Part 25 (1/2)

”I do not nurse wrath, my love, but I cannot abide her.”

”Are not six years long enough to remember a little thing of that sort?

Come along, Elizabeth; you will find that she has grown quite civil and pleasant-spoken since you used to know her.”

So they went out into the garden, and the two ancient foes sniffed and bridled at each other as they approached through the transparent screen of tall yellow chrysanthemums which lined Mrs. Chigwin's side of the wall.

”Mrs. Harrington,” said the peacemaker, ”there is no need for me to introduce you to my old friend, Elizabeth Bundlecombe, who has come to pay me a nice long visit. We shall be her neighbors and close friends, I hope, and if you will do me the favor to come in this afternoon and drink a cup of tea with us, we shall be very glad to see you.”

”Thank you kindly, Mrs. Chigwin. Good-morning to you, Mrs. Bundlecombe.

I hear you have been living in London, ma'am, quite grand, as the saying is!”

”No, Mrs. Harrington, not grand at all, ma'am. Don't say so. I have known what trouble is since my poor dear husband died, and I shall never feel like being grand again.”

”Never again, ma'am? Well, I am sure that Mrs. Bundlecombe knows how to bear her fortune, whether good or bad. Did you say never again, ma'am?”

The old lady seemed to take this phrase as a kind of comprehensive and dignified apology for the past, which ought to be met in a conciliatory manner.

”Well, well, Mrs. Bundlecombe, bygones is bygones, and there's no more to be said about it. Not but what principle is principle, be it twopence or twenty pounds.”

”Allowance must be made, Mrs. Harrington, for the feelings of the moment.”

”On both sides, ma'am,” said Mrs. Harrington.

”Like reasonable parties,” said Mrs. Bundlecombe.

Then they nodded at each other with much vigor, and shook hands across the top of the wall through the branches of the chrysanthemums. Thus vaguely, but with a clear understanding on the part of both combatants, peace was made, and good relations were established. Mrs. Chigwin was delighted at the easy way in which the difficulty had been overcome, and in the afternoon she treated her friends in such a genuinely hospitable and considerate fas.h.i.+on that they were soon perfectly at their ease.

Indeed, the three old people became very intimate, and spent their Christmas together in peace and charity.

Alan came over one day early in February to see his aunt, and make sure that she was as comfortable as she professed to be. It was a characteristic proceeding on his part. Mrs. Bundlecombe, as the reader may have observed, was not very poetic in her taste, and not so refined in manners as most of the women with whom Alan now a.s.sociated. But he always thought of her as the sister of his mother, to whom he had been romantically attached; and he had good reason, moreover, to appreciate her devotion to himself during the last year or so. He found her fairly happy, and said nothing which might disturb her peace of mind. Lettice Campion, he told her, had recovered from a serious illness, and had gone on the Continent for a few weeks with Mrs. Hartley. He was bent on obtaining a divorce, and expected the case to come on shortly. This he treated as a matter for unmixed rejoicing; and he casually declared that he had not seen ”the Frenchwoman” for eight or ten weeks; which was true enough, but only because he was carefully keeping out of her way. And it was a poor equivocation, as the reader will presently see.

So Mrs. Bundlecome flattered herself that things were going fairly well with her nephew, and she possessed her soul in patience.

Now as Alan sat talking to his aunt in Mrs. Chigwin's best room, looking out upon the garden on Mrs. Harrington's side, he suddenly started, and stopped short in what he was saying.

”Why, Aunt Bessy, who on earth is living next door to you?”

Mrs. Bundlecombe looked where he pointed, and was almost as much surprised as himself to see Lettice's former maid, Milly, walking in the garden with all the airs and graces of a grand lady. She had on a fur cloak, and a little cap to match, and she looked so handsome and well-dressed that it would not have been surprising if Alan had not recognized her. But Milly's pretty face, once seen, was not easily forgotten; and, as she was a.s.sociated with Lettice in Alan's mind, he had all the more reason for recalling her features.

”That is the first I have seen of her in these parts,” said Mrs.

Bundlecombe. ”You remember that Miss Campion had a Thorley girl at Maple Cottage, who left her five or six months ago?”

”I remember your telling me so--Milly, she used to be called?”

”Yes, Emily Harrington. That is the girl, without a doubt. Her grandmother lives over yonder; but I never knew that she was expecting a visit from this fine lady. Only last week she was telling me that she had not heard from Milly for several months. There was a letter from her before Christmas, to say that she was married and traveling abroad.”

Mrs. Bundlecombe shook her head dubiously from side to side, and continued the motion for some time. She was thinking how much money it would have taken to buy that sealskin cloak; but, however far her doubts may have carried her, she did not give utterance to them in words.

”She is certainly very nice-looking,” said Alan. ”And she seems to be getting on in the world. Perhaps she has made a good marriage; I should not at all wonder.”

”Well, it is charitable to hope so,” said Aunt Bessy, with an expression in her face that was anything but hopeful. ”I can't forgive her for leaving Miss Campion in such a hurry. I suppose she wanted to better herself, as those minxes always say. As if anyone could be better off than living with _her_!”