Part 35 (1/2)

'I'm not so sure of that,' said Mrs Mildmay. 'When I wrote to Mrs Lyle some time ago, I told her we were coming to Barmettle, but very likely she did not think of sending our address to her nieces, for they have not been in the habit of writing to you or Jacinth.'

'No,' Frances replied, rather incoherently, for she was already buried in her letter, 'that's what she says. ”Aunt Flora”--is that Mrs Lyle, mamma?--”Aunt Flora told us you had gone to live up in the north. I am afraid it can't be as bright and pretty there as at Thetford, but still it must be lovely to have your father and mother with you for always now. I think I can understand far better than ever what a very great trouble it must have been to you and your sister to be without them all those years, for oh, we did so miss father and mother when they were in London for six months, and then in Germany. They took Margaret with them to Germany, and it did her such a lot of good. I have wanted to write to you ever so often, and so has Camilla, but mother wasn't quite sure how we could say what we wished. But now she has had another letter from Aunt Flora, and this has made her give me leave to write and tell you all our beautiful news. Just fancy, dear Francie, father is _almost_ quite well. Of course he will always be lame, but he counts that nothing, and it's really not so bad nearly as it was. All he had done at the London hospital and then the German baths has turned out _so well_, and now to make it--the cure, I mean--quite lasting, we are _all_--though I write it, I can scarcely believe it--going abroad to some mild place for the winter. We have not quite fixed where; but we have let Hedge End till next May, and we shall start very soon. If you write to me, please address it to Hedge End. And now I want to say something that is rather difficult to say. What has made everything come right has been the goodness of father's aunt, Lady Myrtle Goodacre. Just when we were almost in despair, and it seemed as if nothing _could_ save father, she sent mother a lot of money: she said it was a present, but _we_ all count it a loan. It was enough to do everything, and more than enough, and we can never, never thank her too much. But in our hearts we all feel sure that, though you kept exactly to what mother and Camilla asked, yet some of you, _somehow_, have been our good fairies. Perhaps it was your sister Jacinth, perhaps it was Mrs Mildmay; and I am sure, dear Francie, that if ever _you_ had a chance you spoke kindly of us; perhaps we shall never know exactly who did it, or how it was done, so wisely and carefully as it must have been. But oh, we _do_ thank you; if you could see the difference in everything about us now, how we are all as happy as the day's long, _you_ would all feel happy just to see it.

Nearly every night, when we say our prayers, Margaret and I thank G.o.d for having sent you and Jacinth to be our school-fellows at Miss Scarlett's, and for the wonderful way things have come right.”'

Then followed a few details more interesting to Frances than of consequence in themselves, about the lessons Bessie and Margaret had been doing, and how well Camilla managed to teach them, and hopes that 'some day' the former school-fellows might meet again; ending up with repet.i.tions of the grat.i.tude they felt _sure_ they owed to somebody, and 'much love' from 'your affectionate friend, Elizabeth Vandeleur Harper.'

'”Vandeleur” was Bessie's mother's name. She's very proud of it,' said Frances, gazing admiringly at the pretty writing. Then she looked up with glistening eyes. 'Mamma, Ja.s.s, isn't it _beautiful_? Isn't it lovely to think they're so much happier?'

Mrs Mildmay's own face was nearly as bright as Francie's.

'I cannot _tell_ you how glad and thankful I am,' she said. And she took hold gently of Jacinth's hand. 'Doesn't it seem to follow up what we were saying the other day after we had been at old Mrs Burton's?' she whispered.

But Jacinth's face looked pale, and her eyes had tears in them.

'Mamma,' she said, 'I suppose you thought I wouldn't have been nice about it, but I think you might have told me that you did get Lady Myrtle to do something to help the Harpers. I can see that Francie knew about it, and it is horrid to be in a way _thanked_ by them, when--when I have really been more a sort of enemy to them than a friend.'

Mrs Mildmay had started a little at Jacinth's first words, for she had in fact forgotten, in the consciousness of increasing sympathy between her elder daughter and herself, how, at the time of her first appeal to Lady Myrtle, she had judged it wiser to say nothing about it to Jacinth.

And now to her candid and naturally confiding nature this reticence gave her almost a guilty feeling. But as Jacinth went on speaking, her mother realised that she had done wisely.

'Dear Ja.s.sie,' she said quietly, 'at that time I did think it better not to tell you that I had interfered. I wanted to avoid all possibilities of irritation till you got to know me better. And I did see that you were prejudiced to some extent. But now I feel quite differently about it, and I wish I had thought of telling you lately, though you must take my not having done so as a proof of my feeling at one with you. For till this minute I thought you did know. At least I forgot you did not. I will tell you exactly how it came about.' And she did so, adding rather sadly, as she concluded, 'And after all, dear, you see I was able to do very little. Lady Myrtle will _not_ think of them as her relations, and grateful though they are for this present help, of course it is not anything lasting; not what we would like to make sure of for their future.'

'No,' Jacinth agreed, 'I understand how you mean. Still, it is a very good thing their father is so much better. I think they have a great deal to thank you for, mamma--you, and Francie too, in her way. I think they should know _I_ have not helped at all; it makes me feel almost--dishonest. If Francie writes to Bessie, couldn't she say something?'

'Whatever she says about the matter at all must only be very slight and vague,' said Mrs Mildmay. 'And, Ja.s.sie dear, you _do_ feel kindly to them now?'

'I want to feel whatever's right,' Jacinth replied, and her tone was wonderfully humble.

'Then there is no need to enter into any explanations,' said Mrs Mildmay. 'It would only hurt poor Bessie if you made any sort of disclaimer of the friendliness they credit us all with. The only thing you could ever do might perhaps be'----She hesitated.

'What, mamma?' asked Jacinth.

'Some day,' said her mother, 'you _may_ have an opportunity of saying to Lady Myrtle that you think you were a little prejudiced against them.'

'Yes,' Jacinth agreed, 'perhaps it would be right. For, you see, mamma, _she_ thought I avoided speaking of them because I did not want to annoy her, and I think I made myself believe that too. But now I see it wasn't only that. It was partly a--I feel ashamed to think of it--a sort of horrid jealousy, I am afraid, mamma.'

And though she reddened as she made what to her was really a painful confession, Jacinth's heart felt lighter from that moment. There was now no shadow of misunderstanding between her mother and herself.

CHAPTER XVIII.

'I WILL THINK IT OVER.'

The very faint hope which the Mildmays--Jacinth especially--had cherished that, after all, the coming Christmas might 'somehow' be spent by them and Lady Myrtle together, soon faded.

There was no question of the old lady's coming north, though in one of her letters she spoke of the gladness with which she would have made the effort had it been possible; and there was even no question of their all joining her at Robin Redbreast, though but for a short visit, for in November the fiat went forth which each winter she had secretly for some years past been dreading--she must not remain in England. For her chronic bronchitis was on her again, and a premature taste of winter in the late autumn threatened for a week or two to turn this into something worse.

'For myself,' she wrote, 'I would rather stay at home and take the risk, but I suppose it would be wrong, though really at my age I have little sympathy with that excessive clinging to life one sees where one would little expect it. But there is nothing to detain me here specially, and it may be that I shall benefit by the change. I want to choose one of the winter places I was so happy at more than once long ago, with _your_ mother, when she and I travelled together with my parents.'

For the letter was to Mrs Mildmay.