The Long Vacation Part 39

"I shall think, and wait till I have seen Gerald and Travis. This letter is evidently written simply in the hope of raising money from me, not in any friendly spirit."

"Certainly not," said Lance. "Having failed to black-mail Gerald, and discovered that you are the heir, they begin on you, but not from any grat.i.tude to you. Sweetie Bob, as they call the ex-errand-boy, gives a fine account of their denunciations of the tall parson who brought the bobbies down on them."

Lance felt much rea.s.sured by Clement's tone, and all the more when he had seen Dr. Brownlow, who made a thorough examination, and came to the conclusion that Clement had recovered tone, so that the shock, whatever it was, that his brother dreaded had done no present damage, but that he was by no means fit for any strain of work or exertion, should be kept from anxiety as much as possible, and had better spend the winter in a warm climate. It was not likely--Jock Brownlow said it with grief and pain--that he would ever be able to return to the charge of St.

Matthew's, but as he had a year's holiday, there was no need to enter on that subject yet, and in a quiet country place, with a curate, he might live to the age of man in tolerable health if he took care of himself, or his sister took care of him for some time to come.

So much relieved was Lance that he recollected that he had laid in no stock of presents for those at home, and went up to profit by the second day's reductions, when he secured Geraldine's portrait of Davy Blake for his wife, and a statuette of St. Cecilia for Dr. May, some charming water-colours for Robina and Ethel, besides various lesser delights for the small fry, his own and the flock at Vale Leston, besides a cus.h.i.+on for Alda's sofa. John Inglesant had been bought by a connoisseur by special commission. He heard at every stall triumphant accounts of the grand outlay of the Travis Underwoods and Rotherwoods, and just the contrary of Mrs. Pettifer, whom he encountered going about in search of bargains, and heard haggling for a handsome table-cover, because it was quite aesthetic, and would not do except in a large house, so of course it had not sold.

The Mouse-traps had been a great success, and there were very few left of them. They really owed as much to Lance as did the play, for he had not only printed them at as small a cost as possible, but had edited, pruned, and got them into shape more than any of the young lady authors suspected. The interpretation of handwriting had likewise succeeded in obtaining many clients, and a large pile of silver coins. Anna, who was hovering near, was delighted to show him that her sister Sophy's writing had been declared to indicate homely tastes, an affectionate disposition, great perspicuity of perception, much force of character; and Franceska's, scarcely yet formed, showed that she was affectionate, romantic, and, of all things in the world, fond of horses and of boating. Emilia's was held as a great blunder, for she was said to have an eye devoted to temporal advantages, also volatile, yet of great determination, triumphing over every obstacle, and in much danger of self-deception.

"The triumph at least is true," said Anna, "now she has her way about the nursing."

"Has she? I did not know it."

"Yes, she is to try it for a year, while Cousins Fernan and Marilda go out to their farm in the Rocky Mountains."

Just then there was a little commotion, and a report came up that a boat had been run down and some one drowned. Somebody said, "One of those acting last night--a buccaneer." Somebody else, "A naval man." Then it was "The Buccaneer Captain," and Mrs. Pettifer was exclaiming, "Poor Captain Armytage! He was in our theatricals, I remember, but they thought him rather high. But he was a fine young man! Poor Captain Armytage!"

Lance had sufficient interests in those at sea to be anxious, and turned his steps to the gates to ascertain the facts, when he was overtaken by Gillian, with a hat hastily thrown over her snooded hair and Highland garb, hurrying along, and looking very white.

"Mr. Underwood! Oh! did you hear who it was?"

"No certainty. I was going down to find out. You," as he saw her purpose, "had better not come. There will be a great crowd. I will come back and tell you."

"Oh no, I must. This is the short way."

Her hands trembled so that she could hardly undo the private fastening of Miss Mohun's garden, and she began to dash down the cliff steps. Just at the turn, where the stair-way was narrowest, Lance heard her exclaim, and saw that she had met face to face no other than Captain Armytage himself.

"Oh! is it?" and she so tottered on the rocky step that the hand he had put out in greeting became a support, and a tender one, as Lance said (perhaps with a little _malice_)--

"We heard that the Buccaneer Captain had come to grief."

"I?" he laughed; and Gillian shook herself up, asking--

"Weren't you run down?" seeing even as she spoke that not a drop of wet was traceable.

"Me! What! did you think I was going to peril my life in a 'longsh.o.r.e concern like this?" said he, with a merry laugh, betraying infinite pleasure.

"But did nothing happen? n.o.body drowned?" she asked, half disappointed.

"Not a mouse! A little chap, one of the fairies yesterday, tumbled off the sea-wall where he had no business to be, but he swam like a cork. We threw him a rope and hauled him up."

Wherewith he gave his arm to Gillian, who was still trembling, and clasped it so warmly that Lance thought it expedient to pa.s.s them as soon as possible and continue his journey on the staircase, giving a low whistle of amus.e.m.e.nt, and pausing to look out on the beautiful blue bay, crowded with the white sails of yachts and pleasure-boats, with brilliant festoons of little flags, and here and there the feather of steam from a launch. He could look, for he was feeling lighter of heart now that the communication was over.

Perhaps Lance would have been edified could he have heard the colloquy--

"Gillian! you do care for me after all?"

Gillian tried to take her arm away and to say, "Common humanity," but she did not get the words out.

"No, no!" he said. "Confess that if it had been that fisher-boy, you would not be here now!" and he kept tight the arm that she was going to take away. Her face was in a flame.

"Well, well; and if--if it wasn't, you need not make such a fuss about it."

"Not when it is the first ray of hope you have afforded me, for the only joy of my life?"

"I never meant to afford--"

"But you could not help."

"Oh, don't! I never meant it. Oh dear! I never meant to be worried about troublesome things like this till I had got older, and learnt a great deal more; and now you want to upset it all. It is very--very disagreeable."

"But you need not be upset!" poor Ernley Armytage pleaded. "Remember, I am going away for three years. May I not take hope with me?"

Gillian paused.

"Well," again she said, "I do like you--I mean, I don't mind you as much as most people; you have done something, and you have some sense."

His look of rapture at these very moderate words quite overpowered her, and the tears welled up into her eyes, while she made a sudden change of tone.

"There, there--of course it is all right. I'm a nasty creature, and if you like me, it is more than I deserve, only, whatever you do, don't make me cry. I've got all the horrid dolls and pen-wipers, and bags and rags to get rid of."

"May I talk to your mother?"

"Oh yes, if you can catch her. She will be ever so much more good to you than I; and I only hope she will warn you what a Tartar I am."

Wherewith Gillian threw off her hat, swung open the gate, and dashed like a hunted hare up to her mother's stall, where in truth she had been wanted, since only two helpers had remained to a.s.sist in the cheapening and final disposal of the remnants. Lady Merrifield read something in those wild eyes and cheeks burning, but the exigencies of the moment obliged her to hold her peace, and apply herself to estimating the half-price of the cus.h.i.+ons and table-cloths she rejoiced to see departing, as well as to preserve wits enough not to let Gillian sell the Indian screen for two s.h.i.+llings and sixpence, under the impression that this was the half of five pounds. Mysie was the only one who kept her senses fairly undisturbed, and could balance between her duty to the schools and her desire to gratify a child, happy in that she never saw more than one thing at a time. Valetta and Primrose were yachting, so that the distraction was less, and Captain Armytage lingered round, taking messages, and looking in wistful earnestness for some one to be disengaged. Yet there was something in his eyes that spoke of the calmness of an attained object, and Miss Mohun, who had sold off all her remaining frocks and pinafores at a valuation to Marilda for some inst.i.tution, and was free to help her sister, saw in a moment that his mind was settled.

Yet speech was scarcely possible till the clearance was finally effected by a Dutch auction, when Captain Armytage distinguished himself unexpectedly as auctioneer, and made an end even of the last sachet, though it smelt so strongly of lip-salve that he declared that a bearer must be paid to take it away. But the purchaser was a big sailor, who evidently thought it an elegant gift for his sweetheart.

By the time it was gone the yachters had come home. Captain Armytage seized on Sir Jasper, who already know his purpose, and wished him success, though withheld from saying a word to urge the suit by Lady Merrifield's a.s.surances, that to hurry Gillian's decision would be fatal to success, and that a reproof for petulance would be worse. She did not know whether to wish for the engagement or not; Gillian was her very dear and sufficient companion, more completely so than Mysie, who was far less clever; and she had sometimes doubted whether common domestic life beginning early was for the girl's happiness and full development; but she knew that her husband would scout these doubts as nonsense, and both really liked Ernley Armytage, and had heard nothing but what was to his advantage in every way, when they had been in his own county, and had seen his neighbours and his family. However, she could only keep quiet, and let her heart rise in a continual aspiration at every silent moment for her child's guidance.

Before she had had her moment of speech with either, she heard her husband calling Gillian, and she knew that he was the one person with whom his daughter never hid her true self in petulance or sarcasm. So Gillian met him in the General's sitting-room, gasping as she turned the handle of the door. He set a chair for her, and spoke gravely.

"My dear," he said, "I find you have gained the heart of a good man."

"I am sure I never meant it," half whispered Gillian.

"What is that--you never meant it? I never supposed you capable of such an unladylike design. You mean that you were taken by surprise?"

"No; I did see what he was at," and she hung her head.

"You guessed his intentions?"

"Yes, papa; but I didn't want--"

"Try to explain yourself," said Sir Jasper as she broke off.