Scenes and Characters, or, Eighteen Months at Beechcroft Part 16

After a little pause Lily said in a subdued voice, 'Claude, I hope you do not believe that I was thinking of what really happened when I said that.'

'Pray what were you thinking of?'

'The abstract view of Eleanor's character.'

'Abstract nonsense!' said Claude. 'A fine demonstration of the rule of love, to go about the world slandering your sister!'

'To go about the world! Oh! Claude, it was only Robert, one of ourselves, and Alethea, to whom I tell everything.'

'So much the worse. I always rejoiced that you had no foolish young lady friend to make missish confidences to.'

'She is no foolish young lady friend,' said Lilias, indignant in her turn; 'she is five years older than I am, and papa wishes us to be intimate with her.'

'Then the fault is in yourself,' said Claude. 'You ought not to have told such things if they were true, and being utterly false--'

'But, Claude, I cannot see that they are false.'

'Not false, that Eleanor cared not a farthing for Harry!' cried Claude, shaking off Lily's arm, and stopping short.

'Oh!--she cared, she really did care,' said Lily, as fast as she could speak. 'Oh! Claude, how could you think that? I told you I did not mean what really happened, only that--Eleanor is cold--not as warm as some people--she did care for him, of course she did--I know that--I believe she loved him with all her heart--but yet--I mean she did not--she went on as usual--said nothing--scarcely cried--looked the same--taught us--never--Oh! it did not make half the difference in her that it did in William.'

'I cannot tell how she behaved at the time,' said Claude, 'I only know I never had any idea what a loss Harry was till I came home and saw her face. I used never to trouble myself to think whether people looked ill or well, but the change in her did strike me. She was bearing up to comfort papa, and to cheer William, and to do her duty by all of us, and you could take such n.o.ble resignation for want of feeling!'

Lilias looked down and tried to speak, but she was choked by her tears; she could not bear Claude's displeasure, and she wept in silence. At last she said in a voice broken by sobs, 'I was unjust-- I know Eleanor was all kindness--all self-sacrifice--I have been very ungrateful--I wish I could help it--and you know well, Claude, how far I am from regarding dear Harry with indifference--how the thought of him is a star in my mind--how happy it makes me to think of him at the end of the Church Militant Prayer; do not believe I was dreaming of him.'

'And pray,' said Claude, laughing in his own good-humoured way, 'which of us is it that she is so willing to lose?'

'Oh! Claude, no such thing,' said Lily, 'you know what I meant, or did not mean. It was nonsense--I hope nothing worse.' Lily felt that she might take his arm again. There was a little silence, and then Lily resumed in a timid voice, 'I do not know whether you will be angry, Claude, but honestly, I do not think that if--that Eleanor would be so wretched about you as I should.'

'Eleanor knew Harry better than you did; no, Lily, I never could have been what Harry was, even if I had never wasted my time, and if my headaches had not interfered with my best efforts.'

'I do not believe that, say what you will,' said Lily.

'Ask William, then,' said Claude, sighing.

'I am sure papa does not think so,' said Lily; 'no, I cannot feel that Harry is such a loss when we still have you.'

'Oh! Lily, it is plain that you never knew Harry,' said Claude. 'I do not believe you ever did--that is one ting to be said for you.'

'Not as you did,' said Lily; 'remember, he was six years older. Then think how little we saw of him whilst they were abroad; he was always at school, or spending the holidays with Aunt Robert, and latterly even farther off, and only coming sometimes for an hour or two to see us. Then he used to kiss us all round, we went into the garden with him, looked at him, and were rather afraid of him; then he walked off to Wat Greenwood, came back, wished us good-bye, and away he went.'

'Yes,' said Claude, 'but after they came home?'

'Then he was a tall youth, and we were silly girls,' said Lilias; 'he avoided Miss Middleton, and we were always with her. He was good- natured, but he could not get on with us; he did very well with the little ones, but we were of the wrong age. He and William and Eleanor were one faction, we were another, and you were between both- -he was too old, too sublime, too good, too grave for us.'

'Too grave!' said Claude; 'I never heard a laugh so full of glee, except, perhaps, Phyllis's.'

'The last time he was at home,' continued Lily, 'we began to know him better; there was no Miss Middleton in the way, and after you and William were gone, he used to walk with us, and read to us. He read Guy Mannering to us, and told us the story of Sir Maurice de Mohun; but the loss was not the same to us as to you elder ones; and then sorrow was almost lost in admiration, and in pleasure at the terms in which every one spoke of him. Claude, I have no difficulty in not wis.h.i.+ng it otherwise; he is still my brother, and I would not change the feeling which the thought of his death gives me--no, not for himself in life and health.'

'Ah!' sighed Claude, 'you have no cause for self-reproach--no reason to lament over "wasted hours and love misspent."'

'You will always talk of your old indolence, as if it was a great crime,' said Lily.

'It was my chief temptation,' said Claude. 'As long as we know we are out of the path of duty it does not make much difference whether we have turned to the right hand or to the left.'

'Was it Harry's death that made you look upon it in this light?' said Lily.

'I knew it well enough before,' said Claude, 'it was what he had often set before me. Indeed, till I came home, and saw this place without him, I never really knew what a loss he was. At Eton I did not miss him more than when he went to Oxford, and I did not dwell on what he was to papa, or what I ought to be; and even when I saw what home was without him, I should have contented myself with miserable excuses about my health, if it had not been for my confirmation; then I awoke, I saw my duty, and the wretched way in which I had been spending my time. Thoughts of Harry and of my father came afterwards; I had not vigour enough for them before.'

Here they reached the house, and parted--Claude, ashamed of having talked of himself for the first time in his life, and Lily divided between shame at her own folly and pleasure at Claude's having thus opened his mind.

Jane, who was most in fault, escaped censure. Her father was ignorant of her improper speech. Emily forgot it, and it was not Claude's place to reprove his sisters, though to Lily he spoke as a friend. It pa.s.sed away from her mind like other idle words, which, however, could not but leave an impression on those who heard her.

An unlooked-for result of the folly of this evening was, that Claude was prevented from appreciating Miss Weston He could not learn to like her, nor shake off an idea, that she was prying into their family concerns; he thought her over-praised, and would not even give just admiration to her singing, because he had once fancied her eager to exhibit it. It was unreasonable to dislike his sister's friend for his sister's folly, but Claude's wisdom was not yet arrived at its full growth, and he deserved credit for keeping his opinion to himself.

CHAPTER IX--THE WASP

'Whom He hath blessed and called His own, He tries them early, look and tone, Bent brow and throbbing heart, Tries them with pain.'

The next week Lily had the pleasure of fitting out Faith Longley for her place at Mrs. Weston's. She rejoiced at this opportunity of patronising her, because in her secret soul she felt that she might have done her a little injustice in choosing her own favourite Esther in her stead. Esther's popularity at the New Court, however, made Lilias confident in her own judgment; the servants liked her because she was quick and obliging, Mr. Mohun said she looked very neat, Phyllis liked her because a mischance to her frock was not so brave an offence with her as with Rachel, and Ada was growing very fond of her, because she was in the habit of bestowing great admiration on her golden curls as she arranged them, and both little girls were glad not to be compelled to put away the playthings they took out.

Maurice and Reginald had agreed to defer their onslaught on the wasps till Lord Rotherwood's arrival, and the war was now limited to attacks on foraging parties. Reginald most carefully marked every nest about the garden and farm, and, on his cousin's arrival on Sat.u.r.day evening, began eagerly to give him a list of their localities. Lord Rotherwood was as ardent in the cause as even Reginald could desire, and would have instantly set out with him to reconnoitre had not the evening been rainy.

Then turning to Claude, he said, 'But I have not told you what brought me here; I came to persuade you to make an expedition with me up the Rhine; I set off next week; I would not write about it, because I knew you would only say you should like it very much, but-- some but, that meant it was a great deal too much trouble.'

'How fast the plan has risen up,' said Claude, 'I heard nothing of it when I was with you.'

'Oh! it only came into my head last week, but I do not see what there is to wait for, second thoughts are never best.'

'Oh! Claude, how delightful,' said Lily.

Claude stirred his tea meditatively, and did not speak.

'It is too much trouble, I perceive,' said Lord Rotherwood; 'just as I told you.'

'Not exactly,' said Claude.

Lord Rotherwood now detailed his plan to his uncle, who said with a propitious smile, 'Well, Claude, what do you think of it?

'Mind you catch a firefly for me,' said Maurice.

'Why don't you answer, Claude?' said Lilias; 'only imagine seeing Undine's Castle!'

'Eh, Claude?' said his father.