Books: Modern Broods
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Charlotte Mary Yonge >> Modern Broods
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"Isn't he some connection?"
"Connection all round. Phyllis Merrifield married his brother,
banking in Ceylon, and may come home any day on a visit; and
Ivinghoe's pretty wife is Lancelot's niece. He edits what is really
the crack newspaper of the county, in spite of its being true blue
Conservative, Church and all."
"The Pursuivant? It has such good literary articles."
"Oh, yes! Mrs. Grinstead and Canon Harewood write them. His wife is
a daughter of old Dr. May--rather a peculiar person, but very jolly
in her way."
"But would they like to have Agatha imposed upon them?"
"Certainly; they are just the people to like nothing better, and it
will only be for a fortnight. I have settled it all with them."
At which Magdalen looked a little doubtful, but Dolores reiterated
that there need be no scruple, she might ask Aunt Lily if she liked;
but Lance Underwood was Mayor, and member of all the committees, and
the most open-hearted man in the world besides, and it was all right.
To the further demur as to safety, Dolores answered that to light a
candle or sit by the fire might be dangerous, but as long as people
were careful, it was all right, and Agatha had already assisted in
some experiments at Rock Quay, which had shown her to be thoroughly
understanding and trustworthy, and capable of keeping off the
amateur--the great bugbear.
So Magdalen consented, after rapturous desires on the part of Agatha,
and assurances from General Mohun that Dolores had it in her by
inheritance and by training to meddle with the lightning as safely as
human being might; and Lady Merrifield owned with a sigh that she
must accept as a fact that what even the heathens owned as a Divine
mystery and awful attribute, had come to be treated as a commonplace
business messenger and scientific toy, though (as Mrs. Gatty puts it)
the mystery had only gone deeper. So much for the peril; and for the
other scruple, it was set at rest by a hospitable letter from Mrs.
Underwood, heartily inviting Miss Agatha Prescott, as an Oxford
friend of Gillian.
So off the two electricians set, and after two days of business and
sight-seeing in London, went down to Bexley. In the third-class
carriage in which they travelled they were struck by the sight of a
tall lady in mourning--a sort of compromise between a conventual and
a secular bonnet over short fair hair, and holding on her lap a tiny
little girl of about six years old, with a small, pinched, delicate
face and slightly red hair, to whom she pointed out by name each spot
they passed, herself wearing an earnest absorbed look of recognition
as she pointed out familiar landmark after landmark till the darkness
came down. Also there were two cages--one with a small pink
cockatoo, and another with two budgerigars.
As the train began slackening Dolores exclaimed:
"There he is! Lance--!"
"Lance! Oh, Lance!" was echoed; and setting the child down, her
companion almost fell across Agatha, and was at the window as the
train stopped.
What happened in the next moment no one could quite tell; but as the
door was torn open there was a mingled cry of "Angel!" and of
"Lance!" and the traveller was in his arms, turning the next moment
to lift out the frightened little girl, who clung tight round her
neck; while Lance held out his hand with, "Dolores! Yes. This is
Dolores, Angel, whom you have never seen."
Each knew who the other was in a moment, and clasped hands in
greeting, as well as they could with the one, and the other receiving
bird-cages, handbags, umbrellas, and rugs from Agatha, whom, however,
Lance relieved of them with a courteous, "Miss Prescott! You have
come in for the arrival of my Australian sister! What luggage have
you?" Wherewith all was absorbed in the recognition of boxes, and
therewith a word or two to an old railway official, "My sister
Angela."
"Miss Angela! this is an unexpected pleasure!"
"Tom Lightfoot! is it you? You are not much altered. Mr. Dane, I
should have known you anywhere!" with corresponding shakes of the
hand.
"Yes, that's ours. Oh, the birds! There they are! All right! Oh!
not the omnibus, Lance! Let the traps go in that! Then Lena will
like to stretch her legs, and I must revel in the old street."
Dolores and Agatha felt it advisable to squeeze themselves with the
bird-cages into the omnibus, and leave the brother and sister to walk
down together, though the little girl still adhered closely to her
protector's hand.
"Poor Field's little one? Yes, of course."
"But tell me! tell me of them all!"
"All well! all right! But how--"
"The Mozambique was out of coal and had to put in at Falmouth. You
know, I came by her because they said the long sea voyage would be
best for this child, and it was so long since I had heard of any one
that I durst not send anywhere till I knew--and I knew Froggatt's
would be in its own place. Oh! there's the new hotel! the gas looks
just the same! There's the tower of St. Oswald's, all shadowy
against the sky. Look, Lena! Oh! this is home! I know the lamps.
I've dreamt of them! Tired, Lena, dear? cold? Shall I carry you?"
"No, no; let me!" and he lifted her up, not unwillingly on her part,
though she did not speak. "You are a light weight," he said.
"I am afraid so," answered Angel. "Oh! there's the bus stopping at
Mr. Pratt's door."
"Mine, now. We have annexed it."
"But let me go in by the dear old shop. The window is as of old, I
see. Ernest Lamb! don't you know me?" as a respectable tradesman
came forward. "And Achille, is it? You are as much changed as this
old shop is transmogrified! And they are all well? Do you mean
Bernard?"
"Bernard and Phyllis may come home any day to deposit a child. They
lost their boy, and hope to save the elder one. But come, Angel! if
you have taken in enough we must go up to those electrical girls.
Dolores is come to give a lecture, with the other girl to assist,
Miss Prescott."
"Dolores! Yes, poor Gerald's love! They are almost myths to me.
Ah!" as Lancelot opened his office-door, "now I know where I am! And
there's the old staircase! This is the real thing, and no mistake."
"Angel, Angel, come to tea!" And Gertrude, comfortable and
substantial, in loving greeting threw arms round the new comers,
Lance still carrying the child, who clung round his neck as he
brought her into the room, full of his late fellow travellers, and
also of a group of children.
"It is as if we had gone back thirty years or more," was Angela's
cry, as she looked forth on what had been as little altered as
possible from the old family centre; and Lance, setting down the
child, spoke as the pretty little blue-eyed girls advanced to
exchange kisses with their new aunt.
"Margaret, or Pearl, whom you knew as a baby; Etheldred, or Awdrey,
and Dickie! Fely is at Marlborough. There, take little Lena--is
that her name--to your table, and give her some tea."
"Her name is Magdalen," said Angela, removing the little black hat
and smoothing the hair; but Lena backed against her, and let her hand
hang limp in Pearl's patronising clasp. Nor would she amalgamate
with the children, nor even eat or drink except still beside
"Sister," as she called Angela. In fact, she was so thoroughly worn
out and tired, as well as shy and frightened, that Angela's attention
was wholly given to her and she could only be put to bed, but not in
the nursery, which, as Angel said, seemed to her like a den of little
wild beasts. So she was deposited in the chamber and bed hastily
prepared for the unexpected guest; and even there, being wakeful and
feverish from over-fatigue, there was no leaving her alone, and
Gertrude, after seeing her safely installed, could only go down with
the hope that she would be able to spare her slave or nurse, which
was it? by dinner-time.
"Who is that child so like?" said Dolores, in their own room.
"Very like somebody, but I can't tell whom," said Agatha. "Who did
you say she is?"
"I cannot say I exactly know," said Dolores. "I believe she is the
daughter of Fulbert Underwood's mate, on a sheep-farm in Queensland,
and that as her mother died when she was born, she has been always
under the care of this Angela, living in the Sisterhood there."
"Not a Sister?"
"Not under vows, certainly. I never saw her before, but I believe
she is rather a funny flighty person, and that Fulbert was afraid at
one time that she would marry this child's father."
"Is he alive?"
"Which? Fulbert died four or five years ago, and I think the little
girl's father must be dead, for she is in mourning."
"There's something very charming about her--Miss Underwood."
"Yes there is. They all seem to be very fond of her, and yet to
laugh about her, and never to be quite sure what she will do next."
"Did I not hear of her being so useful among the Australian black
women?"
"No one has ever managed those very queer gins so well; and she is an
admirable nurse too, they say. I am very glad to have come in her
way."
They did not, however, see much of her that evening. The head master
of the Grammar School and his wife, the head mistress of the High
School, and a few others had been invited to meet them; and Angela
could only just appear at dinner, trusting to a slumber of her
charge, but, on coming out of the dining-room, a wail summoned her
upstairs at once, and she was seen no more that night.
However, with morning freshness, Lena showed herself much less
farouche, and willing to accept the attentions of Mr. Underwood
first, and, later, of his little daughter Pearl--a gentle, elder
sisterly person, who knew how to avert the too rough advances of
Dick--and made warm friends over the pink cockatoo; while Awdrey was
entranced by the beauties of the budgerigars.
Robina had been informed by telegram, and came up from Minsterham
with her husband, looking just like his own father, and grown very
broad. He was greatly interested in the lecture, and went off to it,
to consider whether it would be desirable for the Choristers' School.
Lancelot had, of course, to go, and Angela declared that she must be
brought up to date, and rejoiced that Lena was able to submit to be
left with the other children under the protection of Mrs. Underwood,
who averred that she abhorred electricity in all its forms, and that
if Lance were induced to light the town, or even the shop by that
means, he must begin by disposing of her by a shock.
It was an excellent lecture, only the two sisters hardly heard it.
They could think of nothing but that they were once more sitting side
by side in the old hall, where they had heard and shared in so many
concerts, on the gala days of their home life.
The two lecturers, as well as the rest of the party, were urgently
entreated to stay to tea at the High School; but when the interest of
the new arrival was explained, the sisters and brother were released
to go home, Canon Harewood remaining to content their hostesses.
CHAPTER XXII--ANGEL AND BEAR
"Enough of science and of art!
Close up those barren leaves,
Come forth, and bring with you a heart
That watches and receives."
- WORDSWORTH.
A telegram had been handed to Mr. Mayor, which he kept to himself,
smiling over it, and he--at least--was not taken utterly by surprise
at the sight of a tall handsome man, who stepped forward with
something like a shout.
"Angel! Lance! Why, is it Robin, too?"
"Bear, Bear, old Bear, how did you come?"
"I couldn't stop when I heard at Clipstone that Angel was here, so I
left Phyllis and the kid with her mother. Oh, Angel, Angel, to meet
at Bexley after all!"
They clung together almost as they had done when they were the
riotous elements of the household, while Lance opened the front door,
and Robina, mindful of appearances, impelled them into the hall,
Bernard exclaiming, "Pratt's room! Whose teeth is it?"
"Don't you want Wilmet to hold your hands and make you open your
mouth?" said Lance, laughing.
Gertrude, who had already received the Indian arrival, met Angela,
who was bounding up to see to her charge, with, "Not come in yet!
She is gone out with the children quite happily, with Awdrey's doll
in her arms. Come and enjoy each other in peace."
"In the office, please," said Angela. "That is home. We shall be
our four old selves."
Lance opened the office door, and gave a hint to Mr. Lamb, while they
looked at each other by the fire.
Bernard was by far the most altered. The others were slightly
changed, but still their "old selves," while he was a grave
responsible man, looking older than Lancelot, partly from the effects
of climate; but Angela saw enough to make her exclaim, "Here we are!
Don't you feel as if we were had down to Felix to be blown up?"
"Not a bit altered," said Bernard, looking at the desks and shelves
of ledgers, with the photographs over the mantelpiece--Felix, Mr.
Froggatt, the old foreman, and a print of Garofalo's Vision of St.
Augustine, hung up long ago by Felix, as Lance explained, as a token
of the faith to which all human science and learning should be
subordinated.
"A declaration of the Pursuivant," said Angela. "How Fulbert did
look out for Pur! I believe it was his only literature."
"Phyllis declares," said Bernard, "that nothing so upsets me as a
failure in Pur's arrival."
"And this is Pur's heart and centre!" said Robina.
"Only," added Angela, "I miss the smell of burnt clay that used to
pervade the place, and that Alda so hated."
"Happily the clay is used up," said Lance. "I could not have brought
Gertrude and the children here if the ceramic art, as they call it,
had not departed. Cherry was so delighted at our coming to live
here. She loved the old struggling days."
"Fulbert said he never felt as if he had been at home till he came
here. He never TOOK to Vale Leston."
"Clement and Cherry have settled in very happily," said Robina, "with
convalescent clergy in the Vicarage."
"I say, Angel, let us have a run over there," cried Bernard, "you and
I together, for a bit of mischief."
"Do, DO let us! Though this is real home, our first waking to
perception and naughtiness, it is more than Vale Leston. We seem to
have been up in a balloon all those five happy years."
"A balloon?" said Bernard. "Nay, it seems to me that till they were
over, I never thought at all except how to get the most rollicking
and the finest rowing out of life. It seems to me that I had about
as much sense as a green monkey."
"Something sank in, though," said Lance; "you did not drift off like
poor Edgar."
"Some one must have done so," said Angela. "I wanted to ask you,
Lancey, about advertising for my little Lena's people; the Bishop
said I ought."
"I say," exclaimed Bernard, "was it her father that was Fulbert's
mate? I thought he was afraid of your taking up with him. You
didn't?"
"No, no. Let me tell you, I want you to know. Field and a little
wife came over from Melbourne prospecting for a place to sit down in.
They had capital, but the poor wife was worn out and ill, and after
taking them in for a night, Fulbert liked them. Field was an
educated man and a gentleman, and Ful offered them to stay there in
partnership. So they stayed, and by and by this child was born, and
the poor mother died. The two great bearded men came galloping over
to Albertstown from Carrigaboola, with this new born baby, smaller
than even Theodore was, and I had the care of her from the very
first, and Field used to ride over and see the little thing."
"And--?" said Bernard, in a rather teasing voice, as his eyes
actually looked at Angela's left hand.
"I'll own it DID tempt me. I had had some great disappointments with
my native women, running wild again, and I could not bear my child
having a horrid stepmother; and there was the glorious free bush
life, and the horses and the sheep! But then I thought of you all
saying Angel had broken out again; and by and by Fulbert came and
told me that he was sure there was some ugly mystery, and spoke to
Mother Constance, and they made me promise not to take him unless it
was cleared up. Then, as you know, dear Ful's horse fell with him;
Field came and fetched me to their hut, and I was there to the last.
Ful told each of us again that all must be plain and explained before
we thought of anything in the future. He, Henry Field, said he had
great hopes that he should be able to set it right. Then, as you
know, there was no saving dear Fulbert, and after that Mother
Constance's illness began. Oh! Bear, do you recollect her coming in
and mothering us in the little sitting-room? I could not stir from
her, of course, while she was with us. And after that, Harry Field
came and said he had written a letter to England, and when the answer
came, he would tell me all, and I should judge! But I don't think
the answer ever did come, and he went to Brisbane to see if it was at
the bank; and there he caught a delirious fever, and there was an end
of it
At that moment something between a whine or a call of "sister" was
heard. Up leapt Angela and hurried away, while Lance observed,
"Well! That's averted, but I am sorry for her."
"It was not love," said Robina.
"Or only for the child," said Bernard; "and that would have been a
dangerous speculation."
"The child or something else has been very good for her," said Lance;
"I never saw her so gentle and quiet."
"And with the same charm about her as ever," said Bernard. "I don't
wonder that all the fellows fall in love with her. I hope she won't
make havoc among Clement's sick clergy."
"I suppose we ought to go up and fulfil the duties of society," said
Robina, rising. "But first, Bear, tell me how is Phyllis?"
"Pretty fair," he answered. "Resting with her mother, but she has
never been quite the thing of late. I almost hope Sir Ferdinand will
see his way to keeping us at home, or we shall have to leave our
little Lily."
Interruption occurred as a necessary summons to "Mr. Mayor," and the
paternal conclave was broken up, and had to adjourn to Gertrude's tea
in the old sitting-room.
"I see!" exclaimed Agatha, as she looked at the party of children at
their supplementary table. "I see what the likeness is in that
child. Don't you, Dolores? Is it not to Wilfred Merrifield?"
"There is very apt to be a likeness between sandy people, begging
your pardon, Angel," said Gertrude.
"Yes, the carroty strain is apt to crop up in families," said Lance,
"like golden tabbies, as you ladies call your stable cats."
"All the Mohuns are dark," said Dolores, "and all Aunt Lily's
children, except Wilfred; and is not your Phyllis of that colour?"
"Phyllis's hair is not red, but dark auburn," said Bernard, in a tone
like offence.
"I never saw Phyllis," said dark-browed Dolores, "but I have heard
the aunts talk over the source of the--the fair variety, and trace it
to the Merrifields. Uncle Jasper is brown, and so is Bessie; but
Susan is, to put it politely, just a golden tabby, and David's baby
promises to be, to her great delight, as she says he will be a real
Merrifield. So much for family feeling!"
"Sister, Sister!" came in a bright tone, "may I go with Pearl and get
a stick for Ben? He wants something to play with! He is eating his
perch."
Ben, it appeared, was the pink cockatoo, who was biting his perch
with his hooked beak. The children had finished their meal, and
consent was given. "Only, Lena, come here," said Angela, fastening a
silk handkerchief round her neck, and adding, "Don't let Lena go on
the dew, Pearl; she is not used to early English autumn, I must get
her a pair of thicker boots."
"What is her name?" asked Agatha, catching the sound.
"Magdalen Susanna. Her father made a point of it, instead of his
wife's name, which, I think, was Caroline."
"I don't think I ever knew a Magdalen except my own elder sister,"
said Agatha, "and Susanna! Did you say Miss Merrifield had a sister
Susan?"
"An excellent, sober-sided, dear old Susan! Yes, Susanna was their
mother's name," said Dolores "and now that you have put it into my
head, little Lena, when she is animated, puts me more in mind of
Bessie than even of Wilfred, though the colouring is different.
Why?"
"Did you never hear," said Agatha, "that there was one of the
brothers who was a bad lot, and ran away. My sister says Wilfred is
like him. I believe," she added, "that he was her romance!"
"Ha!" exclaimed Bernard, "that's queer! We had a clerk in the bank
who gave his name as Meriton, and who cut and ran the very day he
heard that Sir Jasper Merrifield was coming out as Commandant. Yes,
he was carroty. I rarely saw Wilfred at Clipstone, but this might
very well have been the fellow, afraid to face his uncle."
Angela did not look delighted. "She is not destitute, you know," she
said, "I am her guardian, and she will have about two hundred a
year."
"Is there a will?" asked Lance.
"Oh, yes, I have it upstairs! It is all right. It was at the bank
at Brisbane, and they kept a copy. I brought her because the Bishop
said it was my duty to find out whether there were any relations."
"Certainly," said Bernard. "In our own case, remember what joy
Travis's letter was!"
Angela was silent, and presently said, "You shall see the will when I
have unpacked it, but there is no doubt about my being guardian."
"Probably not," said Bernard, rather drily.
"If it be a valid will, signed by his proper name," said Lance.
Whereupon the two brothers fell into a discussion on points of law,
not unlike the editor of the Pursuivant, as he had become known to
his family, but most unlike the Bernard they had known before his
departure for the East. At any rate it dissipated the emotional tone
of the party; and by and by, when Bernard and Angela had agreed to
make a bicycle rush to Minsterham the next day, "that is," said
Angela "if Lena is happy enough to spare me," the Harewoods took
leave.
When the children had gone to bed, and Angela had stayed upstairs so
long that Gertrude augured that she was waiting till her charge had
gone to sleep, and that they should have no more of her henceforth
but "Lena's baulked stepmother," she came down, bringing a document
with her, which she displayed before her brothers.
There was no question but that it was a will drawn up in due form,
and very short, bequeathing his property at Carrigaboola, Queensland,
to his daughter, Magdalen Susanna, and appointing Fulbert Underwood
and Angela Margaret Underwood and "my brother Samuel" her guardian.
It was dated the year after his daughter's birth, and was signed
Henry Field, with a word interposed, which, as Lance said, might be
anything, but was certainly the right length for the first syllables
of Merrifield. Bernard looked at it, and declared it was, to the
best of his belief, the same signature as his former clerk used to
write.
"And this," he said, looking at the seal, "is the crest of the
Merrifield's--the demi lion. I know it well on Sir Jasper's seal
ring."
"Have you nothing else, Angel?" asked Lance.
"Here is the certificate of her baptism, but that will tell you
nothing."
No more it did, it only called the child the daughter of Henry and
Caroline Field, and the surname was omitted in the bequest.
"Who was the mother?" asked Lance.
"I never exactly knew. Fulbert thought she had been a person whom
Field had met in America or somewhere, and married in a hurry.
Fulbert said she was rather pretty, but she was a poor helpless,
bewildered thing, and very poorly. He wanted to bring her to
Albertstown for fit help and nursing; but she cried so much at the
idea of either horse or wagon over the-no-roads, that it was put off
and off and she had only his shepherd's housekeeper, so it was no
wonder she did not live! Field was dreadfully cut up, and blamed
himself extremely for having given way to her; but it is as likely as
not the journey would have been just as fatal."
"Poor thing!"
"You never heard her surname?"
"No, it did not signify."
"He did not name his child after her?"
"No. I remember Fulbert saying he supposed she should be called
Caroline; and he exclaimed, 'No, no, I always said it should be
Magdalen and Susanna.'"
"My sister's name," repeated Agatha.
"And Susan Merrifield," added Dolores.
"But she is mine, mine!" cried Angela, with a tone like herself, of a
sort of triumphant jealousy. "They can't take her away from me!"
"Gently, Angela, my dear," said Lance, in a tone so like Felix of
old, that it almost startled her. "Tell me what arrangement is this
about the property. Your share of Fulbert's has never been taken
out, I think?"
"No, Macpherson, the purchaser, you know, of Fulbert's share, pays me
my amount out of it, and agreed to do the same by Lena. I don't
think the value is quite what it used to be. It rather went down
under Field; but Macpherson is all there, and it has been a better
season. I could sell it all to him, hers and mine both; but I have
thought how it would be, as it is her native country, and I have not
parted with my own to go out again to Carrigaboola, and bring her up
there. I assure you I am up to it," she added, meeting an amused
look. "I know a good deal more about sheep farming than either of
you gentlemen. I can ride anything but a buckjumper, and boss the
shepherds, and I do love the life, no stifling in fields and copses!
I only wish you would come too, Bear; it would do you ever so much
good to get a little red paint on those white banker's hands of
yours."
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