Books: The Pillars of the House, V1

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

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'I never was able to learn to play.'

'But you can read music?'

'Oh yes,' for she had often copied it.

So he brought her whole sheets of music, and put her in the way of
following and understanding, perceiving, as he went, that she was
full of intelligence and perception.

When he went back to his post, a few groups, looking very small, were
creeping in by transept doors--by favour, like herself: then a little
white figure flitted across to the desks, opened and marked the
books, took up something, and disappeared; and in another moment
Lance, in his broad white folds, was at her side. 'Here's the music.
Oh, you have it! I've seen Fee,' he whispered; 'they are at Mrs.
Harewood's, all right!' and he was gone.

Here she sat, her attention divided between the sacred impressions of
the place, its exceeding beauty, and the advance of the multitude
into the nave, as the doors were open, and they surged up the space
left in the central aisle, and occupied the ranks of chairs prepared
for them. Then came a long pause; she scanned each row in search of
her sisters, and only was confused by the host of heads; felt lost
and lonely, and turned her eyes and mind to the silent grandeur to
the east, rather than the throng to the west.

At last there came the sweet floating sound of the chant, growing in
power like the ocean swell as it approached, and the first bright
banner appeared beneath the lofty pointed archway; and the double
white file came flowing on like a snowy glacier, the chant becoming
clear and high as the singers of each parish marched along to their
places, each ranked under a bright banner with the symbol of their
church's dedication. St. Oswald's rood helped Geraldine to make out
that of Bexley better than their faces, though she did make out her
eldest brother's fair face, and trace him to his seat. The cathedral
singers came at last, and that kenspeckle red head of Will Harewood's
directed her to the less conspicuous locks belonging to Lance, whose
own clear thrush-like note she could catch as he passed beneath the
screen. Then came the long train of parish clergy, the canons, the
Dean, and lastly the Bishop, the sight of whom recalled so much.

The unsurpliced contribution had meantime been ushered in by the side
doors, and filled seats in the rear of the others, so as to add their
voices without marring the general effect--the perfection of which
Geraldine enjoyed--of the white-robed multitude that seemed to fill
the whole chancel.

The sight seemed to inspire her whole soul with a strange yearning
joy, as though she were beholding a faint earthly reflex of the great
vision of the Beloved Disciple; and far more was it so at the sound,
which realised in a measure the words, 'As the voice of mighty
waters, and as the voice of thunder.'

These were the very words that had been selected for the Second
Lesson, and the First consisted of those verses in which we hear of
David's commencement of the continual chant of psalms at the
sanctuary; and both, unwonted as they were, gave a wonderful thrill
to the audience, as though opening to them a new comprehension of
their office as singers of the sanctuary.

There is no need to dwell on the wonderful and touching exhilaration
derived from the harmony of vast numbers with one voice attuned to
praise. It is a sensation which is so nearly a foretaste of eternity,
that participation alone can give the most distant perception
thereof. To the entirely unprepared and highly sensitive Geraldine it
was most overpowering, all the more because she was entirely out of
sight, and without power of taking part by either gesture or posture--
she was passive and had no vent for her emotion.

Lance, who made his way to her round through the transept the moment
he had disrobed, found her pale, panting, tearful, and trembling,
with burning cheeks, so that his exaltation turned to alarm. 'Are you
done up, Cherry? It is too hot up here? Ill try to find Felix or
Wilmet, which?'

'Neither! I am quite well, only--O Lance, I did not know anything
could be so heavenly. There seemed to be the sweeping of angels'
wings all round and over me, and Papa's voice quite clear.'

'I know,' said Lance; 'it always does come in that Te Deum.'

The sister and brother were silent, not yet able for the critical
discussion of single points; only, as he put his arm round her to
help her to rise, she said, with a sigh, 'O Lance, it is a great
thing to be one of them! Thank you. I think this is the greatest day
of all my life.'

The getting her down, what with Lance's inexperience and want of
height and strength, was anxious work; and just as it had been safely
accomplished, the rest of their party were seen roaming the aisle in
distress and perplexity. Geraldine was very glad of Felix's
substantial arm, but she had rather he had omitted that rebuke for
venturesomeness in dealing with her, which would have affronted
Fulbert, but never seemed to trouble Lance, who was only triumphant
in his success; and her perfect contentment charmed away the vexation
which really arose from a slight sense of having neglected her.

The others had been perfectly happy in their several ways, and made
eager comments on their way to the house of Harewood, whither Lance
piloted them--this time by the front way, through the garden, which
lay behind the close--entering, in spite of the mannerly demurs of
the elder ones, through the open door, into a hall whence a voice of
hearty greeting at once ensued. 'Here you are at last; and how's the
poor darling your sister! not over-tired?'

And Cherry, before she was aware, found herself kissed, and almost
snatched away from Felix, to be deposited on a sofa; and while the
like kisses were bestowed on the two little girls, and hospitable
offers showered on all, she was amused by perceiving that good Mrs.
Harewood was endowed with exactly the same grotesque order of
ugliness as her son William; but she was even more engaging, from an
indescribably droll mixture of heedlessness, blundering, and tender
motherliness.

'There, now, you'll just leave her to me, the poor dear; and Lance
will take you down to the Mead, and find Papa and the girls for you.'

'Oh, thank you, I could not think of your staying. Now pray--'

'Now prays' were to no purpose; Mrs. Harewood professed only to want
an excuse for staying at home--she did not want to be done up with
running after her girls to the four ends of the Mead, when it was a
long step for her to begin with. Off with them.

So when Wilmet was satisfied that Geraldine was comfortable, the five
moved off--Felix and Alice, Angel in Wilmet's hand, and Lance's and
Robina's tongues wagging so fast that the wonder was how either
caught a word of what the other was saying.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Harewood, tossing her bonnet and gloves aside, in
perfect indifference to the exposure of the curious structure of red
and gray hair she thus revealed, lavished meats and drinks upon her
guest, waiting on her with such kindness, that in spite of all
weariness and craving for quiet after these deep and wonderful
impressions, it was impossible not to enjoy that warmth of heart.
There was exactly the tender motherliness that even Wilmet and Sister
Constance could not give.

It was charming to hear how fond Mrs. Harewood was of Lance, and how
the having such a companion had made it possible to keep her Willie
at the cathedral school, where the mixture of lads was great, but the
master first-rate. He thought highly of the promise of both; 'but to
tell the truth,' said Mrs. Harewood, as she sat and fanned herself
with her husband's trencher cap, looking more than ever like a frog
in a strawberry bed, 'though my Willie is the cleverest boy in the
school, little good his cleverness would have done him, and he would
have been harum-scarum Bill more than ever, if it were not for Lance.
So say his father and brother Jack; so that they will not be for his
going to a public school unless Lance were sure of it too.'

'Will not they be able to stay on here?'

Mrs. Harewood explained that the year that the barristers--choristers
she meant--were sixteen, when their voices were usually
unserviceable, they, together with those of like age in the school,
were subjected to an examination, and the foremost scholar obtained
an exhibition, in virtue of which he could remain free of expense for
another two years, and then could try for one of the Minsterham
scholarships at one of the colleges at Cambridge. Those who failed,
either had to pay like the ordinary schoolboys, or left the school.

Dear Mrs. Harewood was a perfect Malaprop, and puzzled Geraldine by
continually calling the present occasion the rural meeting, and other
like slips, uncommonly comical in a well-educated woman with the
words she knew best.

All this, and a great deal more--about the shy woman-hating organist,
and the unluckiness of the dissenter--no, precentor--having a sick
wife, and the legal difficulties that prevented building a better
house for the boarders than the queer long room where they lodged,
between the cloister and the Bailey--the proper name of the little
court by which Geraldine had come--was poured out; and kind as it
was, there was a certain sense of having been talked to death.

A whole flood of Harewoods, Underwoods, and untold numbers besides,
swept into the room as the bell began to ring for Evensong. Most
sincere were Cherry's entreaties that she might be left alone. She
could not go back to her coign of vantage, 'it had been too beautiful
for her to bear more,' she said; and she severally declined offers of
companionship from three female Harewoods and two sisters, telling
Wilmet at last that all she wanted was to be still and alone.

Alone she was, but not still, for there was nothing to hinder the
magnificent volume of sound that surged around the Cathedral from
coming to her; and she could trace the service all along--in chant,
pealing mighty Amens, with the hush between, in anthem, and in
jubilant hymn. She was more calmly happy than in the oppressive
grandeur of the morning, as she lay there, in the cool drawing-room,
with the open window veiled by loose sprays of untrimmed roses, and
sacred prints looking down from the walls.

The solitude lasted rather too long, when she had heard the hum and
buzz of the host pouring out of the Cathedral, and still no one came.
They were to go home by the 5.10 train, and every time she counted
the chimes she became more alarmed lest they should be too late.
Minutes dragged on. Five! It was five! Was she forgotten? Should she
be only missed and remembered at the station, too late? Tired,
nervous, unused to oblivion, she found tears in her eyes, and was too
sorrowful and angry with her own impatience even to think of the old
woman of Servia. Hark! a trampling? Had they remembered her? But oh,
it would be late for the train!

In burst Lance, in his cap and little short quaint black gown.

'O Lance, I shall be too late!'

'You don't go by this train.'

'Oh dear! oh dear! Mr. Froggatt was to meet me;' and the tears
started from her eyes. 'How could Felix forget?'

'Never mind, there's sure to be a fly or something.'

'Yes, but Mr. Froggatt waiting!'

'Never mind,' repeated Lance, ''tis a fine evening to air the old
boss.'

'Don't, Lance; you none of you have any proper regard for Mr.
Froggatt;' which, as far as Lance was concerned, was unjust, and it
was well for Cherry that it was not addressed to either of the
brothers who better deserved it.

What Lance did was to execute one of his peculiar summersaults, and
then, making up a dismal face, to say, 'Alas! I commiserate the
venerable citizen disappointed of the pleasure of driving my Lady
Geraldine home from the wash as well as hisself.'

She was past even appreciating the bathos. 'It is no laughing matter,
she said; 'it is so uncivil, when he is so kind. I can't imagine what
Felix is thinking of?'

'Croquet,' said Lance briefly, then seeing the flushed, quivering,
mortified face, he added, 'Wilmet has not forgotten you one bit,
Cherry; but Alice Knevett and Robin did so want to see the fun in the
mead--there's running in sacks, and all sorts of games--that there's
no getting any one away; and the W's are in charge, and can't leave
them to their own devices, so she said perhaps you would be more
rested by lying still than rattling home.

'Oh, I dare say Wilmet is as sorry as anybody,' said Cherry rather
querulously, for the needle point was pricking her again.

'And as to your dear old Froggy,' continued Lance, 'she says he told
her he did not in the least expect you back by this train, and if you
did not come by it, he'll stay in town for the 8.50.'

'How very good of him!' said Cherry, beginning to be consoled. 'And
Felix at croquet!'

'Alice is teaching him. You never did see such a joke as old
Blunderbore screwing up his eyes at the balls, and making at them
with his mallet like a sledge-hammer. He and Alice and Robin and that
Bisset curate are playing against Bill, two of the girls, and
Shapcote--Bexley against Minsterham, and little Bobbie's a real out-
and-outer. She'll make her side win by sheer cool generalship.'

'And poor little Angel?' The needle point was a pang now.

'Oh, Angel is happier than ever she was in her life. The Bishop's
daughter has a turn for little kids, and has got all the small ones
together in the pleached alley, playing at all manner of things.'

'Run back, Lance, to the fun. I shall do very well,' said poor
Geraldine.

'I should think so, when I get you so often!' scornfully ejaculated
Lancelot, drawing a dilapidated brioche from under the sofa, and
squatting on it, with his dancing eyes close to her sad ones.

An effusion of spirits prompted her to lay her hands on his
shoulders, kiss him on each cheek, and cry, 'O Lance, you are the
very sweetest boy!'

'Sweetest treble, you mean,' said Lance quaintly; 'if you had only
heard me! You should see how the old ladies in the stalls peep and
whisper, and how Bill Harewood opens his mouth rather wider than it
will go, and they think it is he.'

'Not for fun, Lance?'

'Well, I believe all their jaws are hung on looser than other
people's. But I say, ain't you dying of thirst?'

'Perhaps Mrs. Harewood will give us some tea when she comes in.'

'If you trust to that--'

'O Lance!' she cried, alarmed at seeing him coolly ring the bell.

'Bless you, she's forgotten all about you and tea and everything!
They are drinking it by the gallon in the tents; and by and by she'll
roll in, ready to cry that you've had none, and mad with herself and
me for giving you none; and the fire will be out, and the kettle will
boil about ten minutes after you are off by the train. We'll have
some this minute.'

'But, Lance--'

'But, Cherry, ain't I a walking Sahara with roaring at the tiptop of
my voice to lead the clod-hoppers? How they did bellow! I owe it as a
duty to the Chapter to wet my whistle.'

'One comfort is, nobody knows your coolness. Nobody comes for all
your ringing.'

'Reason good! Every living soul in the house is in the Bishop's
meadow, barring the old cat; I seen 'em with their cap-strings
flying. But that's nothing. I know where Mother Harewood keeps her
tea and sugar;' and he pounced on a tea-caddy of Indian aspect.

'Lance, if you did that to Mettie--'

'Exactly so. I don't;' and he ran out of the room, while Cherry sat
up on her sofa, her petulance quite banished between amusement and
desperation at such proceedings in a strange house. He came back
presently with two cups, saucers, and plates, apparently picked up at
hap-hazard, as no two were alike. 'My dear Lance, where have you
been?'

'In the kitchen. Such a jolly arched old hole. Bill and I have done
no end of Welsh rabbits there. Once when we were melting some lead,
Bill let it drop into the pudding, and the Pater got it at dinner,
and said it was the heaviest morsel he ever had to digest.'

'But wasn't it poison?'

'I suppose not, for you see he isn't dead. Another time, when we were
melting glue, we upset a whole lot of fat, and the chimney caught
fire; and wasn't that a go? Bill got a pistol out of Jack's room, and
fired it up the chimney to bring the soot down; and down it came with
a vengeance! He was regularly singed, and I do think the place would
have been burned if it had not been too old! All the Shapcotes ran
out into the court, hallooing Fire! and the engine came, but there
was nothing for it to do. Oh, the face Wilmet would make to see that
kitchen. Kettle's biling--I must run.'

He came back with an enormous metal tea-pot in one hand, and a
boiling kettle in the other, a cloud of vapour about his head.

'You appear in a cloud, like a Greek divinity,' said Cherry,
beginning to enter into the humour of the thing.

'Bringing nectar and ambrosia,' said Lance, depositing the kettle
amid the furbelows of paper in the grate, and proceeding to brew the
tea. 'Excuse the small trifles of milk and cream, and as to bread, I
can't find it, but here are the cakes you had for luncheon, shunted
off into the passage window. Sugar, Cherry! Fingers were made before
tongs. Now I call this jolly.'

'I only hope this isn't a great liberty.'

'If you fired off a cannon under Mrs. Harewood's nose, she would not
call it a liberty.'

'So it appears. But Mr. Harewood does not look--like that.'

'Oh, he's well broken in. He is the pink of orderliness in his own
study and the library, but as long as no one meddles there, he minds
nothing. It just keeps him alive; but I believe the Shapcotes think
this house a mild lunatic asylum.'

'Who are the Shapcotes?'

'He's registrar. They live in the other half of this place--the old
infirmary, Mr. Harewood calls it. Such a contrast! He is a tremendous
old Turk in his house, and she is a little mincing woman; and they've
made Gus--he's one of us, you know--a horrid sneak, and think it's
all my bad company and Bill's. By-the-by, Cherry, Gus Shapcote asked
me if my senior wasn't spoony about--'

'I nope you told him to mind his own business!' cried Geraldine, with
a great start of indignation.

'I told him he was a sheep,' said Lance. 'But, I say, Cherry, I want
to know what you think of it.'

'Think? I'm not so ready to think nonsense!'

'Well, when the old giant was getting some tea for _her_, I saw two
ladies look at one another and wink.'

'Abominably ill-mannered,' she cried, growing ruddier than the
cherry.

'But had you any notion of it?'

'Impossible!' she said breathlessly. 'He is only kind and civil to
her, as he is to everybody. Think how young he is!'

'I'm sure I never thought old Blunderbore much younger than
Methuselah. Twenty-one! Isn't it about the age one does such things?'

'Not when one has twelve brothers and sisters on one's back,' sighed
Geraldine. 'Poor Felix! No, there can't be anything in it. Don't let
us think of foolish nonsense this wonderful day. What a glorious hymn
that was!'

Lance laid his head lovingly on the sofa-cushion, and discussed the
enjoyment of the day with his skilled appreciation of music.
Geraldine's receptive power was not inferior to his own, though she
had none of that of expression, nor of the science in which he was
trained. He was like another being from the merry rattle he was at
other times; and she had more glimpses than she ever had before of
the high nature and deep enthusiasm that were growing in him.

'Hark! there's somebody coming,' she cried, starting.

'Let him come. Oh, it is the Pater.--Here is some capital tea, Mr.
Harewood. Have some? I'll get a cup.'

'You are taking care of your sister. That is right. A good colonist
you would make.--Come in, Lee,' said Mr. Harewood, who, to Cherry's
increased consternation, was followed by another clergyman. 'We are
better off than I dared to expect, thanks to this young gentleman.
Miss Geraldine Underwood--Mr. Lee.--You knew her father, I think.'

'Not poor Underwood of Bexley? Indeed! I knew him. I always wished I
could have seen more of him,' said Mr. Lee, coming up and heartily
shaking hands with Cherry, and asking whether she was staying there,
etc.

Meantime Lance had fetched a blue china soup-plate, a white cup and
pink spotted saucer; another plate labelled 'Nursery,' a coffee-cup
and saucer, one brown and the other blue, and as tidily as if he had
been lady of the house or parlour-maid, presented his provisions, Mr.
Harewood accepting with a certain quiet amusement. His remarkable
trim neatness of appearance, and old-school precision of manner, made
his quiet humorous acquiescence in the wild ways of his household all
the more droll. After a little clerical talk, that reminded Cherry of
the old times when she used to lie on her couch, supposed not to
understand, but dreamily taking in much more than any one knew--it
appeared that Mr. Lee wanted to see something in the Library, and Mr.
Harewood asked her whether she would like to come and see Coeur de
Lion's seal.

She was fully rested, and greatly pleased. Lance's arm was quite
sufficient now, and she studied the Cathedral and its precincts in a
superexcellent manner. Mr. Harewood, who had spent almost his whole
life under its shadow, and knew the history of almost every stone or
quarry of glass, was the best of lionisers, and gave her much
attention when he perceived how intelligent and appreciative she was.
He showed her the plan of the old conventual buildings, and she began
to unravel the labyrinth through which she had been hurried. The
Close and Deanery were modernised, but he valued the quaint old
corner where he lived for its genuine age. The old house now divided
between him and Mr. Shapcote had been the infirmary; and the long
narrow building opposite, between the Bailey and the cloister, had
been the lodgings either of lay-brothers or servants. There being few
boarders at the Cathedral school, they had always been lodged in the
long narrow room, with the second master in a little closet shut off
from them. Cherry was favoured with a glance at Lance's little
corner, with the old-fashioned black oak bedstead, solid but unsteady
table and stool, the equally old press, and the book-case he had made
himself with boards begged from his friend the carpenter. A
photograph and drawing or two, and a bat, completed the plenishing.
She thought it very uncomfortable, but Lance called it his castle;
and Mr. Harewood, pointing to the washing apparatus, related that in
his day the cock in the Bailey was the only provision for such
purposes. The boys were safely locked in at eight every night when
the curfew rang, and the Bailey door was shut, there being no other
access to the rooms, except by the Cathedral, through the Library,
and the private door that led into the passage common to the
Harewoods and Shapcotes.

The loveliness of the Cloister, the noble vault of the Chapterhouse,
the various beauties and wonders of the Cathedral, and lastly the
curiosities of the Library--where Mr. Harewood enthroned her in his
own chair, unlocked the cases, brought her the treasures, and turned
over the illuminated manuscripts for her as if she had been a
princess--made Geraldine forget time, weariness, and anxiety, until,
as the summer sun was at last taking leave, a voice called at the
window, 'Here she is! I thought Papa would have her here!' and the
freckled face of a Miss Harewood was seen peering in.

There the truants were, eager, hurried, afraid for the train, full of
compunction, for the long abandonment: Alice, most apologetic;
Wilmet, most quiet; Felix, most attentive; Robina, still ecstatic;
and Angela, tired out--there they all were. It was all one hasty
scramble to the crowded station, and then one merry discussion and
comparison of notes all the way home, Geraldine maintaining that she
had enjoyed herself the best of all; and Alice incredulous of the
pleasure of sitting in a musty old library with an old gentleman of
at least sixty; while Felix was so much delighted to find that she
had been so happy, that he almost believed that the delay had been
solely out of consideration for her.

Mr. Froggatt was safe at the station in his basket, full of delight
at the enjoyment of his young people, and of anecdotes of Bernard and
Stella; and Geraldine found herself safely deposited at home, but
with one last private apology from Wilmet as she was putting her to
bed. 'I did not know how to help it,' she said; Alice was so wild
with delight, that I could not get her away; and Felix was enjoying
his holiday so thoroughly, I knew that you would be sorry it should
be shortened.'

'Indeed I am very glad you stayed. It would be too bad to encumber
you.'

'I wanted to come and see after you, but I had promised Miss Pearson
not to lose sight of Alice. And then Lance offered to take care of
you.'

'O Wilmet, I never half knew what a dear boy Lance is! What boy would
have come, when all that was going on, to stay with a lame cross
thing like me? And how nice for him to have such kind friends as the
Harewoods!'

'They seem very fond of him,' said Wilmet; 'but I wish he had taken
up with the Shapcotes. I never saw such a house. It is enough to ruin
all sense of order! But they were very kind to us; and if you were
well off, it was all right. I never saw Felix look so like his bright
old self as to-day; and it is his birthday, after all.'