The Trial; Or, More Links of the Daisy Chain Part 80

'May they at least meet once more!' said Ethel; 'there will be some comfort in looking to that!'

'And what a fellow Tom is to have thought of it,' added Aubrey. 'n.o.body will ever dare to say again that he is not the best of the kit of us!

I must be off now to the meet: but if you are writing, Ethel, I wish you would give her my love, or whatever he would like, and tell him he is a credit to the family. I say, may I tell George Rivers?'

'Oh yes; it will soon be in the air; and Charles Cheviot will be down on us!'

Away went Aubrey to mount the hunter that George Rivers placed at his service.

Gertrude, who had been struck dumb, looked up to ask, 'Then it is really so?'

'Indeed it is.'

'Then,' cried Gertrude, vehemently, 'you and he have been deceiving us all this time!'

'No, Gertrude, there was nothing to tell. I did not really know, and I could not gossip about him.'

'You might have hinted.'

'I tried, but I was clumsy.'

'I hate hints!' exclaimed the impetuous young lady; 'one can't understand them, and gets the credit of neglecting them. If people have a secret attachment, they ought to let all their family know!'

'Perhaps they do in Ireland.'

'You don't feel one grain for me, Ethel,' said Gertrude, with tears in her eyes. 'Only think how Tom led me on to say horrid things about the Wards; and now to recollect them, when she is so ill too--and he--' She burst into sobs.

'My poor Daisy! I dare say it was half my fault.'

Gertrude gave an impatient leap. 'There you go again! calling it your fault is worse than Charles's improving the circ.u.mstance. It was my fault, and it shall be my fault, and n.o.body else's fault, except Tom's, and he will hate me, and never let me come near her to show that I am not a nasty spiteful thing!'

'I think that if you are quiet and kind, and not flighty, he will forget all that, and be glad to let you be a sister to her.'

'A sister to Ave Ward! Pretty preferment!' muttered Gertrude.

'Poor Ave! After the way she has borne her troubles, we shall feel it an honour to be sisters to her.'

'And that chair!' broke out Gertrude. 'O, Ethel, you did out of malice prepense make me vow it should be for Mrs. Thomas May.'

'Well, Daisy, if you won't suspect me of improving the circ.u.mstance, I should say that finishing it for her would be capital discipline.'

'Horrid mockery, I should say,' returned Gertrude, sadly; 'a gaudy rose-coloured chair, all over white fox-gloves, for a person in that state--'

'Poor Tom's great wish is to have her drawing-room made as charming as possible; and it would be a real welcome to her.'

'Luckily,' said Gertrude, breaking into laughter again, 'they don't know when it began; how in a weak moment I admired the pattern, and Blanche inflicted it and all its appurtenances on me, hoping to convert me to a fancy-work-woman! Dear me, pride has a fall! I loved to answer "Three st.i.tches," when Mrs. Blanche asked after my progress.'

'Ah, Daisy, if you did but respect any one!'

'If they would not all be tiresome! Seriously, I know I must finish the thing, because of my word.'

'Yes, and I believe keeping a light word that has turned out heavy, is the best help in bridling the tongue.'

'And, Ethel, I will really try to be seen and not heard while I am about the work,' said Gertrude, with an earnestness which proved that she was more sorry than her manner conveyed.

Her resolution stood the trying test of a visit from the elder married sisters; for, as Ethel said, the scent of the tidings attracted both Flora and the Cheviots; and the head-master endeavoured to inst.i.tute a kind of family committee, to represent to the Doctor how undesirable the match would be, entailing inconveniences that would not end with the poor bride's life, and bringing at once upon Tom a crushing anxiety and sorrow. Ethel's opinion was of course set aside by Mr. Cheviot, but he did expect concurrence from Mrs. Rivers and from Richard, and Flora a.s.sented to all his objections, but she was not to be induced to say she would remonstrate with her father or with Tom; and she intimated the uselessness thereof so plainly, that she almost hoped that Charles Cheviot would be less eager to a.s.sail the Doctor with his arguments.

'No hope of that,' said Ethel, when he had taken leave. 'He will disburthen his conscience; but then papa is well able to take care of himself! Flora, I am so thankful you don't object.'

'No indeed,' said Flora. 'We all know it is a pity; but it would be a far greater pity to break it off now--and do Tom an infinity of harm.

Now tell me all.'

And she threw herself into the subject in the homelike manner that had grown on her, almost in proportion to Mary's guest-like ways and absorption in her own affairs.

Six weeks from that time, another hasty note announced that Dr. and Mrs. Thomas May and Ella were at Liverpool; adding that Averil had been exceedingly ill throughout the voyage, though on being carried ash.o.r.e, she had so far revived, that Tom hoped to bring her home the next day; but emotion was so dangerous, that he begged not to be met at the station, and above all, that Leonard would not show himself till summoned.

Dr. May being unavoidably absent, Ethel alone repaired to the newly-furnished house for this strange sad bridal welcome.

The first person to appear when the carriage door was opened was a young girl, pale, tall, thin, only to be recognized by her black eyes.

With a rapid kiss and greeting, Ethel handed her on to the further door, where she might satisfy the eager embrace of the brother who there awaited her; while Tom almost lifted out the veiled m.u.f.fled figure of his bride, and led her up-stairs to the sitting-room, where, divesting her of hat, cloak, m.u.f.f, and respirator, he laid her on the sofa, and looked anxiously for her rea.s.suring smile before he even seemed to perceive his sister or left room for her greeting.

The squarely-made, high-complexioned, handsome Averil Ward was entirely gone. In Averil May, Ethel saw delicately refined and sharpened features, dark beautiful eyes, enlarged, softened, and beaming with perilous l.u.s.tre, a transparently white blue-veined skin, with a lovely roseate tint, deepening or fading with every word, look, or movement, and a smile painfully sweet and touching, as first of the three, the invalid found voice for thanks and inquiries for all.

'Quite well,' said Ethel. 'But papa has been most unluckily sent for to Whitford, and can't get home till the last train.'

'It may be as well,' said Tom: 'we must have perfect quiet till after the night's rest.'

'May I see one else to-night?' she wistfully asked.

'Let us see how you are when you have had some coffee and are rested.'

'Very well,' she said, with a gentle submission, that was as new a sight as Tom's tenderness; 'but indeed I am not tired; and it is so pretty and pleasant. Is this really Dr. Spencer's old house? Can there be such a charming room in it?'

'I did not think so,' said Tom, looking in amazement at the effect produced by the bright modern grate with its cheerful fire, the warm delicate tints of the furniture, the appliances for comfort and ornament already giving a home look.

'I know this is in the main your doing, Ethel; but who was the hand?'

'All of us were hands,' said Ethel; 'but Flora was the moving spring.

She went to London for a week about it.'

'Mrs. Rivers! Oh, how good!' said Averil, flushing with surprise; then raising herself, as her coffee was brought in a dainty little service, she exclaimed, 'And oh, if it were possible, I should say that was my dear old piano!'

'Yes,' said Ethel, 'we thought you would like it; and Hector Ernescliffe gave Mrs. Wright a new one for it.'

This was almost too much. Averil's lip trembled, but she looked up into her husband's face, and made an answer, which would have been odd had she not been speaking to his thought.

'Never mind! It is only happiness and the kindness.' And she drank the coffee with an effort, and smiled at him again, as she asked, 'Where is Ella?'

'At our house,' said Ethel; 'we mean her to be there for the present.'