Nobody Part 85

UNDER AN UMBRELLA.

Mrs. Barclay returned to her own room, and Mr. Dillwyn was forced to follow her. The door was shut between them and the rest of the household. Mrs. Barclay trimmed her fire, and her guest looked on absently. Then they sat down on opposite sides of the fireplace; Mrs.

Barclay smiling inwardly, for she knew that Philip was impatient; however, nothing could be more sedate to all appearance than she was.

"Do you hear how the wind moans in the chimney?" she said. "That means rain."

"Rather dismal, isn't it?"

"No. In this house nothing is dismal. There is a wholesome way of looking at everything."

"Not at money?"

"It is no use, Philip, to talk to people about what they cannot understand."

"I thought understanding on that point was universal."

"They have another standard in this family for weighing things, from that which you and I have been accustomed to go by."

"What is it?"

"I can hardly tell you, in a word. I am not sure that I can tell you at all. Ask Lois."

"When can I ask her? Do you spend your evenings alone?"

"By no means! Sometimes I go out and read 'Rob Roy' to them. Sometimes the girls come to me for some deeper reading, or lessons."

"Will they come to-night?"

"Of course not! They would not interfere with your enjoyment of my society."

"Cannot you ask Lois in, on some pretext?"

"Not without her sister. It is hard on you, Philip! I will do the best for you I can; but you must watch your opportunity."

Mr. Dillwyn gave it up with a good grace, and devoted himself to Mrs.

Barclay for the rest of the evening. On the other side of the wall separating the two rooms, meanwhile a different colloquy had taken place.

"So that is one of your fine people?" said Miss Charity. "Well, I don't think much of him."

"I have no doubt he would return the compliment," said Madge.

"No," said Lois; "I think he is too polite."

"He was polite to grandmother," returned Charity. "Not to anybody else, that I saw. But, girls, didn't he like the bread!"

"I thought he liked everything pretty well," said Madge.

"When's he goin'?" Mrs. Armadale asked suddenly.

"Monday, some time," Madge answered. "Mrs. Barclay said 'until Monday.'

What time Monday I don't know."

"Well, we've got things enough to hold out till then," said Charity, gathering up her dishes. "It's fun, too; I like to set a nice table."

"Why, grandmother?" said Lois. "Don't you like Mrs. Barclay's friend?"

"Well enough, child. I don't want him for none of our'n."

"Why, grandmother?" said Madge.

"His world ain't our world, children, and his hopes ain't our hopes--if the poor soul has any. 'Seems to me he's all in the dark."

"That's only on one subject," said Lois. "About everything else he knows a great deal; and he has seen everything."

"Yes," said Mrs. Armadale; "very like he has; and he likes to talk about it; and he has a pleasant tongue; and he is a civil man. But there's one thing he hain't seen, and that is the light; and one thing he don't know, and that is happiness. And he may have plenty of money--I dare say he has; but he's what I call a poor man. I don't want you to have no such friends."

"But grandmother, you do not dislike to have him in the house these two days, do you?"

"It can't be helped, my dear, and we'll do the best for him we can. But I don't want _you_ to have no such friends."

"I believe we should go out of the world to suit grandmother," remarked Charity. "She won't think us safe as long as we're in it."

The whole family went to church the next morning. Mr. Dillwyn's particular object, however, was not much furthered. He saw Lois, indeed, at the breakfast table; and the sight was everything his fancy had painted it. He thought of Milton's

"Pensive nun, devout and pure, Sober, stedfast, and demure"--

only the description did not quite fit; for there was a healthy, sweet freshness about Lois which gave the idea of more life and activity, mental and bodily, than could consort with a pensive character. The rest fitted pretty well; and the lines ran again and again through Mr.

Dillwyn's head. Lois was gone to church long before the rest of the family set out; and in church she did not sit with the others; and she did not come home with them. However, she was at dinner. But immediately after dinner Mrs. Barclay with drew again into her own room, and Mr. Dillwyn had no choice but to accompany her.

"What now?" he asked. "What do you do the rest of the day?"

"I stay at home and read. Lois goes to Sunday school."

Mr. Dillwyn looked to the windows. The rain Mrs. Barclay threatened had come; and had already begun in a sort of fury, in company with a wind, which drove it and beat it, as it seemed, from all points of the compa.s.s at once. The lines of rain-drops went slantwise past the windows, and then beat violently upon them; the ground was wet in a few minutes; the sky was dark with its thick watery veils. Wind and rain were holding revelry.

"She will not go out in this weather," said the gentleman, with conviction which seemed to be agreeable.

"The weather will not hinder her," returned Mrs. Barclay.

"_This_ weather?"