People who had been used to the pale and silent college tutor in his stuff-gown, might scarcely have recognised Frank riding about from farm to farm in the new and prosperous character of a country gentleman, be-gaitered and be-wideawaked. The neighbours who exclaimed at the shabbiness of Mr. Frank's indoor establishment might also, and with more reason, exclaim at the regiment of barrows and men at work, at the drains digging, roofs repairing, fences painting. The melancholy outside, tumble-down looking houses were smartening up. The people stood at their doors watching with some interest and excitement the works as they hammered on.

Frank superintended it all himself. He was up to his waist in a ditch one day when the Henley party drove past in the break on their way to call at Ravensrick. They left a heap of cards--Sir Thomas and Lady Henley, Mr. Jonah Anley, Captain Boswarrick--and an invitation for him to dine and sleep the following day. The red-headed girls took the cards in, and grinned at the fine company; the fine company grinned in return at Sukey.

'Why, what sort of society can he have been used to?' cried little Mrs.

Boswarrick. She was the eldest daughter: a pretty, plump little woman, very much spoilt by her husband, and by her father, too, whose favourite she was.

'He has evidently not been used to a.s.sociate with butlers and footmen,'

said Mr. Anley.

'Hulloh!' shouted Sir Thomas, as he drove out at the park-gates. 'Look there, Anley! he is draining Medmere, and there is a new window to the schools. By Jove!'

'Foolish young man!' said Mr. Anley, 'wasting his substance, draining cottages and lighting school-rooms!' and he looked out with some interest.

'Then, Uncle Jonah, you are foolish yourself,' said Bell.

'Are you turned philanthropist, Uncle Jonah?' said Mrs. Boswarrick. 'I wish some one would take me and Alfred up. What have you been doing?'

I make it a rule never to do anything at the time that can be put off till the morrow,' said Mr. Anley, apologetically. 'My cottages were tumbling down, my dear, so I was obliged to prop them up.'

'He bought them from papa,' said Bell. 'I can't think why.'

'It is all very well for bachelors like you and Raban to amuse yourselves with rebuilding,' said Sir Thomas, joining in from his box in an aggravated tone; 'if you were a married man, Anley, with a wife and daughters and milliners bills, you would see how much was left at the end of the year for improvements.'

'To hear them talk, one oughtn't to exist at all,' says Mrs. Boswarrick, with a laugh.

CHAPTER XLIV.

WHITE WITH GAZING.

'The tender heart beat no more; it was to have no more pangs, no more doubts, no more griefs and trials: its last throb was love!

--Pendennis.

The Harbingers are come: see, see their mark! White is their colour....

--G. Herbert.

Frank, accepted Lady Henley's invitation and arrived at Henley Court just before dinner-time one day. The place lies beyond Pebblesthwaite, on the Smokethwaite road. It was a more cheerful house than Ravensrick--a comfortable, modern, stone-piled house, built upon a hill, with windows north and south, and east and west, with wide distant views of valleys and winding roads and moors. Through one break of the hills, when the wind blew south, the chimneys of Smokethwaite stood out clear against the sky; at other times a dull black cloud hung over the gap.

The garden was charming: on one side a natural terrace overhung the valley; a copper beech rustled upon the lawn; and a few great chestnut-trees gave shade in summer to the young people of the house, to the cows browsing in the meadow, who would come up to the boundary fence to watch Miss Bell's flirtations with gentle curiosity, or the children at play, or to listen to Sir Thomas reading out the newspaper. He had a loud voice and a secret longing for parliamentary distinction. When he read the speeches he would round his periods, address Lady Henley as 'sir,' and imagine himself in his place, a senator in the company of senators. He was a stupid man, but hospitable, and popular in the neighbourhood, far more so than Lady Henley, who was greatly disliked.

Bell was fast, handsome. Norah was a gentle, scatter-brained creature, who looked up to everybody; she especially adored her sister, Mrs.

Boswarrick, who had captivated Captain Boswarrick one evening at a York ball, where she had danced down a whole regiment of officers. The captain himself was a small and languid man, and he admired energy in others. If Sir Thomas was fond of thundering out the debates, Captain Boswarrick had a pretty turn for amateur acting and reciting to select audiences. Some one once suggested private theatricals.

'Never while I live,' said Lady Henley, 'shall there be such mummeries in this house. If Alfred chooses to make a fool of himself and repeat verses to the girls, I have no objection, so long as he don't ask me to sit by.'

'I never should have thought of asking you to sit by, Lady Henley,'

drawled Alfred.

When Frank was announced, he found the young ladies in fits of laughter, Captain Boswarrick declaiming in the middle of the room, with Squire Anley and Mr. Redmayne for audience. Everybody turned round, and the performance suddenly ceased when he entered. The Squire nodded without getting up.

'How d'ye do?' said Mrs. Boswarrick, holding out half-a-dozen bracelets.

'Mr. Raban forgets me, I can see. Sit down. Alfred hates being interrupted. Go on, Alfred!'

Captain Boswarrick's manner would quite change when he began to recite.

He would stamp, start, gesticulate, and throw himself into the part with more spirit than could have been reasonably expected.

And now, with a glance at his wife, he began again with a stamp, and suddenly pointing--

That morn owd York wor all alive Wi' leal an' merry hearts; For t' country foalks com' i' full drive I' gigs an' market-carts, An' girt lang trains, wi' whistlin' din, Com' w-w-whirrlin' up.

The little captain, suiting the action to the word, raised his arm with some action to represent the train. It was caught from behind by a firm grasp. Frank had not seen that he had been followed into the room by a stout little man in bran-new clothes, who joined the circle.

'Take care,' said the stranger,--he spoke with a slight Yorkshire accent. 'What are you about, yo'ng man? What is all this? Very fascinating, very brilliant, very seductive, very much so, but leading to--what?' with a sudden drop of the voice, and the hand he held. Bell went off into a shriek of laughter.

Captain Boswarrick flushed up. He might have resented the interruption still more if he had not been somewhat mollified by the string of compliments.

'Leading to----You would have heard all about it, Mr. Stock, if you had not stopped him,' said Mr. Anley.

'Shall I make my meaning plainer?' said the little man, not heeding the interruption. 'Shall I tell you what I mean? Social intercourse, music, poetry,--dazzling, I own. I, too, have experienced the charm; I, too, have studied to please; but I have also discovered the vanity of vanities; so will you one day. A fact, though you don't believe me.'

'But in the meanwhile, Mr. Stock, don't grudge us our fun,' said Bessie Boswarrick, coming to the rescue.

'I don't grudge it; far from it,' said the stranger; 'I was just like you all once: now--I am not afraid of ridicule--I can give you something better than that; better than that, better than that. You can choose between us: _his_ poetry, _my_ plain speaking. I'm a plain man,--a very plain man; he, brilliant, highly educated.'

Captain Boswarrick scarcely knew how to accept all these compliments and in what sense to take them. Mr. Anley listened with the profoundest gravity. Bell giggled and stuffed her handkerchief into her mouth; but everybody was glad when the door opened and Lady Henley came in, making a diversion. The scene was getting embarra.s.sing.

'After dinner, dear Mr. Stock,' said Joanna, courteously, 'we shall be glad to hear _anything_ you may have to say. Let us leave them to their folly, Mr. Raban. Do you know your neighbour?--our excellent friend and minister?'

Frank was quite prepared to make Mr. Stock's acquaintance--he was an amateur preacher, a retired cavalry officer, living not far from Ravensrick--but he found himself carried off by Sir Thomas. The baronet had been in town that week, and was in a communicative mood. He had seen the ladies at Church House, who had asked after Raban. The Admiral had been heard of from Gibraltar.

'He has been writing in the most ill-judged way to know the exact state of affairs between Dolly and my nephew Robert,' Sir Thomas said confidentially. Sir Thomas always reflected the people with whom he had been living. 'I found my sister greatly overcome--hers is a nervous susceptibility, almost amounting to genius, but _not_ under control.'

And then, dropping his oratorical tone of voice, he went on to say that they all seemed much disturbed and greatly in want of cheering; that he had promised to run up again. 'Lady Sarah still lingering, poor thing,'

he added. 'She has a most devoted nurse in my young niece.'

Frank asked as indifferently as he could how Miss Vanborough was looking.

'Not so blooming as I could wish,' said Sir Thomas. 'Far from it. My wife is anxious that our friend, Mr. Stock, should impart some of his admirable ministration to her, but we cannot expect her to leave home at present.'

Mr. Stock's ministration seemed to have won over the simple baronet, whose conversation was deeply interesting to Frank, for he went on alternately praising Mr. Stock and talking about Dolly. Sir Thomas was not the discreetest of men. 'I had a--some painful explanation with my niece,' he continued, lowering his voice (people seem to think that is a sort of charm against indiscretion); 'to you, who are such an old friend, I may safely say that I do _not_ like this vagueness and uncertainty in a matter which so closely concerns Dolly's happiness. The engagement seems to be neither on nor off.... She tells me that Robert is free, but she seems to consider herself bound.... I have thought it best to write to him plainly on the subject.... My wife, as you know, wishes the engagement entirely broken ... at least I think so....'

The baronet suddenly stopped short, and looking rather foolish, began to talk of Mr. Stock again.

Lady Henley was not so absorbed in her conversation that she had not overheard Sir Thomas's too candid confidences. She was shaking her head at her husband over her shoulder.

Frank moved away, and went and stared through one of the windows. Once more hope came to dazzle him. In some moods people grasp at faintest dreams. There was everything smiling, shining, every ridge seemed illuminated; there lay the happy valley flooded with sunlight, life, brightness. Children's voices reached him, and meanwhile the recitation had begun again. 'Yan morn in May,' the Captain was saying. But a loud dinner-bell brought it all to a close.