Magnum Bonum; Or, Mother Carey's Brood Part 64

There was another fond, grateful nestling kiss, and some of the Psalms were gone through in the soft, full cadences of a voice that had gained unconscious pathos by having many times used them as a trustful lullaby to a weary sufferer.

If Babie heard the end, it was in the sweetness of sleep, and when Mrs.

Evelyn left her, it was with far less judicial desire to inquire into the subject of that endless conversation which had lasted, with slight intermission, from London to Paris. She was not long left in ignorance, for no sooner had Sydney been a.s.sured that nothing ailed Barbara but fatigue, than she burst out, "Mamma, she is the nicest girl I ever saw."

"Do you like her better than Elvira?"

"Of course I do," most emphatically. "Mamma, she loves Sir Kenneth of the Leopard as much as I do."

Mrs. Evelyn was satisfied. While Sir Kenneth of the Leopard remained the object of the young ladies' pa.s.sion, there was not much fear of any nonsense that was not innocent and happy.

No news of the bag. Janet was disposed to go back herself or send Delrio, but Sir James declared this impossible; nor would the Evelyns consent to disturb the plan of the journey, and disappoint those who expected them at Engelberg on Sat.u.r.day by waiting at Paris for tidings.

Janet in vain told herself that she was not under their control, and tried to remain behind by herself with her maid. They had a quiet, high-bred decisive way of taking things for granted, and arranging for her and she found herself unable to resist; but whenever, in after times, she was unpleasantly reminded of her loss, she always charged it upon them.

Otherwise the journey was prosperous. Elfie was on the terms of a saucy pet with the General, and Babie's bright, gentle courtesy and unselfishness won Mrs. Evelyn's heart, while she and Sydney were as inseparable as ever.

In fact Sydney had been made free of Jotapata. That celebrated romance had been going on all these years with the elision of several generations; because though few members of the family were allowed to see their twenty-fifth year, it was impossible to squeeze them all into the crusading times; and besides the reigning favourites must be treated to an adventure with Coeur de Lion.

Even thus abridged, it bade fair to last throughout the journey, both the little maidens being sufficiently experienced travellers to care little for the sights from the French railway, and being only stimulated to talk and listen the more eagerly when interrupted by such trifles as meals, companions, and calls to look at objects far less interesting.

"Look, my dears; we are coming to the mountains. There is the first snowy head."

"Yes, mamma," but the hats were together again in the corner.

"Come, Sydney, don't lose this wonderful winding valley."

"I see, Uncle James. Beautiful!" popping back instantly with, "Go on, Babie, dear. How did Sir Gilbert get them out of that horrid defile full of Turks? It is true, you said."

"True that Louis VII. and Queen Eleanor got into that dreadful mess.

Armine found it in Sismondi, but n.o.body knew who Sir Gilbert was except ourselves; and we are quite sure he was Sir Gilbert of the Ermine, the son of the brother who thought it his duty to stay at home."

"Sir Philibert? Oh, yes! I know."

"There are some verses about the Iconium Pa.s.s, written out in our spotted book, but I can say some of them."

"Oh, do!"

"'The rock is steep, the gorge is deep, Mount Joye St. Denys; But King Louis bold his way doth hold, Mount Joye St. Denys.

Ho ho, the ravine is 'narrow I ween, Lah billah el billah, hurrah.

The hills near and far the Frank's way do bar, Lah billah el billah, hurrah."

"It ought to be 'Allah el Allah,' but you know that really does mean a holy name, and Armine thought we ought not to have it. It was delightful making the ballad, for all the Christian verses have 'Mount Joye St.

Denys' in the different lines, and all the Turkish ones 'Lah billah,'

till Sir Gilbert comes in, and then his war-cry goes instead--

"'On, on, ye Franks, hew down their ranks, Up, merry men, for the Ermine!

For Christian right 'gainst Pagan might, Up, merry men, for the Ermine!'

but one day Jock got hold of it, and wrote a parody on it."

"Oh what a shame! Weren't you very angry?"

"It was so funny, one could not help laughing.

"'Come on, old Turk, you'll find hot work-- Pop goes the weasel!

They cut and run; my eyes, what fun!-- Pop goes the weasel!'"

"How could you bear it? I won't hear a bit more. It is dreadful."

"Miss Ogilvie says if one likes a thing very much, parodies don't hurt one's love," said Babie.

"But what did Sir Gilbert do?"

"He rode up to where Louis was standing with his back against a rock, and dismounted saying 'My liege--'"

"I thought he was an Englishman?"

"Oh, but you always called a king 'my liege,' whoever you were. 'My liege,' he said--"

"Look at that charming little church tower."

"I see, thank you."

"I see, Uncle James. No, thank you, I don't want to look out any more. I saw it. Well, Babie, 'My liege--'"

"Never mind, James," said Mrs. Evelyn, "one can't be more than in Elysium."

There were fewer conveniences for the siege on the last day of the journey, when railroads were no more; but something could be done on board the steamer in spite of importunities from those who thought it a duty to look at the sh.o.r.es of the Lake of Lucerne, and when arrival became imminent, happy antic.i.p.ation inclined Barbara to a blissful silence. Mrs. Evelyn saw her great hazel eyes shining like stars, and began to prefer the transparent mask of that ardent little soul to the external beauty which made Elvira a continual study for an artist.

CHAPTER XXIV. -- THE ANGEL MOUNTAIN.

To your eager prayer, the Voice Makes awful answer, "Come to Me."

Once for all now seal your choice With Christ to tread the boisterous sea.

Keble.

The Leukerbad section of the party had only three days' start of the others, for Jock was not released till after a whole month's course of the baths, and Armine's state fluctuated so much that the journey would not have been sooner possible.

It had been a trying time. While Dr. Medlicott thought he could not rouse Mrs. Brownlow to the sense of the little fellow's precarious condition, deadly alarm lay couched in the bottom of her heart, only kept at bay by defiantly cheerful plans and sanguine talk.