The High School was very large. It stood at present at the end of abudding branch of Rockquay, where the managers, assisted by the fundsadvanced by Lord Rotherwood and that great invisible potentate, the headof the marble works, had secured and adapted a suitable house, and aspace round it well walled in.
The various classes of students did not see much of each other, exceptthose who were day boarders and spent the midday recreation timetogether. Even those in the same form were only together in school, asthe dressing-room of those who dined there was separate from that of theothers, and they did not come in and out at the same time. Valetta hadthus only really made friends with two or three more Rockstone girls ofabout her own age besides Kitty Yarley, with whom she went backwards andforwards every day, under the escort provided in turn by the families ofthe young ladies.
Gillian's studies were for three hours in the week at the High School,and on two afternoons she learnt from the old organist at RockstoneChurch. She went and came alone, except when Miss Mohun happened tojoin her, and that was not often, 'For,' said that lady to her sister,'Gillian always looks as if she thought I was acting spy upon her. Iwish I could get on with that girl; I begin to feel almost as poor Lilydid with Dolores.'
'She is a very good girl,' said Miss Adeline.
'So she is; and that makes it all the more trying to be treated like theGrand Inquisitor.'
'Shall I speak to her? She is always as pleasant as possible with me.'
'Oh no, don't. It would only make it worse, and prevent you from havingher confidence.'
'Ah, Jane, I have often thought your one want was gentleness,' said MissAda, with the gesture of her childhood--her head a little on one side.'And, besides, don't you know what Reggie used to call your ferret look?Well, I suppose you can't help it, but when you want to know a thing andare refraining from asking questions, you always have it more or less.'
'Thank you, Ada. There's nothing like brothers and sisters for tellingone home-truths. I suppose it is the penalty of having been a regularPaul Pry in my childhood, in spite of poor Eleanor making me learn"Meddlesome Matty" as soon as I could speak. I always _do_ and always_shall_ have ringing in my ears--
'"Oh! what a pretty box is this, I'll open it," said little Miss.'
'Well, you know you always do know or find out everything abouteverybody, and it is very useful.'
'Useful as a bloodhound is, eh?'
'Oh no, not that, Jenny.'
'As a ferret, or a terrier, perhaps. I suppose I cannot help that,though,' she added, rather sadly. 'I have tried hard to cure the slanderand gossip that goes with curiosity. I am sorry it results in repulsionwith that girl; but I suppose I can only go on and let her find out thatmy bark, or my eye, is worse than my bite.'
'You are so good, so everything, Jenny,' said Adeline, 'that I am sureyou will have her confidence in time, if only you won't poke after it.'
Which made Miss Mohun laugh, though her heart was heavy, for she hadlooked forward to having a friend and companion in the young generation.
Gillian meantime went her way.
One morning, after her mathematical class was over, she was delayedfor about ten minutes by the head mistress, to whom she had brought amessage from her aunt, and thus did not come out at noon at the sametime as the day scholars. On issuing into the street, where as yet therewas hardly any traffic, except what was connected with the two schools,she perceived that a party of boys were besetting a little girl who wastrying to turn down the cross road to Bellevue, barring her way, andexecuting a derisive war-dance around her, and when she, almost crying,made an attempt to dash by, pulling at her plaited tail, withderisive shouts, even Gillian's call, 'Boys, boys, how can you be sodisgraceful!' did not check them. One made a face and put his tongueout, while the biggest called out, 'Thank you, teacher,' and Gillianperceived to her horror, that they were no street boys, but Mrs.Edgar's, and that Fergus was one of them. That he cried in dismay,'Don't, Stebbing! It's my sister,' was no consolation, as she charged inamong them, catching hold of her brother, as she said,
'I could not believe that you could behave in such a disgracefulmanner!'
All the other tormentors rushed away headlong, except Stebbing, who, insome compunction, said--
'I beg your pardon, Miss Merrifield, I had no notion it was you.'
'You are making it no better,' said Gillian. 'The gentlemen I am usedto know how to behave properly to any woman or girl. My father would bevery sorry that my brother has been thrown into such company.'
And she walked away with her head extremely high, having certainly givenMaster Stebbing a good lesson. Fergus ran after her. 'Gill, Gill, youwon't tell.'
'I don't think I ever was more shocked in my life,' returned Gillian.
'But, Gill, she's a nasty, stuck-up, conceited little ape, that MauraWhite, or whatever her ridiculous name is. They pretend her father wasan officer, but he was really a bad cousin of old Mr. White's that ranaway; and her mother is not a lady--a great fat disgusting woman, half anigger; and Mr. White let her brother and sister be in the marble worksout of charity, because they have no father, and she hasn't any businessto be at the High School.'
'White, did you say? Maura White!' exclaimed Gillian. 'Captain Whitedead! Oh, Fergus! it must be Captain White. He was in the dear old RoyalWardours, and papa thought so much of him! To think of your going andtreating his daughter in that shocking way!'
'It was what Stebbing said,' gruffly answered Fergus.
'If you let yourself be led by these horrid cads--'
'He is no such thing! He is the crack bat of Edgar's--'
'A boy is a cad who can't behave himself to a girl because she is poor.I really think the apology to me was the worst part or the matter. Heonly treats people well when he sees they can take care of themselves.'
'I'll tell him about Captain White,' said Fergus, a little abashed.
'Yes. And I will get the aunts to call on Mrs. White, and that may helpthem to a better level among these vulgar folk.'
'But you won't--' said Fergus, with an expressive pause.
'I won't get you into trouble, for I think you are sorry you treated oneof our own in such a manner.'
'I wouldn't, indeed, if I had known.'
'I shall only explain that I have found out whom Maura belongs to. Ishould go and see them at once, only I must make Val find out where shelives.'
So Gillian returned home, communicating the intelligence with someexcitement that she had discovered that Valetta's schoolmate, MauraWhite, was none other than the daughter of her father's oldfellow-soldier, whose death shocked her greatly, and she requested to goand call on Mrs. White as soon as she could learn her abode.
However, it seemed to be impossible that any one should live inRockstone unknown to Aunt Jane.
'White?' she said. 'It can't be the Whites down by Cliffside. No;there's a father there, though he generally only comes down for Sunday.'
'I am sure there are some Whites on the Library list,' said Miss Ada.
'Oh yes; but she washes! I know who they must be. I know in Bellevuethere are some; but they go to the Kennel Church. Didn't you come home,Ada, from that function you went to with Florence, raving about thehandsome youth in the choir?'
'Oh yes, we thought it such an uncommon, foreign face, and he lookedquite inspired when he was singing his solo.'
'Yes; I found out that his name was White, a clerk or something in themarble works, and that he had a mother and sister living at Bellevue. Idid see the sister when I went to get the marble girls into the G.F.S.,but she said something foolish about her mother not liking it.'
'Yes; nobody under the St. Kenelm influence ever will come into theG.F.S.'
'But what is she doing?' asked Gillian. 'Do you mean Kalliope?'
'I suppose I do. I saw a rather nice-looking young woman in thedepartment where they make Florentine mosaic, and I believe they saidshe was Miss White, but she cut me off very short with her mother, so Ihad no more t
o do with her.'
'I am sure mamma would wish me to call on Mrs. White,' said Gillian.
'There's no reason against it,' said Aunt Jane. 'I will go with you thefirst day I can.'
When would that be, wondered Gillian. She told Valetta to talk toMaura and learn the name of the house; and this was ascertained to be 3Ivinghoe Terrace, Bellevue Road, but Val had very little opportunity ofcultivating the acquaintance of town girls, who did not stay to dinner,as she had to go home immediately after school, under Emma Norton'sescort, and perhaps she was not very ardent in the cause, for KittyVarley and her other friends did not like the child, and she was moreswayed by them than perhaps she liked to confess to her sister.
Each morning at breakfast Gillian hoped that Aunt Jane would lay out herday so as to call on Mrs. White; but first there was the working party,then came the mothers' meeting, followed by afternoon tea at Mrs.Hablot's for some parish council. On the third day, which might havebeen clear, 'a miserable creature,' as Gillian mentally called her,wrote to beg the Misses Mohun to bring themselves and her niece tomake up a lawn-tennis set, since some one had failed. Gillian vainlyprotested that she did not care about lawn tennis, and could not playunless Jasper was her partner; and Aunt Jane so far sided with her as tosay it was very inconvenient, and on such short notice they ought not tobe expected. But Aunt Ada clearly wanted to go; and so they went. It wasa beautiful place, but Gillian could not enjoy herself, partly becauseshe knew so few of the people, but more because she was vexed anddispleased about the Whites. She played very badly; but Aunt Jane, whenpressed into the service, skipped about with her little light figure andproved herself such a splendid player, doing it so entirely con amore,that Gillian could not but say to herself, 'She was bent on going; itwas all humbug her pretending to want to refuse.'
That afternoon's dissipation had made it needful to do double work thenext day, and Gillian was again disappointed. Then came Saturday, whenMiss Mohun was never available, nor was she on Monday; and when itappeared that she had to go to a meeting at the Cathedral town onTuesday, Gillian grew desperate, and at her tete-a-tete meal with AuntAda, related the whole history of the Whites, and her great desire toshow kindness to her father's old brother-officer's family, and how muchshe was disappointed.
Miss Adeline was touched, and indeed, fond as she was of her sister, shecould not help being flattered by Gillian's preference and confidence.
'Well, my deal, this is a nice day, not too hot or too cold; I do notsee why I should not walk down with you and call. If I find it too far,we can take a cab to go back.'
'Oh, thank you, Aunt Ada; it is very very kind of you, and there is noknowing when Aunt Jane may be able to go. I don't like to close up myIndian letter till I can say I have seen them.'
Gillian fidgeted a good deal lest, before her aunt's postprandial reposewas over, visitors should come and put a stop to everything, and shelooked ready to cut the throat of a poor lady in a mushroom hat, whocame up to leave a message for Miss Mohun about a possible situation forone of her class of boys.
However, at last they started, Kunz and all, Miss Adeline quite infectedby Gillian's excitement.
'So your father and mother were very fond of them.'
'Papa thought very highly of him, and was very sorry he had to return,'said Gillian.
'And she was a beautiful Greek.'
Gillian began to be quite afraid of what she might have said.
'I don't think she is more than half Greek,' she said. 'I believe hermother was a Gorfiote, but her father was English or Irish. I believe hekept a shop in Malta.'
'Quite a mixture of nationalities then, and no wonder she is beautiful.That youth had a very striking profile; it quite reminded me of a gem asI saw it against the dark pillar.'
'I did not say she was very beautiful now,' said Gillian, feeling aqualm as she recollected the Queen of the White Ants, and rather oddlydivided between truthfulness, fear of alarming her aunt into turningback, and desire of giving her a little preparation.
'Ah! those southern beauties soon go on. Some one told me that LordByron's "Maid of Athens," whose portrait I used to think the loveliestthing in the world, became a great stout woman, but was quite a motherto all the young Englishmen about. I remember I used to try to hold myhead and keep my eyelids down like the engraving in an old book that hadbeen my mother's.'
'Oh! I think I have seen it at Beechcroft,' said Gillian, very muchamused, for she now perceived whence arose Aunt Ada's peculiar turn ofthe head and droop of the eyelashes, and how the conscious affectationof childhood had become unconsciously crystallised.
She grew more and more anxious as they found some difficulty in makingout Ivinghoe Terrace, and found it at last to be a row of ratherdilapidated little houses, apparently built of lath and stucco, andof that peculiar meanness only attained by the modern suburb. Aunt Adaevidently did not like it at all, and owned herself almost ready toturn back, being sure that Valetta must have made some mistake. Gillianrepeated that she had always said the Whites were very poor, but shebegan to feel that her impatience had misled her, and that she wouldhave been better off with the aunt who was used to such places, andwhose trim browns and crimsons were always appropriate everywhere,rather than this dainty figure in delicate hues that looked only fit forthe Esplanade or the kettledrum, and who was becoming seriously uneasy,as Kunz, in his fresh snowiness, was disposed to make researches amongvulgar remains of crabs and hakes, and was with difficulty restrainedfrom disputing them with a very ignoble and spiteful yellow cur of lowdegree.
No. 3, with its blistered wall and rusty rail, was attained, Kunz wasbrought within the enclosure, and Gillian knocked as sharply and fast asshe could, in the fear that her aunt might yet turn about and escape.
The door was opened with a rapidity that gave the impression that theyhad been watched, but it was by a very untidy-looking small maid, andthe parlour into which they were turned had most manifestly been latelyused as the family dining-room, and was redolent of a mixture of onion,cabbage, and other indescribable odours.
Nobody was there, except a black and white cat, who showed symptoms offlying at Kunz, but thought better of it, and escaped by the window,which fortunately was open, though the little maid would have shut it,but for Miss Adeline's gasping and peremptory entreaty to the contrary.She sat on the faded sofa, looking as if she just existed by the help ofher fan and scent-bottle, and when Gillian directed her attention tothe case of clasps and medals and the photograph of the fine-lookingofficer, she could only sigh out, 'Oh, my dear!'
There was a certain air of taste in the arrangement of the fewchimney-piece ornaments, and Gillian was pleased to see the two largephotographs of her father and mother which Captain White had so muchvalued as parting gifts. A few drawings reminded her of the School ofArt at Belfast, and there was a vase of wild flowers and ferns prettilyarranged, but otherwise everything was wretchedly faded and dreary.
Then came the opening of the door, and into the room rolled, rather thanadvanced, something of stupendous breadth, which almost took Gillian'sbreath away, as she durst not look to see the effect on her aunt. Ifthe Queen of the White Ants had been stout before, what was she now?Whatever her appearance had been in the days of comparative prosperity,with a husband to keep her up to the mark, and a desire to rank with theofficers' wives, she had let everything go in widowhood, poverty, andneglect; and as she stood panting in her old shiny black alpaca, theonly thing Gillian recalled about her like old times was the blacklace veil thrown mantilla fashion over her head; but now it was overa widow's cap, and a great deal rustier than of old. Of the lovelyforeigner nothing else remained except the dark eyes, and that sort ofpasty sallow whiteness that looks at if for generations past cold waterand fresh air had been unknown. There was no accent more interesting inher voice than a soupcon of her Irish father as she began, 'I am sorryto have kept the lady so long waiting. Was it about the girl's characterthat you came?'
'Oh no, Mrs. White, interrupted Gillian, her shyn
ess overpowered by thenecessity of throwing herself into the breach. 'Don't you remember me? Iam Gillian Merrifield, and this is my aunt, Miss Adeline Mohun.'
The puffy features lighted up into warmth. 'Little Miss Gillian! And Iam proud to see you! My little Maura did tell me that Miss Valetta wasin her class at the High School; but I thought there was no one nowwho would come near the poor widow. And is your dear mamma here, MissGillian, and are she and your papa quite well?'
Gillian could hardly believe in such dense remoteness that her father'saccident should be unknown, but she explained all, and met with abundantsympathy, the dark eyes filled with tears, and the voice broke intosobs, as Mrs. White declared that Sir Jasper and Lady Merrifield hadbeen the best friends she ever had in her life.
But oh! that the handkerchief had been less grimy with which she moppedher eyes, as she spoke of the happy days that were gone! Gillian sawthat poor Aunt Ada was in an agony to get away, and hurried out herquestions for fear of being stopped. 'How was Kalliope--was she athome?'
'Oh no, poor Kally, she is the best girl in the world. I always saythat, with all my sorrows, no one ever was more blest in their childrenthan poor little me. Richard, my eldest, is in a lawyer's office atLeeds. Kally is employed in the art department, just as a compliment toher relation, Mr. White. Quite genteel, superior work, though I must sayhe does not do as much for us as he might. Such a youth as my Alexis nowwas surely worthy of the position of a gentleman.'
The good lady was quite disposed to talk; but there was no making out,through her cloud of confused complaints, what her son and daughter wereactually doing; and Aunt Ada, while preserving her courtesy, was veryanxious to be gone, and rose to take leave at the first moment possible,though after she was on her feet Mrs. White detained her for some timewith apologies about not returning her visit. She was in such weakhealth, so unequal to walking up the cliff, that she was sure Miss Mohunwould excuse her, though Alexis and Kally would be perfectly delightedto hear of Miss Gillian's kindness.
Gillian had not made out half what she wanted to know, nor effectedany arrangement for seeing Kalliope, when she found herself out in thestreet, and her aunt panting with relief. 'My dear, that woman! Youdon't mean that your mother was fond of her.'
'I never said mamma was fond of her.'
'My dear, excuse me. It was the only reason for letting you drag mehere. I was almost stifled. What a night I shall have!'
'I am very sorry, Aunt Ada, but, indeed, I never said that mamma wasfond of her, only that papa thought very highly of her husband, andwished us to be kind to her.'
'Well, you gave me that impression, whether you wished it or not! Such ahole; and I'm sure she drinks gin!'
'Oh no, aunt!'
'I can't be mistaken! I really was afraid she was going to kiss you!'
'I do wish I could have made out about Alexis and Kalliope.'
'Oh, my dear, just working like all the lot, though she shuffled aboutit. I see what they are like, and the less you see of them the better.I declare I am more tired than if I had walked a mile. How am I ever toget up the hill again?'
'I am sorry, aunt,' said Gillian. 'Will you take my arm? Perhaps we maymeet Kalliope, if the marble people come out at four or five. What'sthat bell?' as a little tinkle was heard.
'That's St. Kenelm's! Oh! you would like to go there, and it would restme; only there's Kunz.'
'I should like to see it very much,' said Gillian.
'Well,' said Aunt Ada, who certainly seemed to have something of the'cat's away' feeling about her, and, moreover, trusted to avoid meetingKalliope. 'Just round the corner here is Mrs. Webb's, who used to livewith us before she married, Kunz will be happy with her. Won't he, mydoggie, like to go and see his old Jessie?'
So Kunz was disposed of with a very pleasant, neat-looking woman, whobegged Miss Adeline to come and have some tea after the service.
It was really a beautiful little church--'a little gem' was exactly theterm that suggested itself--very ornate, and the chief lack being ofrepose, for there seemed not an inch devoid of colour or carving. Therewas a choir of boys in short surplices and blue cassocks, and a verymusical service, in the course of which it was discovered to be theFeast of St. Remigius, for after the Lesson a short discourse was givenon the Conversion of Clovis, not forgetting the sacred ampulla.
There were about five ladies present and six old women, belonging toa home maintained by Lady Flight. The young priest, her son, had abeautiful voice, and Gillian enjoyed all very much, and thought the St.Andrew's people very hard and unjust; but all this went out of herhead in the porch, for while Lady Flight was greeting Miss Mohun withempressement, and inviting her to come in to tea, Gillian had seen ayoung woman who had come in late and had been kneeling behind them.
Turning back and holding out her hands, she exclaimed--
'Kalliope! I so wanted to see you.'
'Miss Gillian Merrifield,' was the response. 'Maura told me you werehere, but I hardly hoped to see you.'
'How can I see you? Where are you? Busy?'
'I am at the marble works all day--in the mosaic department. Oh, MissGillian, I owe it all to Miss Merrifield's encouraging me to go to theSchool of Art. How is she? And I hope you have good accounts of SirJasper?'
'He is better, and I hope my mother is just arriving. That's why we arehere; and Alethea and Phyllis are out there. They will want to know allabout you.'
At that moment Aunt Adeline looked round, having succeeded in persuadingLady Flight that she had another engagement. She saw a young woman ina shabby black dress, with a bag in her hand, and a dark fringe overa complexion of clear brown, straight features, to whom Gillian waseagerly talking.
'Ah!' she said, as Mr. Flight now came up from the vestry; 'do you knowanything of that girl?'
'Second-rate people, somewhere in Bellevue,' said the lady.
'The brother is my best tenor,' said Mr. Flight. 'She is very often atSt. Kenelm's, but I do not know any more of her. The mother either goesto Bellevue or nowhere. They are in Bellevue Parish.'
This was quite sufficient answer, for any interference with parochialvisiting in the Bellevue district was forbidden.
Aunt Ada called to Gillian, and when she eagerly said, 'This isKalliope, aunt,' only responded with a stiff bow.
'I do not know what these people might have been, Gillian,' she said, asthey pursued their way to Mrs. Webb's; 'but--they must have sunk so lowthat I do not think your mother can wish you to have anything to do withthem.
'Oh, Aunt Ada! Kalliope was always such a good girl!'
'She has a fringe. And she would not belong to the G.F.S.,' said AuntAda. 'No, my dear, I see exactly the sort of people they are. Your auntJane might be useful to them, if they would let her, but they are not atall fit for you to associate with.'
Gillian chafed inwardly, but she was beginning to learn that Aunt Adawas more impenetrable than Aunt Jane, and, what was worse, Aunt Janealways stood by her sister's decision, whether she would have herselforiginated it or not.
When the elder aunt came home, and heard the history of their day, andGillian tried to put in a word, she said--
'My dear, we all know that rising from the ranks puts a man's familyin a false position, and they generally fall back again. All this isunlucky, for they do not seem to be people it is possible to get at,and now you have paid your kind act of attention, there is no more to bedone till you can hear from Ceylon about them.'
Gillian was silenced by the united forces of the aunts.
'It really was a horrid place,' said Aunt Ada, when alone with hersister; 'and such a porpoise of a woman! Gillian should not haverepresented her as a favourite.'
'I do not remember that she did so,' returned Aunt Jane. 'I wish shehad waited for me. I have seen more of the kind of thing than you have,Ada.'
'I am sure I wish she had. I don't know when I shall get over thestifling of that den; but it was just as if they were her dearestfriends.'
'Girls will be silly! And the
re's a feeling about the old regiment too.I can excuse her, though I wish she had not been so impatient. I fancythat eldest daughter is really a good girl and the mainstay of thefamily.'
'But she would have nothing to do with you or the G.F.S.'
'If I had known that her father had been an officer, I might haveapproached her differently. However, I will ask Lily about theirantecedents, and in six weeks we shall know what is to be done aboutthem.'
CHAPTER V. -- MARBLES