'You can have one of the footmen to help you,' she said, apparently relenting.

'No, thank you,' I answered. 'I will have no one touch the books but myself.'

'I will show you one which I think will suit your purpose,' she said, leading the way.

It was nearly opposite--a bed-room, sparely furnished.

'Thank you. This will do--if you will order all the things to be piled in that corner.'

She stood silent for a few moments, evidently annoyed, then turned and left the room, saying,

'I will see to it, Mr c.u.mbermede.'

Returning to the books and pulling off my coat, I had soon compelled such a cloud of very ancient and smothering dust, that when Miss Brotherton again made her appearance, her figure showed dim through the thick air, as she stood--dismayed, I hoped--in the doorway. I pretended to be unaware of her presence, and went on beating and blowing, causing yet thicker volumes of solid vapour to clothe my presence. She withdrew without even an attempt at parley.

Having heaped several great piles near the door, each composed of books of nearly the same size, the first rudimentary approach to arrangement, I crossed to the other room to see what progress had been made. To my surprise and annoyance, I found nothing had been done. Determined not to have my work impeded by the remissness of the servants, and seeing I must place myself at once on a proper footing in the house, I went to the drawing-room to ascertain, if possible, where Sir Giles was. I had of course put on my coat, but having no means of ablution at hand, I must have presented a very unpresentable appearance when I entered.

Lady Brotherton half rose, in evident surprise at my intrusion, but at once resumed her seat, saying, as she turned her chair half towards the window where the other two ladies sat,

'The housekeeper will attend to you, Mr c.u.mbermede--or the butler.'

I could see that Clara was making some inward merriment over my appearance and reception.

'Could you tell me, Lady Brotherton,' I said, 'where I should be likely to find Sir Giles?'

'I can give you no information on that point,' she answered, with consummate stiffness.

'I know where he is,' said Clara, rising. 'I will take you to him. He is in the study.'

She took no heed of the glance broadly thrown at her, but approached the door.

I opened it, and followed her out of the room. As soon as we were beyond hearing, she burst out laughing. 'How dared you show your workman's face in that drawing-room?' she said. 'I am afraid you have much offended her ladyship.'

'I hope it is for the last time. When I am properly attended to, I shall have no occasion to trouble her.'

She led me to Sir Giles's study. Except newspapers and reports of companies, there was in it nothing printed. He rose when we entered, and came towards us.

'Looking like your work already, Mr c.u.mbermede?' he said, holding out his hand.

'I must not shake hands with you this time, Sir Giles,' I returned.

'But I am compelled to trouble you. I can't get on for want of attendance. I _must_ have a little help.'

I told him how things were. His rosy face grew rosier, and he rang the bell angrily. The butler answered it.

'Send Mrs Wilson here. And I beg, Hurst, you will see that Mr c.u.mbermede has every attention.'

Mrs Wilson presently made her appearance, and stood with a flushed face before her master.

'Let Mr c.u.mbermede's orders be attended to _at once_, Mrs Wilson.'

'Yes, Sir Giles,' she answered, and waited.

'I am greatly obliged to you for letting me know,' he added, turning to me. 'Pray insist upon proper attention.'

'Thank you, Sir Giles. I shall not scruple.'

'That will do, Mrs Wilson. You must not let Mr c.u.mbermede be hampered in his kind labours for my benefit by the idleness of my servants.'

The housekeeper left the room, and after a little chat with Sir Giles, I went back to the books. Clara had followed Mrs Wilson, partly, I suspect, for the sake of enjoying her confusion.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII.

a.s.sISTANCE.

I returned to my solitary house as soon as the evening began to grow too dark for my work, which, from the lowness of the windows and the age of the gla.s.s, was early. All the way as I went, I was thinking of Clara. Not only had time somewhat obliterated the last impression she had made upon me, but I had, partly from the infection of Charley's manner, long ago stumbled upon various excuses for her conduct. Now I said to myself that she had certainly a look of greater sedateness than before. But her expression of dislike to Geoffrey Brotherton had more effect upon me than anything else, inasmuch as there Vanity found room for both the soles of her absurdly small feet; and that evening, when I went wandering, after my custom, with a volume of Dante in my hand, the book remained unopened, and from the form of Clara flowed influences mingling with and gathering fresh power from those of Nature, whose feminine front now brooded over me half-withdrawn in the dim, starry night. I remember that night so well! I can recall it now with a calmness equal to its own. Indeed in my memory it seems to belong to my mind as much as to the outer world; or rather the night filled both, forming the s.p.a.ce in which my thoughts moved, as well as the s.p.a.ce in which the brilliant thread of the sun-lighted crescent hung clasping the earth-lighted bulk of the moon. I wandered in the gra.s.s until midnight was long by, feeling as quietly and peacefully at home as if my head had been on the pillow and my soul out in a lovely dream of cool delight. We lose much even by the good habits we form. What tender and glorious changes pa.s.s over our sleeping heads unseen! What moons rise and set in rippled seas of cloud, or behind hills of stormy vapour, while we are blind! What storms roll thundering across the airy vault, with no eyes for their keen lightnings to dazzle, while we dream of the dead who will not speak to us! But ah! I little thought to what a dungeon of gloom this lovely night was the jasmine-grown porch!

The next morning I was glad to think that there was no wolf at my door, howling _work---work!_ Moldwarp Hall drew me with redoubled attraction; and instead of waiting for the afternoon, which alone I had intended to occupy with my new undertaking, I set out to cross the park the moment I had finished my late breakfast. Nor could I conceal from myself that it was quite as much for the chance of seeing Clara now and then as from pleasure in the prospect of an ordered library that I repaired thus early to the Hall. In the morning light, however, I began to suspect, as I walked, that, although Clara's frankness was flattering, it was rather a sign that she was heart-whole towards me than that she was careless of Brotherton. I began to doubt also whether, after our first meeting, which she had carried off so well--cool even to kindness--she would care to remember that I was in the house, or derive from it any satisfaction beyond what came of the increased chances of studying the Brothertons from a humorous point of view. Then, after all, why was she there?--and apparently on such familiar terms with a family socially so far superior to her own? The result of my cogitations was the resolution to take care of myself. But it had vanished utterly before the day was two hours older. A youth's wise talk to himself will not make him a wise man, any more than the experience of the father will serve the son's need.

I was hard at work in my shirt-sleeves, carrying an armful of books across the corridor, and thinking whether I had not better bring my servant with me in the afternoon, when Clara came out of her room.

'Here already, Wilfrid!' she exclaimed. 'Why don't you have some of the servants to help you? You're doing what any one might as well do for you.'

'If these were handsomely bound,' I answered, 'I should not so much mind; but being old and tattered, no one ought to touch them who does not love them.'

'Then, I suppose, you wouldn't trust me with them either, for I cannot pretend to anything beyond a second-hand respect for them.'

'What do you mean by a second-hand respect?' I asked.

'I mean such respect as comes from seeing that a scholar like you respects them.'

'Then I think I could accord you a second-hand sort of trust--under my own eye, that is,' I answered, laughing. 'But you can scarcely leave your hostess to help me.'

'I will ask Miss Brotherton to come too. She will pretend all the respect you desire.'

'I made three times the necessary dust in order to frighten her away yesterday.'

'Ah! that's a pity. But I shall manage to overrule her objections--that is, if you would really like two tolerably educated housemaids to help you.'

'I will gladly endure one of them for the sake of the other,' I replied.

'No compliments, please,' she returned, and left the room.

In about half an hour she re-appeared, accompanied by Miss Brotherton.

They were in white wrappers, with their dresses shortened a little, and their hair tucked under mob caps. Miss Brotherton looked like a lady's-maid, Clara like a lady acting a lady's-maid. I a.s.sumed the command at once, pointing out to what heaps in the other room those I had grouped in this were to be added, and giving strict injunctions as to carrying only a few at once, and laying them down with care in regularly ordered piles. Clara obeyed with a mock submission, Miss Brotherton with a reserve which heightened the impression of her dress.

I was instinctively careful how I spoke to Clara, fearing to compromise her, but she seemed all at once to change her _role_, and began to propose, object, and even insist upon her own way, drawing from me the threat of immediate dismission from my service, at which her companion laughed with an awkwardness showing she regarded the pleasantry as a presumption. Before one o'clock, the first room was almost empty. Then the great bell rang, and Clara, coming from the auxiliary chamber, put her head in at the door.