-past ten to-morrow, good people. We will drive over to Grasmere and lunch at the Rothay. It is convenient for the churchyard and the gingerbread shop, and there is a good garden. We can lounge about in the afternoon, and get back in time for a late dinner. There will be eight of us, and the char-à-banc holds twelve, so we shall have plenty of room.”

“Oh, father!—Rex and Edna! Do let us ask them! There is time to send a letter to-night, and we could pick them up at the cross-roads. Oh, father!”

“Oh, Norah! Certainly, my dear; ask your friends if you wish. I shall be pleased to have them,” said Mr Bertrand laughingly; and Norah rushed off in delight to scribble her note of invitation.

When the char-à-banc came to the door the next morning, Hilary busied herself looking after the storage of cloaks, cushions, camp-stools, and various little etceteras which would add to the comfort of the excursion. She looked a very attractive little mistress of the ceremonies as she bustled about, with a sailor hat on her head and the nattiest little brown shoes in the world peeping out from beneath the crisp, white, pique skirts. Hilary was one of the fortunate people who seemed to have been born tidy, and to have kept so ever since. The wind which played havoc with Norah’s locks never dared to take liberties with her glossy coils; the nails which tore holes in other people’s garments politely refrained from touching hers; and she could walk through the muddiest streets and come home without a speck upon boots or skirt.

Mr Rayner leant on his crutches and watched her active movements with the wistful glance which was so often seen upon his face. Hilary knew that for the thousandth time he was chafing at his own inability to help, and made a point of consulting him on several matters by way of proving that there were more ways than one in which he could be of service.

“I don’t know. In the front—in the back; put them where you like. Are you going to sit beside me?” he replied hurriedly, and with an undisguised eagerness which brought a flush of pleasure into the girl’s cheek.

“Oh, yes, I should like to!”

Hilary stood still in a little glow of exultation. The last few days had been delightful with their experiences of lounging, driving, and boating, but the coach-drive along the lovely roads, side by side with Mr Rayner, able to point out each fresh beauty as it appeared, and to enjoy a virtualtête-à-têtefor the whole of the way—that was best of all! And he had chosen her as his companion before Lettice, before Norah, before any one of the party! The thought added largely to her satisfaction.

As Miss Carr refused point-blank to take the box seat, and as Mr Bertrand insisted that it should be taken by the other visitor, Hilary advanced to the ladder, and was about to climb up to the high seat, when she turned back with an expression of anxious inquiry.

Mr Rayner stood immediately behind, but his “Please go on!” showed that he understood her hesitation, and was annoyed at the suggestion of help. She seated herself, therefore, and tried in vain to look at ease while he followed. For two or three steps he managed to support himself on his crutches with marvellous agility; on the fourth they slipped, and if he had not been seized from behind by Mr Bertrand and pulled forward by Hilary’s outstretched hand, he must have had a serious fall. Hilary literally dare not look at his face for the first ten minutes of the drive, for with an instinctive understanding of another person’s feeling which was a new experience to this self-engrossed little lady, she realised that he was smarting beneath the consciousness of having made himself an object of general commiseration. Whatever happened, he must not think that she was pitying him. She racked her brain to think of something to say—some amusing stories to tell. “I wish we were going on a coach instead of a char-à-banc. I love to see the drivers in their white hats and red coats, and to hear the horns blowing. There is something so cheerful about a horn! We are getting to know all the drivers quite well now. I say ‘getting to know,’ because it takes quite three years to know a North-countryman. They are so terribly reserved! Last year I was on the box seat of a coach sitting next to the driver whom we knew best of all. There were some American ladies behind who kept worrying him with questions all the while. ‘Driver, will you show us Wordsworth’s house?’ ‘Driver, you won’t forget Wordsworth’s house?’ ‘Driver, hev you passed by Wordsworth’s house?’ He just sat like a statue and took no notice whatever. Poor man! I wonder how many thousand times he has been asked those questions! One of the horses had bandages round his front leg, and at last I said—I believe I was trying to show off a little bit, you know, just to let them see how polite he would be with me—I said, ‘Oh, Robert, why has the off leader got gaiters on to-day?’ His face was just as blank as if I had never spoken. We drove along in silence for about ten minutes, while I got hotter and hotter. Then he cleared his throat deliberately, and said, ‘Well, in the first place—he needs ’em! and in the second place—he likes ’em! and in the third place—he can’t do without ’em!’ I felt so small!”

A forced “Humph!” being the only reception which the story received, Hilary braced herself to fresh efforts. Two or three experiences of North-country manners were suggested by the last; she related them in her liveliest manner, and even forced herself to laugh merrily at the conclusion. “So funny, wasn’t it? Don’t you think it was good?”

The char-à-banc had now reached Bowness, and, for the first time, she ventured a glance into her companion’s face. He met her eyes and smiled, the slow, sweet smile that transformed his expression.

“I know someone who is good,” he said meaningly. “You have talked yourself out of breath trying to drive away the evil spirit. It’s too bad! I am ashamed of my own stupidity.”

“I wish—” began Hilary eagerly, and stopped short as suddenly as she had begun.

“You wish? Yes, what is it? Tell me, do! I want to hear—”

Hilary paused for a moment and turned her head over her shoulder. A reassuring clatter of voices came to her ear. Rex, Norah, and Lettice chattering away for their lives, and Edna’s soft laughter greeting each new joke. The young folks were too much taken up with their own conversation to have any attention to spare for the occupants of the box seat. She could speak without fear of being overheard.

“I wish you would try not to be so cross with yourself for being lame!”

Mr Rayner winced in the old, pained manner, but the next moment he began to smile.

“‘Cross’! That’s a curious way of expressing it. How am I cross?”

“Oh, always—every way! Every time it is alluded to in the most distant way, you flare up and get angry. You have snubbed me unmercifully three or four times.”

“I have snubbed you? I!” He seemed overcome with consternation. “Miss Hilary, what an accusation. I have never felt anything but sincerest gratitude for your sympathy—I suppose I am stupid. I ought to be hardened to it by this time, but after being so strong, so proud of my strength, it is a bitter pill to find myself handicapped like this—a burden to everybody.”

“You have been with us now for nearly a week, and there have only been two occasions on which you have seemed any different from another man, and each time,” said Hilary, with unflinching candour, “it has been entirely your own fault! You would not let yourself be helped when it was necessary. If I were in your place, I would say to myself—‘I am lame! I hate it, but whether I hate it or not, it’s the truth. I am lame! and everybody knows it as well as I do. I won’t pretend that I can do all that other people do, and if they want to be kind and help me, I’ll let them, and if they don’t offer, I’llaskthem! Whatever happens, I am not going to do foolish, rash things which will deceive nobody, and which may end in making me lamer than ever!’ And then I’d try to think as little about it as I could, and get all the happiness that was left!”

“Oh, wise young judge!” sighed Mr Rayner sadly. “How easy it is to be resigned for another person. But you are quite right; don’t think that I am disputing the wisdom of what you say. I should be happier if I faced the thing once for all, and made up my mind as to what I can and cannot do. Well—Miss Carr told me her plans last night. If you come to London, you must keep me up to the mark. I shall hope to see a great deal of you, and if you find me attempting ridiculous things, such as that ladder business to-day, you must just—what is it I am supposed to have done?—‘snub’ me severely as a punishment.”

Hilary smiled with two-fold satisfaction. So Mr Rayner agreed with her in believing that Miss Carr’s choice was practically certain. The prospect of living in London grew more and more attractive as the various advantages suggested themselves, and she was roll of delicious anticipations.

“Oh, I will,” she said merrily. “I am glad that I did not know you before you were ill, because I see no difference now, and I can do it more easily. I think I am like the Mouse; I like you better for being different from other people. She spent a whole morning searching for twigs in the garden, and now all her dolls are supplied with crutches.”

“Dear little mortal! I never met a sweeter child,” cried Mr Rayner, and the conversation branched off to treat of Geraldine and her pretty ways.

Chapter Fourteen.The Wishing Gate.Lunch was ready when the visitors reached the hotel at Grasmere, and as they were equally ready for lunch, they lost no time in seating themselves at the large table in the window, and making a vigorous attack upon rolls and butter. The other tables were well filled, and Hilary held up her head with complacent pride, while Lettice and Norah nudged each other to call attention to the glances of curiosity and interest which were directed towards their father.“A party of Americans, and the waiter whispered to them as we passed. Oh, father, you are in for it!Now—I told you so! The one with the light hair is getting up. She is going upstairs to bring down the autograph albums. Wait till you’ve finished lunch, then it will be—‘Oh, Mr Bertrand, such an honour to meet you; would you be kind enough to write your name in my little book?’”Mr Bertrand went through a pantomime of tearing his hair. “Is there no escape?” he groaned. “It’s bad enough to be a lion in town, but I positively refuse to roar in the country. I won’t do it. I have writer’s cramp—I can’t use my right hand. Rayner, my boy, I’ll turn them on to you!”“He is only pretending. He is really awfully pleased and flattered. Wait till you see how polite he will be when they ask him,” said Lettice mischievously; and, indeed, nothing could have been more courteous than Mr Bertrand’s manner when the American party flocked round him in the hall after luncheon.“Your books are in every house in America, sir, and it gives us the greatest pleasure to have an opportunity of—”“Oh, come along!” whispered Norah, pulling impatiently at Edna’s arm. “I know it all by heart. Come into the garden, both of you; Lettice and I have something to tell you—an exciting piece of news!”“Kitten dead? New ribbons for your hats?” queried Rex indifferently. He was sceptical on the point of Norah’s “exciting confidences,” but this time Lettice looked at him reproachfully with her great, grey eyes.“No, indeed—don’t make fun—it’s serious! Miss Carr is going to adopt one of us to live with her in London as her own daughter, for the next three years.”“Nonsense!” Rex sat down in a heap on the grass, in front of the bench where the girls were seated. “Which?”“Ah, that’s the mystery! She is to have her choice, and she won’t say which it is to be until Wednesday night—two days more. So, you see, you had better be polite, for you mayn’t have me with you much longer.”“I am always polite to you,” said Rex moodily: and the statement passed unchallenged, for however much he might tease Norah, and snap at Hilary, he was always considerate for the feelings and comfort of “Lovely Lettice!”“Oh, Norah, Norah! I hope it won’t be you!” cried Edna, clasping her hands round her friend’s arm in warm-hearted affection. “What should I do without you? We have been so happy, and have had such fun! Three years! What an age of a time! We shall be quite grown-up.”“Yes; and after that, father is going to take a house in London, because the boys will have left school, and it will be better for them. Isn’t it horrid to think that after to-day it may never be the same for one of us again? She will only come back as a visitor, for a few weeks at a time, and everything will be strange and different—”“And Rex may go abroad before the end of the three years, and Hilary may marry—and—oh, a hundred other horrible things. Perhaps we may never meet again all together like this until we are quite old and grey-headed. We would write to one another, of course; stiff, proper sort of letters like grown-up people write. How funny it would be! Imagine you writing to me, Edna—‘My dear Eleanora, you must not think my long silence has arisen from any want of affection towards you and yours. ... And how has it been with you, my valued friend?’”The burst of laughter which greeted this speech did something to liven the gloom which was fast settling upon the little party, and presently Mr Bertrand’s voice was heard calling from the verandah—“Now then, children, what are we to do until four o’clock? Do you want to go on the lake?”“It’s no good, sir. We could row round it in ten minutes.” This from Rex, with all the scorn of a young man who owned aUnaof his own on Lake Windermere.“Do you want to scramble up to the Tarn, then? I don’t. It’s too hot, and we should have no time to spend at the top when we got there.”“Let us go to the Wishing Gate, father,” suggested Norah eagerly. “It’s a nice walk; and I got what I wished for last summer—I did really—the music lessons! I’m sure there is something in it.”“Let us go then, by all means. I have a wish of my own that I should be glad to settle. Helen, will you come?”“No, thank you, Austin, I will not. I can wish more comfortably sitting here in the shade of the verandah I’ve been once before, and I wouldn’t drag up there this afternoon for a dozen wishes.”“And Rayner—what will you—?”Mr Rayner hesitated, then, “I—er—if it’s a steep pull, I think I had better stay where I am,” he added, in cheery, decided tones, which brought a flush of delight to Hilary’s cheeks.She turned in silence to follow her sisters, but before she had advanced many steps, stood still hesitating and stammering—“I—I—the sun is very hot. My head—”“Well, don’t come, dear, if you are afraid of head-ache. Stay where you are,” said her father kindly; and Miss Carr chimed in, in characteristic fashion—“But if you are going to chatter, be kind enough to move away to another seat. I am not going to have my nap disturbed if I know it.”“Come along, Miss Hilary. Our pride won’t allow us to stay after that!” cried Mr Rayner, picking up his crutches and leading the way across the lawn with suspicious alacrity; and no sooner were they seated on the comfortable bench than he turned a smiling face upon his companion, and wished to know if she were satisfied with the result of her lecture.“Entirely,” said Hilary. “It sounded brave and man-like, and put all at their ease. It is always best to be honest.”“It is. I agree with you. What about the head?”“What head?”“Ah! and isthathonest? You know what I mean. Does it acheverybadly?”“N–no! Not a bit! I stayed behind because I preferred to—to talk to you,” said Hilary stoutly, wishing she could prevent herself blushing in such a ridiculous fashion, wishing Mr Rayner would not stare at her quite so fixedly; happy, miserable, discomfited, triumphant, all at the same moment, and in the most incomprehensible fashion.“That’s very satisfactory, because I like to talk to you also,” he said gravely; and the next two hours passed so quickly that it was quite a shock to hear calls from the verandah, and to see the walking party already assembled round the tea-table.“What did you wish?” was Hilary’s first question, but, with the exception of the Mouse, everyone refused to divulge the secret.“I wished I might have a doll’s pramulator,” said Geraldine gravely, and when Miss Carr asked if the dolls were not able to take walking exercise, she shook her head with pathetic remembrance.“Mabel isn’t, ’cause she’s only one leg. She really had two, only one day, Raymond hanged her up from the ceiling, and when I sawed her, I cried, and pulled with my hands, and one leg earned off. So now I want a pramulator.”“And she shall have one, bless her! and the best that can be bought,” muttered Miss Carr beneath her breath; while Norah whispered eager questionings into her companion’s ear.“You might tell me, Rex—you might! I won’t tell a soul. What did you wish?”“Don’t be so curious. What does it matter to you?”“It does matter. I want to know. You might! Do–oo!”“No–o! I won’t now. There’s an end of it.”“Oh, Rex, look here—I’ve sixpence in my pocket. I’ll buy you a packet of gingerbread if you will.”“I don’t want the gingerbread. What a girl you are! You give a fellow no peace. I didn’t wish anything particular, only—”“Yes! Yes!”“Only that she,” with a nod of the head towards where Miss Carr sat sipping her tea—“that she might choose Hilary to live with her in London.”“Oh–oh! You wouldn’t like it if it were Lettice?”“Of course not, neither would you.”“But—but—it might be me!”“It might. There’s no saying. I’ll have another cup of tea, if you please,” said Rex coolly.Aggravating boy! It would be just as easy to draw water from a stone, as to persuade him to say anything nice and soothing to one’s vanity!

Lunch was ready when the visitors reached the hotel at Grasmere, and as they were equally ready for lunch, they lost no time in seating themselves at the large table in the window, and making a vigorous attack upon rolls and butter. The other tables were well filled, and Hilary held up her head with complacent pride, while Lettice and Norah nudged each other to call attention to the glances of curiosity and interest which were directed towards their father.

“A party of Americans, and the waiter whispered to them as we passed. Oh, father, you are in for it!Now—I told you so! The one with the light hair is getting up. She is going upstairs to bring down the autograph albums. Wait till you’ve finished lunch, then it will be—‘Oh, Mr Bertrand, such an honour to meet you; would you be kind enough to write your name in my little book?’”

Mr Bertrand went through a pantomime of tearing his hair. “Is there no escape?” he groaned. “It’s bad enough to be a lion in town, but I positively refuse to roar in the country. I won’t do it. I have writer’s cramp—I can’t use my right hand. Rayner, my boy, I’ll turn them on to you!”

“He is only pretending. He is really awfully pleased and flattered. Wait till you see how polite he will be when they ask him,” said Lettice mischievously; and, indeed, nothing could have been more courteous than Mr Bertrand’s manner when the American party flocked round him in the hall after luncheon.

“Your books are in every house in America, sir, and it gives us the greatest pleasure to have an opportunity of—”

“Oh, come along!” whispered Norah, pulling impatiently at Edna’s arm. “I know it all by heart. Come into the garden, both of you; Lettice and I have something to tell you—an exciting piece of news!”

“Kitten dead? New ribbons for your hats?” queried Rex indifferently. He was sceptical on the point of Norah’s “exciting confidences,” but this time Lettice looked at him reproachfully with her great, grey eyes.

“No, indeed—don’t make fun—it’s serious! Miss Carr is going to adopt one of us to live with her in London as her own daughter, for the next three years.”

“Nonsense!” Rex sat down in a heap on the grass, in front of the bench where the girls were seated. “Which?”

“Ah, that’s the mystery! She is to have her choice, and she won’t say which it is to be until Wednesday night—two days more. So, you see, you had better be polite, for you mayn’t have me with you much longer.”

“I am always polite to you,” said Rex moodily: and the statement passed unchallenged, for however much he might tease Norah, and snap at Hilary, he was always considerate for the feelings and comfort of “Lovely Lettice!”

“Oh, Norah, Norah! I hope it won’t be you!” cried Edna, clasping her hands round her friend’s arm in warm-hearted affection. “What should I do without you? We have been so happy, and have had such fun! Three years! What an age of a time! We shall be quite grown-up.”

“Yes; and after that, father is going to take a house in London, because the boys will have left school, and it will be better for them. Isn’t it horrid to think that after to-day it may never be the same for one of us again? She will only come back as a visitor, for a few weeks at a time, and everything will be strange and different—”

“And Rex may go abroad before the end of the three years, and Hilary may marry—and—oh, a hundred other horrible things. Perhaps we may never meet again all together like this until we are quite old and grey-headed. We would write to one another, of course; stiff, proper sort of letters like grown-up people write. How funny it would be! Imagine you writing to me, Edna—‘My dear Eleanora, you must not think my long silence has arisen from any want of affection towards you and yours. ... And how has it been with you, my valued friend?’”

The burst of laughter which greeted this speech did something to liven the gloom which was fast settling upon the little party, and presently Mr Bertrand’s voice was heard calling from the verandah—

“Now then, children, what are we to do until four o’clock? Do you want to go on the lake?”

“It’s no good, sir. We could row round it in ten minutes.” This from Rex, with all the scorn of a young man who owned aUnaof his own on Lake Windermere.

“Do you want to scramble up to the Tarn, then? I don’t. It’s too hot, and we should have no time to spend at the top when we got there.”

“Let us go to the Wishing Gate, father,” suggested Norah eagerly. “It’s a nice walk; and I got what I wished for last summer—I did really—the music lessons! I’m sure there is something in it.”

“Let us go then, by all means. I have a wish of my own that I should be glad to settle. Helen, will you come?”

“No, thank you, Austin, I will not. I can wish more comfortably sitting here in the shade of the verandah I’ve been once before, and I wouldn’t drag up there this afternoon for a dozen wishes.”

“And Rayner—what will you—?”

Mr Rayner hesitated, then, “I—er—if it’s a steep pull, I think I had better stay where I am,” he added, in cheery, decided tones, which brought a flush of delight to Hilary’s cheeks.

She turned in silence to follow her sisters, but before she had advanced many steps, stood still hesitating and stammering—“I—I—the sun is very hot. My head—”

“Well, don’t come, dear, if you are afraid of head-ache. Stay where you are,” said her father kindly; and Miss Carr chimed in, in characteristic fashion—

“But if you are going to chatter, be kind enough to move away to another seat. I am not going to have my nap disturbed if I know it.”

“Come along, Miss Hilary. Our pride won’t allow us to stay after that!” cried Mr Rayner, picking up his crutches and leading the way across the lawn with suspicious alacrity; and no sooner were they seated on the comfortable bench than he turned a smiling face upon his companion, and wished to know if she were satisfied with the result of her lecture.

“Entirely,” said Hilary. “It sounded brave and man-like, and put all at their ease. It is always best to be honest.”

“It is. I agree with you. What about the head?”

“What head?”

“Ah! and isthathonest? You know what I mean. Does it acheverybadly?”

“N–no! Not a bit! I stayed behind because I preferred to—to talk to you,” said Hilary stoutly, wishing she could prevent herself blushing in such a ridiculous fashion, wishing Mr Rayner would not stare at her quite so fixedly; happy, miserable, discomfited, triumphant, all at the same moment, and in the most incomprehensible fashion.

“That’s very satisfactory, because I like to talk to you also,” he said gravely; and the next two hours passed so quickly that it was quite a shock to hear calls from the verandah, and to see the walking party already assembled round the tea-table.

“What did you wish?” was Hilary’s first question, but, with the exception of the Mouse, everyone refused to divulge the secret.

“I wished I might have a doll’s pramulator,” said Geraldine gravely, and when Miss Carr asked if the dolls were not able to take walking exercise, she shook her head with pathetic remembrance.

“Mabel isn’t, ’cause she’s only one leg. She really had two, only one day, Raymond hanged her up from the ceiling, and when I sawed her, I cried, and pulled with my hands, and one leg earned off. So now I want a pramulator.”

“And she shall have one, bless her! and the best that can be bought,” muttered Miss Carr beneath her breath; while Norah whispered eager questionings into her companion’s ear.

“You might tell me, Rex—you might! I won’t tell a soul. What did you wish?”

“Don’t be so curious. What does it matter to you?”

“It does matter. I want to know. You might! Do–oo!”

“No–o! I won’t now. There’s an end of it.”

“Oh, Rex, look here—I’ve sixpence in my pocket. I’ll buy you a packet of gingerbread if you will.”

“I don’t want the gingerbread. What a girl you are! You give a fellow no peace. I didn’t wish anything particular, only—”

“Yes! Yes!”

“Only that she,” with a nod of the head towards where Miss Carr sat sipping her tea—“that she might choose Hilary to live with her in London.”

“Oh–oh! You wouldn’t like it if it were Lettice?”

“Of course not, neither would you.”

“But—but—it might be me!”

“It might. There’s no saying. I’ll have another cup of tea, if you please,” said Rex coolly.

Aggravating boy! It would be just as easy to draw water from a stone, as to persuade him to say anything nice and soothing to one’s vanity!

Chapter Fifteen.Miss Carr’s Choice.Wednesday was a day of great, though suppressed excitement, and when evening came, and Miss Carr summoned the girls into the drawing-room, it would be difficult to say which of the three felt the more acute anxiety. Mr Rayner had considerately taken himself out of the way, but Mr Bertrand was seated in an easy chair, his arms folded, his face grave and set. Miss Carr pointed to the sofa, and the three girls sat down, turning inquiring eyes on her face. It was horribly formal, and even Norah felt cowed and spiritless.“Girls,” said Miss Carr slowly, “it was my intention to say nothing about my plans until I had made my decision, but it seems that your father has forestalled me and told you of my wishes. ... When you were little children I saw a great deal of you. Your father was one of my most valued friends, your dear mother also, and you were often at my house. When you came here I felt a great blank in my life, for I am fond of young people, and like to have them about me. Last January, your father visited me, and told me of a conversation which he had had with you here. He was anxious about your future, and it occurred to me that in some slight degree I might be able to take the responsibility off his hands. I have felt the need of a companion, and of some fresh interest in life, and nothing could give me more pleasure than to help one of Austin Bertrand’s daughters. Well, my dears, I spoke to your father: he did not like the idea at first, as you will understand, but in the end he gave way to my wishes, and it only remained to make my choice. When I use the word ‘choice,’ you must not imagine that I am consulting merely my own preference. I have honestly tried to study the question from an unselfish point of view—to think which of you would most benefit from the change. One consideration has influenced me of which I can only speak in private, but for the rest I have watched you carefully, and it seemed to me that two out of the three have already a definite interest and occupation in their lives, which is wanting in the other case. Lettice has no special work in the house, no pet study to pursue; therefore, my dears, I choose Lettice—”There was a simultaneous exclamation of consternation.“Lettice!” cried Hilary, and drew in her breath with a pang of bitterest disappointment.“Lettice! Oh, no, no, no!” cried Norah, throwing her arms round her favourite sister, and trembling with agitation.“My little Lettice!” echoed Mr Bertrand, with a groan of such genuine dismay, that Miss Carr stared at him in discomfiture.“My dear Austin—if it makes you so unhappy—”“No—no. I gave you my word, and I am not going back. Besides,” with a kindly glance at the other two girls, “I should have felt the same, whichever way you had decided. Well, that’s settled! I am off now, Helen. We can have our talk later.”He walked hastily out of the room, and Miss Carr turned back to the girls with a troubled expression.“My dears, I know you will both feel parting with your sister, but I will do all I can to soften the blow. You can always look forward to meeting at Christmas and Midsummer, and I shall ask your father to bring you up in turns to visit us in London. Though Lettice is to be my special charge, I take a deep interest in you both, and shall hope to put many little pleasures in your way. And now, my dears, will you leave us alone for a time? I want to have a quiet talk with Lettice before we part.”The two girls filed out of the room, and stood in the hall, facing each other in silence. Miss Briggs put her head out of the morning-room, with an eager—“Well—Who!” and when Norah pointed dolefully towards the drawing-room door, disappeared again with an exclamation of dismay. It was the same all round, Hilary told herself. Everyone was miserable because Lettice had been chosen. Everyone called out in sharp tones of distress, as if disappointed not to hear another name. Mr Bertrand was too dear and kind for it to be possible to make a charge of favouritism against him, but Lettice’s striking likeness to her mother seemed to give her a special claim to his tenderness, while as for the rest of the household, Miss Briggs was as wax in Lettice’s hands, for the simple reason that she was a solitary woman, and the girl showed her those little outward signs of affection which make up the sweetness of life; while the servants would do twice as much for her as for any other member of the family, because, “bless her pretty face, she had such a way with her!” Hilary felt indescribably chilled and humiliated as she realised how little regret her own departure would have caused in comparison, and when she spied Mr Rayner’s figure crossing the lawn, she shrank back, with uncontrollable repugnance. “You tell him, Norah! I can’t. I am going upstairs.”Meanwhile, Lettice herself had not broken down, nor shown any signs of the emotion of a few days earlier. She was a creature of moods, but though each mood was intense while it lasted, it lasted, as a rule, for a remarkably short space of time. If she were in tears over a certain subject on Monday, it was ten to one that she had forgotten all about it before Thursday. If she were wild with excitement over a new proposition, she would probably yawn when it was mentioned a second time, and find it difficult to maintain a show of interest. So, in the present case, she had exhausted her distress at the idea of leaving home while weeping upon her father’s shoulders, and ever since then the idea of the life in London, in Miss Carr’s beautiful house, had been growing more and more attractive. And to be chosen first—before all the others! It was a position which was full of charm to a girl’s love of appreciation.“Come here, dear,” said Miss Carr tenderly, when the door had shut behind the other two girls; and when Lettice seated herself on the sofa, she took her hands in hers and gazed fixedly into her face. In truth, it would have been difficult to find an object better worth looking at than “lovely Lettice” at that moment. The hair which rippled over her head was of no pale, colourless flaxen, but of a rich coppery bronze, with half-a-dozen shades of gold in its luxuriant waves; the grey eyes had delicately marked brows and generous lashes, and the red lips drooped in sweetest curves. The old lady’s face softened as she gazed, until it looked very sweet and motherly.“Lettice,” she said softly, “my dear little girl, I hope we shall be happy together! I will do all I can for you. Do you think you can be content—that you can care for me a little bit in return?”“Yes, oh yes—a great deal!” Lettice’s heart was beating so quickly that she hardly knew what she was saying, but it came naturally to her to form pretty speeches, and the glance of the lovely eyes added charm to her words.“I hope so—I hope so! And now I want to tell you the reason why I choose you before either of your sisters. I alluded just now to something which had influenced me, but which I could not mention in public. It is about this that I want to speak.” Miss Carr paused for a few minutes, stroking the girl’s soft, flexible hands.“Do you know what is meant by an ‘Open Sesame,’ my dear?”“Oh, yes. It is the word which Ali Baba used in the ‘Arabian Nights,’ and that made the doors in the rocks fly open before him.”“Yes, that is right. I see you know all about it; but would you understand what I meant, dear, if I said that God had givenyouan ‘Open Sesame’ into other people’s hearts and lives?”Lettice looked up quickly, surprised and awed. “I? No! How have I—?”“Look in the mirror opposite!” said the old lady gravely, and the girl hung her head in embarrassment.“No, my dear, there is no need to blush. If you had a talent for music, like Norah, you would not think it necessary to be embarrassed every time it was mentioned, and beauty is a gift from God, just as much as anything else, and ought to be valued accordingly. It is a great power in the world—perhaps a greater power than anything else, and the people who possess it have much responsibility. You are a beautiful girl, Lettice; you will be a beautiful woman; everyone you meet will be attracted to you, and you will have an ‘Open Sesame’ into their hearts. Do you realise what that means? It means that you will have power over other people’s lives; that you will be able to influence them for good or evil; that you can succeed where others fail, and carry sunshine wherever you go. But it will also be in your power to cause a great deal of misery. There have been women in the world whose beauty has brought war and suffering upon whole nations, because they loved themselves most, and sacrificed everything for the gratification of vanity. You are young, Lettice, and have no mother to guide you, so perhaps you have never thought of things in this way before. But when I saw you first, I looked in your face and thought, ‘I should like to help this girl; to help her to forget herself, and think of others, so that she may do good and not evil, all the days of her life.’”The ready tears rose to Lettice’s eyes and flowed down her cheeks. She was awed and sobered, but the impression was rather pleasurable than otherwise. “A beautiful woman”—“a power over others”—“sunshine”—“success”—the phrases rang in her ear, and the sound was musical. “Of course I’ll be good. I want to be good—then everyone will like me,” she said to herself, while she kissed and clung to Miss Carr, and whispered loving little words of thanks, which charmed the good lady’s heart.For the next three days all was excitement and bustle. Lettice’s belongings had to be gathered together and packed, and though Miss Carr would hear of no new purchases, there were a dozen repairs and alterations which seemed absolutely necessary. Mr Bertrand took his two guests about every morning, so as to leave the girls at liberty, but when afternoon came he drove them out willy-nilly, and organised one excursion after another with the double intention of amusing his visitors and preventing melancholy regrets. Norah was in the depths of despondency; but her repinings were all for her beloved companion, and not for any disappointment of her own. Now that she had the interest of her music lessons, and the friendship of Rex and Edna, she was unwilling to leave home even for the delights of London and the College of Music. Poor Hilary, however, was in a far worse case. She had made so sure of being chosen by Miss Carr, had dreamed so many rosy dreams about the life before her, that the disappointment was very bitter. The thought of seeing Lettice driving away in the carriage with Miss Carr and Mr Rayner brought with it a keen stab of pain, and the life at home seemed to stretch before her, still and uneventful, like a stretch of dreary moorland. Her pride forbade her showing her disappointment, since no one had expressed any satisfaction in retaining her company. Stay! there was one exception. Mr Rayner had said a few simple words of regret which had been as balm to the girl’s sore heart. He, at least, was sorry that she was not to be in London, and would have preferred her company even to that of “lovely Lettice” herself.On the whole, it was almost a relief when the hour for departure arrived. Rex and Edna drove over to see the last of their friend and cheer the stay-at-homes by their presence; but it did not seem as though they could be very successful in their errand of mercy, since Edna cried steadily behind her handkerchief, and Rex poked holes in the garden walks with gloomy persistence.When Mr Rayner said his good-byes, he left Hilary to the last, and held her hand in his a moment or two longer than was strictly necessary. “Good-bye, and thank you for all you have done for me. I’ll remember your advice. ... We shall meet soon, I hope. You will be coming up to town, and Mr Bertrand has been good enough to ask me to come again next spring.”Next spring! A whole year! As well say the end of the world at once. Hilary felt such a swelling sense of misery that the only way in which she could refrain from tears was by answering in sharp, matter-of-fact tones, and the consciousness that Mr Rayner was surprised and hurt by her manner was part of the general misery against which it was useless to fight.As for Lettice, she was fairly dissolved in tears—clinging to every one in turn—and sobbing out despairing farewells. “Oh, Norie, Norie! my heart will break! I shall die; I know I shall. I can never bear it. Oh, Mouse, don’t forget me! Don’t let her forget me! Oh, do write—everyone write! I shallliveon the letters from home!”The last glimpse was of a tear-stained face, and a handkerchief held aloft in such a drenched condition that it refused to open to the breeze, and when the carriage turned the corner Miss Briggs shuffled off to the schoolroom, Hilary ran off to her room upstairs, leaving the three young people in the porch staring at each other with a miserable realisation of loss.“What shall I do?—what shall I do? She saidherheart would be broken, but it is ten times worse for me! The house will seem so dreadfully bare and lonely!”“Just when we were all so happy! Oh, that hateful Miss Carr! why did she ever come? I thought we were going to have such a h–appy summer,” sobbed Edna dolefully. “It’s always the way! As soon as I make friends, I am bound to lose them.”Rex put his hands into his pockets and began to whistle. “It will do no good to turn yourselves into a couple of fountains! I’ll go for a walk, and come back when you’ve done crying. It’s a nuisance, but it might have been worse,” he said shortly, and Norah looked at him with a gleam of curiosity lighting up her poor, tear-stained eyes.“How worse? What do you mean?” she inquired; but Rex did not deign to answer, or to have anything more to say until tea was served a couple of hours later. The tears to which he so much objected were dried by this time, but the conversation was still sorrowfully centred on the dear traveller. “What is she doing now? Poor, poor Lettice! she will cry herself ill. Every mile further from home will make her more wretched!” cried Norah, and the listeners groaned in sympathy.If they had seen Miss Lettice at that moment, however, their fears would have been allayed. Miss Carr had changed into a corridor train at Preston, and her companion was charmed with the novel position. She had never before travelled in a corridor, and the large, open carriage, the view, the promenade up and down, were all fascinating to her inexperience. Then to have lunch, and afternoon tea just when the journey was beginning to drag—it was indeed a luxurious way of travelling! Lettice had ceased to cry before the train had reached Kendal; at Lancaster she began to smile; at Crewe she laughed so merrily at one of Miss Carr’s sallies, that the people on the next seat turned to look at her with smiles of admiring interest. Everyone was “so nice and kind.” It was a pleasure to see them. Clearwater was a dear, sweet place, but, after all, it was only a poky little village. Delightful to get away and see something of the world!

Wednesday was a day of great, though suppressed excitement, and when evening came, and Miss Carr summoned the girls into the drawing-room, it would be difficult to say which of the three felt the more acute anxiety. Mr Rayner had considerately taken himself out of the way, but Mr Bertrand was seated in an easy chair, his arms folded, his face grave and set. Miss Carr pointed to the sofa, and the three girls sat down, turning inquiring eyes on her face. It was horribly formal, and even Norah felt cowed and spiritless.

“Girls,” said Miss Carr slowly, “it was my intention to say nothing about my plans until I had made my decision, but it seems that your father has forestalled me and told you of my wishes. ... When you were little children I saw a great deal of you. Your father was one of my most valued friends, your dear mother also, and you were often at my house. When you came here I felt a great blank in my life, for I am fond of young people, and like to have them about me. Last January, your father visited me, and told me of a conversation which he had had with you here. He was anxious about your future, and it occurred to me that in some slight degree I might be able to take the responsibility off his hands. I have felt the need of a companion, and of some fresh interest in life, and nothing could give me more pleasure than to help one of Austin Bertrand’s daughters. Well, my dears, I spoke to your father: he did not like the idea at first, as you will understand, but in the end he gave way to my wishes, and it only remained to make my choice. When I use the word ‘choice,’ you must not imagine that I am consulting merely my own preference. I have honestly tried to study the question from an unselfish point of view—to think which of you would most benefit from the change. One consideration has influenced me of which I can only speak in private, but for the rest I have watched you carefully, and it seemed to me that two out of the three have already a definite interest and occupation in their lives, which is wanting in the other case. Lettice has no special work in the house, no pet study to pursue; therefore, my dears, I choose Lettice—”

There was a simultaneous exclamation of consternation.

“Lettice!” cried Hilary, and drew in her breath with a pang of bitterest disappointment.

“Lettice! Oh, no, no, no!” cried Norah, throwing her arms round her favourite sister, and trembling with agitation.

“My little Lettice!” echoed Mr Bertrand, with a groan of such genuine dismay, that Miss Carr stared at him in discomfiture.

“My dear Austin—if it makes you so unhappy—”

“No—no. I gave you my word, and I am not going back. Besides,” with a kindly glance at the other two girls, “I should have felt the same, whichever way you had decided. Well, that’s settled! I am off now, Helen. We can have our talk later.”

He walked hastily out of the room, and Miss Carr turned back to the girls with a troubled expression.

“My dears, I know you will both feel parting with your sister, but I will do all I can to soften the blow. You can always look forward to meeting at Christmas and Midsummer, and I shall ask your father to bring you up in turns to visit us in London. Though Lettice is to be my special charge, I take a deep interest in you both, and shall hope to put many little pleasures in your way. And now, my dears, will you leave us alone for a time? I want to have a quiet talk with Lettice before we part.”

The two girls filed out of the room, and stood in the hall, facing each other in silence. Miss Briggs put her head out of the morning-room, with an eager—“Well—Who!” and when Norah pointed dolefully towards the drawing-room door, disappeared again with an exclamation of dismay. It was the same all round, Hilary told herself. Everyone was miserable because Lettice had been chosen. Everyone called out in sharp tones of distress, as if disappointed not to hear another name. Mr Bertrand was too dear and kind for it to be possible to make a charge of favouritism against him, but Lettice’s striking likeness to her mother seemed to give her a special claim to his tenderness, while as for the rest of the household, Miss Briggs was as wax in Lettice’s hands, for the simple reason that she was a solitary woman, and the girl showed her those little outward signs of affection which make up the sweetness of life; while the servants would do twice as much for her as for any other member of the family, because, “bless her pretty face, she had such a way with her!” Hilary felt indescribably chilled and humiliated as she realised how little regret her own departure would have caused in comparison, and when she spied Mr Rayner’s figure crossing the lawn, she shrank back, with uncontrollable repugnance. “You tell him, Norah! I can’t. I am going upstairs.”

Meanwhile, Lettice herself had not broken down, nor shown any signs of the emotion of a few days earlier. She was a creature of moods, but though each mood was intense while it lasted, it lasted, as a rule, for a remarkably short space of time. If she were in tears over a certain subject on Monday, it was ten to one that she had forgotten all about it before Thursday. If she were wild with excitement over a new proposition, she would probably yawn when it was mentioned a second time, and find it difficult to maintain a show of interest. So, in the present case, she had exhausted her distress at the idea of leaving home while weeping upon her father’s shoulders, and ever since then the idea of the life in London, in Miss Carr’s beautiful house, had been growing more and more attractive. And to be chosen first—before all the others! It was a position which was full of charm to a girl’s love of appreciation.

“Come here, dear,” said Miss Carr tenderly, when the door had shut behind the other two girls; and when Lettice seated herself on the sofa, she took her hands in hers and gazed fixedly into her face. In truth, it would have been difficult to find an object better worth looking at than “lovely Lettice” at that moment. The hair which rippled over her head was of no pale, colourless flaxen, but of a rich coppery bronze, with half-a-dozen shades of gold in its luxuriant waves; the grey eyes had delicately marked brows and generous lashes, and the red lips drooped in sweetest curves. The old lady’s face softened as she gazed, until it looked very sweet and motherly.

“Lettice,” she said softly, “my dear little girl, I hope we shall be happy together! I will do all I can for you. Do you think you can be content—that you can care for me a little bit in return?”

“Yes, oh yes—a great deal!” Lettice’s heart was beating so quickly that she hardly knew what she was saying, but it came naturally to her to form pretty speeches, and the glance of the lovely eyes added charm to her words.

“I hope so—I hope so! And now I want to tell you the reason why I choose you before either of your sisters. I alluded just now to something which had influenced me, but which I could not mention in public. It is about this that I want to speak.” Miss Carr paused for a few minutes, stroking the girl’s soft, flexible hands.

“Do you know what is meant by an ‘Open Sesame,’ my dear?”

“Oh, yes. It is the word which Ali Baba used in the ‘Arabian Nights,’ and that made the doors in the rocks fly open before him.”

“Yes, that is right. I see you know all about it; but would you understand what I meant, dear, if I said that God had givenyouan ‘Open Sesame’ into other people’s hearts and lives?”

Lettice looked up quickly, surprised and awed. “I? No! How have I—?”

“Look in the mirror opposite!” said the old lady gravely, and the girl hung her head in embarrassment.

“No, my dear, there is no need to blush. If you had a talent for music, like Norah, you would not think it necessary to be embarrassed every time it was mentioned, and beauty is a gift from God, just as much as anything else, and ought to be valued accordingly. It is a great power in the world—perhaps a greater power than anything else, and the people who possess it have much responsibility. You are a beautiful girl, Lettice; you will be a beautiful woman; everyone you meet will be attracted to you, and you will have an ‘Open Sesame’ into their hearts. Do you realise what that means? It means that you will have power over other people’s lives; that you will be able to influence them for good or evil; that you can succeed where others fail, and carry sunshine wherever you go. But it will also be in your power to cause a great deal of misery. There have been women in the world whose beauty has brought war and suffering upon whole nations, because they loved themselves most, and sacrificed everything for the gratification of vanity. You are young, Lettice, and have no mother to guide you, so perhaps you have never thought of things in this way before. But when I saw you first, I looked in your face and thought, ‘I should like to help this girl; to help her to forget herself, and think of others, so that she may do good and not evil, all the days of her life.’”

The ready tears rose to Lettice’s eyes and flowed down her cheeks. She was awed and sobered, but the impression was rather pleasurable than otherwise. “A beautiful woman”—“a power over others”—“sunshine”—“success”—the phrases rang in her ear, and the sound was musical. “Of course I’ll be good. I want to be good—then everyone will like me,” she said to herself, while she kissed and clung to Miss Carr, and whispered loving little words of thanks, which charmed the good lady’s heart.

For the next three days all was excitement and bustle. Lettice’s belongings had to be gathered together and packed, and though Miss Carr would hear of no new purchases, there were a dozen repairs and alterations which seemed absolutely necessary. Mr Bertrand took his two guests about every morning, so as to leave the girls at liberty, but when afternoon came he drove them out willy-nilly, and organised one excursion after another with the double intention of amusing his visitors and preventing melancholy regrets. Norah was in the depths of despondency; but her repinings were all for her beloved companion, and not for any disappointment of her own. Now that she had the interest of her music lessons, and the friendship of Rex and Edna, she was unwilling to leave home even for the delights of London and the College of Music. Poor Hilary, however, was in a far worse case. She had made so sure of being chosen by Miss Carr, had dreamed so many rosy dreams about the life before her, that the disappointment was very bitter. The thought of seeing Lettice driving away in the carriage with Miss Carr and Mr Rayner brought with it a keen stab of pain, and the life at home seemed to stretch before her, still and uneventful, like a stretch of dreary moorland. Her pride forbade her showing her disappointment, since no one had expressed any satisfaction in retaining her company. Stay! there was one exception. Mr Rayner had said a few simple words of regret which had been as balm to the girl’s sore heart. He, at least, was sorry that she was not to be in London, and would have preferred her company even to that of “lovely Lettice” herself.

On the whole, it was almost a relief when the hour for departure arrived. Rex and Edna drove over to see the last of their friend and cheer the stay-at-homes by their presence; but it did not seem as though they could be very successful in their errand of mercy, since Edna cried steadily behind her handkerchief, and Rex poked holes in the garden walks with gloomy persistence.

When Mr Rayner said his good-byes, he left Hilary to the last, and held her hand in his a moment or two longer than was strictly necessary. “Good-bye, and thank you for all you have done for me. I’ll remember your advice. ... We shall meet soon, I hope. You will be coming up to town, and Mr Bertrand has been good enough to ask me to come again next spring.”

Next spring! A whole year! As well say the end of the world at once. Hilary felt such a swelling sense of misery that the only way in which she could refrain from tears was by answering in sharp, matter-of-fact tones, and the consciousness that Mr Rayner was surprised and hurt by her manner was part of the general misery against which it was useless to fight.

As for Lettice, she was fairly dissolved in tears—clinging to every one in turn—and sobbing out despairing farewells. “Oh, Norie, Norie! my heart will break! I shall die; I know I shall. I can never bear it. Oh, Mouse, don’t forget me! Don’t let her forget me! Oh, do write—everyone write! I shallliveon the letters from home!”

The last glimpse was of a tear-stained face, and a handkerchief held aloft in such a drenched condition that it refused to open to the breeze, and when the carriage turned the corner Miss Briggs shuffled off to the schoolroom, Hilary ran off to her room upstairs, leaving the three young people in the porch staring at each other with a miserable realisation of loss.

“What shall I do?—what shall I do? She saidherheart would be broken, but it is ten times worse for me! The house will seem so dreadfully bare and lonely!”

“Just when we were all so happy! Oh, that hateful Miss Carr! why did she ever come? I thought we were going to have such a h–appy summer,” sobbed Edna dolefully. “It’s always the way! As soon as I make friends, I am bound to lose them.”

Rex put his hands into his pockets and began to whistle. “It will do no good to turn yourselves into a couple of fountains! I’ll go for a walk, and come back when you’ve done crying. It’s a nuisance, but it might have been worse,” he said shortly, and Norah looked at him with a gleam of curiosity lighting up her poor, tear-stained eyes.

“How worse? What do you mean?” she inquired; but Rex did not deign to answer, or to have anything more to say until tea was served a couple of hours later. The tears to which he so much objected were dried by this time, but the conversation was still sorrowfully centred on the dear traveller. “What is she doing now? Poor, poor Lettice! she will cry herself ill. Every mile further from home will make her more wretched!” cried Norah, and the listeners groaned in sympathy.

If they had seen Miss Lettice at that moment, however, their fears would have been allayed. Miss Carr had changed into a corridor train at Preston, and her companion was charmed with the novel position. She had never before travelled in a corridor, and the large, open carriage, the view, the promenade up and down, were all fascinating to her inexperience. Then to have lunch, and afternoon tea just when the journey was beginning to drag—it was indeed a luxurious way of travelling! Lettice had ceased to cry before the train had reached Kendal; at Lancaster she began to smile; at Crewe she laughed so merrily at one of Miss Carr’s sallies, that the people on the next seat turned to look at her with smiles of admiring interest. Everyone was “so nice and kind.” It was a pleasure to see them. Clearwater was a dear, sweet place, but, after all, it was only a poky little village. Delightful to get away and see something of the world!

Chapter Sixteen.After Three Years.Three years had passed away since Lettice Bertrand had bidden farewell to her Northern home and accompanied Miss Carr to London, but there was little sign of change in the big drawing-room at Kensington, or in the mistress herself, as she sat reading a magazine by the window one sunny June afternoon. When the purse is well lined it is easy to prevent signs of age so far as furniture and decorations are concerned, while the lapse of three years makes little difference in the appearance of a lady who has long passed middle age. Miss Carr looked very contented and comfortable as she lay back against the cushions of her easy chair, so comfortable that she groaned with annoyance as the servant came forward to announce a visitor, and the frown did not diminish when she heard the name.“Oh, ask Mr Newcome to come up, Baker! I will see him here.” The man disappeared, and she threw down the magazine with an exclamation of disgust. “That stolid young man! Now I shall have to listen to improving anecdotes for the next half-hour. Why in the world need he inflict himself upon me?”The next moment the door opened and the “‘stolid’ young man” stood before her. So far as appearance went, however, the description was misleading, for Arthur Newcome was tall and handsome, with yellow hair, a good moustache, and strong, well set up figure. He came forward and shook hands with Miss Carr in a quick, nervous fashion, which was so unlike his usual stolid demeanour, that the good lady stared at him in amazement.“He is actually animated! I always said that it would take a convulsion of nature to rouse him from his deadly propriety, but upon my word he looks excited. What can have happened?”The laws of propriety do not always permit us to ask the questions nearest our hearts, however, and Miss Carr was obliged to content herself with commonplaces.“It is a beautiful day. I suppose Madge got home safely last night? She isn’t too tired after the picnic, I hope!”“A little fatigued, I believe, but no doubt she will have recovered before evening. She is apt to get excited on these occasions and to exert herself unduly.”“Nobody can say the same of you, more’s the pity,” was Miss Carr’s mental comment. “Madge rows very well, and the exercise will do her no harm,” she said shortly, and relapsed into determined silence. “I suppose he has something to say, some message for Lettice most likely; better let him say it and take himself off as soon as possible,” was her hospitable reflection; but Mr Newcome sat twirling his hat and studying the pattern of the carpet in embarrassed silence.Three times over did he clear his throat and open his lips to speak, before he got the length of words.“Miss Carr, I—er, I feel that I am—er—I am deeply sensible of my own unworthiness, and can only rely on your generosity, and assure you of my deep and sincere—”“What in the name of all that is mysterious is the man driving at?” asked Miss Carr of herself; but she sat bolt upright in her seat, with a flush on her cheeks and a pang of vague, indefinite fear at her heart.“My dear Mr Newcome, speak plainly, if you please! I cannot follow your meaning. In what respect are you a claimant for my generosity?”“In respect of what is the most important question of my life,” replied Mr Newcome, recovering his self-possession at last, and looking her full in the face, in what she was obliged to confess was a very manly fashion—“In respect to my love for your ward, Miss Bertrand, and my desire to have your consent to our engagement, to ratify her own promise.”“Her own promise! Your engagement! Lettice? Do you mean to tell me that you have proposed to Lettice and that she has accepted you?”“I am happy to say that is my meaning. I had intended to consult you in the first instance, but yesterday, on the river, we were together, and I—I—”He stopped short with a smile of tender recollection, and Miss Carr sat gazing at him in consternation.Arthur Newcome had proposed to Lettice, and Lettice had accepted him. The thing was incomprehensible! The girl had showed not the slightest signs of preference, had seemed as gay and heart-whole as a child. Only a fortnight before she had convulsed Miss Carr with laughter by putting on Mr Rayner’s top-coat, and paying an afternoon call,à laArthur Newcome, when all that young gentleman’s ponderous proprieties had been mimicked with merciless fidelity. And she had actually promised to marry him!“I—excuse me—but are you quite sure that you understood Lettice aright? Are you sure you are not mistaken?”Mr Newcome smiled with happy certainty.“Quite sure, Miss Carr. I can understand your surprise, for I find it difficult to believe in my own good fortune. Lettice is the sweetest, most beautiful, and most charming girl in the world. I am not worthy of her notice, but there is nothing that I would not do to ensure her happiness. She is all the world to me. I have loved her from the day we first meet.”He was in earnest—horribly in earnest! His voice quivered with emotion, his eyes were shining, and his face, which was usually immovable, was radiant with happiness. Miss Carr looked at him, and her heart fell. If the mere thought of Lettice could alter the man in this manner, she could imagine the transformation which must have passed over him as he spoke to the girl herself, among the trees and flowers on the river-bank; and, alas for Lettice! she could imagine also how easily gratified vanity might have been mistaken for reciprocal love. It had been late when they returned from the water party the night before, and Lettice had hurried off to bed. She had been a trifle more lingering than usual in her good-night embrace, but Lettice was always demonstrative in her ways, so that the fact had attracted no attention, and the morning had been so full of engagements that there had been no time for private conferences.Miss Carr was speechless with grief, disappointment, and dismay. Her anxious training for the last three years, her motherly oversight, her hopes and prayers for the welfare of her beloved child, had they all ended in this, that Lettice had been too selfish to discourage admiration which she could not return?—too weak to say no to the first man who approached with flattering words? Poor, foolish child! What misery she had prepared for herself and everyone belonging to her!—for of course it was all a mistake, her heart was not really touched; the engagement could not be allowed. With a sigh of relief Miss Carr reflected that the onus of responsibility was lifted off her shoulders by the fact of Mr Bertrand’s arrival in town that very afternoon, and also that Lettice’s engagements for the day would prevent a meeting until she had been able to consult with her father. She drew a long sigh, and her voice sounded both sad and tired as she replied—“Ah, well! I am only Lettice’s guardian in name, Mr Newcome; I have no authority to refuse or to sanction her engagement. I have had a telegram to say that Mr Bertrand is coming to town on business to-day, so you will be able to see him to-morrow and hear what he has to say. Lettice is very young—too young, in my opinion, to be able to know her own mind. I wish there had been no such questions to disturb her for the next two or three years. I don’t know what Mr Bertrand will think.”“I am in a good position. I can provide a name that will not be unworthy of her. You know me and my family. We have been friends for years. She would have the warmest welcome—”“Yes, yes, I am sure of that. I will tell Mr Bertrand all you say, Mr Newcome, and if you call to-morrow morning you will find him at home. In the afternoon he will probably be engaged. I can say nothing, and— Excuse me! I am not so young as I was, and I feel a good deal upset...”Arthur Newcome rose at once, and held out his hand in farewell.“Pray pardon me. I can understand your sentiments. It must be a shock to think of losing Lettice in any case, and I am aware that I am not what is called a good match. Such a beautiful girl—her father’s daughter, your ward—might marry into any circle. I sympathise with your disappointment; but, believe me, Lettice should never have any reason to regret her choice. I would devote my life to securing her happiness. I will call to-morrow morning, then, with your permission. Eleven o’clock? Thank you! Pray pardon any distress I may have caused you, and think of me as indulgently as you can.”He left the room, and Miss Carr raised both hands to her head with a gesture of despair.“He is all that he should be—humble, devoted, deferential—but oh, Lettice! my poor, dear child, what a mistake you have made! You would eat your heart out in a year’s time, married to a man whom you do not love; and you don’t love Arthur Newcome, I know you don’t—it is all vanity, and weakness, and imagination. Poor Austin, what a welcome for him! A nice pill for me to have such a piece of news to tell—I, who was going to do such wonders for the child! Well, well! this comes of mixing oneself up in other people’s affairs. She could have come to no worse fate than this if I had left her to vegetate in Clearwater.”There was no more rest for Miss Carr that afternoon. The magazine lay neglected on the table, the cushions fell to the ground and lay unnoticed as she fidgeted about, now rising and pacing angrily to and fro, now throwing herself on a seat in weary despair. She alternately longed for and dreaded Mr Bertrand’s arrival, and it needed all her self-control to keep up a semblance of cheerfulness while he drank his tea and refreshed himself after the long journey. It was not easy, however, to deceive such an intimate friend. Mr Bertrand studied her face with critical eyes, and said kindly—“You are not up to the mark, Helen; you look tired and worried! That youngster of mine has not been misbehaving herself, I hope? What’s the trouble?”“Oh, Austin, the deluge! The most awful complication. I feel inclined to whip her! Would you believe it, that wooden Arthur Newcome called upon me this very afternoon, not two hours ago, to ask my consent to his engagement to Lettice!”“Arthur Newcome? Oh, I know—the solemn person in the frock coat! What preposterous nonsense! Lettice is a baby! We must not let the young people at home hear of this, or they will tease the poor girl to death. Young Newcome is a favourite butt, and they often mimic him for my benefit. Well, I hope you let the poor fellow down gently, and saved me a disagreeable task.”“But—but, my dear Austin, you don’t understand. He cannot be dismissed in that easy fashion, for he says—it is inconceivable—I don’t know what to make of it—but he tells me that he has spoken to Lettice herself, and that she has accepted him!”“What?” Mr Bertrand put down his cup and turned to confront Miss Carr with a face from which every trace of laughter had disappeared. “Accepted him? Lettice? This is serious indeed. Had you ever suspected—or noticed any sign of an attachment growing up between them?”Miss Carr wrung her hands in distress.“My dear Austin, how can you ask such a question? As if I would not have consulted with you at once if that had been the case. You know what Arthur Newcome is—the acme of all that is sober and stolid. I have never seen a sign of emotion of any kind on his face until this afternoon. He has seen a good deal of Lettice, for she and Madge are great friends, but I never thought of anything more—never for one moment! And as for Lettice herself, I am confident that the child never thought of him in that light, and that she is as heart-whole as I am myself.”“Then why—why—?”“Oh, don’t ask me! I am too miserable and disappointed to speak. I thought I had guarded against this sort of thing; but you know what Lettice is. He is very much in love, and no doubt she was pleased and flattered.”Mr Bertrand thrust his hands into his pockets and paced up and down the room. His face looked drawn and anxious, but after five minutes had passed he drew a long breath and made a determined effort at cheerfulness.“Well, it’s a bad business, but it has to be faced. I am humiliated and disappointed that Lettice could have behaved so foolishly; but you must not blame yourself, my dear old friend. No one could have done more for the child for the last three years, and I am glad I am here to help you through this difficulty. The young fellow will have to be told that there has been a mistake. I am sorry for him, but it is better now than later on. When did you say you expected Lettice?”“She may be here at any moment. She was to leave her friends at six o’clock. I thought I heard the door open just now. Perhaps she has arrived.”

Three years had passed away since Lettice Bertrand had bidden farewell to her Northern home and accompanied Miss Carr to London, but there was little sign of change in the big drawing-room at Kensington, or in the mistress herself, as she sat reading a magazine by the window one sunny June afternoon. When the purse is well lined it is easy to prevent signs of age so far as furniture and decorations are concerned, while the lapse of three years makes little difference in the appearance of a lady who has long passed middle age. Miss Carr looked very contented and comfortable as she lay back against the cushions of her easy chair, so comfortable that she groaned with annoyance as the servant came forward to announce a visitor, and the frown did not diminish when she heard the name.

“Oh, ask Mr Newcome to come up, Baker! I will see him here.” The man disappeared, and she threw down the magazine with an exclamation of disgust. “That stolid young man! Now I shall have to listen to improving anecdotes for the next half-hour. Why in the world need he inflict himself upon me?”

The next moment the door opened and the “‘stolid’ young man” stood before her. So far as appearance went, however, the description was misleading, for Arthur Newcome was tall and handsome, with yellow hair, a good moustache, and strong, well set up figure. He came forward and shook hands with Miss Carr in a quick, nervous fashion, which was so unlike his usual stolid demeanour, that the good lady stared at him in amazement.

“He is actually animated! I always said that it would take a convulsion of nature to rouse him from his deadly propriety, but upon my word he looks excited. What can have happened?”

The laws of propriety do not always permit us to ask the questions nearest our hearts, however, and Miss Carr was obliged to content herself with commonplaces.

“It is a beautiful day. I suppose Madge got home safely last night? She isn’t too tired after the picnic, I hope!”

“A little fatigued, I believe, but no doubt she will have recovered before evening. She is apt to get excited on these occasions and to exert herself unduly.”

“Nobody can say the same of you, more’s the pity,” was Miss Carr’s mental comment. “Madge rows very well, and the exercise will do her no harm,” she said shortly, and relapsed into determined silence. “I suppose he has something to say, some message for Lettice most likely; better let him say it and take himself off as soon as possible,” was her hospitable reflection; but Mr Newcome sat twirling his hat and studying the pattern of the carpet in embarrassed silence.

Three times over did he clear his throat and open his lips to speak, before he got the length of words.

“Miss Carr, I—er, I feel that I am—er—I am deeply sensible of my own unworthiness, and can only rely on your generosity, and assure you of my deep and sincere—”

“What in the name of all that is mysterious is the man driving at?” asked Miss Carr of herself; but she sat bolt upright in her seat, with a flush on her cheeks and a pang of vague, indefinite fear at her heart.

“My dear Mr Newcome, speak plainly, if you please! I cannot follow your meaning. In what respect are you a claimant for my generosity?”

“In respect of what is the most important question of my life,” replied Mr Newcome, recovering his self-possession at last, and looking her full in the face, in what she was obliged to confess was a very manly fashion—“In respect to my love for your ward, Miss Bertrand, and my desire to have your consent to our engagement, to ratify her own promise.”

“Her own promise! Your engagement! Lettice? Do you mean to tell me that you have proposed to Lettice and that she has accepted you?”

“I am happy to say that is my meaning. I had intended to consult you in the first instance, but yesterday, on the river, we were together, and I—I—”

He stopped short with a smile of tender recollection, and Miss Carr sat gazing at him in consternation.

Arthur Newcome had proposed to Lettice, and Lettice had accepted him. The thing was incomprehensible! The girl had showed not the slightest signs of preference, had seemed as gay and heart-whole as a child. Only a fortnight before she had convulsed Miss Carr with laughter by putting on Mr Rayner’s top-coat, and paying an afternoon call,à laArthur Newcome, when all that young gentleman’s ponderous proprieties had been mimicked with merciless fidelity. And she had actually promised to marry him!

“I—excuse me—but are you quite sure that you understood Lettice aright? Are you sure you are not mistaken?”

Mr Newcome smiled with happy certainty.

“Quite sure, Miss Carr. I can understand your surprise, for I find it difficult to believe in my own good fortune. Lettice is the sweetest, most beautiful, and most charming girl in the world. I am not worthy of her notice, but there is nothing that I would not do to ensure her happiness. She is all the world to me. I have loved her from the day we first meet.”

He was in earnest—horribly in earnest! His voice quivered with emotion, his eyes were shining, and his face, which was usually immovable, was radiant with happiness. Miss Carr looked at him, and her heart fell. If the mere thought of Lettice could alter the man in this manner, she could imagine the transformation which must have passed over him as he spoke to the girl herself, among the trees and flowers on the river-bank; and, alas for Lettice! she could imagine also how easily gratified vanity might have been mistaken for reciprocal love. It had been late when they returned from the water party the night before, and Lettice had hurried off to bed. She had been a trifle more lingering than usual in her good-night embrace, but Lettice was always demonstrative in her ways, so that the fact had attracted no attention, and the morning had been so full of engagements that there had been no time for private conferences.

Miss Carr was speechless with grief, disappointment, and dismay. Her anxious training for the last three years, her motherly oversight, her hopes and prayers for the welfare of her beloved child, had they all ended in this, that Lettice had been too selfish to discourage admiration which she could not return?—too weak to say no to the first man who approached with flattering words? Poor, foolish child! What misery she had prepared for herself and everyone belonging to her!—for of course it was all a mistake, her heart was not really touched; the engagement could not be allowed. With a sigh of relief Miss Carr reflected that the onus of responsibility was lifted off her shoulders by the fact of Mr Bertrand’s arrival in town that very afternoon, and also that Lettice’s engagements for the day would prevent a meeting until she had been able to consult with her father. She drew a long sigh, and her voice sounded both sad and tired as she replied—

“Ah, well! I am only Lettice’s guardian in name, Mr Newcome; I have no authority to refuse or to sanction her engagement. I have had a telegram to say that Mr Bertrand is coming to town on business to-day, so you will be able to see him to-morrow and hear what he has to say. Lettice is very young—too young, in my opinion, to be able to know her own mind. I wish there had been no such questions to disturb her for the next two or three years. I don’t know what Mr Bertrand will think.”

“I am in a good position. I can provide a name that will not be unworthy of her. You know me and my family. We have been friends for years. She would have the warmest welcome—”

“Yes, yes, I am sure of that. I will tell Mr Bertrand all you say, Mr Newcome, and if you call to-morrow morning you will find him at home. In the afternoon he will probably be engaged. I can say nothing, and— Excuse me! I am not so young as I was, and I feel a good deal upset...”

Arthur Newcome rose at once, and held out his hand in farewell.

“Pray pardon me. I can understand your sentiments. It must be a shock to think of losing Lettice in any case, and I am aware that I am not what is called a good match. Such a beautiful girl—her father’s daughter, your ward—might marry into any circle. I sympathise with your disappointment; but, believe me, Lettice should never have any reason to regret her choice. I would devote my life to securing her happiness. I will call to-morrow morning, then, with your permission. Eleven o’clock? Thank you! Pray pardon any distress I may have caused you, and think of me as indulgently as you can.”

He left the room, and Miss Carr raised both hands to her head with a gesture of despair.

“He is all that he should be—humble, devoted, deferential—but oh, Lettice! my poor, dear child, what a mistake you have made! You would eat your heart out in a year’s time, married to a man whom you do not love; and you don’t love Arthur Newcome, I know you don’t—it is all vanity, and weakness, and imagination. Poor Austin, what a welcome for him! A nice pill for me to have such a piece of news to tell—I, who was going to do such wonders for the child! Well, well! this comes of mixing oneself up in other people’s affairs. She could have come to no worse fate than this if I had left her to vegetate in Clearwater.”

There was no more rest for Miss Carr that afternoon. The magazine lay neglected on the table, the cushions fell to the ground and lay unnoticed as she fidgeted about, now rising and pacing angrily to and fro, now throwing herself on a seat in weary despair. She alternately longed for and dreaded Mr Bertrand’s arrival, and it needed all her self-control to keep up a semblance of cheerfulness while he drank his tea and refreshed himself after the long journey. It was not easy, however, to deceive such an intimate friend. Mr Bertrand studied her face with critical eyes, and said kindly—

“You are not up to the mark, Helen; you look tired and worried! That youngster of mine has not been misbehaving herself, I hope? What’s the trouble?”

“Oh, Austin, the deluge! The most awful complication. I feel inclined to whip her! Would you believe it, that wooden Arthur Newcome called upon me this very afternoon, not two hours ago, to ask my consent to his engagement to Lettice!”

“Arthur Newcome? Oh, I know—the solemn person in the frock coat! What preposterous nonsense! Lettice is a baby! We must not let the young people at home hear of this, or they will tease the poor girl to death. Young Newcome is a favourite butt, and they often mimic him for my benefit. Well, I hope you let the poor fellow down gently, and saved me a disagreeable task.”

“But—but, my dear Austin, you don’t understand. He cannot be dismissed in that easy fashion, for he says—it is inconceivable—I don’t know what to make of it—but he tells me that he has spoken to Lettice herself, and that she has accepted him!”

“What?” Mr Bertrand put down his cup and turned to confront Miss Carr with a face from which every trace of laughter had disappeared. “Accepted him? Lettice? This is serious indeed. Had you ever suspected—or noticed any sign of an attachment growing up between them?”

Miss Carr wrung her hands in distress.

“My dear Austin, how can you ask such a question? As if I would not have consulted with you at once if that had been the case. You know what Arthur Newcome is—the acme of all that is sober and stolid. I have never seen a sign of emotion of any kind on his face until this afternoon. He has seen a good deal of Lettice, for she and Madge are great friends, but I never thought of anything more—never for one moment! And as for Lettice herself, I am confident that the child never thought of him in that light, and that she is as heart-whole as I am myself.”

“Then why—why—?”

“Oh, don’t ask me! I am too miserable and disappointed to speak. I thought I had guarded against this sort of thing; but you know what Lettice is. He is very much in love, and no doubt she was pleased and flattered.”

Mr Bertrand thrust his hands into his pockets and paced up and down the room. His face looked drawn and anxious, but after five minutes had passed he drew a long breath and made a determined effort at cheerfulness.

“Well, it’s a bad business, but it has to be faced. I am humiliated and disappointed that Lettice could have behaved so foolishly; but you must not blame yourself, my dear old friend. No one could have done more for the child for the last three years, and I am glad I am here to help you through this difficulty. The young fellow will have to be told that there has been a mistake. I am sorry for him, but it is better now than later on. When did you say you expected Lettice?”

“She may be here at any moment. She was to leave her friends at six o’clock. I thought I heard the door open just now. Perhaps she has arrived.”

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