Beechcroft at Rockstone. Yonge Charlotte Mary
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cleared up a little. There is much consolation in being of a little importance, and she liked the notion of a day at home, a quiet day, as she hoped in her present mood, of speaking to nobody. Her aunt let her have her own way, and only sent a card to Macrae to provide for meeting and for food, not even letting Miss Vincent know that she was coming. That feeling of not being able to talk about it or be congratulated would wear off, Aunt Jane said, if she was not worried or argued with, in which case it might become perverse affectation.
It certainly was not shared by the children. Sisters unseen for three years could hardly be very prominent in their minds. Fergus hoped that they would ride to the wedding upon elephants, and Valetta thought it very hard to miss the being a bridesmaid, when Kitty Varley had already enjoyed the honour. However, she soon began to glorify herself on the beauty of Alethea’s future title.
‘What will Kitty Varley and all say?’ was her cry.
‘Nothing, unless they are snobs, as girls always are,’ said Fergus.
‘It is not a nice word,’ said Miss Adeline.
‘But there’s nothing else that expresses it, Aunt Ada,’ returned Gillian.
‘I agree to a certain degree,’ said Miss Mohun; ‘but still I am not sure what it does express.’
‘Just what girls of that sort are,’ said Gillian. ‘Mere worshippers of any sort of handle to one’s name.’
‘Gillian, Gillian, you are not going in for levelling,’ cried Aunt Adeline.
‘No,’ said Gillian; ‘but I call it snobbish to make more fuss about Alethea’s concern than Phyllis’s—just because he calls himself Lord—’
‘That is to a certain degree true,’ said Miss Mohun. ‘The worth of the individual man stands first of all, and nothing can be sillier or in worse taste than to parade one’s grand relations.’
‘To parade, yes,’ said Aunt Adeline; ‘but there is no doubt that good connections are a great advantage.’
‘Assuredly,’ said Miss Mohun. ‘Good birth and an ancestry above shame are really a blessing, though it has come to be the fashion to sneer at them. I do not mean merely in the eyes of the world, though it is something to have a name that answers for your relations being respectable. But there are such things as hereditary qualities, and thus testimony to the existence of a distinguished forefather is worth having.’
‘Lily’s dear old Sir Maurice de Mohun to wit,’ said Miss Adeline. ‘You know she used to tease Florence by saying the Barons of Beechcroft had a better pedigree than the Devereuxes.’
‘I’d rather belong to the man who made himself,’ said Gillian.
‘Well done, Gill! But though your father won his own spurs, you can’t get rid of his respectable Merrifield ancestry wherewith he started in life.’
‘I don’t want to. I had rather have them than horrid robber Borderers, such as no doubt these Liddesdale people were.’
There was a little laughing at this; but Gillian was saying in her own mind that it was a fine thing to be one’s own Rodolf of Hapsburg, and in that light she held Captain White, who, in her present state of mind, she held to have been a superior being to all the Somervilles—perhaps to all the Devereuxes who ever existed.
CHAPTER VII. – AN EMPTY NEST
There had been no injunctions of secrecy, and though neither Miss Mohun nor Gillian had publicly mentioned the subject, all Rockquay who cared for the news knew by Sunday morning that Lady Merrifield’s two elder daughters were engaged.
Gillian, in the course of writing her letters, had become somewhat familiarised with the idea, and really looked forward to talking it over with Kalliope. Though that young person could hardly be termed Alethea’s best friend, it was certain that Alethea stood foremost with her, and that her interest in the matter would be very loving.
Accordingly, Kalliope was at the place of meeting even before Gillian, and anxiously she looked as she said—
‘May I venture—may I ask if it is true?’
‘True? Oh yes, Kally, I knew you would care.’
‘Indeed, I well may. There is no expressing how much I owe to dear Miss Alethea and Lady Merrifield, and it is such a delight to hear of them.’
Accordingly, Gillian communicated the facts as she knew them, and offered to give any message.
‘Only my dear love and congratulations,’ said Kalliope, with a little sigh. ‘I should like to have written, but—’
‘But why don’t you, then?’
‘Oh no; she would be too much engaged to think of us, and it would only worry her to be asked for her advice.’
‘I think I know what it is about,’ said Gillian.
‘How? Oh, how do you know? Did Mr. Flight say anything?’
‘Mr. Flight?’ exclaimed Gillian. ‘What has he to do with it?’
‘It was foolish, perhaps; but I did hope he might have helped Alexis, and now he seems only to care for his music.’
‘Helped him! How?’
‘Perhaps it was unreasonable, but Alexis has always been to good schools. He was getting on beautifully at Leeds, and we thought he would have gained a scholarship and gone on to be a clergyman. That was what his mind has always been fixed upon. You cannot think how good and devoted he is,’ said Kalliope with a low trembling voice; ‘and my father wished it very much too. But when the break-up came, Mr. White made our not being too fine, as he said, to work, a sort of condition of doing anything for us. Mr. Moore did tell him what Alexis is, but I believe he thought it all nonsense, and there was nothing to be done. Alexis—dear fellow—took it so nicely, said he was thankful to be able to help mother, and if it was his duty and God’s will, it was sure to come right; and he has been plodding away at the marble works ever since, quite patiently and resolutely, but trying to keep up his studies in the evening, only now he has worked through all his old school-books.’
‘And does not Mr. Flight know that I will help him?’
‘Well, Mr. Flight means to be kind, and sometimes seems to think much of him; but it is all for his music, I am afraid. He is always wanting new things to be learnt and practised, and those take up so much time; and though he does lend us books, they are of no use for study, though they only make the dear boy long and long the more to get on.’
‘Does not Mr. Flight know?’
‘I am not sure. I think he does; but in his ardour for music he seems to forget all about it. It does seem such a pity that all Alexis’s time should be wasted in this drudgery. If I could only be sure of more extra work for my designs, I could set him free; and if Sir Jasper were only at home, I am sure he would put the boy in the way of earning his education. If it were only as a pupil teacher, he would be glad, but then he says he ought not to throw all on me.’
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