The beginning of June now arrived, and brought with it the time for the return of Claude and Lord Rotherwood.

The Marquis's carriage met him at Raynham, and he set down Claude at New Court, on his way to Hetherington, just coming in to exchange a hurried greeting with the young ladies.

Their attention was princ.i.p.ally taken up by their brother.

'Claude, how well you look! How fat you are!' was their exclamation.

'Is not he?' said Lord Rotherwood. 'I am quite proud of him. Not one headache since he went. He will have no excuse for not dancing the polka.'

'I do not return the compliment to you, Lily,' said Claude, looking anxiously at his sister. 'What is the matter with you? Have you been ill?'

'Oh, no! not at all!' said Lily, smiling.

'I am sure there is enough to make any one ill,' said Emily, in her deplorable tone; 'I thought this poor parish had had its share of illness, with the scarlet fever, and now it has turned to a horrible typhus fever.'

'Indeed!' said Claude. 'Where? Who?'

'Oh! the Naylors, and the Rays, and the Walls. John Ray died this morning, and they do not think that Tom Naylor will live.'

'Well,' interrupted Lord Rotherwood, 'I shall not stop to hear any more of this chapter of accidents. I am off, but mind, remember the 30th, and do not any of you frighten yourselves into the fever.'

He went, and Lily now spoke. 'There is one thing in all this, Claude, that is matter of joy, Tom Naylor has sent for Robert.'

'Then, Lily, I do most heartily congratulate you.'

'I hope things may go better,' said Lily, with tears in her eyes.

'The poor baby is with its grandmother. Mrs. Naylor is ill too, and every one is so afraid of the fever that n.o.body goes near them but Robert, and Mrs. Eden, and old Dame Martin. Robert says Naylor is in a satisfactory frame--determined on having the baby christened--but, oh! I am afraid the christening is to be bought by something terrible.'

'I do not think those fevers are often very infectious,' said Claude.

'So papa says,' replied Emily; 'but Robert looks very ill. He is wearing himself out with sitting up. Making himself nurse as well as everything else.'

This was very distressing, but still Claude scarcely thought it accounted for the change that had taken place in Lilias. Her cheek was pale, her eye heavy, her voice had lost its merry tone; Claude knew that she had had much to grieve her, but he was as yet far from suspecting how she was overworked and hara.s.sed. He spoke of Eleanor's return, and she did not brighten; she smiled sadly at his attempts to cheer her, and he became more and more anxious about her.

He was not long in discovering what was the matter.

The second day after his return Robert told them at the churchyard gate that Tom Naylor was beginning to mend, and this seemed to be a great comfort to Lily, who walked home with a blither step than usual. Claude betook himself to the study, and saw no more of his sisters till two o'clock, when Lily appeared, with the languid, dejected look which she had lately worn, and seemed to find it quite an effort to keep the tears out of her eyes. Ada and Phyllis were in very high spirits, because they were going to Raynham with Emily and Jane, and at every speech of Ada's Lily looked more grieved. After the Raynham party were gone Claude began to look for Lily. He found her in her room, an evening dress spread on the bed, a roll of ribbon in one hand, and with the other supporting her forehead, while tears were slowly rolling down her cheeks.

'Lily, my dear, what is the matter?'

'Oh! nothing, nothing, Claude,' said she, quickly.

'Nothing! no, that is not true. Tell me, Lily. You have been disconsolate ever since I came home, and I will not let it go on so.

No answer? Then am I to suppose that these new pearlins are the cause of her sorrow? Come, Lily, be like yourself, and speak. More tears! Here, drink this water, be yourself again, or I shall be angry and vexed. Now then, that is right: make an effort, and tell me.'

'There is nothing to tell,' said Lily; 'only you are very kind--I do not know what is the matter with me--only I have been very foolish of late--and everything makes me cry.'

'My poor child, I knew you had not been well. They do not know how to take care of you, Lily, and I shall take you in hand. I am going to order the horses, and we will have a gallop over the Downs, and put a little colour into your cheeks.'

'No, no, thank you, Claude, I cannot come, indeed I cannot, I have this work, which must be done to-day.'

'At work at your finery instead of coming out! You must be altered, indeed, Lily.'

'It is not for myself,' said Lily, 'but I promised Emily she should have it ready to wear to-morrow.'

'Emily, oh? So she is making a slave of you?'

'No, no, it was a voluntary promise. She does not care about it, only she would be disappointed, and I have promised.'

'I hate promises!' said Claude. 'Well, what must be, must be, so I will resign myself to this promise of yours, only do not make such another. Well, but that was not all; you were not crying about that fine green thing, were you?'

'Oh, no!' said Lily, smiling, as now she could smile again.

'What then? I will know, Lily.'

'I was only vexed at something about the children.'

'Then what was it?'

'It was only that Ada was idle at her lessons; I told her to learn a verb as a punishment, she went to Emily, and, somehow or other, Emily did not find out the exact facts, excused her, and took her to Raynham. I was vexed, because I am sure it does Ada harm, and Emily did not understand what I said afterwards; I am sure she thought me unjust.'

'How came she not to be present?'

'Emily does not often sit in the schoolroom in the morning, since she has been about that large drawing.'

'So you are governess as well as ladies'-maid, are you, Lily? What else? Housekeeper, I suppose, as I see you have all the weekly bills on your desk. Why, Lily, this is perfectly philanthropic of you.

You are exemplifying the rule of love in a majestic manner. Crying again! Water lily once more?'

Lily looked up, and smiled; 'Claude, how can you talk of that old, silly, nay, wicked nonsense of my principle. I was wise above what was written, and I have my punishment in the wreck which my "frenzy of spirit and folly of tongue" have wrought. The unchristened child, Agnes's death, the confusion of this house, all are owing to my hateful principle. I see the folly of it now, but Emily has taken it up, and acts upon it in everything. I do struggle against it a little; but I cannot blame any one, I can do no good, it is all owing to me. We have betrayed papa's confidence; if he does not see it now it will all come upon him when Eleanor comes home, and what is to become of us? How it will grieve him to see that we cannot be trusted!'

'Poor Lily!' said Claude. 'It is a bad prospect, but I think you see the worst side of it. You are not well, and, therefore, doleful.

This, Lily, I can tell you, that the Baron always considered Emily's government as a kind of experiment, and so perhaps he will not be so grievously disappointed as you expect. Besides, I have a strong suspicion that Emily's own nature has quite as much to do with her present conduct as your principle, which, after all, did not live very long.'

'Just long enough to unsettle me, and make it more difficult for me to get any way right,' said Lily. 'Oh! dear, what would I give to force backward the wheels of time!'

'But as you cannot, you had better try to brighten up your energies.

Come, you know I cannot tell you not to look back, but I can tell you not to look forward. Nay, I do tell you literally, to look forward, out of the window, instead of back into this hot room. Do not you think the plane-tree there looks very inviting? Suppose we transport Emily's drapery there, and I want to refresh my memory with Spenser; I do not think I have touched him since plane-tree time last year.'

'I believe Spenser and the plane-tree are inseparably woven together in your mind,' said Lily.

'Yes, ever since the time when I first met with the book. I remember well roving over the bookcase, and meeting with it, and taking it out there, for fear Eleanor should see me and tell mama. Phyl, with As You Like It, put me much in mind of myself with that.'

Claude talked in this manner, while Lily, listening with a smile, prepared her work. He read, and she listened. It was such a treat as she had not enjoyed for a long time, for she had begun to think that all her pleasant reading days were past. Her work prospered, and her face was bright when her sisters came home.

But, alas! Emily was not pleased with her performance; she said that she intended something quite different, and by manner, rather than by words, indicated that she should not be satisfied unless Lily completely altered it. It was to be worn at the castle the next evening, and Lily knew she should have no time for it in the course of the day. Accordingly, at half-past twelve, as Claude was going up to bed, he saw a light under his sister's door, and knocked to ask the cause. Lily was still at work upon the tr.i.m.m.i.n.g, and very angry he was, particularly when she begged him to take care not to disturb Emily. At last, by threatening to awake her, for the express purpose of giving her a scolding, he made Lily promise to go to bed immediately, a promise which she, poor weary creature, was very glad to make.

Claude now resolved to tell his father the state of things, for he well knew that though it was easy to obtain a general promise from Emily, it was likely to be of little effect in preventing her from spurring her willing horse to death.

The next morning he rose in time to join his father in the survey which he usually took of his fields before breakfast, and immediately beginning on the subject on which he was anxious, he gave a full account of his sister's proceedings. 'In short,' said he, 'Emily and Ada torment poor Lily every hour of her life; she bears it all as a sort of penance, and how it is to end I cannot tell.'