Books: Modern Broods
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Charlotte Mary Yonge >> Modern Broods
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"Nor is he engaged in sacred work; only bent on frivolity," said
Paula; "yet see how the M.A. encourages him with tennis and games and
nonsense."
Poor M.A., when the encouragement had only been some general
merriment, and a few games on the lawn Paulina, who had heard many
confidences when Vera returned from Waring Grange, believed
altogether in the true love of the damsel and Hubert Delrio, who had
been wont to single out the prettiest of the girls at Filstead, and
she was resolved to do all she could in their cause, being schoolgirl
enough to have no scruple as to secrecy towards Magdalen, though on
the next opportunity she poured out all to Sister Philomena's by no
means unwilling ears.
Lovers had never fallen within the young Sister's experience, either
personally or through friends; and they had only been revealed to her
in a few very carefully-selected tales, where they were more the
necessary machinery than the main interest, for she had been bred up
in an orphanage by Sister Beata, and had never seen beyond it. So to
her Paula's story, little as there was of it, was a perfect romance,
and it gained in colour when she related it to her senior.
Sister Beata hesitated a little, having rather more knowledge of the
world, remembering that Vera Prescott was not eighteen years old, and
doubting whether an underhand intimacy ought to be encouraged; but
then Mr. Flight had spoken of Mr. Delrio as a highly praiseworthy
young man, of decided Catholic principles; he was regular at Church
services, and had dined or supped at the Vicarage. The intercourse,
as the girls had explained, had been sanctioned by Mrs. Best in their
native town, where all parties were well known, and thus there could
be no harm in letting it continue. While as to the elder Miss
Prescott, she was understood to be unduly bent on county and titled
society, and to be exclusive towards inferiors. Moreover, she was an
attendant at St. Andrew's Church, and thus regarded as out of the
pale of sympathy of the St. Kenelm's flock.
So no obstacle was put in the way of the gossips, for they were
really nothing more, except that there was admiration of the designs
for the side chapel, which were of the Scripture children on one
side, and on the other of child martyrs. Now and then there was a
reference to the chilliness and hardship of living with an
unsympathising sister, and being obliged to go to churches of which
they did not approve. Sometimes too there were airy castles of a
distant future to be shared by the magnificent architect, together
with Vera, while Paula nursed in the convent with Mother Beata and
Sister Philomena.
But all this did not prevent an excitement and eager laughter and
chatter whenever Wilfred Merrifield came in the way, and he certainly
was enough attracted by Vera's pretty face and lively graces to make
his sisters think him very absurd; but his mother had seen so many
passing fancies among her elder sons as to hold that blindness was
better than serious treatment.
There was the further effect that Magdalen had no suspicion that the
vehement attraction to St. Kenelm's went beyond the harmless quarter
of the two nursing Sisters and some hero worship of Mr. Flight. Miss
Mohun, who knew everything, had indeed hinted that something foolish
might be going on there; but Magdalen had not decided on the mutual
fairness of the two congregations, and deferred investigation till
Agatha should come home, when she would have a reasonable, if cold,
person to deal with. Nor did Thekla's chatter excite any suspicion;
for the only time when she had been present at a meeting with Mr.
Delrio, she had been half bribed, half threatened into silence, and
she was quite schoolgirl enough to feel that such was the natural
treatment of authority, though she had become really fond of
"sister."
CHAPTER IX--GONE OVER TO THE ENEMY
"Can I teach thee, my beloved? can I teach thee?"
E. B. BROWNING.
Agatha came home in due time, and Magdalen sent her sister to meet
her at the station, where they found a merry Clipstone party in the
waggonette waiting for Gillian, who was to come home at the same
time. There was so much discussion of the new golf ground, that Vera
had hardly a hand or a glance to bestow on Mr. Delrio, who jumped out
of the same train, shook hands with Agatha, and bestirred himself in
finding her luggage and calling a cab.
"How he is improved! What a pleasing, gentlemanly fellow he looks!"
she exclaimed, as she waved her thanks, while driving off in the cab.
"Is he not?" said Paula, while Vera bridled and blushed. "You will
be delighted with his work. I never saw anything more lovely than
little St. Cyriac the martyr."
"He is taken from Mrs. Henderson's little boy," added Vera; "such a
dear little darling."
"And his mother is to be done; indeed, he has sketched her for St.
Juliet."
"Flapsy! St. Romeo, too, I suppose?"
"Nonsense, Nag! There really was a St. Juliet or Julitta, and she
was his mother, and they both were martyrs. I will tell you all the
history," began Paula; but Agatha interposed.
"You must like having him down here. Sister must be much pleased
with him. She used to like old Mr. Delrio."
"Well, we have not said much about him," owned Paula. "He does not
seem to wish it, or expect to be in with swells."
"We could not stand his being treated like a common house-painter and
upholsterer," added Vera.
"Surely no one does so," said Agatha.
"Not exactly," said Paula; "at least, he has had supper at St.
Kenelm's Vicarage with Lady Flight, and luncheon at Carrara with
Captain and Mrs. Henderson."
"Because he was DOING the child," interposed Vera; "and Thekla says
that Primrose Merrifield says that her Aunt Jane--that is, old Miss
Mohun--says that Lady Flight is not a gentlewoman."
"What has that to do with Magdalen?"
"Why, she is so taken up with those swells of hers, especially now
that there is a talk of Lord Somebody's yacht coming in, that she
would never treat him as on equal terms, but just keep him at a
distance, like a mere decorator."
"That seemed to me just what you were doing," said Agatha, "when he
was so kind and helpful about my box."
"Oh, THEY were all there, and we did not want to be talked of," said
Vera, blushing. "He understands."
"He understands," repeated Paula. "We do see him at the church and
at the Sisters'. Those dear Sisters! There is no nonsense about
them. You will love them, Nag."
"Well, it does not seem to me to be treating our own sister Magdalen
fairly."
"The M.A.!" said Vera, in a tone of wonder.
"No; not to be intimate with a person you do not introduce to her,
because you do not think she would consider him as on equal terms."
"Sister Beata quite approves," added Paula, sincerely, not guessing
how little Sister Beata knew of the situation, of which she only
heard through the medium of her own representations to Sister Mena.
The two girls rushed into the charms of these two Sisters, and the
plan for an entertainment for the maidens of the Guild of St.
Milburgha, at which they were to assist. It lasted up to the gate of
the Goyle, where Magdalen and Thekla were ready to meet them; and
they trooped merrily up the hill, Agatha keeping to Magdalen's side
in a way that struck her as friendly and affectionate. It seemed to
be more truly coming HOME than the elder sister had dared to
anticipate; nor, indeed, did she feel the veiled antagonism to
herself that had previously disappointed her.
The talk was about St. Robert's, about Oxford in general, the new
friends, the principal, the games, the debates, the lectures, the
sermons, the celebrities, the undergraduates, the concerts, the
chapels, the boats, the architecture; all were touched on for further
discussion by and by as they sat at the evening meal, and then on the
chairs and cushions in the verandah; and through all there was no
exclusion of the elder sister, but rather she was the one who could
appreciate the interest of what Agatha had seen and heard; and even
she was allowed to enter into the amusement of an Oxford bon mot,
sometimes, indeed, when it was far beyond Paula and Vera.
There was no doubt that the term had much improved Agatha even in
appearance and manner. She held herself better, pronounced better,
uttered no slangish expressions, and twice she repressed little
discourtesies on the part of her sisters, and neglects such as were
not the offspring of tender familiarity, but of an indifference akin
to rudeness. Magdalen had endured, knowing how bad it was for their
manners, but unwilling to become more of an annoyance than could be
helped. The indescribable difference in Agatha's whole manner sent
Magdalen to bed happier than she had been since the arrival of her
sisters, and feeling as if Agatha had come to her own side of a
barrier.
Perhaps it was quite true; for the last two months had been a time of
growth with the maiden, changing her from a schoolgirl to a student,
from the "brook to the river." She had, indeed, studied hard, but
that she had always done, as being clever, intellectual and
ambitious. The difference had been from her intercourse with persons
slightly her elders, but who did not look on authorities as natural
enemies, to be tolerated for one's own good. There had been a
development of the conscience and soul even in this first term that
made her regard her elder sister not merely with a sense of
compulsory gratitude and duty, but with sympathy and fellow feeling,
which were the more excited when she saw her own chilliness of last
spring carried further by the two young girls.
So breakfast went off merrily; and after the round of the garden and
the pets, Agatha promised to come, when summoned, to hear how well
Thekla could read French. In the meantime she waited in the morning-
room, looking at her sisters' books; Vera pushed aside the Venetian
blind.
"Don't come in that way, Flapsy!" called Paula. "You'll be heard in
the dining-room, and the M.A. will tremble at your dusty feet."
"They aren't dusty," said Vera, pulling up the blind with a clatter.
"Aren't they?" laughed Paula, pointing.
"You had better go and wipe them," said Agatha.
"I don't believe in M.A.'s fidgets," returned Vera.
"But I do, in proper deference to the head of the house," said
Agatha, gravely.
"Murder in Irish!" cried Vera, bouncing away, while Paula argued,
"Really, Nag, life is not long enough to attend to all the M.A.'s
little worries."
"Polly, dear, I am afraid we have been on a wrong tack with our
sister. I don't like calling her by that name."
"You began it!" exclaimed Vera, dashing in by the door as she spoke.
"I could not have meant it as a nickname to be always in use."
"Oh yes, you did, I remember"--and an argument was beginning, which
Agatha cut short by saying, "Any way, it is bad taste."
"Nag has been so much among the real M.A. that she is tender about
their title."
"She wants to be one herself," said Vera; "and so she will if she
goes on getting learned and faddy."
"In both senses?" said Paula.
Agatha laughed a little, but added, "No, Polly, the thing is that it
is hardly kind or right to put that sort of label upon a person like
Magdalen--who has done so much for us--and--"
The perverse young hearts could not bear a touch on the chord of
gratitude; and Paula burst in, "Label or libel, do you mean?"
"It becomes a libel as you use it."
"Do you want us to call her sister or Magdalen, the whole scriptural
mouthful at once?"
"I believe that to call her Magdalen or Maidie, as my father did,
would make her feel nearer to us than the formal way of saying
'Sister.'"
"I don't mind about changing," said Paula. "She can never be the
same to us as dear Sister Mena."
"She is so tiresome," added Vera. "She bothers so over my music;
calling out if I make ever so small a slip, and making me go over all
again."
"Well she may," said Paula. "She is making little Tick play so
nicely. Just listen! But I can't bear her dragging us off to that
horrid old Arnscombe Church and the nasty stuffy Sunday school."
"That reminds me," said Agatha; "Gillian Merrifield met a relation of
Mr. Earl's, who said that Miss Prescott had brought quite new life
and spirit to the poor old man, who had been getting quite out of
heart for want of any one to help and sympathise with him."
"Then he ought to make his services more Catholic," said Paula. "But
nothing will wean her from the old parochial idea. Why, she would
not let me give my winter stockings to Sister Beata's poor girls, but
made me darn them and put them by."
"Yes, and mine, which were bad enough to give away, she made me darn
first," cried Vera. "She is ever so much worse than the superlative
about mending one's clothes."
"There ought to be another degree of comparison," said Paula,--
"Botheratissima!"
"For, only think!" said Vera. "She won't let us have new hats, but
only did up the old ones, and not with feathers, though there is such
a love at Tebbitts's at Rockstone."
"She says it is cruel," said Paula.
"Cruel to me, I am sure; and what difference does it make when the
birds are once killed?"
"Well, she did give us those lovely wreaths of lilies," said Paula.
"Of course, but nothing to make them stylish! What's the good of
being out if one is to have nothing chic? And she won't let me have
a hockey outfit. She says she must see more of it to be able to
judge whether to let us play!"
"That just means seeing whether her dear Merrifields do," said Paula.
"Gillian did at St. Catherine's. But you will know soon. Did I not
hear something about a garden party?"
"Oh, yes; she is talking of one, but it will be all swells and
croquet, and deadly dull."
"I thought you seemed to be getting on well with the swells, if you
mean the Merrifields, especially Wilfred, if that is his name."
"Bil--Bil! Oh, he is all very well," said Vera, "if he would not be
always so silly and come after me! As if I cared!"
"And only think," said Paula, "that she was going to have it on the
very day that St. Milburga's Guild has their festival! Just as if it
was on purpose!"
"Did you ask her to keep clear of your engagements?"
"I told her, but I don't think she listened." And as another
grievance suggested itself to Vera, she declared, "And she won't let
us join the Girls' Magazine Club, because she saw one she didn't like
on somebody's table. As if we were little babies!"
"She won't let us order books at the library, but gets such awfully
slow ones," chimed in Paula, "or only baby stories fit for Thekla.
She made me return that book dear Sister Mena lent me, because she
said it was Roman Catholic."
"And hasn't she got Thomas a Kempis on her table? and I'm sure he was
Roman Catholic. There's consistency!"
"You don't understand," began Agatha. "He was a great Saint before
the Catholics became so Roman."
"Oh, never mind! It is anything to thwart us," cried Vera. "It is
ever so much worse than school."
"But," began Agatha, and the tone of consideration to that one
conjunction caused an outburst. "Oh, Nag, Nag, if you are gone over
to the enemy, what will life be worth?"
As that terrible question was propounded, in burst Thekla with, "Oh,
Nag, Nag, they are cutting the hay in the high torr field, and sister
says we may go and see them before I read my French."
"Oh!" cried Vera, with a prolongation into a groan, "is she going to
be tiresome?"
"She has come to be quite a don," said Paula; "but never mind, we
will soon make her all right again."
The two sisters had to go to their different classes in the
afternoon, and wanted Agatha to go with them; but it was a very warm
day, and she preferred resting in the garden, and, to Magdalen's
surprise and pleasure, conversation with her. At first it was about
Oxford matters, very interesting, but public and external to the
home, and it did not draw the cords materially closer; but when
Thekla had privately decided that even hanging upon the newly
recovered Nag was not worth the endurance of anything so tedious, and
had gone off to assist her beloved old gardener in gathering green
gooseberries, Magdalen observed that she was a very pleasant little
pupil, and was getting on very well, especially with arithmetic.
"That was the strong point in the junior classes," said Agatha;
"better taught than it was in my time."
"I wish she could have more playfellows," said Magdalen. "She would
like to go to the High School at Rockquay, but there are foundations
I should wish to lay before having her out of my own hands."
"I should think you were her best playfellow. She seems very fond of
you, and very happy."
"Yes," said Magdalen, rather wistfully. "I think she generally is
so."
"Maidie! may I call you by the old home name?" And as Magdalen
answered with a kiss and tearful smile, "Do tell me, please, if Polly
and Flapsy are nice to you?"
Magdalen was taken by surprise at the pressure of the hand and the
eyes that gazed into her face full of expression.
She could not keep the drops from rushing to her own eyes, though she
smiled through them and said, "As nice as they know how."
"I am afraid I know what that means," said Agatha.
"If I only knew how to prevent their looking on me as their
governess," continued Magdalen; "but I must have got into the groove,
and I suppose I do not always remember how much must be tolerated if
love has to be won; and Paula is a thoroughly good girl."
"Yes, I am sure she wishes to be," said Agatha. "Are those Sisters
nice that she talks of so eagerly?"
"They are very excellent women, but somehow I should have had more
confidence in them if they were not unattached, or belonged to some
regular Sisterhood. I wish she had taken instead to Mysie
Merrifield, who is more of my sort; but no one can control those
likings."
"I don't think Gillian very attractive; she is so wrapped up in her
work," confessed Agatha.
"You will see them all, I hope, for I am giving a garden party next
week, perhaps. Have not they told you?"
"Oh, yes; but Polly seemed bent on its not clashing with some
festival at St. Kenelm's."
"Therefore I had not fixed the day till I had heard what is settled.
I have invited people for Thursday, which will hardly interfere."
"Did you know that the young man who is painting the ceiling at St.
Kenelm's Church is old Mr. Delrio's son Hubert?"
"Indeed! Is he staying here? We must ask him to come up to luncheon
or to tea. I am glad he is doing so well. I heard Eccles and
Beamster were to do the decorations; I suppose they employ him. I
should think it was a very good line to get into."
This was on a Friday; and the next day Magdalen proposed driving down
in the cool of the evening to see the decorations at St. Kenelm's and
their artist; but it turned out that he was gone to spend Sunday at
the Cathedral city, and all that could be done was to admire the
designs, and listen to Paula's enthusiastic explanation.
Magdalen consulted Agatha whether to send young Delrio a card for the
garden party; but they decided that it was too late for an invitation
to be sent, though a spoken one might have been possible. Besides,
it was not likely to be pleasant to a stranger who knew no one but
the Flights and Hendersons, and those professionally. Agatha told
her sisters, and with one voice they declared that they would not see
him patronised; while Agatha's acute senses doubted whether Vera's
objection was not secretly based on the embarrassment of a double
flirtation with him and with Wilfred Merrifield.
Indeed, Vera told her gaily: "Only think, Nag, I did have a jolly
ride on the M.A.'s bike after all."
"Indeed! Then she lent it to you."
"Not she! But she and the little kid were safe gone to Avoncester,
and Paula was with her dear Sisters, so Will and I took a jolly spin
along the cliff road; and it was such screaming fun. Only once we
thought we saw old Sir Jasper coming, and we got behind a barn, but
it turned out to be only a tripper, and we had such a laugh."
"Paula does not know?"
"What would be the good of telling her, with her little nun's
schoolgirl mind? She would only make no end of a fuss about a mere
bit of fun and nonsense."
"I think if Wilfred Merrifield was afraid to meet his father, it
showed a sense of wrong."
"Sir Jasper is a horrid old martineau, who never gives them any peace
at home, but is always after them."
"A martinet, I suppose you mean. I don't think that makes it any
better. I should not be happy till Magdalen knew."
"Why, no harm was done! There's her precious machine all safe! It
was just for the fun of the thing, and to try how it goes. One can't
be kept in like a blessed baby! She never has guessed it. That's
the fun of it."
"I would not return her kindness in such an unladylike way when she
is trusting you, Vera."
Did Magdalen know what had been done? She did guess, for there was a
mark on the wheel that she did not remember to have known before, and
it cost her a bitter pang of mistrust; but she abstained from
inquiries, thinking that they might only do harm. But she bought a
chain for her bicycle; and Agatha felt more shame than did Vera, who
tried to believe herself amused by her tacit sense of emancipation.
CHAPTER X--FLOWN
"Till now thy soul hath been all glad and gay,
Bid it arise and look on grief to-day."
ADELAIDE PROCTOR.
There was a Guild at St. Kenelm's which was considered by the
promoters to be superior to the Girls' Friendly Society, and which
comprised about a dozen young women, who attended classes held by
Sister Beata, and occasional modest entertainments given by Lady
Flight.
One of these was to take place the day before Miss Prescott's garden
party. It was to be given at Carrara, the very pretty grounds on the
top of the cliff, belonging to Captain Henderson, the managing
partner in the extensive marble works of Mr. White, who lived at
Rocca Marina, in the Riviera. Mrs. Henderson had resided in Mr.
Flight's parish, and been a member of his congregation, and while he
was absent for a day or two she had put her garden at the service of
the Guild of St. Milburga's for the day.
Of course Vera and Paula were delighted to assist; but Thekla was too
young for the amusements of grown-up maidens, and was much better
pleased to help her two elder sisters in preparations for the next
day, placing tennis nets, arranging croquet hoops, mustering chairs
by the verandah, and adorning tables with flowers. Agatha's
assistance was heartily given, as making it her own concern, and, for
that reason above all others, it was a happy day, though a very
tiring one, to Magdalen, in spite of the sultry atmosphere and the
sight of lurid-looking clouds over the moors, which did not augur
well for the next day's weather, and caused all the arrangement of
chairs and rugs to be prudently broken up and deposited under the
verandah.
This was done, and the evening meal had been taken, and Thekla had
gone to bed before some flashes of lightning made the two sisters
wish to see the other pair at home, especially as Vera was much
afraid of lightning, and Paula apt to be made quite ill by it.
The storm rolled on, bringing violent gusts of wind and hail, though
not at the very nearest, and such a hurricane of wind and rain ensued
that the two watchers concluded that the two girls must have been
housed for the night by some of the friends at Rock Quay, and it was
near midnight, when just as they had gone to their rooms, a carriage
was heard ascending the hill, and they had reached the door before
Paulina sprang out with the cry, "Is she come home?" Then at sight
of the blank faces of dismay, she seized hold of Agatha's hands and
began to sob. Mr. Flight had stepped out of the car at the same
moment, and answered the incoherent questions and exclamations.
"Young Delrio offered to take photographs of the party, and that was
the last time she was seen."
"Yes," sobbed Paula, "Sister Mena saw her there. We were trying to
get up croquet, and then I missed her. I tried to find her when the
lightning began, but I could not find her anywhere, though I looked
in all the summer-houses!"
"At Mrs. Henderson's? or Miss Mohun's? or the Sisters'?" asked
Magdalen, catching alarm from each denial. "She might have gone home
with one of the girls."
"She would be wild in such a storm," said Agatha, "and not know what
she was about."
"Sister Beata and I have gone to each house," said Mr. Flight.
"When did you say you saw her last?"
"I saw her when we were grouped," said Paula; "Sister Mena, when she
was helping him to put up his photos."
"The strange thing is," said Mr. Flight, "though no doubt it will be
explained, that Delrio is missing too."
"Hubert Delrio!" exclaimed Agatha. "Impossible! He must have taken
her into the church to be out of the storm."
"We have tried," said the clergyman. And as the round of suggestions
began to be despairingly reiterated, he said, hesitating, "Miss Mohun
told me that she thought she had seen a boat, Captain Henderson's,
she believed, in the cave with some one rocking in it; and certainly
that little boat was there, when on the hope, if it can be called a
hope, I ran down the steps to look."
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