The Lady of the Forest Part 29

Tears filled her eyes. She struck the organ with powerful chords, and the whole little party burst out in the grand old chant, "Abide with me."

"Now let us sing 'O Paradise,'" said Phil when it was ended.

The children had sweet voices. Miss Katharine played her gentlest; Miss Griselda slipped unseen into the hall and sat down near Phil. The children sang on, hymn after hymn, Phil always choosing.

At last Miss Katharine rose and closed the organ.

"My heart is at rest," she said gently, and she stooped down and kissed Phil. Then she went out of the hall, Rachel and Kitty following her.

Phil alone had noticed Miss Griselda; he went up to her now and nestled down cozily by her side. He had a very confiding way and not a sc.r.a.p of fear of any one. Most people were afraid of Miss Griselda. Phil's total want of fear in her presence made one of his greatest charms for her.

"Wasn't the music nice?" he said now. "Didn't you like those hymns?

Hasn't Rachel a beautiful voice?"

"Rachel will sing well," answered Miss Griselda. "She must have the best masters. Philip, to-morrow is nearly come."

"The 5th of May? Yes, so it has."

"It is a great day for you, my little boy."

"Yes, I suppose it is. Aunt Griselda, when do you think my mother will be home?"

"I don't know, Philip--I don't know where she has gone."

"I think I do. I think she's gone to get you a great surprise."

"She should not have gone away to-day, when there was so much to be done."

"You won't say that when you know. Aunt Grizel, you'll always be good to mother--won't you?"

"Why, of course, dear; she is your mother."

"But even if she wasn't my mother--I mean even if I wasn't there, you'd be good to her. I wish you'd promise me."

"Of course, Phil--of course; but as you are going to be very much there, there's no use in thinking of impossible things."

Phil sighed.

"Aunt Griselda," he said gently, "do you think I make a very suitable heir?"

"Yes, dear--very suitable."

"I'm glad you love me; I'm very, very glad. Tell me about the Rupert Lovel who went away two hundred years ago. He wasn't really like me?"

"In spirit he was, I don't doubt."

"Yes; but he wasn't like me in appearance. I'm small and thin and pale, and he--Aunt Griselda, wouldn't your heart beat and wouldn't you be glad if an heir just like the old Rupert Lovel came home? If he had just the same figure, and just the same grand flashing eyes, and just the same splendid strength, wouldn't you be glad? Wouldn't it be a joyful surprise to you?"

"No, Phil, for my heart is set on a certain little pale-faced boy. Now don't let us talk about nonsensical things. Come, you must have your supper and go to bed; you will have plenty of excitement to-morrow and must rest well."

"One moment, please. Aunt Grizel, tell me--tell me, did you ever see the lady of the forest?"

"Phil, my dear child, what do you mean?"

"The beautiful lady who wears a green dress, greener than the leaves, and has a lovely face, and brings a gift in her hand. Did you ever see her?"

"Philip, I can't stay any longer in this dark hall. Of course I never saw her. There is a legend about her--a foolish, silly legend; but you don't suppose I am so foolish as to believe it?"

"I don't know; perhaps it isn't foolish. I wanted to see her, and I did at last."

"You saw her!"

"In a dream. It was a real dream--I mean it was the kind of dream that comes true. I saw her, and since then everything has been quite clear to me. Aunt Griselda, she isn't only the lady of the forest; she has another name; she comes to every one some day."

"Phil, you are talking very queerly. Come away."

That evening, late, Mrs. Lovel came quietly back. She did not ask for supper; she did not see the old ladies; she went up at once to her tower bedroom, where Phil was quietly sleeping. Bending down over the boy, she kissed him tenderly, but so gently that he did not even stir.

"Farewell all riches; farewell all worldly success; farewell even honor!

Welcome disgrace and poverty and the reproach of all who know me if only I can keep you, little Phil!"

Poor mother! she did not know, she could not guess, that for some natures, such as Phil's, there is no long tarrying in a world so checkered as ours.

CHAPTER XXVIII.--THE LADY WHO CAME WITH A GIFT.

A glorious day, warm, balmy, with the gentlest breezes blowing and the bluest, tenderest sky overhead. The forest trees were still wearing their brightest and most emerald green, the hawthorn was in full blossom, the horse-chestnuts were in a perfect glory of pink-and-white flower; the day, in short, and the day's adornments were perfect. It was still too early in the year for a garden-party, but amus.e.m.e.nts were provided for the younger guests in the grounds, and the whole appearance of Avonsyde was festive without and within. The old ladies, in their richest velvet and choicest lace, moved gracefully about, giving finishing touches to everything. All the nervousness and unrest which had characterized Miss Katharine the night before had disappeared.

To-day she looked her gentlest and sweetest--perhaps also her brightest.

Miss Griselda was really very happy, and she looked it. Happiness is a marvelous beautifier, and Miss Griselda too looked almost handsome. Her dark eyes glowed with some of the fire which she fancied must have animated those of her favorite ancestors. Her soft pearl-gray dress suited her well. Rachel and Kitty were in white and looked radiant. The marked characteristics of their early childhood were as apparent as ever: Rachel was all glowing tropical color and beauty; Kitty was one of Old England's daintiest and fairest little daughters.

The guests began to arrive, and presently Mrs. Lovel, accompanied by Phil, came down and took her place in the great hall. It was here that Miss Griselda meant to make her little speech. Standing at the upper end of the hall, she meant to present Phil as her chosen heir to all her a.s.sembled guests. How strange, how very strange that Mr. Baring had not yet arrived! When Mrs. Lovel entered the hall Miss Griselda crossed it at once to speak to her.

"I have given Canning directions to let you know the very moment Mr.

Baring comes," she said. "You and he can transact your business in the library in a few moments. Mr. Baring is sure to come down by the next train; and if all your proofs are ready, it will not take him very long to look through your papers."

"Everything is ready," replied Mrs. Lovel in a low, hushed voice.

"That is right. Pardon me, how very inappropriate of you to put on a black velvet dress to-day."

Mrs. Lovel turned very white.

"It--it--is my favorite dress," she half-stammered. "I look best in black velvet."

"What folly! Who thinks about their looks at such a moment? Black here and to-day looks nearly as inappropriate as at a wedding. I am not superst.i.tious, but the servants will notice. Can you not change it?"

"I--I have nothing else ready."