Clare Avery Part 5

"Well, and I thank you, Mistress--my Lady, I would say."

"Ah!" said Lady Enville, laughing softly. "I shall alway be Mistress Walter with thee, I am well a.s.sured. So my father Avery is dead, I count, or ye had not come?"

The question was put in a tone as light and airy as possible. Clare listened in surprised vexation. What did "she" mean by talking of "Gaffer," in that strange way?--was she not sorry that he was gone away?

Bab was--thought Clare.

Barbara's answer was in a very constrained tone.

"Ah, well, 'tis to no good fretting," returned Lady Enville, gently smoothing Clare's hair. "I cannot abide doole [mourning] and gloomy faces. I would have all about me fresh and bright while I am so."

This was rather above Clare's comprehension; but looking up at Barbara, the child saw tears in her eyes. Her little heart revolted in a moment from the caressing lady in velvet. What did she mean by making Bab cry?

It was rather a misfortune that at this moment it pleased Lady Enville to kiss Clare's forehead, and to say--

"Art thou ready to love us all, darling? Thou must know thy sisters, and ye can play you together, when their tasks be adone.--Margaret!"

"Ay, Madam."

The elder girl laid down her work, and came to Lady Enville's side.

"And thou too, Lucrece.--These be they, sweeting. Kiss them. Thou shalt see Blanche ere it be long."

But then Clare's stored-up anger broke out. The limit of her endurance had been reached, and shyness was extinguished by vexation.

"Get away!" she said, as Margaret bent down to kiss her. "You are not my sisters! I won't kiss you! I won't call you sisters. Blanche is my sister, but not you. Get away, both of you!"

Lady Enville's eyes opened--for her--extremely wide.

"Why, what can the child mean?" she exclaimed. "I can never govern childre. Rachel, do--"

Barbara was astonished and terrified. She laid a correcting hand upon Clare's shoulder.

"Mrs Clare, I'm ashamed of you! Cruel 'shamed, I am! The ladies will account that I ne'er learned you behaviour. Kiss the young damsels presently [immediately], like a sweet little maid, as you use to be, and not like a wild blackamoor that ne'er saw governance!"

But the matter was taken out of Barbara's hands, as Mistress Rachel responded to the appeal made to her--not in words, but in solid deed.

She quietly grasped Clare, lifted her from her mother's knee, and, carrying her to a large closet at one end of the room, shut her inside, and sat down again with judicial imperturbability.

"There you 'bide, child," announced Rachel, from her chair, "until such time as you shall be sorry for your fault, and desire pardon.--Meg and Lucrece, come and fold your sewing. 'Tis too dark to make an end thereof this even."

"Good Mistress," entreated poor Barbara in deep dismay, "I beseech you, leave my little maid come out thence. She was never thus dealt withal in all her life afore!"

"No was she, [was she not], good wife?" returned Rachel unconcernedly.

"Then the sooner she makes beginning thereof, the better for her. Ease your mind; I will keep her in yonder no longer than shall stand with her good. Is she oft-times thus trying?"

"Never afore knew I no such a thing!" said Barbara emphatically.

"Only a little waywardness then, maybe," answered Rachel. "So much the better."

"Marry, sweet Mistress, the child is hungered and aweary. Pray you, forgive her this once!"

"Good lack!" plaintively exclaimed Lady Enville. "I hate discords around me. Call Jennet, and bid her take Barbara into the hall, for it must be nigh rear-supper."

Go and sit down comfortably to supper, with her darling shut in a dark closet! Barbara would as soon have thought of flying.

"Leave her come forth, Rachel," said the child's mother.

"I love peace as well as thou, Sister; but I love right better,"

answered Rachel unmovedly. But she rose and went to the closet.

"Child! art thou yet penitent?"

"Am I what?" demanded Clare from within, in a voice which was not promising for much penitence.

"Art thou sorry for thy fault?"

"No."

"Wilt thou ask pardon?"

"No," said Clare st.u.r.dily.

"Thou seest, Sister, I cannot let her out," decided Rachel, looking back.

In utter despair Barbara appealed to Lady Enville.

"Mistress Walter, sure you have never the heart to keep the little maid shut up in yon hole? She is cruel weary, the sweeting!--and an-hungered to boot. Cause her to come forth, I pray you of your gentleness!"

Ah, Barbara! Appearances were illusive. There was no heart under the soft exterior of the one woman, and there was a very tender one, covered by a crust of rule and propriety, latent in the breast of the other.

"Gramercy, Barbara!" said Lady Enville pettishly, with a shrug of her shoulders. "I never can deal with childre."

"Leave her come forth, and I will deal withal," retorted Barbara bluntly.

"Dear heart! Rachel, couldst thou not leave her come? Never mind waiting till she is sorry. I shall have never any peace."

Rachel laid her hand doubtfully on the latch of the closet door, and stood considering the matter.

Just then another door was softly pushed open, and a little child of three years old came into the room:--a much prettier child than Clare, having sky-blue eyes, shining fair hair, a complexion of exquisite delicacy, pretty regular features, and eyebrows of the surprised type.

She ran up straight to Rachel, and grasped the blue serge kirtle in her small chubby hand.

"Come see my sis'er," was the abrupt announcement.

That this little bit of prettiness was queen at Enville Court, might be seen in Rachel's complacent smile. She opened the closet door about an inch.

"Art thou yet sorry?"

"No," said Clare stubbornly.

There was a little pull at the blue kirtle.