Books: The Pillars of the House, V1

C >> Charlotte M. Yonge >> The Pillars of the House, V1

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And though Wilmet's description of Alice Knevett did not sound
particularly wise, Cherry, in her humility, deemed her the more
secure of being on her own level, not so sensible and intolerant of
little dreams, fancies, and delusions as those two sensible people,
the twin sisters. So she watched impatiently for the introduction;
and at last Wilmet said, 'Well, she is coming to tea to-morrow
evening. Little ridiculous chit, she bridled and doubted, but as you
were an invalid, she supposed she might, only it was not what she had
been used to, and Papa "might object."'

'What? To the shop? Well, I really think she had better not come!
I'll have nobody here that thinks it a favour, and looks down on
Felix.'

'My dear, if she contrives to look down on Felix after she has seen
him, she will deserve anything you please. Just now, I believe the
foolishness is in her school, and not in herself.'

Nevertheless, Geraldine's eagerness underwent a great revulsion.
Instead of looking forward to the visit, she expected it with dread,
and dislike to the pert, conceited, flippant Londoner, who despised
her noble brother, and aspired to the notice of Carry Price. Her
nervous shrinking from strangers--the effect of her secluded life--
increased on her every moment of that dull wet afternoon; her feet
grew cold, her cheeks hot, and she could hardly find temper or
patience for the many appeals of Bernard and Stella for her
attention.

Her foolish little heart was palpitating as if a housebreaker were
entering instead of Wilmet, conducting a dainty cloud of fresh lilac
muslin, out of which appeared a shining black head, and a smiling
sparkling face, with so much life and play about the mouth and eyes
that there was no studying their form or colour, and it was only
after a certain effort that it could be realised that Alice Knevett
was a glowing brunette, with a saucy little nose, retrousse, though
very pretty, a tiny mouth full of small pearls, and eyes of black
diamond.

In spite of her gracious manner, and evident consciousness of her own
condescension, the winsomeness of the dancing eyes fascinated Cherry
at once. Indeed, the simplicity and transparency of her little
dignities disarmed all displeasure, they were so childish; and they
vanished in a moment in a game at play with Bernard and Stella. When
Wilmet brought out Geraldine's portfolio, her admiration was
enthusiastic if not critical.

A sketch of Wilmet and Alda enchanted her; she had never seen
anything so lovely or so well done.

'No, no,' said Cherry, rather shocked, 'you must have seen the Royal
Academy.'

'Oh, but I am sure this ought to be in the Royal Academy; I never saw
anything there that I liked half so much. How clever you must be!'

Cherry could not but laugh at the extravagant compliment. 'My brother
Edgar draws much better than that,' she said, producing a capital
water-colour of a group of Flemish market-women.

'I shall always like yours best. Oh! and what is this?'

'I did not know it was there,' said Cherry, colouring, and trying to
take it away.

'Oh, let me look. What! Is it a storm, or a regatta, or fishing
boats? What is that odd light? What is written under? "The waves of
this troublesome world." Why, that is in the Bible, is not it?'

'Thirteen boats, Cherry,' said Wilmet; 'is that a device of your
own?'

'What, not copied? Oh dear! I wish I was so clever!'

'It is the sea of this life, isn't it?' said Angela, coming up. 'Is
it ourselves, Cherry, all making for the golden light of Heaven, and
the star of faith guiding them?'

'She reads it like a book,' exclaimed Alice. 'And those two close
together--that means love, I suppose!'

'Love and help, the weak and the strong,' said Geraldine, in her
earnest dreamy voice.

'Do pray make a picture of my boat on a nice smooth sea of light; I
don't like rocks and breakers, such as you have done there.'

'There always must be a last long wave,' said Cherry.

'Oh, but don't let us think about horrid things. I like the summer
sea. Aren't there some verses--

'"Youth at the prow, and pleasure at the helm?"'

'That would not be a pleasant augury,' said Cherry. 'Do you know what
this is meant for, bad as it is? Longfellow's verses--'

'The phantom host that beleaguered the walls of Prague? How can you
draw such things?'

'So I say,' observed Wilmet.

'They come and haunt me, and I feel as if I must.'

'Who is this kneeling on the wall? He looks like a knight watching
his armour.'

'So he is,' said Cherry.

'But there is nothing about him in the poem. Did you make him for
yourself?'

'Why, he is Ferdinand Travis!' exclaimed Wilmet.

'What, is it a real man? I thought it was somebody in a story.'

'I see! said Angela quietly. 'He is watching his armour the night
before he was baptized.'

For the child had never forgotten the adult baptism, though she had
been little more than four years old at the time; but she was one of
those little ones to whom allegory seems a natural element, with
which they have more affinity than with the material world.

However, the mention of Ferdinand Travis led to the history of the
fire at the hotel, and of his recovery, Alice declared that
'everything nice' seemed to happen at Bexley, and was laughed at for
her peculiar ideas of niceness; but there was something in the
feminine prattle that was wonderfully new and charming to Geraldine,
while, on the other hand, the visitor was conscious of a stimulus and
charm that she had never previously experienced; and the eager
tongues never flagged till Felix came in. He had evidently taken
pains with his toilette, in honour of the unusual event; and the
measured grave politeness of his manners renewed Alice's scared
punctilious dignity of demeanour, and entire consciousness that she
was a major's daughter and he a bookseller.

But Felix had brought in some exciting Eastern news; and Alice put on
an air capable, as one connected with India and the army, but she
soon found out the deficiency of her geography, and was grateful for
the full clear explanations, while her amour propre was gratified
by finding that her familiarity with a few Indian terms was valuable.
Before the end of the evening all were at ease, and she was singing
with Felix and Wilmet at the old piano.

No sooner had the door shut on her when the maid came to fetch her,
than a storm fell on Wilmet.

'So that's what you call rather nice-looking?'

'Well, she is under-sized and very brown, but I did think you would
have allowed that she was rather pretty.'

'Rather!' exclaimed Cherry indignantly.

'That's what it is to be a handsome woman!' said Felix.

'Do you mean to say that you think her anything remarkable?' said
Wilmet.

'Say no more, my dear W. W.,' laughed Felix. 'I never understood
before why negroes don't admire white people.'

'I am sure I don't know what you are talking about,' said Wilmet,
betaking herself to her darning with great good-humour. 'Alice
Knevett is prettier than I thought she was when she was all tears and
airs; but I can't see any remarkable beauty to rave about.'

'No, _you_ can't,' said Geraldine merrily. 'You look much too high
over her head, but you see I don't; and such a little sparkling
diamond beetle is a real treat to me.'

And Geraldine often enjoyed the treat.

In a very short time the green door and steep stairs were as familiar
to Alice as to the Underwoods themselves, for her aunts were thankful
to have her happy and safe, and she was rapturously fond of
Geraldine, reflecting and responding to most of her sentiments. Most
of the Underwoods had the faculty of imprinting themselves upon the
characters of their friends, by taking it for granted that they felt
alike; and Alice Knevett had not spent six weeks at Bexley before she
had come to think it incredible that she had thought either teaching
or the Underwoods beneath her. She was taking pains to do her work
well, and enjoying it, and was being moulded into a capital
subordinate to Wilmet; while with Geraldine she read and talked over
her books, obtained illustrations for the poetry she wrote out in her
album, and brought in a wholesome air of chatter, which made Cherry
much more girl-like than she had ever been before. It was an
importation of something external, something lively and interesting,
which was very refreshing to all; and even Felix, in his grave
politeness and attention to his sister's friend, manifested that so
far from being in his way, as they had feared, he found her a very
agreeable element when she joined the home party or the Sunday walk.

Indeed, there was a certain tendency to expansion about the life of
the young people; the pinch of poverty was less griping than
previously, and their natural spirits rose. In January Lance was
allowed to bring his friend Harewood to a concert of the choral
society; and on the following evening Alice Knevett came to tea, and
there was a series of wonderful charades, chiefly got up by Clement
and Robina, and of comic songs by Lance and Bill Harewood--all with
such success, that Alice declared that she had never seen anything so
delightful in all her experience of London Christmases!

The young people really seemed to have recovered elasticity enough
that year to think of modest treats and holidays as they had never
ventured to do since that memorable sixteenth birthday of Felix's.
Here was his twenty-first not very far off; and when it was announced
that this identical 3rd of July had been fixed on for a grand choral
meeting at the Cathedral, at which the choir of Bexley was to assist,
there was such a spirit of enterprise abroad in the family, that
Geraldine suggested that Wilmet might take Robina to see the
Cathedral and hear Lance.

'Lance will be just what will not be heard,' said Felix. 'They will
not show off their solos; but the Robin ought to have the pleasure,
if possible; and as I go in two capacities, press and choir, I hope
we can manage it for her.'

He came in full early for the evening. 'All right,' he said. 'Two
tickets are come for the Pursuivant, and Mr. Froggatt says he would
not go at any price; and besides, each of the choir may take a
friend--so that's three.'

'Am I to be reporter or friend?' asked Wilmet.

'Reporter, I think, for you will have to do audience.'

'Nay, Cherry ought to be the gentleman connected with the press,'
said Wilmet, for in fact Geraldine did sometimes do copying and
correcting work for her brother; 'and, indeed, I do not see why she
should not. We could go home directly after morning service, and
leave you there.'

'Oh no, impossible,' said Geraldine, 'it would never do; it would
only spoil everybody's pleasure, and be too much for me.'

'I think you are wise,' said Felix; and somehow it struck her with a
prick that he had rather the proposal had not been made. 'There is
sure to be a great crush, and I may be obliged to be with the choir.'

'I am quite able to take care of her, I can always lift her,' said
Wilmet, surprised.

'I would not go on any account,' protested Cherry. 'I should be like
the old woman in that Servian proverb, who paid five dollars to go to
the fair, and would have paid ten to be safe at home again.'

'There might be no getting a bench fit for you to sit upon,' added
Felix, who, as a gentleman of the press, was not devoid of
experience. 'I could not be easy about you, my dear; it is much safer
not.'

'Perhaps so,' owned Wilmet, disappointed; 'but Angel is too little
for such a long day, and Cherry is so much stronger, that I
thought--'

'Oh, but could not Alice Knevett go?' put in Cherry.

'A very good suggestion,' said Felix. 'She hardly ever has any
amusements. Well thought of, Whiteheart!'

I believe he thought of it from the first, felt Geraldine, angry with
herself that this conviction gave a prick like the point of a needle.
She threw her energies into the scheme, and was begging Wilmet to go
and make the proposal, when there was a sudden peal of the bell, a
headlong trampling rush, a dash open of the door--Theodore began to
hum the anthem 'How beautiful,' the other three small ones hailed
'Lance' at the top of their voices, and his arms were round the neck
of the first sister who came in his way.

'What, Lance! how came you here?'

'Our organ is tuning up its pipes--man comes to-morrow--Prayers in
the Lady Chapel and not choral, and it's a holiday at school, so I
got off by the 5.20, and need not go back till the 6.10 to-morrow. We
are practising our throats out to lead you all on the 3rd. You know
yon are coming, the whole kit of you.'

'Do we?' said Wilmet. 'It is only for the last ten minutes that we
have known that any of us were coming.'

'All right; that's what I'm come about. Robina must be got home.

'She will be come. She comes on the 1st.'

'That's right; then there's to be a great spread in Bishop's Meads
between services. Everybody sends provisions, and asks their friends;
but Cherry is to go and rest at the Harewoods'. The governor will get
her in through the library into the north transept as quiet as a
lamb, no squash at all. It is only along the cloister--a hop, step,
and lump; and Miles has promised me the snuggest little seat for her.
Then the Harewood sofa--'

'It is too much, Lance,' began Cherry. 'Mrs. Harewood--'

'Don't be absurd; she wishes it with all her heart. She won't want a
ticket if Mr. Harewood smuggles her in, but I can get as many as you
want. How many--Wilmet, Cherry, Robin, Angel, and Miss Knevett.
She'll come, won't she?'

'We were thinking of going to ask her.'

'I'll do it; I've brought my own ticket for a friend for her; here it
is, with L. O. U. in the corner. I'll run down with it before any one
else cuts in.'

'Hold hard,' said Felix; 'we shall not get her if you set about it in
that wild way!'

'Oh, but I'll promise Wilmet shall take her in tow, and if anything
will pacify the old girls, that will.'

'You had better let me come with you,' said Wilmet.

'Look sharp then. Is it a practising night? Yes, that's well; Miles
is in a state of mind at the short notice, and has crammed me choke-
full of messages; he says it will save his coming down; come along,
then, W. W., and soft-sawder the venerable aunts.'

No more of this operation was necessary than the assurance that Miss
Underwood was going, and that Mrs. Harewood would be a sort of
chaperon. Alice Knevett was happy and grateful; and if anything were
wanting to the universal enthusiasm of anticipation, it was supplied
by Lance. The boy, with his musical talent, thorough trustworthiness
and frank joyous manners, was a favourite with the organist, and was
well versed in the programme; and his eagerness, and fulness of
detail, were enough to infect every one. Geraldine thought it was
great proof of his unspoilableness, that he took quite as much
pleasure in bringing them to these services, where he would be but a
unit in the hundreds, as if it had been one of the anthems, of which
every one said, 'Have you heard little Underwood?' In the charm of
the general welcome and the congratulation on Lance's arrangement,
Geraldine had quite forgotten both her alarms and her tiny pang of
surprise at not having been Felix's prime thought. Lance, by dint of
a judicious mixture of hectoring and coaxing, obtained leave for
Angela to be of the party, though against Wilmet's judgment; and
Bernard and Stella were to spend the day with Mrs. Froggatt, which
they regarded as an expedition quite as magnificent as that to St.
Mary's Minster.

Mr. Froggatt was almost as eager about this pleasure for 'his young
people,' as he called them, as they could be. He came in early to
drive Geraldine to the station, and looked with grandfatherly
complacency at the four sisters, who had ventured on the extravagance
of white pique and black ribbons, and in their freshness looked as
well-dressed as any lady in the land.

He entertained Cherry all the way with his admiration of Wilmet's
beauty and industry, and when arrived at the station, waited there
with her till first the three girls came up with Alice Knevett, white
with pink ribbons, and then the choir arrived, marching with the
banner with the rood of St. Oswald before them, each with a blue
satin bow in his button-hole, and the bag with his surplice under his
arm, the organist, the schoolmaster, and the two curates, bringing up
the rear. Mr. Bevan, my Lady, and Miss Price, whirled up in the
carriage, the omnibus discharged the friends of the choir, and two
waggon loads of musical talent from the villages came lumbering and
cheering in! The very train roared and shrieked in with a sound of
cheering from its vertebrae, and banners were projecting from the
windows, amid nodding heads and waving handkerchiefs of all colours;
the porters ran about distracted, and Geraldine began to be alarmed,
and to think of the old woman of Servia, but behold, Felix had her on
one side, Mr. Froggatt on the other, a solid guard held open the
door, and protected her from the rush, and before she well knew what
they were doing with her, she was lying on the seat of the carriage,
with her sisters and Alice all in a row in front of her; the recently
crowded platform was empty of all but a stray porter, the
stationmaster, and Mr. Froggatt kissing his hand, and promising to
come and fetch her on her return.

The train seemed hardly to have attained its full speed before it
slackened again, and another merry load was disposed of within its
joints. Another start, another arrival; and before the motion was
over, a flash of sunny looks had glanced before the sisters' eyes.
There was Lance, perfectly radiant, under his square trencher cap--
hair, eyes, cheeks, blue bow, boots, and all, seeming to sparkle with
delight as he snatched open the door.

'Hurrah! there they are. Give her out to me, Wilmet!' (as if she had
been a parcel).

'Stay, wait for Felix. You can't---'

Felix rushed up from his colleagues of the choir, and Geraldine was
set on her foot and crutch. 'Come along! I've got Ball's chair for
you, and Bill Harewood is sitting in it for fear any one should bone
it. Where's your ticket?'

'Lance, take care! Don't take her faster than she can go!' as he
whisked her over the platform; and Wilmet was impeded by the seeking
for Alice's parasol and Angela's cloak. They were quite out of sight
when Lance had dragged Cherry through the crowd at the door, and
brought her to the wheeled chair just in time to find Bill Harewood
glaring out of it like the red planet Mars, and asseverating that he
was the lame young lady it was hired for.

In went Geraldine, imploring to wait for Wilmet, but all in vain; off
went the chair, owner and escort alike in haste, and she was swept
along, with Lance and Will with a hand holding either side of the
chair, imparting breathless scraps of information, and exchanging
remarks: 'There goes the Archdeacon.' 'The Thorpe choir is not come,
and Miles is mad about it.' 'That's the Town Hall.' 'There's where
Jack licked a cad for bullying.' 'There's a cannon-ball of Oliver
Cromwell's sticking out of that wall.' 'That's the only shop fit to
get gingerbeer at!' 'That old horse in that cab was in the Crimea.'
'We come last in the procession, and if you see a fellow like a sheep
in spectacles, that's Shapcote.' 'Hurrah! what a stunning lot! where
is it from?' 'Bembury? My eyes, if that big fellow doesn't mean to
bawl us all down. Down that way--that's the palace. Whose carriage is
it stopping there! Now, here's the Close.'

'Is that the Cathedral? Oh!'

'You may well say so! No, not that way.' And on rattled poor amazed
Geraldine through an archway, under some lime trees, round a corner,
round another comer, to another arched doorway, with big doors
studded with nails, with a little door for use cut out of one of the
big ones.

'You must get out here,' said Lance, 'we are close by,' and he helped
her out, and paid and thanked the man with the chair. 'Here's our
domain,' he continued, as he introduced Cherry through the open
doorway into a small flagged court, with two houses, gray and old-
fashioned, forming one side, and on the other an equally old long low
building with narrow latticed arched windows. Opposite to the
entrance was a handsome buttressed Gothic-looking edifice, behind
which rose the gable of the north transept of the Cathedral,
beautiful with a rose window, and farther back, far, far above, the
noble tower.

Already everything was very wonderful to Geraldine. 'That's our
kennel,' said Lance, pointing to the low buildings to the right.
'School's behind; but we boarders are put up in one of the old monks'
dormitories, between court and cloister.'

'Is it really!' exclaimed Geraldine.

'So my father says,' said Will. 'Here's our door.' Another stone-
arched passage, almost dark, with doors opening on either side,
seemed common to both houses; and Will was inviting them to enter,
but Lance held back. 'No time,' he said; 'better call your father.'

'The others,' sighed Geraldine.

'Bother the others! That's right: here he is!'

'Halloo, Father!' cried Will; 'we've got Cherry.'

'By which unceremonious designation I imagine you to mean to
introduce Miss Underwood,' said a figure, appearing from beneath the
archway, in trencher cap, surplice, and hood, with white hair, and a
sort of precision and blandness that did not at all agree with
Cherry's preconceived notions of the Harewood household. 'I am very
glad to see you. My ladies, as usual, are unready. Will you have a
glass of wine? No?--What do you say, Lancelot?--Very well, we will
take you in at once. You will not object to waiting there, and this
is the quiet time. --Boys, you ought to be with the choir.'

'Oceans of time, Dad,' coolly answered Will; 'none of the fellows up
there are under weigh.'

Mr. Harewood offered his arm, but perceived that Cherry preferred
Lance and her crutch; advancing to the door opposite that by which
they had entered, he unlocked it, and Geraldine found herself passing
through a beauteous old lofty chamber, with a groined Tudor roof, all
fans, and pendants, and shields; tall windows stained with armorial
bearings, parchment charters and blazoned genealogies against the
walls, and screens upon screens loaded with tomes of all ages,
writing-tables and chairs here and there, and glass-topped tables
containing illuminations and seals. 'Here is my paradise,' said the
librarian, smiling.

'I think it must be,' said Geraldine, with a long breath of wonder
and admiration.

'Ah! would you not like to have a good look, Cherry?' said Lance.
'That's Richard Coeur de Lion's seal in there.'

'Don't begin about it--don't set him on,' whispered Willie, with a
sign of his head towards his father, who was fitting the key into the
opposite door, 'or we shall all stay here for the rest of the day.'

This low door open, Mr. Harewood and the boys bared their heads as
they entered, and Geraldine felt the strange solemn sensation of
finding herself in a building of vast height and majesty, full of a
wonderful stillness, as though the confusion of sounds she had been
in so recently were far, far off.

'Where now, Lancelot?' asked Mr. Harewood, in a hushed voice; 'do you
want me any further?'

'No, thank you, sir, I'll just take her across the choir to Mr.
Miles, and then join the rest of us at the vestry.'

'Good-bye for the present, then,' said Mr. Harewood kindly. 'You are
in safe hands. Your brother comes round every one. _I_ could not do
this.'

Through the side-screen, into the grandly beautiful choir, arching
high above, with stall-work and graceful canopies below, and rich
glass casting down beams of coloured light--all for 'glory and for
beauty,' thought Geraldine.

'You must not stop; you must look when you are settled. That's my
side,' pointing to one of the choristers' desks. 'It will be only we
that sing in here; the congregation is in the nave--a perfect sea of
chairs. I'll come for you when it is over. Here is Mr. Miles. My
sister, sir.'

A pale gentleman in spectacles, with a surplice and beautiful blue
hood, was here addressed. He too greeted Geraldine, very shyly but
kindly, and she found herself expected to ascend some alarming-
looking stone steps. The organ was on the choir screen, and to the
organist's little private gallery was she to ascend. It was a
difficult matter, and she had in her trepidation despairingly
recognised the difference between Lance's good will and Felix's
practised strength; but at last she was landed in an admirable little
cushioned nook, hidden by two tall painted carved canopies--exactly
over the Dean's head, her brother told her--and where, as she sat
sideways, she could see through the quatrefoils into the choir on the
right hand, and the nave on the left. 'Delightful! Oh, thank you, how
kind! If I am only not keeping any one out.'

'No,' said Lance, smiling, and whispering lower than ever, 'he has no
one belonging to him. He hates women. Never a petticoat was here
before in his reign. Have you a book?'

'They are robing, Underwood,' said the misogynist in the organ-loft;
and Lance hurried away, leaving Geraldine alone, palpitating a good
deal, but almost enjoying the solitude, in the vast structure, where
the sanctity of a thousand years of worship seemed to fill the very
air, as she gazed at the white vaultings and bosses carved with
emblems above, at the vista of clustered columns terminating in the
great jewelled west window, or at the crown-like loveliness that
encompassed the sanctuary. All was still, except a deep low tone of
the organ now and then. Mr. Miles looked in after the first, to hope
she did not feel it uncomfortably, and to assure her that though she
was too near his organ, she need not fear its putting forth its full
powers; it was to be kept in subordination, and only guide the
voices. This was great attention from a woman-hater, and Geraldine
ventured to reiterate her thanks; at which he smiled, and said, 'When
one has such a boy as your brother, there is pleasure in doing
anything he wishes. You are musical?'