A Girl in Spring Time Part 5

"Dear young friends of her own, starved to death! I know," said Mildred to herself, and she broke in hastily upon the reminiscences, to give such glowing accounts of the management of Milvern House as made the old lady open her eyes in astonishment.

"Four courses for dinner, and a second helping whenever you like. Now really, my dear, you must write down the address of that school for me.

I have so many young friends. And have you any idea of the terms?"

She was certainly an inquisitive old lady, but she was very kind-hearted, and when one o'clock arrived she insisted upon Mildred sharing the contents of her well-filled luncheon-basket. Her endless questions served another purpose too, for they filled up the time, and made the journey seem shorter than it would otherwise have done. It came as quite a surprise when the train steamed into the station at B--, and Mildred had not time to lower the window before it had come to a standstill. She caught a glimpse of her friends upon the platform, however, and in another minute was out of the carriage, waving her hand to attract attention.

Bertha and Lois were accompanied by a lady who was so evidently their mother that there could be no doubt upon the subject. She had the same pale complexion and dark eyes, the same small features and dainty, well-finished appearance. As Mildred advanced along the platform to meet the three figures in their trim, tweed suits, she became suddenly conscious of flying locks, wrinkled gloves, and loose shoe-laces, and blushed for her own deficiencies. She could not hear Bertha's rapturous "There she is! Look, Mother! Do you wonder that we call her the 'Norse Princess?'" or Mrs Faucit's "Is that Mildred? She looks charming, Bertha. It is a very good description;" but the greetings which she received were so cordial as to set her completely at ease.

On the drive home Mrs Faucit leant back in her corner of the carriage, and listened to the conversation which went on between the three girls in smiling silence. She soon heard enough to prove that it was the attraction of opposites which drew the stranger and her own daughters so closely together, but though Mildred's impetuosity was a trifle startling, she was irresistibly attracted, not only by her beauty, but by the frank, open expression of the grey eyes.

"Plenty of spirit," she said to herself, "as well as honest and true-hearted! Miss Chilton was right. She will do the girls good.

They are a little too quiet for their age. I am glad I asked her--"

"What did you think, Mildred, when Mother's letter arrived with the invitation?" Lois asked, and Mildred clasped her hands in ecstatic remembrance.

"Oh-h, I can't tell you! I had just been longing for a letter, and wondering what sort of one I would have if I could chose. I decided that I would hear that I had inherited a fortune, and I was just arranging how to spend it when your letter arrived. Lovely! lovely! I wanted to come off the next day, but Mardie objected. She has been so good to me, and I was a perfect horror for the first few days. I was ashamed of myself when your invitation came. Oh, what a funny old place this is! What curious houses--what narrow little streets!"

Mrs Faucit smiled.

"We are very proud of our old city, Mildred," she said. "We must show you all the sights--the walls, and the castle, and the old streets down which the mail-coaches used to pa.s.s on their way to London. Some of them are so narrow that you would hardly believe there was room for a coach. These newer streets seem to us quite wide and fashionable in comparison."

Even as she was speaking the carriage suddenly wheeled round a corner, and turned up a road leading to the Deanery gates. Mildred was not familiar with the peculiarities of old cathedral cities, and she stared in bewilderment at the sudden change of scene. One moment they had been in a busy, shop-lined thoroughfare; the next they were apparently in the depths of the country--avenues of beech-trees rising on either side; moss growing between the stones on the walls; and such an air of still solemnity all around, as can be found nowhere in the world but in the precincts of a cathedral.

The Deanery itself was in character with its surroundings. The entrance hall was large and dim; furnished in oak, with an array of old armour upon the walls. In winter time, when a large fire blazed in the grate, it looked cheerful and home-like enough, but coming in from the bright summer sunshine the effect was decidedly chilling, and Mildred's eyes grew large and awe-stricken as she glanced around. The next moment, however, Mrs Faucit threw open a door to the right, and ushered her guest into the most charming room she had ever seen.

Whatever of cheerfulness was wanting in the hall without was abundantly present here. One bay window looked out on to the lawn, and the row of old beeches in the distance; another opened into a conservatory ablaze with flowering plants, while over the mantel-piece was a third window, raising perplexing questions in the mind concerning the position of the chimney. Wherever the eye turned there was some beautiful object to hold it entranced, and Mildred was just saying to herself, "I shall have one of my drawing-rooms furnished exactly like this!" when she became aware that someone was seated in an armchair close to where she herself was standing.

"Well, Lady Sarah, we have brought back our little friend. This is Mildred. She has accomplished her journey in safety. Mildred, I must introduce you to our other guest, Lady Sarah Monckton."

"How do you do?" murmured Mildred politely. Lady Sarah put up a pair of eye-gla.s.ses mounted on a tortoise-sh.e.l.l stick, and stared at her critically from head to foot. Then she dropped them with a sharp click, as if what she saw was not worth the trouble of regarding, and addressed herself to Mrs Faucit in accents of commiseration.

"My dear, you look shockingly tired! Train late, as usual, I suppose!

It is always the way with this wretched service. I know nothing more exhausting than hanging about a platform waiting for people who are behind their time. Bertha looks white too. You have had no tea, of course. You must be longing for it?"

"Oh! I am always ready for tea, but we had only a few minutes to wait.

Sit down, Mildred dear, you must be the hungry one after your long journey. James will bring in the tray in another moment."

Mrs Faucit smiled in an encouraging manner, for she had seen a blank expression overspread the girl's face as she listened to Lady Sarah's remarks. "She speaks as if it were my fault!" Mildred was saying to herself. "How could I help it if the train was late? She never even said, 'How do you do?' I wonder who she can be?"

It was her turn to stare now, and once having begun to look at Lady Sarah, it was difficult to turn away, for such an extraordinary looking individual she had never seen before in the whole course of her life.

Her face was wan and haggard, and a perfect net-work of wrinkles; but it was surmounted by a profusion of light-brown hair, curled and waved in the latest fashion; her skinny hands glittered with rings, and her dress was light in colour, and elaborately trimmed. She had a small waist, wide sleeves, and high-heeled shoes peeping out from beneath the frills of her skirt. If it had not been for her face, she might have pa.s.sed for a fashionable young lady, but her face was beyond the reach of art, and looked pitifully out of keeping with its surroundings.

Country-bred Mildred could not conceal her amazement. She sat on her high-backed chair, her golden hair falling in a shower over her shoulders, her grey eyes wider than ever as she stared transfixed at this extraordinary spectacle. Even when tea was handed round, she continued to cast surrept.i.tious glances over the brim of her cup, and to eat bread-and-b.u.t.ter with divided attention.

Mrs Faucit noticed her absorption, and tried to engage her in conversation, but in vain. Mildred murmured a polite little answer of half a dozen words, and turned back to stare at Lady Sarah with fascinated curiosity. It was a relief to her hostess when the girl refused a second cup of tea, and she lost no time in suggesting an adjournment upstairs.

"Bertha, I am sure Mildred will be glad to go to her own room now. Will you show the way, dear? We will not expect to see you again until dinner-time, as I know you will enjoy being alone!"

Outside in the hall Mildred stood still, and pointed through the closed door with an outstretched finger.

"What in the world is--That?"

"'That!' What? Do you mean lady Sarah? Oh, Mildred, do be careful!"

chorused the twins. "She might come out. She might open the door and hear you! She is Lady Sarah Monckton. Her husband died in India. He was a sort of connection of Father's, so she comes here once or twice a year to consult him about her affairs."

"A sort of connection! What sort? Near or far? Do you know her well?

Shall I hurt your feelings if I say anything disagreeable? No. I'm so glad. I'll tell you then--I--don't--like--her--at all!"

The sisters looked at each other and smiled. They had evidently expected something more scathing in the way of denunciation, and were not inclined to condemn Mildred for her opinion.

"Well, no; of course not. n.o.body could! We always look upon her as a Trial!" said Bertha pensively. "She makes Mother ever so much stricter than she would be if she were left alone, and thinks it improper for a young lady to do anything that is nice. We were sorry that your visits should have come together, but it could not be helped. Perhaps she won't interfere so much when we have a visitor!"

"She has taken a dislike to me, so I expect I shall have the benefit!

Didn't you see the way she glowered at me through those awful gla.s.ses?

Why does she look like that? Is she a young woman with an old face, or an old one with young clothes? Why can't she be contented to be one thing at a time? Is she going to make a long visit?"

"I don't know. She has brought a maid and heaps of dresses, so I suppose she is. Mother says we must remember that she is very old, and has had a great many troubles, and try not to annoy her--"

"Your mother is a dear!" Mildred cried enthusiastically. "I will be nice to Lady Sarah to please her, but I don't believe she is at all inclined to be nice to me. We will see."

CHAPTER SEVEN.

LADY SARAH.

Mildred had been a week at The Deanery, and if her enjoyment during that time had not been entirely unalloyed, the fault lay without question with Lady Sarah, for all the members of the family vied with each other as to who could show the young guest the most kindness. Even the Dean himself fell a victim to the "Norse Princess", much to his wife's amus.e.m.e.nt, for he was, as a rule, the most unnoticing of men. Mildred had written to her mother that Bertha's father was "exactly like a Dean." She had never met such a dignitary before, it is true, but she had an impression that he ought to look wise and studious, and Dean Faucit fulfilled these requirements to the uttermost.

He had a thin face, with grave eyes set in a net-work of lines; his shoulders were bowed with poring over the study-desk; and he was, moreover, so absent-minded that he made two separate attempts before he succeeded in grasping Mildred's hand on the occasion of their first introduction. She had been several days in the house before he had the vaguest idea of her appearance, but one morning it chanced that he raised his eyes from the breakfast-table to complain of the sunlight which was pouring in at the window; and right opposite sat Mildred, her eyes dancing with happiness, a soft pink flush on her cheeks, and her hair shining like threads of gold. The Dean started, and drew his brows together, staring at her in curious, short-sighted fashion. He was so accustomed to the dim light of the Cathedral, and to the pale faces of his wife and children, that Mildred, with her bright colouring, seemed the embodiment of the sunshine itself. He fumbled for his gla.s.ses, scrutinised her furtively from time to time as the meal progressed, and when it was over, lingered behind to speak of her to his wife.

"That friend of Bertha's seems to he--er--a nice little girl, dear!

There is something in her face which affects me very pleasantly. I-- er--I hope you are doing all you can to give her a pleasant time. Do you--er--think she would like to look at my book plates?"

Mrs Faucit laughed, and slipped her hand inside his arm.

"No, my dear old man!" she said. "I don't think she would like it all.

I think she would be profoundly bored. Leave her to the girls. They are as happy as the day is long, wandering about together."

"Ah, well, you know best! but I should like the child to enjoy herself.

It has struck me once or twice that Sarah Monckton--eh?--not quite so sympathetic to the young folks as she might be, I'm afraid. There was something at dinner the other night--I didn't hear it all, but I had an impression--an impression--. It distressed me very much. I--er--hope she doesn't interfere with the girls' enjoyment."

"Oh, no! Don't worry yourself, dear. They are quite happy," protested Mrs Faucit soothingly; but when her husband had returned to his study she sighed a little, as though she were not altogether so easy in her mind as she had led him to believe.

The scene at the dinner-table to which the Dean had referred was uncomfortably fresh in her own memory. It had arisen through Mildred's horrified surprise at the sight of Lady Sarah in evening dress, and the unconscious manner in which she showed her disapproval. Mrs Faucit made up her mind that she would take an early opportunity of suggesting to her young visitor that she had better not stare at the old lady in so marked a manner, but she was too late, for before the meal was over Lady Sarah suddenly laid her knife and fork on her plate, and transfixed Mildred with an awful frown.

"Well, Miss Moore, what is it all about? Pray let me hear what is wrong, so that I may put it right at once. If I am to have my dinner, this sort of thing cannot go on any longer."

The girl's start of amazement was painful to behold. The sharp voice struck her like a blow, and she was absolutely ignorant as to her offence.

"I--I don't understand! What have I done?"