Part 23 (1/2)

'She is sure to have seen her again. They are living close together,'

said Jacinth. 'But she doesn't say anything about her in this letter.

Why should she?' Jacinth's tone was growing a little acrid. 'May she not for once be taken up with our own affairs? what can be more important than all she has to tell us? I do wish, Frances, you wouldn't drag these Harpers into everything; it is really bad taste.'

Frances was not very clear as to what 'bad taste' meant, but she was very sorry to have vexed Jacinth.

'It was only,' she said, 'only that it seems as if all the happiness were coming to us, and all the troubles to them. And I was so glad mamma was sorry for them.'

'You speak as if they were our nearest relations,' said Jacinth, 'instead of being, as they are, actual strangers.'

But she was not sure if Frances heard her. She had already run off.

Jacinth followed her down-stairs more slowly. They had been sitting in the elder girl's bedroom, which, with its cheerful outlook and pleasant arrangements of writing-table and bookcases and sofa, and fire burning brightly, was rather a favourite resort of theirs in the morning, before Lady Myrtle was free from her various occupations. For she was a busy and methodical old lady.

The staircase was one of the pretty features of Robin Redbreast: though a spiral one, the steps were pleasantly shallow, and every here and there it was lighted by quaintly shaped windows.

'How I love this house!' said Jacinth to herself, as she pa.s.sed out round the gallery, already described, on into the conservatory, even at that mid-winter season a blaze of lovely brilliant colour. 'If--oh, if it were going to be our home some time or other, how beautiful it would be to look forward to! how delightful it would make mamma's coming back!

I can't bear to think of papa's having that horrid appointment up in the north. I'd rather keep on as we are, and go out to India when I'm old enough.'

She had loitered a moment among the flowers; the door of Lady Myrtle's boudoir was slightly ajar; the old lady's ears were quick; she heard even the slight rustle of Jacinth's skirts, and called out to her.

'Is that you, dear Jacinth? Come in--I have finished my letters and accounts, and was just going to send for you.'

And as the girl hastened in, Lady Myrtle looked up with a bright smile of welcome. It was pleasant to be thus greeted: a change from Aunt Alison's calm unimpa.s.sioned placidity.

'Dear Lady Myrtle,' said Jacinth, 'I don't know how to tell you our news. We have got our Christmas letters from papa and mamma; Aunt Alison sent out a messenger on purpose with them. And Francie and I have just read them. And--what do you think?'

She sat down on a stool at Lady Myrtle's feet and looked up in her face.

The old lady laid her hand fondly on the girl's soft hair.

'Nothing wrong, dear; I can see by your face. What can it be? Not--it can't be that they are coming home?'

Jacinth's eyes sparkled.

'Yes, indeed,' she said; 'that's just what it is. At least it's not quite that they're coming home for good; I wish it were. But if you like, if it won't bother you, I'll read you mamma's letter.'

'Yes, do, dear,' said the old lady.

And Jacinth did so, congratulating herself on what had disappointed Frances, that there was no mention at all in this letter of the Harper family or Mrs Lyle.

Lady Myrtle listened with evidently extreme interest. When Jacinth had finished, there was a moment or two's silence. Then Lady Myrtle said quietly but decidedly: 'She must come straight here--your mother, I mean. I shall write to her myself. Don't you think that will be best? It will be the greatest satisfaction to me to see her--little Eugenia--how proud your dear grandmother was of her! A fair-haired, brown-eyed little creature. Not so like my Jacinth as you are, child. But that, one could not expect. It is not often that one sees such a likeness as yours to your grandmother. But I am so thankful to know I may hope to see your mother. Sometimes I have feared'----But here Lady Myrtle broke off without finis.h.i.+ng her sentence. 'Jacinth, I want you to talk about it.

What can I say to ensure her coming to me? I want to make her feel that it will be really like coming home?'

'Say _that_ to her, dear Lady Myrtle,' Jacinth replied. 'Nothing could touch her more. And I am sure she will love to come here, at any rate for a while, at first. You see she speaks of living at Thetford till papa comes--of having a little house there and us with her. There would not be room in Aunt Alison's house, and besides, I think mamma would like to feel more independent with us three.'

[Ill.u.s.tration: Jacinth sat down on a stool at Lady Myrtle's feet and looked up in her face.]

'Of course. I would not at all advise her living in Market Square Place, even if there were room,' said Lady Myrtle. 'In a small house, and with your aunt being accustomed to be the authority--no, it would not do. But there would be no such difficulties here. Your mother must come to me first, and you three must be here, too, to meet her. And then, later on, if she thinks it better to take a little house--well, I shall not oppose her. I am not an unreasonable old woman, am I, my child?'