Beechcroft at Rockstone

C >> Charlotte M. Yonge >> Beechcroft at Rockstone

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Gillian came back a fortnight later, having been kept at Rowthorpe,
together with Mrs. Grinstead, for a family festival over the double
marriage in Ceylon, after which she spent a few days in London, so as
to see her grandmother, Mrs. Merrifield, who was too infirm for an
actual visit to be welcome, since her attendant grandchild, Bessie
Merrifield, was so entirely occupied with her as to have no time to
bestow upon a guest of more than an hour or two. Gillian was met at
the station by her aunt, and when all her belongings had been duly
extracted, proving a good deal larger in bulk than when she had left
Rockstone, and both were seated in the fly to drive home through a
dismal February Fill-dyke day, the first words that were spoken were,

'Aunt Jane, I ought to tell you something.'

Hastily revolving conjectures as to the subject of the coming
confession, Miss Mohun put herself at her niece's service.

'Aunt Jane, I know I ought to have told you how much I was seeing of
the Whites last autumn.'

'Indeed, I know you wished to do what you could for them.'

'Yes,' said Gillian, finding it easier than she expected. 'You know
Alexis wants very much to be prepared for Holy Orders, and he could
not get on by himself, so I have been running down to Kalliope's
office after reading to Lily Giles, to look over his Greek
exercises.'

'Meeting him?'

'Only sometimes. But Kally did not like it. She said you ought to
know, and that was the reason she would not come into the G.F.S. She
is so good and honourable, Aunt Jane.'

'I am sure she is a very excellent girl,' said Aunt Jane warmly.
'But certainly it would have been better to have these lessons in our
house. Does your mother know?'

'Yes,' said Gillian, 'I wrote to her all I was doing, and how I have
been talking to Kally on Sunday afternoons through the rails of Mr.
White's garden. I thought she could telegraph if she did not
approve, but she does not seem to have noticed it in my letters, only
saying something I could not make out--about "if you approved."'

'And is that the reason you have told me?'

'Partly, but I got the letter before the holidays. I think it has
worked itself up, Aunt Jane, into a sense that it was not the thing.
There was Kally, and there was poor Valetta's mess, and her
justifying herself by saying I did more for the Whites than you knew,
and altogether, I grew sorry I had begun it, for I was sure it was
not acting honestly towards you, Aunt Jane, and I hope you will
forgive me.'

Miss Mohun put her arm round the girl and kissed her heartily.

'My dear Gill, I am glad you have told me! I dare say I seemed to
worry you, and that you felt as if you were watched; I will do my
very best to help you, if you have got into a scrape. I only want to
ask you not to do anything more till I can see Kally, and settle with
her the most suitable way of helping the youth.'

But do you think there is a scrape, aunt? I never thought of that,
if you forgave me.'

'My dear, I see you did not; and that you told me because you are my
Lily's daughter, and have her honest heart. I do not know that there
is anything amiss, but I am afraid young ladies can't do---well,
impulsive things without a few vexations in consequence. Don't be so
dismayed, I don't know of anything, and I cannot tell you how glad I
am of your having spoken out in this way.'

'I feel as if a load were off my back!' said Gillian.

And a bar between her and her aunt seemed to have vanished, as they
drove up the now familiar slope, and under the leafless copper
beeches. Blood is thinker than water, and what five months ago had
seemed to be exile, had become the first step towards home, if not
home itself, for now, like Valetta, she welcomed the sound of her
mother's voice in her aunt's. And there were Valetta and Fergus
rushing out, almost under the wheels to fly at her, and Aunt Ada's
soft embraces in the hall.

The first voice that came out of the melee was Valetta's. 'Gill is
grown quite a lady!'

'How much improved!' exclaimed Aunt Ada.

'The Bachfisch has swum into the river,' was Aunt Jane's comment.

'She'll never be good for anything jolly---no scrambling!' grumbled
Fergus.

'Now Fergus! didn't Kitty Somerville and I scramble when we found the
gate locked, and thought we saw the spiteful stag, and that he was
going to run at us?'

'I'm afraid that was rather on compulsion, Gill.'

'It wasn't the spiteful stag after all, but we had such a long way to
come home, and got over the park wall at last by the help of the limb
of a tree. We had been taking a bit of wedding-cake to Frank
Somerville's old nurse, and Kitty told her I was her maiden aunt, and
we had such fun---her uncle's wife's sister, you know.'

'We sent a great piece of our wedding-cake to the Whites,' put in
Valetta. 'Fergus and I took it on Saturday afternoon, but nobody was
at home but Mrs. White, and she is fatter than ever.'

'I say, Gill, which is the best formation, Vale Leston or Rowthorpe?'

'Oh, nobody is equal to Geraldine; but Kitty is a dear thing.'

'I didn't mean that stuff, but which had the best strata and
specimens ?'

'Geological, he means---not of society,' interposed Aunt Jane.

'Oh yes! Harry said he had gone geology mad, and I really did get
you a bit of something at Vale Leston, Fergus, that Mr. Harewood said
was worth having. Was it an encrinite? I know it was a stone-lily.'

'An encrinite! Oh, scrumptious!'

Then ensued such an unpacking as only falls to the lot of home-comers
from London, within the later precincts of Christmas, gifts of
marvellous contrivance and novelty, as well as cheapness, for all and
sundry, those reserved for others almost as charming to the beholders
as those which fell to their own lot. The box, divided into
compartments, transported Fergus as much as the encrinite; Valetta
had a photograph-book, and, more diffidently, Gillian presented Aunt
Ada with a graceful little statuette in Parian, and Aunt Jane with
the last novelty in baskets. There were appropriate keepsakes for
the maids, and likewise for Kalliope and Maura. Aunt Jane was glad
to see that discretion had prevailed so as to confine these gifts to
the female part of the White family. There were other precious
articles in reserve for the absent; and the display of Gillian's own
garments was not without interest, as she had been to her first ball,
under the chaperonage of Lady Somerville, and Mrs. Grinstead had made
her white tarletan available by painting it and its ribbons with
exquisite blue nemophilas, too lovely for anything so fleeting.

Mrs. Grinstead and her maid had taken charge of the damsel's toilette
at Rowthorpe, had perhaps touched up her dresses, and had certainly
taught her how to put them on, and how to manage her hair, so that
though it had not broken out into fringes or tousles, as if it were
desirable to imitate savages 'with foreheads marvellous low,' the
effect was greatly improved. The young brown-skinned, dark-eyed
face, and rather tall figure were the same, even the clothes the very
same chosen under her aunt Ada's superintendence, but there was an
indescribable change, not so much that of fashion as of distinction,
and something of the same inward growth might be gathered from her
conversation.

All the evening there was a delightful outpouring. Gillian had been
extremely happy, and considerably reconciled to her sisters'
marriages; but she had been away from home and kin long enough to
make her feel her nearness to her aunts, and to appreciate the
pleasure of describing her enjoyment without restraint, and of being
with those whose personal family interests were her own, not only
sympathetic, like her dear Geraldine's. They were ready for any
amount of description, though, on the whole, Miss Mohun preferred to
hear of the Vale Leston charities and church details, and Miss
Adeline of the Rowthorpe grandees and gaieties, after the children
had supped full of the diversions of their own kind at both places,
and the deeply interesting political scraps and descriptions of great
men had been given.

It had been, said Aunt Jane, a bit of education. Gillian had indeed
spent her life with thoughtful, cultivated, and superior people; but
the circumstances of her family had confined her to a schoolroom sort
of existence ever since she had reached appreciative years,
retarding, though not perhaps injuring, her development; nor did
Rockquay society afford much that was elevating, beyond the Bureau de
Charite that Beechcroft Cottage had become. Details were so much in
hand that breadth of principle might be obscured.

At Vale Leston, however, there was a strong ecclesiastical
atmosphere; but while practical parish detail was thoroughly kept up,
there was a wider outlook, and constant conversation and discussion
among superior men, such as the Harewood brothers, Lancelot
Underwood, Mr. Grinstead, and Dr. May, on the great principles and
issues of Church and State matters, religion, and morals, together
with matters of art, music, and literature, opening new vistas to
her, and which she could afterwards go over with Mrs. Grinstead and
Emily and Anna Vanderkist with enthusiasm and comprehension. It was
something different from grumbling over the number of candles at St.
Kenelm's, or the defective washing of the St. Andrew's surplices.

At Rowthorpe she had seen and heard people with great historic names,
champions in the actual battle. There had been a constant coming and
going of guests during her three weeks' visit, political meetings,
entertainments to high and low, the opening of a public institute in
the next town, the exhibition of tableaux in which she had an
important share, parties in the evenings, and her first ball. The
length of her visit and her connection with the family had made her
share the part of hostess with Lady Constance and Lady Katharine
Somerville, and she had been closely associated with their intimates,
the daughters of these men of great names. Of course there had been
plenty of girlish chatter and merry trifling, perhaps some sharp
satirical criticism, and the revelations she had heard had been a
good deal of the domestic comedy of political and aristocratic life;
but throughout there had been a view of conscientious goodness, for
the young girls who gave a tone to the rest had been carefully
brought up, and were earnest and right-minded, accepting
representation, gaiety, and hospitality as part of the duty of their
position, often involving self-denial, though there was likewise
plenty of enjoyment.

Such glimpses of life had taught Gillian more than she yet realised.
As has been seen, the atmosphere of Vale Leston had deepened her
spiritual life, and the sermons had touched her heart to the quick,
and caused self-examination, which had revealed to her the secret of
her dissatisfaction with herself, and her perception was the clearer
through her intercourse on entirely equal terms with persons of a
high tone of refinement.

The immediate fret of sense of supervision and opposition being
removed, she had seen things more justly, and a distaste had grown on
her for stolen expeditions to the office, and for the corrections of
her pupil's exercises. She recoiled from the idea that this was the
consequence either of having swell friends, or of getting out of her
depth in her instructions; but reluctance recurred, while advance in
knowledge of the world made her aware that Alexis White, after hours,
in his sister's office, might justly be regarded by her mother and
aunts as an undesirable scholar for her, and that his sister's
remonstrances ought not to have been scouted. She had done the thing
in her simplicity, but it was through her own wilful secretiveness
that her ignorance had not been guarded.

Thus she had, as a matter of truth, conscience, and repentance, made
the confession which had been so kindly received as to warm her heart
with gratitude to her aunt, and she awoke the next morning to feel
freer, happier, and more at home than she had ever yet done at
Rockstone.

When the morning letters were opened, they contained the startling
news that Mysie might be expected that very evening, with Fly, the
governess, and Lady Rotherwood,---at least that was the order of
precedence in which the party represented itself to the minds of the
young Merrifields. Primrose had caught a fresh cold, and her uncle
and aunt would not part with her till her mother's return, but the
infection was over with the other two, and sea air was recommended as
soon as possible for Lady Phyllis; so, as the wing of the hotel,
which was almost a mansion in itself, had been already engaged, the
journey was to be made at once, and the arrival would take place in
the afternoon. The tidings were most rapturously received; Valetta
jumped on and off all the chairs in the room unchidden, while Fergus
shouted, 'Hurrah for Mysie and Fly!' and Gillian's heart felt free to
leap.

This made it a very busy day, since Lady Rotherwood had begged to
have some commissions executed for her beforehand, small in
themselves, but, with a scrupulously thorough person, occupying all
the time left from other needful engagements; so that there was no
chance of the promised conversation with Kalliope, nor did Gillian
trouble herself much about it in her eagerness, and hardly heard
Fergus announce that Frank Stebbing had come home, and the old boss
was coming, 'bad luck to him.'

All the three young people were greatly disappointed that their aunts
would not consent to their being on the platform nor in front of the
hotel, nor even in what its mistress termed the reception-room, to
meet the travellers.

'There was nothing Lady Rotherwood would dislike more than a rush of
you all,' said Aunt Adeline, and they had to submit, though Valetta
nearly cried when she was dragged in from demonstratively watching at
the gate in a Scotch mist.

However, in about a quarter of an hour there was a ring at the door,
and in another moment Mysie and Gillian were hugging one smother,
Valetta hanging round Mysie's neck, Fergus pulling down her arm. The
four creatures seemed all wreathed into one like fabulous snakes for
some seconds, and when they unfolded enough for Mysie to recollect
and kiss her aunts, there certainly was a taller, better-equipped
figure, but just the same round, good-humoured countenance, and the
first thing, beyond happy ejaculations, that she was heard in a
dutiful voice to say was, 'Miss Elbury brought me to the door. I may
stay as long as my aunts like to have me this evening, if you will be
so kind as to send some one to see me back.'

Great was the jubilation, and many the inquiries after Primrose, who
had once been nearly well, but had fallen back again, and Fly, who,
Mysie said, was quite well and as comical as ever when she was well,
but quickly tired. She had set out in high spirits, but had been
dreadfully weary all the latter part of the journey, and was to go to
bed at once. She still coughed, but Mysie was bent on disproving
Nurse Halfpenny's assurance that the recovery would not be complete
till May, nor was there any doubt of her own air of perfect health.

It was an evening of felicitous chatter, of showing off Christmas
cards, of exchanging of news, of building of schemes, the most
prominent being that Valetta should be in the constant companionship
of Mysie and Fly until her own schoolroom should be re-established.
This had been proposed by Lord Rotherwood, and was what the aunts
would have found convenient; but apparently this had been settled by
Lord Rotherwood and the two little girls, but Lady Rotherwood had not
said anything about it, and quoth Mysie, 'Somehow things don't happen
till Lady Rotherwood settles them, and then they always do.'

'And shall I like Miss Elbury?' asked Valetta.

'Yes, if---if you take pains,' said Mysie; 'but you mustn't bother her
with questions in the middle of a lesson, or she tells you not to
chatter. She likes to have them all kept for the end; and then, if
they aren't foolish, she will take lots of trouble.'

'Oh, I hate that!' said Valetta. 'I shouldn't remember them, and I
like to have done with it. Then she is not like Miss Vincent?'

'Oh no! She couldn't be dear Miss Vincent; but, indeed, she is very
kind and nice.'

'How did you get on altogether, Mysie! Wasn't it horrid?' asked
Gillian.

'I was afraid it was going to be horrid,' said Mysie. 'You see, it
wasn't like going in holiday time as it was before. We had to be
almost always in the schoolroom; and there were lots of lessons---more
for me than Fly.'

'Just like a horrid old governess to slake her thirst on you,' put in
Fergus; and though his aunts shook their heads at him, they did not
correct him.

'And one had to sit bolt upright all the time, and never twist one's
ankles,' continued Mysie; 'and not speak except French and German---
good, mind! It wouldn't do to say, "La jambe du table est sur mon
exercise?"'

'Oh, oh! No wonder Fly got ill!'

'Fly didn't mind one bit. French and German come as naturally to her
as the days of the week, and they really begin to come to me in the
morning now when I see Miss Elbury.'

'But have you to go on all day?' asked Valetta disconsolately.

'Oh no! Not after one o'clock.'

'And you didn't say that mamma thinks it only leads to slovenly bad
grammar!' said Gillian.

'That would have been impertinent,' said Mysie; 'and no one would
have minded either.'

'Did you never play?'

'We might play after our walk---and after tea; but it had to be quiet
play, not real good games, even before Fly was ill---at least we did
have some real games when Primrose came over, or when Cousin
Rotherwood had us down in his study or in the hall; but Fly got
tired, and knocked up very soon even then. Miss Elbury wanted us
always to play battledore and shuttlecock, or Les Graces, if we
couldn't go out.'

'Horrid woman!' said Valetta.

'No, she isn't horrid,' said Mysie stoutly; 'I only fancied her so
when she used to say, "Vos coudes, mademoiselle," or "Redresses-
vous," and when she would not let us whisper; but really and truly
she was very, very kind, and I came to like her very much and see she
was not cross---only thought it right.'

'And redressez-vous has been useful, Mysie,' said Aunt Ada; 'you are
as much improved as Gillian.'

'I thought it would be dreadful,' continued Mysie, 'when the grown-
ups went out on a round of visits, and we had no drawing-room, and no
Cousin Rotherwood; but Cousin Florence came every day, and once she
had us to dinner, and that was nice; and once she took us to
Beechcroft to see Primrose, and if it was not fine enough for Fly to
go out, she came for me, and I went to her cottages with her. Oh, I
did like that! And when the whooping-cough came, you can't think how
very kind she was, and Miss Elbury too. They both seemed only to
think how to make me happy, though I didn't feel ill a bit, except
when I whooped, but they seemed so sorry for me, and so pleased that
I didn't make more fuss. I couldn't, you know, when poor Fly was so
ill. And when she grew better, we were all so glad that somehow it
made us all like a sort of a kind of a home together, though it could
not be that.'

Mysie's English had scarcely improved, whatever her French had done;
but Gillian gathered that she had had far more grievances to
overcome, and had met them in a very different spirit from herself.

As to the schoolroom arrangements, which would have been so
convenient to the aunts, it was evident that the matter had not yet
been decisively settled, though the children took it for granted.
It was pretty to see how Mysie was almost devoured by Fergus and
Valetta, hanging on either side of her as she sat, and Gillian, as
near as they would allow, while the four tongues went on unceasingly.

It was only horrid, Valetta said, that Mysie should sleep in a
different house; but almost as much of her company was vouchsafed on
the ensuing day, Sunday, for Miss Elbury had relations at Rockquay,
and was released for the entire day; and Fly was still so tired in
the morning that she was not allowed to get up early in the day.

Her mother, however, came in to go to church with Adeline Mohun, and
Gillian, who had heard so much of the great Marchioness, was
surprised to see a small slight woman, not handsome, and worn-looking
about the eyes. At the first glance, she was plainly dressed; but
the eye of a connoisseur like Aunt Ada could detect the exquisiteness
of the material and the taste, and the slow soft tone of her voice;
and every gesture and phrase showed that she had all her life been in
the habit of condescending---in fact, thought Gillian, revolving her
recent experience, though Lady Liddesdale and all her set are taller,
finer-looking people, they are not one bit so grand---no, not that---
but so unapproachable, as I am sure she is. She is gracious, while
they are just good-natured!

Aunt Ada was evidently pleased with the graciousness, and highly
delighted to have to take this distinguished personage to church.
Mysie was with her sisters, Valetta was extremely anxious to take her
to the Sunday drawing-room class---whether for the sake of showing her
to Mrs. Hablot, or Mrs. Hablot to her, did not appear.

Gillian was glad to be asked to sit with Fly in the meantime. It was
a sufficient reason for not repairing to the garden, and she hoped
that Kalliope was unaware of her return, little knowing of the
replies by which Fergus repaid Alexis for his assistance in mineral
hunting. She had no desire to transgress Miss Mohun's desire that no
further intercourse should take place till she herself had spoken
with Kalliope.

She found little Phyllis Devereux a great deal taller and thinner
than the droll childish being who had been so amusing two years
before at Silverfold, but eagerly throwing herself into her arms with
the same affectionate delight. All the table was spread with pretty
books and outlined illuminations waiting to be painted, and some
really beautiful illustrated Sunday books; but as Gillian touched the
first, Fly cried out, 'Oh, don't! I am so tired of all those things!
And this is such a stupid window. I thought at least I should see
the people going to church, and this looks at nothing but the old sea
and a tiresome garden.'

'That is thought a special advantage,' said Gillian, smiling.

'Then I wish some one had it who liked it!'

'You would not be so near us.'

'No, and that is nice, and very nice for Mysie. How are all the dear
beasts at Silverfold---Begum, and all?'

'I am afraid I do not know more about them than Mysie does. Aunt
Jane heard this morning that she must go down there to-morrow to meet
the health-man and see what he says; but she won't take any of us
because of the diphtheria and the scarlet fever being about.'

'Oh dear, how horrid those catching things are! I've not seen
Ivinghoe all this winter! Ah! but they are good sometimes! If it
had not been for the measles, I should never have had that most
delicious time at Silverfold, nor known Mysie. Now, please tell me
all about where you have been, and what you have been doing.'

Fly knew some of the younger party that Gillian had met at Rowthorpe;
but she was more interested in the revels at Vale Leston, and
required a precise description of the theatricals, or still better,
of the rehearsals. Never was there a more appreciative audience, of
how it all began from Kit Harewood, the young sailor, having sent
home a lion's skin from Africa, which had already served for tableaux
of Androcles and of Una---how the boy element had insisted on fun, and
the child element on fairies, and how Mrs. William Harewood had
suggested Midsummer Night's Dream as the only combination of the
three essentials, lion, fun, and fairy, and pronounced that education
had progressed far enough for the representation to be 'understanded
of the people,' at least by the 6th and 7th standards. On the whole,
however, comprehension seemed to have been bounded by intense
admiration of the little girl fairies, whom the old women appeared to
have taken for angels, for one had declared that to hear little Miss
Cherry and Miss Katie singing their hymns like the angels they was,
was just like Heaven. She must have had an odd notion of 'Spotted
snakes with double tongues.' Moreover, effect was added to the said
hymns by Uncle Lance behind the scenes.

Then there was the account of how it had been at first intended that
Oberon should be represented by little Sir Adrian, with his Bexley
cousin, Pearl Underwood, for his Titania; but though she was fairy
enough for anything, he turned out so stolid, and uttered 'Well met
by moonlight, proud Titania,' the only lines he ever learnt, exactly
like a lesson, besides crying whenever asked to study his part, that
the attempt had to be given up, and the fairy sovereigns had to be of
large size, Mr. Grinstead pronouncing that probably this was intended
by Shakespeare, as Titania was a name of Diana, and he combined
Grecian nymphs with English fairies. So Gerald Underwood had to
combine the part of Peter Quince (including Thisbe) with that of
Oberon, and the queen was offered to Gillian.

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