Part 5 (2/2)
”'That!' What? Do you mean lady Sarah? Oh, Mildred, do be careful!”
chorused the twins. ”She might come out. She might open the door and hear you! She is Lady Sarah Monckton. Her husband died in India. He was a sort of connection of Father's, so she comes here once or twice a year to consult him about her affairs.”
”A sort of connection! What sort? Near or far? Do you know her well?
Shall I hurt your feelings if I say anything disagreeable? No. I'm so glad. I'll tell you then--I--don't--like--her--at all!”
The sisters looked at each other and smiled. They had evidently expected something more scathing in the way of denunciation, and were not inclined to condemn Mildred for her opinion.
”Well, no; of course not. n.o.body could! We always look upon her as a Trial!” said Bertha pensively. ”She makes Mother ever so much stricter than she would be if she were left alone, and thinks it improper for a young lady to do anything that is nice. We were sorry that your visits should have come together, but it could not be helped. Perhaps she won't interfere so much when we have a visitor!”
”She has taken a dislike to me, so I expect I shall have the benefit!
Didn't you see the way she glowered at me through those awful gla.s.ses?
Why does she look like that? Is she a young woman with an old face, or an old one with young clothes? Why can't she be contented to be one thing at a time? Is she going to make a long visit?”
”I don't know. She has brought a maid and heaps of dresses, so I suppose she is. Mother says we must remember that she is very old, and has had a great many troubles, and try not to annoy her--”
”Your mother is a dear!” Mildred cried enthusiastically. ”I will be nice to Lady Sarah to please her, but I don't believe she is at all inclined to be nice to me. We will see.”
CHAPTER SEVEN.
LADY SARAH.
Mildred had been a week at The Deanery, and if her enjoyment during that time had not been entirely unalloyed, the fault lay without question with Lady Sarah, for all the members of the family vied with each other as to who could show the young guest the most kindness. Even the Dean himself fell a victim to the ”Norse Princess”, much to his wife's amus.e.m.e.nt, for he was, as a rule, the most unnoticing of men. Mildred had written to her mother that Bertha's father was ”exactly like a Dean.” She had never met such a dignitary before, it is true, but she had an impression that he ought to look wise and studious, and Dean Faucit fulfilled these requirements to the uttermost.
He had a thin face, with grave eyes set in a net-work of lines; his shoulders were bowed with poring over the study-desk; and he was, moreover, so absent-minded that he made two separate attempts before he succeeded in grasping Mildred's hand on the occasion of their first introduction. She had been several days in the house before he had the vaguest idea of her appearance, but one morning it chanced that he raised his eyes from the breakfast-table to complain of the sunlight which was pouring in at the window; and right opposite sat Mildred, her eyes dancing with happiness, a soft pink flush on her cheeks, and her hair s.h.i.+ning like threads of gold. The Dean started, and drew his brows together, staring at her in curious, short-sighted fas.h.i.+on. He was so accustomed to the dim light of the Cathedral, and to the pale faces of his wife and children, that Mildred, with her bright colouring, seemed the embodiment of the suns.h.i.+ne itself. He fumbled for his gla.s.ses, scrutinised her furtively from time to time as the meal progressed, and when it was over, lingered behind to speak of her to his wife.
”That friend of Bertha's seems to he--er--a nice little girl, dear!
There is something in her face which affects me very pleasantly. I-- er--I hope you are doing all you can to give her a pleasant time. Do you--er--think she would like to look at my book plates?”
Mrs Faucit laughed, and slipped her hand inside his arm.
”No, my dear old man!” she said. ”I don't think she would like it all.
I think she would be profoundly bored. Leave her to the girls. They are as happy as the day is long, wandering about together.”
”Ah, well, you know best! but I should like the child to enjoy herself.
It has struck me once or twice that Sarah Monckton--eh?--not quite so sympathetic to the young folks as she might be, I'm afraid. There was something at dinner the other night--I didn't hear it all, but I had an impression--an impression--. It distressed me very much. I--er--hope she doesn't interfere with the girls' enjoyment.”
”Oh, no! Don't worry yourself, dear. They are quite happy,” protested Mrs Faucit soothingly; but when her husband had returned to his study she sighed a little, as though she were not altogether so easy in her mind as she had led him to believe.
The scene at the dinner-table to which the Dean had referred was uncomfortably fresh in her own memory. It had arisen through Mildred's horrified surprise at the sight of Lady Sarah in evening dress, and the unconscious manner in which she showed her disapproval. Mrs Faucit made up her mind that she would take an early opportunity of suggesting to her young visitor that she had better not stare at the old lady in so marked a manner, but she was too late, for before the meal was over Lady Sarah suddenly laid her knife and fork on her plate, and transfixed Mildred with an awful frown.
”Well, Miss Moore, what is it all about? Pray let me hear what is wrong, so that I may put it right at once. If I am to have my dinner, this sort of thing cannot go on any longer.”
The girl's start of amazement was painful to behold. The sharp voice struck her like a blow, and she was absolutely ignorant as to her offence.
”I--I don't understand! What have I done?”
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