Magnum Bonum; Or, Mother Carey's Brood Part 92

"Is not the training costly?"

"Her Majesty owes me something. Luckily I got my commission by purchase just in time, and I shall receive compensation enough to carry me through my studies. We shall be all together with Friar Brownlow, who takes the same line in the old house in Bloomsbury, where we were all born. That she really does look forward to."

"I should think so, with you to look after her," said Mr. Ogilvie heartily.

"Only she can't get into it till Lady Day. And I wanted to ask you, Mr.

Ogilvie, do you know anything about expenses down at your place? What would tolerable lodgings be likely to come to, rent of rooms, I mean, for my mother and the two young ones. Armie has not wintered in England since that Swiss adventure of ours, and I suppose St. Cradocke's would be as good a place for him as any."

"I had a proposition to make, Brownlow. My sister and I invested in a house at St. Cradocke's when I was curate there, and she meant to retire to me when she had finished Barbara. My married curate is leaving it next week, when I go home. The single ones live in the rectory with me, and I think of making it a convalescent home; but this can't be begun for some months, as the lady who is to be at the head will not be at liberty. Do you think your mother would do me the favour to occupy it?

It is furnished, and my housekeeper would see it made comfortable for her. Do you think you could make the notion acceptable to her?" he said, colouring like a lad, and stuttering in his eagerness.

"It would be a huge relief," exclaimed Jock. "Thank you, Mr. Ogilvie.

Belforest has come to be like a prison to her, and it will be everything to have Armine in a warm place among reasonable people."

"Is Kenminster more unreasonable than formerly?"

"Not Kenminster, but Woodside. I say, Mr. Ogilvie, you haven't any one at St. Cradocke's who will send Armine and Babie to walk three miles and back in the rain for a bit of crimson cord and ta.s.sels?"

"I trust not," said Mr. Ogilvie, smiling. "That is the way in which good people manage to do so much harm."

"I'm glad you say so," cried Jock. "That woman is worse for him than six months of east wind. I declare I had a hard matter to get myself to go to Church there the next day."

"Who is _she_?"

"The sister of the Vicar of Woodside, who is making him the edifying martyr of a goody book. Ah, you know her, I see," as Mr. Ogilvie looked amused.

"A gus.h.i.+ng lady of a certain age? Oh yes, she has been at St.

Cradocke's."

"She is not coming again, I hope!" in horror.

"Not likely. They were there for a few months before her brother had the living, and I could quite fancy her influence bringing on a morbid state of mind. There is something exaggerated about her."

"You've hit her off exactly!" cried Jock, "and you'll unbewitch our poor boy before she has quite done for him! Can't you come down with me on Sat.u.r.day, and propose the plan?"

"Thank you, I am pledged to Sunday."

"I forgot. But come on Monday then?"

"I had better go and prepare. I had rather you spoke for me. Somehow,"

and a strange dew came in David Ogilvie's eyes, "I could not bear to see _her_ there, where we saw her installed in triumph, now that all is so changed."

"You would see her the brightest and bravest of all. Neither she nor Babie would mind the loss of fortune a bit if it were not, as Babie says, for 'other things.' But those other things are wearing her to a mere shadow. No, not a shadow--that is dark--but a mere sparkle! But to escape from Belforest will cure a great deal."

So Jock went away with the load on his heart somewhat lightened. He could not get home on Sat.u.r.day till very late, when dinner had long been over. Coming softly in, through the dimly lighted drawing-rooms, over the deeply piled carpets, he heard Babie's voice reading aloud in the innermost library, and paused for a moment, looking through the heavy velvet curtains over the doorway before withdrawing one and entering.

His mother's face was in full light, as she sat helping Armine to illuminate texts. She did indeed look worn and thin, and there were absolute lines on it, but they were curves such as follow smiles, rather than furrows of care; feet rather of larks than of crows, and her whole air was far more cheerful and animated than that of her youngest son.

He was thin and wan, his white cheeks contrasting with his dark hair and brown eyes, which looked enormous in their weary pensiveness, as he lent back languidly, holding a brush across his lips in a long pause, while she was doing his work. Barbara's bright keen little features were something quite different as, wholly wrapped up in her book, she read--

"Oh! then Ladurlad started, As one who, in his grave, Has heard an angel's call, Yea, Mariately, thou must deign to save, Yea, G.o.ddess, it is she, Kailyal--"

"Are you learning j.a.panese?" asked Jock, advancing, so that Armine started like Ladurlad himself.

"Dear old Skipjack! Skipped here again!" and they were all about him.

"Have you had any dinner?"

"A mouthful at the station. If there is any coffee and a bit of something cold, I'd rather eat it promiscuously here. No dining-room spread, pray. It is too jolly here," said Jock, dropping into an armchair. "Where's Bob?"

"Dining at the school-house."

"And what's that Mariolatry?"

"Mariately," said Babie. "An Indian G.o.ddess. It is the 'Curse of Kehama,' and wonderfully n.o.ble."

"Moore or Browning?"

"For shame, Jock!" cried the girl. "I thought you did know more than examination cram."

"It is the advantage of having no Mudie boxes," said his mother. "We are taking up our Southey."

"And, Armie, how are you?"

"My cough is better, thank you," was the languid answer. "Only they won't let me go beyond the terrace."

"For don't I know," said his mother, "that if once I let you out, I should find you croaking at a choir practice at Woodside?"

Then, after ordering a refection for the traveller, came the question what he had been doing.

"Dining with Mr. Ogilvie. It is quite a new sensation to find oneself on a level with the Ogre of one's youth, and prove him a human mortal after all."

"That's a sentiment worthy of Joe," said Babie. "You used to know him in private life."

"Always with a smack of the dominie. Moreover, he is so young. I thought him as ancient as Dr. Lucas, and, behold, he is a brisk youth, without a grey hair."

"He always was young-looking," said his mother. "I am glad you saw him.

I wish he were not so far off."

"Well then, mother, here's an invitation from Mahomet to the mountain, which Mahomet is too shy to make in person. That house which he and his sister bought at his English Sorrento has just been vacated by his married curate, and he wants you to come and keep it warm till he begins a convalescent home there next spring."

"How very kind!"

"Oh! mother, you couldn't," burst out Armine in consternation.

"Would it be an expense or loss to him, Jock?" said his mother, considering.

"I should say not, unless he be an extremely accomplished dissembler. If it eased your mind, no doubt he would consent to your paying the rates and taxes."

"But, mother," again implored Armine, "you said you would not force me to go to Madeira, with the Evelyns!"