CHAPTER XXII. -- THE MAIDEN ALL FORLORN

One secret was soon out, even before the cruel parting of Fly and Mysie, which it greatly mitigated.

Clipston was to be repaired and put in order, to be rented by the Merrifields. It was really a fine old substantial squire's house, though neglected and consigned to farmers for four generations. It had great capabilities--a hall up to the roof, wainscoted rooms--at present happy hunting-grounds to boys and terriers--a choked fountain, numerous windows, walled up in the days of the 'tax on light,' and never reopened, and, moreover, a big stone barn, with a cross on the gable, and evident traces of having once been a chapel.

The place was actually in Rockstone Parish, and had a hamlet of six or seven houses, for which cottage services were held once a week, but the restoration of the chapel would provide a place for these, and it would become a province for Lady Merrifield's care, while Sir Jasper was absolutely entreated, both by Lord Rotherwood and the rector of Rockstone, to become the valuable layman of the parish, nor was he at all unwilling thus to bestow his enforced leisure.

It was a beautiful place. The valley of daffodils already visited narrowed into a ravine, where the rivulet rushed down from moorlands, through a ravine charmingly wooded, and interspersed with rock. It would give country delights to the children, and remove them from the gossip of the watering-place society, and yet not be too far off for those reading-room opportunities beloved of gentlemen.

The young people were in ecstasies, only mourning that they could not live there during the repairs, and that those experienced in the nature of workmen hesitated to promise that Clipston would be habitable by the summer vacation. In the meantime, most of the movables from Silverfold were transported thither, and there was a great deal of walking and driving to and fro, planning for the future, and revelling in the spring outburst of flowers.

Schoolroom work had begun again, and Lady Merrifield was hearing Mysie read the Geruasalemme Liberata, while Miss Vincent superintended Primrose's copies, and Gillian's chalks were striving to portray a bust of Sophocles, when the distant sounds of the piano in the drawing-room stopped, and Valetta came in with words always ominous--

'Aunt Jane wants to speak to you, mamma.'

Lady Merrifield gathered up her work and departed, while Valetta, addressing the public, said, 'Something's up.'

'Oh!' cried Primrose, 'Sofi hasn't run away again?'

'I hope Kalliope isn't worse,' said Mysie anxiously.

'I guess,' said Valetta, 'somebody said something the other day!'

'Something proving us the hotbeds of gossip,' muttered Gillian.

'You had better get your German exercise, Valetta,' said Miss Vincent.

'Mysie, you have not finished your sums.'

And a sigh went round; but Valetta added one after-clap.

'Aunt Jane looked--I don't know how!'

Whereat Gillian nodded her head, and looked up at Miss Vincent, who was as curious as the rest, but restrained the manifestation manfully.

Meantime Lady Merrifield found her sister standing at the window, and, without turning round, the words were uttered--

'Jasper was right, Lily.'

'You don't mean it?'

'Yes; he is after her!'--with a long breath.

'Mr. White!'

'Yes'--then sitting down. 'I did not think much of it before. They always are after Ada more or less--and she likes it; but it never has come to anything.'

'Why should it now?'

'It has! At least, it has gone further than ever anything did before, except Charlie Scott, that ridiculous boy at Beechcroft that William was so angry with, and who married somebody else.'

'You don't say that he has proposed to her?'

'Yes, he has--the man! By a letter this morning, and I could see she expected it--not that that's any wonder!'

'But, my dear, she can't possibly be thinking of it.'

'Well, I should have said it was impossible; but I see she has not made up her mind. Poor dear Ada! It is too bad to laugh; but she does like the having a real offer at last, and a great Italian castle laid at her feet.'

'But he isn't a gentleman! I don't mean only his birth--and I know he is a good man really--but Jasper said he could feel he was not a gentleman by the way he fell on Richard White before his sister.'

'I know! I know! I wonder if it would be for her happiness?'

'Then she has not answered him?'

'No; or, rather, I left her going to write. She won't accept him certainly now; but I believe she is telling him that she must have time to consider and consult her family.'

'She must know pretty well what her family will say. Fancy William!

Fancy Emily! Fancy Reginald!'

'Yes, oh yes! But Ada--I must say it--she does like to prolong the situation.'

'It is not fair on the poor man.'

'Well, she will act as she chooses; but I think she really does want to see what amount of opposition--No, not that, but of estrangement it would cause.'

'Did you see the letter?'

'Yes; no doubt you will too. I told her I should come to you, and she did not object. I think she was glad to be saved broaching the subject, for she is half ashamed.'

'I should have thought she would have been as deeply offended at the presumption as poor Gillian was with the valentine.'

'Lily, my dear, forty-two is not all one with seventeen, especially when there's an estate with an Italian countship attached to it! Though I'm sure I'd rather marry Alexis than this man. _He_ is a gentleman in grain!'

'Oh, Jenny, you are very severe!'

'I'm afraid it is bitterness, Lily; so I rushed down to have it all out with you, and make up my mind what part to take.'

'It is very hard on you, my dear, after you have nursed and waited on her all these years.'

'It is the little t.i.tillation of vanity--exactly like the Ada of sixteen, nay, of six, that worries me, and makes me naughty,' said Jane, dashing off a tear. 'Oh, Lily! how could I have borne it if you had not come home!'

'But what do you mean about the part to take?'

'Well, you see, Lily, I really do not know what I ought to do. I want to clear my mind by talking to you.'

'I am afraid it would make a great difference to you in the matter of means.'