Robin Redbreast Part 23

'She is sure to have seen her again. They are living close together,'

said Jacinth. 'But she doesn't say anything about her in this letter.

Why should she?' Jacinth's tone was growing a little acrid. 'May she not for once be taken up with our own affairs? what can be more important than all she has to tell us? I do wish, Frances, you wouldn't drag these Harpers into everything; it is really bad taste.'

Frances was not very clear as to what 'bad taste' meant, but she was very sorry to have vexed Jacinth.

'It was only,' she said, 'only that it seems as if all the happiness were coming to us, and all the troubles to them. And I was so glad mamma was sorry for them.'

'You speak as if they were our nearest relations,' said Jacinth, 'instead of being, as they are, actual strangers.'

But she was not sure if Frances heard her. She had already run off.

Jacinth followed her down-stairs more slowly. They had been sitting in the elder girl's bedroom, which, with its cheerful outlook and pleasant arrangements of writing-table and bookcases and sofa, and fire burning brightly, was rather a favourite resort of theirs in the morning, before Lady Myrtle was free from her various occupations. For she was a busy and methodical old lady.

The staircase was one of the pretty features of Robin Redbreast: though a spiral one, the steps were pleasantly shallow, and every here and there it was lighted by quaintly shaped windows.

'How I love this house!' said Jacinth to herself, as she pa.s.sed out round the gallery, already described, on into the conservatory, even at that mid-winter season a blaze of lovely brilliant colour. 'If--oh, if it were going to be our home some time or other, how beautiful it would be to look forward to! how delightful it would make mamma's coming back!

I can't bear to think of papa's having that horrid appointment up in the north. I'd rather keep on as we are, and go out to India when I'm old enough.'

She had loitered a moment among the flowers; the door of Lady Myrtle's boudoir was slightly ajar; the old lady's ears were quick; she heard even the slight rustle of Jacinth's skirts, and called out to her.

'Is that you, dear Jacinth? Come in--I have finished my letters and accounts, and was just going to send for you.'

And as the girl hastened in, Lady Myrtle looked up with a bright smile of welcome. It was pleasant to be thus greeted: a change from Aunt Alison's calm unimpa.s.sioned placidity.

'Dear Lady Myrtle,' said Jacinth, 'I don't know how to tell you our news. We have got our Christmas letters from papa and mamma; Aunt Alison sent out a messenger on purpose with them. And Francie and I have just read them. And--what do you think?'

She sat down on a stool at Lady Myrtle's feet and looked up in her face.

The old lady laid her hand fondly on the girl's soft hair.

'Nothing wrong, dear; I can see by your face. What can it be? Not--it can't be that they are coming home?'

Jacinth's eyes sparkled.

'Yes, indeed,' she said; 'that's just what it is. At least it's not quite that they're coming home for good; I wish it were. But if you like, if it won't bother you, I'll read you mamma's letter.'

'Yes, do, dear,' said the old lady.

And Jacinth did so, congratulating herself on what had disappointed Frances, that there was no mention at all in this letter of the Harper family or Mrs Lyle.

Lady Myrtle listened with evidently extreme interest. When Jacinth had finished, there was a moment or two's silence. Then Lady Myrtle said quietly but decidedly: 'She must come straight here--your mother, I mean. I shall write to her myself. Don't you think that will be best? It will be the greatest satisfaction to me to see her--little Eugenia--how proud your dear grandmother was of her! A fair-haired, brown-eyed little creature. Not so like my Jacinth as you are, child. But that, one could not expect. It is not often that one sees such a likeness as yours to your grandmother. But I am so thankful to know I may hope to see your mother. Sometimes I have feared'----But here Lady Myrtle broke off without finis.h.i.+ng her sentence. 'Jacinth, I want you to talk about it.

What can I say to ensure her coming to me? I want to make her feel that it will be really like coming home?'

'Say _that_ to her, dear Lady Myrtle,' Jacinth replied. 'Nothing could touch her more. And I am sure she will love to come here, at any rate for a while, at first. You see she speaks of living at Thetford till papa comes--of having a little house there and us with her. There would not be room in Aunt Alison's house, and besides, I think mamma would like to feel more independent with us three.'

[Ill.u.s.tration: Jacinth sat down on a stool at Lady Myrtle's feet and looked up in her face.]

'Of course. I would not at all advise her living in Market Square Place, even if there were room,' said Lady Myrtle. 'In a small house, and with your aunt being accustomed to be the authority--no, it would not do. But there would be no such difficulties here. Your mother must come to me first, and you three must be here, too, to meet her. And then, later on, if she thinks it better to take a little house--well, I shall not oppose her. I am not an unreasonable old woman, am I, my child?'

'No, indeed,' said Jacinth warmly. 'And'--with a little smile--'I know mamma is very _sensible_. I can tell it by her letters, and even by what I remember of her. She is eager and hearty--sometimes Francie reminds me of her--but she is never fanciful or obstinate. It sounds impertinent of me talking like that of her, but I think you will understand. And I am sure you and mamma will suit each other.'

'I am sure we shall, dear, though, in a sense, _you_ will always seem the _most_ of your grandmother to me, Jacinth. You see my most vivid memory of her is about your age; it is really as if she had come back to me, sometimes.'

'I do so love you to say that,' said Jacinth.

'But I want to speak of all your mother writes,' the old lady went on.

'I--there can be no harm in my talking to you quite frankly, for I see your mother confides in you, and she is quite right to do so. Jacinth--I don't like the idea of that post, whatever it is, at Barmettle.'

Jacinth drew a deep breath of relief.

'Oh, I am so glad you think so,' she said. 'I scarcely liked to say it--it seems selfish--if it would save papa's going out again, and he has had so much of India; but it _would_ be rather horrid, wouldn't it?

And almost a come-down, it seems to me. The other appointment in London would be so much nicer, only living at all _nicely_ in London is so dear, and the pay is smaller. Perhaps it will end after all in papa and mamma going back to India, and my joining them in two or three years.'

Lady Myrtle put out her hand, and clasped Jacinth's firmly in hers.

'No, my child,' she said. 'That must not be. I think when one gets as old as I am, one may be a little selfish; that is to say, if one's selfishness does no one any harm. And your parents have had enough of India; there can be no necessity for their return there, nor for your joining them. No, I could not consent to lose you again--the one thing that has been sent to cheer me! Put all such possibilities out of your mind, my Jacinth. I will write to your mother.'

'And what shall I say to her?' asked Jacinth. 'About all you have said, I mean.'

'Refer her to me. But tell her how you are all--_we_ are all--counting on her coming first to Robin Redbreast, and that then we shall be able to talk over everything. Tell her I cannot consent to giving you up; tell her, as I hope you can, that this place is beginning to feel like home to you.'

'You know I feel it so, dear Lady Myrtle,' said Jacinth simply. 'I think I have been happier here already than I have ever been anywhere else.

And I am so glad this news has come while we were here. It makes it doubly delightful. And we shall remember that it came to us here--this Christmas week.'

CHAPTER XII.

'"CAMILLA" AND "MARGARET," YES.'

There was a great writing of letters during the next day or two at Robin Redbreast. And both Lady Myrtle and the children found it difficult to give their attention to anything but the absorbing subject of Mrs Mildmay's return.

And in response to a pressing invitation from the old lady, Miss Mildmay actually managed to spare or make time to come out to Robin Redbreast to 'spend the day'--that is to say, three or four hours of it, so that she and Lady Myrtle might have a talk about the plans under discussion.

The day chosen was the one in which Frances and Eugene were to return to Market Square Place. The big carriage was to take them and their aunt and Phebe home in the afternoon, leaving Jacinth for another week at Robin Redbreast.

Never had her nieces found Miss Mildmay so pleasant and almost genial.

She was greatly delighted at the news of her sister-in-law's return--delighted and relieved. For it had begun to strike her rather uncomfortably that what she had undertaken was all but an impossibility.

She was very conscientious, as I have said, and no self-deceiver. She saw that the girls, as they grew older, were becoming not less but more in need of sympathy and guidance in their out-of-school life--sympathy and guidance which at best she felt very doubtful of being able to give them, _even_ if she sacrificed all the other duties and occupations which had for so many years made her life, for their sakes. And the sacrifice would have been a very tremendous one.

The doubts and perplexities were increasing daily in her mind when there came this most welcome and little expected news, followed by the almost as welcome tidings of Lady Myrtle's eager offer of hospitality to the children's mother.

'It is very good, very, very kind and good of her,' said Miss Mildmay to herself. 'The children's making friends with her really seems to have brought good-luck. And she may be of lasting and substantial help to Frank and Eugenia. Not exactly because she is rich--Frank is far too proud to take anybody's money--but she may have interest that would be of use to him. And there would be nothing unnatural in her leaving something to Eugenia or to Jacinth. I don't suppose she means to leave everything to the Elvedons, for a good deal would have been her own share in any case, and a good deal her husband must have left her. By the bye, I have always forgotten to ask Miss Scarlett if the Harper girls she has, or had--some one said they had left--were any relation to the Elvedon family. Nice girls, evidently, but very badly off, I fancy.'

And then she forgot about the Harpers again.

But with her grateful feelings to Lady Myrtle, Miss Mildmay naturally felt that the least she could do was to clear a day for herself by working extra hard, so as to be able to spend part of it at Robin Redbreast, as the old lady much wished her to do.