Part 76 (1/2)

'It is all like a dream,' said Netta, pa.s.sing her hand over her eyes and forehead, as she did constantly, as if to clear away some cloud that obscured her memory. 'If mother were only here, it would be quite home-like.'

Truly Gladys had made the room almost a pleasant place. The books and work she had brought with her, were already on the tables, and the flowers filled all the old-fas.h.i.+oned vases, taken from the mantelpiece.

The fire was bright, and the hearth swept, and poor Netta and Minette were neat and clean.

'Uncle, what have you done with the geranium?' suddenly asked Minette.

'I left it at home, dear.'

'How cross of you, uncle, to let the pretty flower die.'

'I put it in water, Minette, because it came from Glanyravon, where your mother and I were born, and where your grandfather and grandmother live.'

'I don't like grandmamma, uncle, she was so fat, and talked so strangely.'

'You should not say that; but you have another grandmother whom you have never seen.'

'Shall we go to her, mammy dear? and will you come, Uncle Rowland? and shall the kind lady come, and Gladys? and then we can gather those pretty flowers. I saw them growing once at the Crystal Palace, and they would not let me pick them.'

Netta forgot her grief, Rowland his sermon, Miss Gwynne her dignity, in talking to Minette of Glanyravon and its inhabitants; and, by degrees, they fell into a conversation upon old friends and old times, that ended in the days when they played together as children in the garden at the vicarage, whilst the squire and his lady were paying their periodical visits to the vicar and his lady.

Unconsciously it oozed out how every incident of those childish games was remembered and treasured up by Rowland, as well as the meetings of a more advanced age, when, as a Rugby boy, he tried to make himself agreeable to the young heiress, who bestowed no thought on him.

But Rowland suddenly remembered that he was treading on dangerous ground, and must not forget who he was, and who Miss Gwynne was. Those words always came to haunt him, whenever he felt more than usually happy; and how could he feel happy for one moment, with Netta possibly dying, and Howel an exile for forgery. Poor fellow, it was only a pa.s.sing gleam through the mists of a hard life; let him enjoy it.

Gladys returned, and Rowland got a cab for Miss Gwynne, who went home to dinner. Rowland had some tea, and went to his evening service in the church.

After tea, Gladys read a story to Minette, which interested Netta, and so the day pa.s.sed, with but a slight recurrence of Netta's nervous excitement.

Gladys asked Netta if she would like her to read a chapter in the Bible, and Netta said yes; so, with Minette on her lap, she read one of the lessons of the day, which she knew to be particularly applicable to her.

'I will read the other with you,' said Netta, when it was concluded taking her mother's little Testament out of her pocket.

'I wish you would teach me to read, Gladys?' said Minette. 'Justine taught me to read French, and to say French prayers, but I can't read English,'

'Perhaps mamma will teach you, darling!' said Gladys, 'and I will help when she is poorly.'

'We will begin to-morrow,' said Netta? 'I meant to get her a governess, but we were always moving about, and so I never did.'

They read the second lesson, and when it was finished, Netta asked Gladys to sing her a hymn. 'The Evening Hymn, Gladys. I could sing and play that once, before I learnt to sing French songs.'

Gladys' beautiful, clear voice soon began the 'Glory to Thee, my G.o.d, this night,' that has been the evening song of praise of so many thousands for so many years. Netta joined at intervals, and her wandering eyes seemed to be steadied, for the time, into a fixed attention, as she gazed at Gladys whilst she sung.

When she finished, Minette was crying. Gladys soothed her, and asked her what was the matter.

'It was so beautiful!' she said. 'Your voice was like the lady's I heard at the play, only the words were so solemn. I thought of my papa. I do not love him much, because he was cross to mamma, but I want to see him, that you may sing to him and make him good.'

Gladys saw Netta's countenance lose the expression of calm it had worn for a few moments, and regain the bewildered and painful one of the morning.