The actual moment of a parting is often softened by the confusion ofdeparture. That of the Merrifield family took place at the junction,where Lady Merrifield with her brother remained in the train, to becarried on to London.
Gillian, Valetta, and Fergus, with their aunt, changed into a train forRockstone, and Harry was to return to his theological college, afterseeing Mysie and Primrose off with nurse on their way to the ancestralBeechcroft, whence Mysie was to be fetched to Rotherwood. The last thingthat met Lady Merrifield's eyes was Mrs. Halfpenny gesticulating wildly,under the impression that Mysie's box was going off to London.
And Gillian's tears were choked in the scurry to avoid asmoking-carriage, while Harry could not help thinking--half blaminghimself for so doing--that Mysie expended more feeling in parting withSofy, the kitten, than with her sisters, not perceiving that pussy wasthe safety-valve for the poor child's demonstrations of all the sorrowthat was oppressing her.
Gillian, in the corner of a Rockstone carriage, had time for the fullheart-sickness and tumult of fear that causes such acute suffering toyoung hearts. It is quite a mistake to say that youth suffers less fromapprehension than does age; indeed, the very inexperience and noveltyadd to the alarms, where there is no background of anxieties that haveended happily, only a crowd of examples of other people's misfortunes.The difference is in the greater elasticity and power of beingdistracted by outward circumstances; and thus lookers-on never guessat the terrific possibilities that have scared the imagination, and thesecret ejaculations that have met them. How many times on that briefjourney had not Gillian seen her father dying, her sisters in despair,her mother crushed in the train, wrecked in the steamer, perishing ofthe climate, or arriving to find all over and dying of the shock; yetall was varied by speculations on the great thing that was to offeritself to be done, and the delight it would give, and when the trainslackened, anxieties were merged in the care for bags, baskets, andumbrellas.
Rockstone and Rockquay had once been separate places--a little villageperched on a cliff of a promontory, and a small fishing hamlet withinthe bay, but these had become merged in one, since fashion had chosenthem as a winter resort. Speculators blasted away such of the rocks asthey had not covered with lodging-houses and desirable residences. Theinhabitants of the two places had their separate churches, and knewtheir own bounds perfectly well; but to the casual observer, the chiefdistinction between them was that Rockstone was the more fashionable,Rockquay the more commercial, although the one had its shops, the otherits handsome crescents and villas. The station was at Rockquay, andthere was an uphill drive to reach Rockstone, where the two Miss Mohunshad been early inhabitants--had named their cottage Beechcroft aftertheir native home, and, to justify the title, had flanked the gate withtwo copper beeches, which had attained a fair growth, in spite of seawinds, perhaps because sheltered by the house on the other side.
The garden reached out to the verge of the cliff, or rather to a lowwall, with iron rails and spikes at the top, and a narrow, rather giddypath beyond. There was a gate in the wall, the key of which Aunt Janekept in her own pocket, as it gave near access to certain rocky steps,about one hundred and thirty in number, by which, when in haste, theinhabitants of Rockstone could descend to the lower regions of the Quay.
There was a most beautiful sea-view from the house, which compensatedfor difficulties in gardening in such a situation, though a very slightslope inwards from the verge of the cliff gave some protection to theflower-beds; and there was not only a little conservatory attached tothe drawing-room at the end, but the verandah had glass shutters, whichserved the purpose of protecting tender plants, and also the windows,from the full blast of the winter storms. Miss Mohun was very proudof these shutters, which made a winter garden of the verandah for MissAdeline to take exercise in. The house was their own, and, though itaimed at no particular beauty, had grown pleasant and pretty looking byforce of being lived in and made comfortable.
It was a contrast to its neighbours on either side of its pink and graylimestone wall. On one side began the grounds of the Great RockstoneHotel; on the other was Cliff House, the big and seldom-inhabited houseof one of the chief partners in the marble works, which went on on theother side of the promontory, and some people said would one day consumeRockstone altogether. It was a very fine house, and the gardens werereported to be beautifully kept up, but the owner was almost always inItaly, and had so seldom been at Rockstone that it was understood thatall this was the ostentation of a man who did not know what to do withhis money.
Aunt Adeline met the travellers at the door with her charming welcome.Kunz, all snowy white, wagged his tight-curled tail amid his barks, atsight of Aunt Jane, but capered wildly about the Sofy's basket, muchto Valetta's agony; while growls, as thunderous as a small kitten couldproduce, proceeded therefrom.
'Kunz, be quiet,' said Aunt Jane, in a solemn, to-be-minded voice, andhe crouched, blinking up with his dark eye.
'Give me the basket. Now, Kunz, this is our cat. Do you hear? You arenot to meddle with her.'
Did Kunz really wink assent--a very unwilling assent?
'Oh, Aunt Jane!' from Val, as her aunt's fingers undid the cover of thebasket.
'Once for all!' said Aunt Jane.
'M-m-m-m-ps-pss-psss!' from the Sofy, two screams from Val and Fergus, abuffeting of paws, a couple of wild bounds, first on a chair-back, thenon the mantelpiece, where, between the bronze candlestick and the vase,the Persian philosopher stood hissing and swearing, while Kunz dancedabout and barked.
'Take her down, Gillian,' said Aunt Jane; and Gillian, who had somepresence of mind, accomplished it with soothing words, and, thanks toher gloves, only one scratch.
Meantime Miss Mohun caught up Kunz, held up her finger to him, stoppedhis barks; and then, in spite of the 'Oh, don'ts,' and even the tears ofValetta, the two were held up--black nose to pink nose, with a resolute'Now, you are to behave well to each other, from Aunt Jane.
Kunz sniffed, the Sofy hissed; but her claws were captive. The dog wasthe elder and more rational, and when set down again took no morenotice of his enemy, whom Valetta was advised to carry into Mrs. Mount'squarters to be comforted and made at home there; the united voice of thehousehold declaring that the honour of the Spitz was as spotless as hiscoat!
Such was the first arrival at Rockstone, preceding even Aunt Adeline'sinquiries after Mysie, and the full explanation of the particulars ofthe family dispersion. Aunt Ada's welcome was not at all like that ofKunz. She was very tender and caressing, and rejoiced that her sistercould trust her children to her. They should all get on most happilytogether, she had no doubt.
True-hearted as Gillian was, there was something hopeful and refreshingin the sight of that fair, smiling face, and the touch of the soft hand,in the room that was by no means unfamiliar, though she had never sleptin the house before. It was growing dark, and the little fire lightedit up in a friendly manner. Wherever Aunt Jane was, everything was neat;wherever Aunt Adeline was, everything was graceful. Gillian was oldenough to like the general prettiness; but it somewhat awed Val andFergus, who stood straight and shy till they were taken upstairs. Thetwo girls had a very pretty room and dressing-room--the guest chamber,in fact; and Fergus was not far off, in a small apartment which, as Valsaid, 'stood on legs,' and formed the shelter of the porch.
'But, oh dear! oh dear!' sighed Val, as Gillian unpacked their eveninggarments, 'Isn't there any nice place at all where one can make a mess?'
'I don't know whether the aunts will ever let us make a mess,' saidGillian; 'they don't look like it.'
At which Valetta's face puckered up in the way only too familiar to herfriends.
'Come, don't be silly, Val. You won't have much time, you know; you willgo to school, and get some friends to play with, and not want to makemesses here.'
'I hate friends!'
'Oh, Val!'
'All but Fly, and Mysie is gone to her. I want Mysie.'
So in truth did Gillian, almost as much as her mo
ther. Her heart sankas she thought of having Val and Fergus to save from scrapes withoutMysie's readiness and good humour. If Mysie were but there she shouldbe free for her 'great thing.' And oh! above all, Val's hair--the brownbush that Val had a delusion that she 'did' herself, but which her'doing' left looking rather worse than it did before, and which was notpermitted in public to be in the convenient tail. Gillian advanced onher with the brush, but she tossed it and declared it all right!
However, at that moment there was a knock. Mrs. Mount's kindly face andstout form appeared. She had dressed Miss Ada and came to see what shecould do for the young people, being of that delightful class of oldservants who are charmed to have anything young in the house, especiallya boy. She took Valetta's refractory mane in hand, tied her sash,inspected Fergus's hands, which had succeeded in getting dirty in theirinevitable fashion, and undertook all the unpacking and arranging. ToVal's inquiry whether there was any place for making 'a dear delightfulmess' she replied with a curious little friendly smile, and wonder thata young lady should want such a thing.
'I'm afraid we are all rather strange specimens of young ladies,'replied Gillian; 'very untidy, I mean.'
'And I'm sure I don't know what Miss Mohun and Miss Ada will say' saidgood Mrs. Mount.
'What's that? What am I to say?' asked Aunt Jane, coming into the room.
But, after all, Aunt Jane proved to have more sympathy with 'messes'than any of the others. She knew very well that the children would befar less troublesome if they had a place to themselves, and she said,'Well, Val, you shall have the boxroom in the attics. And mind, you mustkeep all your goods there, both of you. If I find them about the house,I shall--'
'Oh, what, Aunt Jane?'
'Confiscate them,' was the reply, in a very awful voice, which impressedFergus the more because he did not understand the word.
'You need not look so much alarmed, Fergus,' said Gillian; 'you are notat all the likely one to transgress.'
'No,' said Valetta gravely. 'Fergus is what Lois calls a regular oldbattledore.'
'I won't be called names,' exclaimed Fergus.
'Well, Lois said so--when you were so cross because the poker had goton the same side as the tongs! She said she never saw such an oldbattledore, and you know how all the others took it up.'
'Shuttlecock yourself then!' angrily responded Fergus, while both auntand sister were laughing too much to interfere.
'I shall call you a little Uncle Maurice instead,' said Aunt Jane. 'Howthings come round! Perhaps you would not believe, Gill, that Aunt Adawas once in a scrape, when she was our Mrs. Malaprop, for applying thatsame epithet on hearsay to Maurice.'
This laugh made Gillian feel more at home with her aunt, and they wentup happily together for the introduction to the lumber-room, not a veryspacious place, and with a window leading out to the leads. Aunt Janeproceeded to put the children on their word of honour not to attempt tomake an exit thereby, which Gillian thought unnecessary, since this pairwere not enterprising.
The evening went off happily. Aunt Jane produced one of the old gameswhich had been played at the elder Beechcroft, and had a certainhistoric character in the eyes of the young people. It was one of thosevariations of the Game of the Goose that were once held to be improving,and their mother had often told them how the family had agreed to provewhether honesty is really the best policy, and how it had been agreedthat all should cheat as desperately as possible, except 'honest Phyl,'who _couldn't_; and how, by some extraordinary combination, good fortheir morals, she actually was the winner. It was immensely interestingto see the identical much-worn sheet of dilapidated pictures with thepadlock, almost close to the goal, sending the counter back almostto the beginning in search of the key. Still more interesting was theimitation, in very wonderful drawing, devised by mamma, of the careerof a true knight--from pagedom upwards--in pale watery Prussian-bluearmour, a crimson scarf, vermilion plume, gamboge spurs, and verypeculiar arms and legs. But, as Valetta observed, it must have been muchmore interesting to draw such things as that than stupid freehand linesand twists with no sense at all in them.
Aunt Ada, being subject to asthmatic nights, never came down tobreakfast, and, indeed, it was at an hour that Gillian thought fearfullyearly; but her Aunt Jane was used to making every hour of the dayavailable, and later rising would have prevented the two children frombeing in time for the schools, to which they were to go on the Monday.Some of Aunt Jane's many occupations on Saturday consisted in arrangingwith the two heads of their respective schools, and likewise for themathematical class Gillian was to join at the High School two morningsin the week, and for her lessons on the organ, which were to be at St.Andrew's Church. Somehow Gillian felt as if she were as entirely in heraunt's hands as Kunz and the Sofy had been!
After the early dinner, which suited the invalid's health, Aunt Janesaid she would take Valetta and Fergus to go down to the beach with thelittle Varleys, while she went to her district, leaving Gillian to readto Aunt Ada for half an hour, and then to walk with her for a quiet turnon the beach.
It was an amusing article in a review that Gillian was set to read, andshe did it so pleasantly that her aunt declared that she looked forwardto many such afternoon pastimes, and then, by an easier way thanthe hundred and a half steps, they proceeded down the hill, the auntexplaining a great deal to the niece in a manner very gratifying to agirl beginning to be admitted to an equality with grown-up people.
'There is our old church,' said Aunt Ada, as they had a glimpse of agray tower with a curious dumpy steeple.
'Do you go to church there!'
'I do--always. I could not undertake the hill on Sundays; but Jane takesthe school-children to the St. Andrew's service in the afternoon.'
'But which is the parish church?'
'In point of fact, my dear; it is all one parish. Good morning, Mr.Hablot. My niece, Miss Gillian Merrifield. Yes, my sister is comehome. I think she will be at the High School. He is the vicar of St.Andrew's,' as the clergyman went off in the direction of the steps.
'I thought you said it was all one parish.'
'St. Andrew's is only a district. Ah, it was all before your time, mydear.'
'I know dear Uncle Claude was the clergyman here, and got St. Andrew'sbuilt.'
'Yes, my dear. It was the great work and thought with him and LordRotherwood in those days that look so bright now,' said Aunt Ada. 'Yes,and with us all.'
'Do tell me all about it,' entreated Gillian; and her aunt, nothingloth, went on.
'Dear Claude was only five-and-twenty when he had the living. Nobodywould take it, it was such a neglected place. All Rockquay down therehad grown up with only the old church, and nobody going to it. It wasa great deal through Rotherwood. Some property here came to him, andhe was shocked at the state of things. Then we all thought the climatemight be good for dear Claude, and Jane came to live with him and helphim, and look after him. You see there were a great many of us, andJane--well, she didn't quite get on with Alethea, and Claude thought shewanted a sphere of her own, and that is the way she comes to have moreinfluence than any one else here. And as I am always better in thisair than anywhere else, I came soon after--even before my dear fathersdeath. And oh! what an eager, hopeful time it was, setting everythinggoing, and making St. Andrew's all we could wish! We were obliged tobe cautious at the old church, you know, because of not alarming theold-fashioned people. And so we are still--'
'Is that St. Andrew's? Oh, it is beautiful. May I look in?'
'Not now, my dear. You will see it another time.'
'I wish it were our church.'
'You will find the convenience of having one so near. And our servicesare very nice with our present rector, Mr. Ellesmere, an excellentactive man, but his wife is such an invalid that all the work falls onJane. I am so glad you are here to help her a little. St. Andrew's has aseparate district, and Mr. Hablot is the vicar; but as it is very poor,we keep the charities all in one. Rotherwood built splendid schools,so we only have an infant sc
hool for the Rockstone children. On Sunday,Jane assembles the older children there and takes them to church; butin the afternoon they all go to the National Schools, and then toa children's service at St. Andrew's. She gets on so well with Mr.Hablot--he was dear Claude's curate, you see, and little Mrs. Hablot wasquite a pupil of ours. What do you think little Gerald Hablot said--heis only five--"Isn't Miss Mohun the most consultedest woman inRockquay?"'
'I suppose it is true,' said Gillian, laughing, but rather awestruck.
'I declare it makes me quite giddy to count up all she has on herhands. Nobody can do anything without her. There are so few permanentinhabitants, and when people begin good works, they go away, or marry,or grow tired, and then we can't let them drop!'
'Oh! what's that pretty spire, on the rise of the other hill?'
'My dear, that was the Kennel Mission Chapel, a horrid little hideousiron thing, but Lady Flight mistook and called it St. Kenelm's, and St.Kenelm's it will be to the end of the chapter.' And as she exchangedbows with a personage in a carriage, 'There she is, my dear.'
'Who? Did she build that church?'
'It is not consecrated. It really is only a mission chapel, and he isnothing but a curate of Mr. Hablot's,' said Aunt Ada, Gillian thought alittle venomously.
She asked, 'Who?'
'The Reverend Augustine Flight, my dear. I ought not to say anythingagainst them, I am sure, for they mean to be very good; but she is someCity man's widow, and he is an only son, and they have more money thantheir brains can carry. They have made that little place very beautiful,quite oppressed with ornament--City taste, you know, and they have allmanner of odd doings there, which Mr. Hablot allows, because he says hedoes not like to crush zeal, and he thinks interference would do moreharm than good. Jane thinks he ought not to stand so much, but--'
Gillian somehow felt a certain amusement and satisfaction in findingthat Aunt Jane had one disobedient subject, but they were interruptedby two ladies eagerly asking where to find Miss Mohun, and a few stepsfarther on a young clergyman accosted them, and begged that Miss Mohunmight be told the hour of some meeting. Also that 'the Bellevue Churchpeople would not co-operate in the coal club.'
Then it was explained that Bellevue Church was within the bounds ofanother parish, and had been built by, and for, people who did not likethe doctrine at the services of St. Andrew's.
By this time aunt and niece had descended to the Marine esplanade, abroad road, on one side of which there was a low sea wall, and then thesands and rocks stretched out to the sea, on the other a broad spaceof short grass, where there was a cricket ground, and a lawn-tennisground, and the volunteers could exercise, and the band played twice aweek round a Russian gun that stood by the flagstaff.
The band was playing now, and the notes seemed to work on Gillian'sfeet, and yet to bring her heart into her throat, for the last time shehad heard that march was from the band of her father's old regiment,when they were all together!
Her aunt was very kind, and talked to her affectionately andencouragingly of the hopes that her mother would find her fatherrecovering, and that it would turn out after all quite an expedition ofpleasure and refreshment. Then she said how much she rejoiced to haveGillian with her, as a companion to herself, while her sister was sobusy, and she was necessarily so much left alone.
'We will read together, and draw, and play duets, and have quite a goodaccount of our employment to give,' she said, smiling.
'I shall like it very much,' said Gillian heartily.
'Dear child, the only difficulty will be that you will spoil me, and Ishall never be able to part with you. Besides, you will be such a helpto my dear Jane. She never spares herself, you know, and no one everspares her, and I can do so little to help her, except with my head.'
'Surely here are plenty of people,' said Gillian, for they were in themidst of well-dressed folks, and Aunt Ada had more than once exchangednods and greetings.
'Quite true, my dear; but when there is anything to be done, then thereis a sifting! But now we have you, with all our own Lily's spirit, Ishall be happy about Jane for this winter at least.
They were again interrupted by meeting a gentleman and lady, to whomGillian was introduced, and who walked on with her aunt conversing. Theyhad been often in India, and made so light of the journey that Gillianwas much cheered. Moreover, she presently came in sight of Val andFergus supremely happy over a castle on the beach, and evidentlyindoctrinating the two little Varleys with some of the dramatic sportsof Silverfold.
Aunt Ada found another acquaintance, a white moustached old gentleman,who rose from a green bench in a sunny corner, saying, 'Ah, Miss Mohun,I have been guarding your seat for you.'
'Thank you, Major Dennis. My niece, Miss Merrifield.'
He seemed to be a very courteous old gentleman, for he bowed, and madesome polite speech about Sir Jasper, and, as he was military, Gillianhoped to have heard some more about the journey when they sat down,and room was made for her; but instead of that he and her aunt began adiscussion of the comings and goings of people she had never heard of,and the letting or not letting of half the villas in Rockstone; and shefound it so dull that she had a great mind to go and join the siege ofSandcastle. Only her shoes and her dress were fitter for the esplanadethan the shore with the tide coming in; and when one has just begun tobuy one's own clothes, that is a consideration.
At last she saw Aunt Jane's trim little figure come out on the sandsand make as straight for the children as she could, amid greetings andconsultations, so with an exclamation, she jumped up and went overthe shingle to meet them, finding an endeavour going on to make themtolerably respectable for the walk home, by shaking off the sand, andadvising Val to give up her intention of dragging home a broad brownribbon of weed with a frilled edge, all polished and shiny with wet.She was not likely to regard it as such a curiosity after a few days'experience of Rockquay, as her new friends told her.
Kitty Varley went to the High School, which greatly modified Valetta'sdisgust to it, for the little girls had already vowed to be the greatestchums in the world, and would have gone home with arms entwined, if AuntJane had not declared that such things could not be done in the street,and Clem Varley, with still more effect, threatened that if they weresuch a pair of ninnies, he should squirt at them with the dirtiest waterhe could find.
Valetta had declared that she infinitely preferred Kitty to Fly, andKitty was so flattered at being adopted by the second cousin of a LadyPhyllis, and the daughter of a knight, that she exalted Val aboveall the Popsys and Mopsys of her present acquaintance, and at partingbestowed on her a chocolate cream, which tasted about equally of saltwater and hot hand--at least if one did not feel it a testimonial ofardent friendship.
Fergus and Clement had, on the contrary, been so much inclined to punchand buffet one another, that Miss Mohun had to make them walk beforeher to keep the peace, and was by no means sorry when the gate of 'TheTamarisks' was reached, and the Varleys could be disposed of.
However, the battery must have been amicable, for Fergus was crazy togo in and see Clement's little pump, which he declared 'would doit'--an enigmatical phrase supposed to refer to the greatpeg-top-perpetual-motion invention. He was dragged away with difficultyon the plea of its being too late by Aunt Jane, who could not quite turntwo unexpected children in on Mrs. Varley, and had to effect a cruelseverance of Val and Kitty in the midst of their kisses.
'Sudden friendships,' said Gillian, from the superiority of her age.
'I do not think you are given that way,' said Aunt Jane.
'Does the large family suffice for all of you? People are so different,'added Aunt Ada.
'Yes,' said Gillian. 'We have never been in the way of caring for anyoutsider. I don't reckon Bessie Merrifield so--nor Fly Devereux, norDolores, because they are cousins.'
'Cousins may be everything or nothing,' asserted Miss Mohun. 'You havebeen about so much that you have hardly had time to form intimacies. Buthad you no friends in the officers' families?'<
br />
'People always retired before their children grew up to becompanionable, said Gillian. 'There was nobody except the Whites. Andthat wasn't exactly friendship.'
'Who were they?' said Aunt Jane, who always liked to know all abouteverybody.
'He rose from the ranks,' said Gillian. 'He was very much respected, andnobody would have known that he was not a gentleman to begin with. Buthis wife was half a Greek. Papa said she had been very pretty; but, oh!she had grown so awfully fat. We used to call her the Queen of the WhiteAnts. Then Kally--her name was really Kalliope--was very nice, and mammagot them to send her to a good day-school at Dublin, and Alethea andPhyllis used to have her in to try to make a lady of her. There used tobe a great deal of fun about their Muse, I remember; Claude thought hervery pretty, and always stood up for her, and Alethea was very fond ofher. But soon after we went to Belfast, Mr. White was made to retirewith the rank of captain. I think papa tried to get something for himto do; but I am not sure whether he succeeded, and I don't know any moreabout them.'
'Not exactly friendship, certainly,' said Aunt Jane, smiling. 'Afterall, Gillian, in your short life, you have had wider experiences thanhave befallen your old aunts!'
'Wider, perhaps, not deeper, Jane,' suggested Miss Adeline.
And Gillian thought--though she felt it would be too sentimental tosay--that in her life, persons and scenes outside her own family hadseemed to 'come like shadows and so depart'; and there was a generalsense of depression at the partings, the anxiety, and the beingunsettled again when she was just beginning to have a home.
CHAPTER III. -- PERPETUAL MOTION