Part 46 (1/2)

Things near she saw as plainly as he had done, but the wondrous wide distance drew her now and again away from these. The life of to-day would sometimes spend itself in gazing over the life in her whole day.

Her life, as she felt it, yearning and pa.s.sioning, would appear to overflow the little cup of its separation, or take reflections from other lives, till it was hardly all itself, so much as a small part of the great whole, G.o.d's immortal child, the wonderful race of mankind, held in the hand of its fas.h.i.+oner, and conscious of some yearning, the ancient yearning towards its source.

Emily moved slowly home again, and felt rather sensitive about the proposed luncheon at John Mortimer's house. She wished she had managed to spare him from being obliged to give the invitation. She even considered whether Justina could be induced to go alone. But there was no engagement that could be pleaded as a reason for absenting herself.

What must be done was before they went, to try, without giving needless pain, to place the matter in a truer light. This would only be fair to poor Justina.

Emily scarcely confessed to her own heart that she was glad of what Miss Christie had said. She was not, from any thought that it could make the least difference to herself, but, upon reflection, she felt ashamed of how John Mortimer had been wooed, and of how he had betrayed by his smile that he knew it.

That day was a Tuesday, the luncheon was to take place on Sat.u.r.day, but on Friday afternoon Emily had not found courage or occasion to speak to her friend. The more she thought about it, the more difficult and ungracious the matter seemed.

Such was the state of things. Miss Christie was still up-stairs, Justina was seated at work in the drawing-room, and Emily, arrayed in a lilac print ap.r.o.n, was planting some fresh ferns in her _jardiniere_ when the door was opened, and the servant announced Mr. Mortimer. Emily was finis.h.i.+ng her horticulture, and was not at all the kind of person to be put out of countenance on being discovered at any occupation that it suited her fancy to be engaged in. She, however, blushed beautifully, just as any other woman might have done, on being discovered in her drawing-room so arrayed, and her hands acquainted with peat.

She presently left the room. John knew she was gone to wash her hands, and hoped she would not stay away long. ”For it won't do, my lady,” he thought, ”however long you leave me. I will not make an offer to the present candidate, that I am determined!”

In the meantime Justina, wis.h.i.+ng to say something of Emily that would sound amiable, and yet help her own cause, remarked pleasantly--

”Emily is a dear, careless creature--just like what she was as a girl”

(careless creatures, by the bye, are not at all suited to be stepmothers).

”Yes,” answered John, in an abstracted tone, and as if he was not considering Mrs. Walker's mental characteristics, which was the case, for he was merely occupied in wis.h.i.+ng she would return.

”But she wishes to look well, notwithstanding,” continued Justina, as if excusing her, ”so no wonder she goes to divest herself of her housemaid's ap.r.o.n.”

”Ah,” said John, who was no great observer of apparel, ”I thought she was not dressed as usual;” but he added, ”she is so graceful, that in any array she cannot fail to look well.”

Justina looked up feeling hurt, and also a little surprised. Here she was, alone with John Mortimer for the first time in her life, and he was entertaining her with the praise of another woman; but she had a great deal of self-command, and she began almost at once to ask him some questions about his children. She had a most excellent governess to recommend, and was it not true that they wanted a nurse also? Yes, Mr.

Mortimer did want both, and, as Justina had been writing to every friend she had about these functionaries, and had heard of several, she mentioned in each case the one she thought most suitable, and John, much pleased at the happy chance which brought such treasures before him, was deep in conversation about them when Emily reappeared, and then, to Justina's great annoyance, he took down two addresses, and broke off the conversation with her instantly to say--

”Emily, I am come to make the humblest apologies possible. I find that I am absolutely obliged to go to London to-morrow on a matter that cannot be postponed.”

Justina was greatly mortified, but she answered instantly, and not Emily--

”Ah, then of course you are come to put us off, Mr. Mortimer?”

There was no undue stress on the words ”put us off,” but they suggested an idea to John that was new to him, and he would have felt called upon to act upon them, and renew the invitation, if Emily had not answered just as if she had heard not a syllable.

”We shall be sorry to miss you, John, when we come, but no doubt the children will be at home, and the girls.”

”Yes,” said John, slipping into this arrangement so easily, that how little he cared about her visit ought to have been at once made plain to Justina. ”Oh yes, and they will be so proud to entertain you. I hope you will honour them, as was intended, by coming to lunch.”

”Yes, to be sure,” Emily answered with readiness. ”I hope the auriculas will not have begun to fade, they are Miss Fairbairn's favourite flower.”

Then, to the intense mortification of Justina, John changed the subject, as if it had been one of no moment to him. ”I have been over to Wigfield-house this afternoon to pay my respects to Mrs. Brandon and her boy.”

”You found them well, I know, for we were there this morning.”

”Perfectly well,” said John, and he laughed. ”Giles was marching about in the garden with that astonis.h.i.+ng infant lying flat on his arm, and with its long robes dangling down. Dorothea (come out, I was told, for the first time) was walking beside him, and looking like a girl of sixteen. I believe when I approached they were discussing to what calling in life they would bring up the youngster. I was desired to remark his uncommon likeness to his father; told that he was considered a very fine child, and I should have had the privilege of looking at his little downy black head, but his mother decided not to accord it, lest he should take cold.”

”And so you laugh at her maternal folly,” said Justina smiling, but not displeased at what sounded like disparagement of an attractive young woman.