Part 39 (2/2)

'And there is no one else you will regret, Jill?' I asked, anxious to sound her on one point.

'Oh yes; I am sorry to bid good-bye to Mr. Tudor. He has been such fun lately. I really do think he is quite the nicest young man I know.'

'Do you know many young men, my dear?' was my apparently innocent remark; but Jill was not deceived by this smooth speech.

'Of course I do,' in a scornful voice; 'they come to see Sara, and I hate them so, flimsy stuck-up creatures, with their white ties and absurd little moustaches. Each one is more stupid and vapid than the other. And Sara must think so too; for she smiles on them all alike.'

'You are terribly hard on the young men of your generation, Jill; I daresay I should think them very harmless and pleasant.' But she shook her head vigorously.

'Why cannot they be natural, and say good-natured things, like Mr. Tudor?

He is real, and not make-believe, pretending that he is too bored to live at all. One would think there was no truth anywhere, nothing but tinsel and sham, to listen to them. That is why I like Mr. Tudor: he has the ring of the true metal about him. Even Miss Darrell agrees with me there.'

'Do you discuss Mr. Tudor with Miss Darrell?'

'Why not?' opening her eyes widely. 'I like to talk about my friends, and I feel Mr. Tudor is a real friend. She was so interested,--really interested, I mean, without any humbug,--at least, pretence,' for here I held up my finger at Jill. 'She wanted to know if you liked him too, and I said, ”Oh yes, so much; he was a great favourite of yours,” and she seemed pleased to hear it.'

'You silly child! I wish you would leave me and my likes and dislikes out of your conversations with Miss Darrell.'

'Well, do you know, I try to do so, because I know how you hate her,--at least, dislike her: that is a more ladylike term,--you are so horribly particular, Ursula; but somehow your name always gets in, and I never know how, and there is no keeping you out. Sometimes she makes me dreadfully angry about you, and sometimes she says nice things; but there, we will not talk about the double-faced lady to-night. I understand her less than ever.'

We glided into more serious subjects after this. I made Jill promise to be more patient with her life, and work from a greater sense of duty, and I begged her most earnestly to fight against discontent, and exorcise this youthful demon of hers, and again she promised to do her best.

'I feel better about things, somehow: you have done me good, Ursie; you always do. I must make mother understand that I am nearly a woman, and that I do not intend to waste my time any longer dreaming childish dreams. I suppose mother is really fond of me, though she does find fault with me continually, and is always praising Sara.' Jill went on talking in this way for some time, and then we went upstairs together.

I was rather provoked to find Mr. Tudor at the station the next morning.

I suppose my steady look abashed him, for he muttered something about Smith's bookstall, as though I should be deceived by such a flimsy excuse. After all, Mr. Tudor was not better than other young men; in spite of Jill's praises, he was capable of this mild subterfuge to get his own way.

Jill was so honestly and childishly pleased to see him that I ought to have been disarmed. She went off with him to the bookstall, while I looked after her luggage, and they stood there chattering and laughing until I joined them, and then Mr. Tudor grew suddenly quiet.

As the train came up, I heard him ask Jill how long they were to stay at Hastings, and if they would be at Hyde Park Gate before Easter.

'I shall be up in town then,' he remarked carelessly, 'to see some of my people.'

'Oh yes, and you must come and see us,' she returned cheerfully.

'Good-bye, Mr. Tudor. I am so sorry to leave Heathfield.'

But, after all, Jill's last look was for me: as she leaned out of the carriage, waving her hand, she did not even glance at the young man who was standing silent and gloomy beside me. I felt rather sorry for the poor boy, as he turned away quite sadly.

'I must go down to the schools: good-bye, Miss Garston,' he said hurriedly. One would have thought he had to make up for lost time, as he strode through the station and up the long road. Had Jill really taken his fancy, I wondered? had her big eyes and quaint speeches bewitched him? Mr. Tudor was a gentleman, and we all liked him; but what would Uncle Brian and Aunt Philippa say if a needy, good-looking young curate were suddenly to present himself as a lover for their daughter Jocelyn?

Why, Jill would be rich some day,--poor Ralph was dead, and she and Sara would be co-heiresses. Her parents would expect her to make a grand match.

I shook my head gravely over poor Lawrence's prospects as I took my way slowly up the hill. I was rather glad when his broad shoulders were out of sight; I should be sorry if any disappointment were to cloud his cheery nature.

I missed Jill a great deal at first, but in my heart I was not sorry to get rid of the responsibility; a lively girl of sixteen, with strong individuality and marked precocity, is likely to be a formidable charge; but Mrs. Barton lamented her absence in no measured terms.

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