Uncle Max Part 34

'I do not think so, Max. I--But what does it matter what I think? There is one question I want to ask: do you think Mr. Hamilton was at all to blame?'

'I am Hamilton's friend,' he returned, in a tone that made me regret that I had asked the question, and then he stood still and waited for the others to join us. Indeed, he did not speak again, except to wish us good-night.

'It is the loveliest Christmas Day I have ever spent,' cried Jill, flinging herself on me, and she was no light weight. 'I do like Mr. Tudor so; he is nicer than any one I know, more like a nice funny boy than a man, only he tells me he can be grave sometimes. What was the matter with Mr. Cunliffe?--he looks tired and worried and not inclined to laugh.' And so Jill chattered on without waiting for my answers, talking in the very fulness of her young heart, until I pretended again to be asleep, and then she consented to be quiet.

I saw Max for a few minutes the next day when he came to fetch my letter.

He looked more like himself, only there was still a tired expression about his eyes; but he talked very cheerfully of what he should do during the few days he intended to remain in town.

I made him promise to be very diplomatic with Aunt Philippa, and he most certainly kept his word, for the next morning I received a letter that surprised us both, and that drove Jill nearly frantic with joy.

Aunt Philippa's letter was very long and rambling. She began by expressing herself as deeply shocked and grieved at Jocelyn's behaviour, which was both dishonourable and unlady-like, and had given her father great pain. 'Dear old dad! I don't believe it,' observed Jill, pursing her lips at this.

Aunt Philippa regretted that she could no longer trust her young daughter,--she was sure Sara would never have behaved so at her age,--and she felt much wounded by Jocelyn's defiant action. At the same time, she was equally deceived in Fraulein Hennig, she was certainly more to blame than Jocelyn. Mr. Cunliffe had told her things that greatly surprised her. Uncle Brian was very angry, and insisted that she should be dismissed. Under these distressing circ.u.mstances, and as it would not be safe for Jocelyn to come back to Hyde Park Gate until the rooms had been properly disinfected, she must beg me as a favour to herself and Uncle Brian to keep Jocelyn with me until they went to Hastings. Mr. Cunliffe knew of a finishing governess, a Miss Gillespie, who was most highly recommended as a well-principled and thoroughly cultured person, only she would not be at liberty for three or four weeks. As I reached this point of Aunt Philippa's letter, I was obliged to lay it down to prevent myself from being strangled.

'Well, Jill, there is no need to hug me to death: it is Uncle Max that you have to thank, and not me.'

'Yes, but you see it would never do to hug him, for he is not a bit my uncle, so I am doing it by deputy,' observed Jill recklessly. 'Oh, Ursula, what a darling you are! and what a dear fellow he is! To think of my staying here three or four weeks! You will let me help you nurse people, won't you?' very coaxingly.

'We will see about that presently; but, Jill, you have never opened your mother's letter. Now, as it is perfectly impossible that you can sleep on the floor for weeks, and as I do not intend to keep such a chatterbox in my room, I am going to see what Mrs. Barton advises.' And leaving Jill to digest Aunt Philippa's scolding as well as she could, I went in search of the little widow.

I found, to my relief, that there was another room in the cottage, though it could not boast of much furniture beyond a bed and wash-stand: so, after a little consideration, I started off to the vicarage to hold a consultation with Mrs. Drabble.

The upshot of our talk was so satisfactory, and Mrs. Barton and Nathaniel worked so well in my service, that when bedtime came Jill found herself the possessor of quite a snug room. There were curtains up at the window, and strips of carpet on the floor. A dressing-table had been improvised out of a deal packing-case, and covered with clean dimity. Jill's travelling-box stood in one corner, and on the wall there was a row of neat pegs for Jill's dresses. Jill exclaimed at the clean trim look of the room, but I am sure she regretted her bed on the floor. She came down presently in her scarlet dressing-gown to give me a final hug and reiterate her pet.i.tion for work.

'Mamma has talked a lot of rubbish about my keeping up my studies and practising two hours a day, and she means to disinfect my books and send them down, but I have made up my mind that I will not open one. I am going to enjoy myself, and nurse sick people, and do real work, instead of grinding away at that stupid German.' And Jill set her little white teeth, and looked determined, so I thought it best not to contradict her.

'I am so glad Uncle Max thought of Miss Gillespie, dear.'

'Who is she? I hate her already. I expect she is only an Anglicised Fraulein,' observed Jill, with a vixenish look.

'You are quite wrong. Miss Gillespie is Scotch, and she is very nice and good, and pretty too, for I have often heard Uncle Max talk of her. Her father was Max's great friend, and at his death the daughters were obliged to go out in the world. Miss Gillespie is the eldest. No, she is not very young,--nearly forty, I believe,--but she is so nice-looking; she was engaged to a clergyman, but he died, and they had been engaged so many years, and so now she will not marry. She is very cheerful, however, and all her pupils love her, and I am sure you will be happy with her, Jill.'

Jill would not quite allow this, but the next day she recurred to the subject, and asked me a good many questions about Miss Gillespie, and when I told her that it was settled that Miss Gillespie should join them at Hastings she really looked quite pleased; but nothing would induce her to open the case of books Aunt Philippa had sent down, and when I told Uncle Max he only laughed.

'Let her be as idle as she likes. She is over-educated now, and knows far more than most girls of her age. Take her about with you, and make her useful.' And I followed this advice implicitly, but for a different reason,--there was no keeping Mr. Tudor out of the house; so when I was engaged, and Jill could not be with me, I took advantage of a general invitation that Miss Hamilton had given me, and sent her up to Gladwyn.

They were all very kind to her, and she seemed to amuse Miss Darrell, but after a time Mr. Tudor began going there too, and then indeed I should have been at my wits' end, only Mrs. Maberley came to my rescue. She took a fancy to Jill, and Jill reciprocated it, and presently she and Lady Betty began to spend most of their idle hours at Maplehurst.

CHAPTER XXII

'THEY HAVE BLACKENED HIS MEMORY FALSELY'

I loved having Jill with me, but I could not deny to myself or other people that I found her a great responsibility. In the first place, I had so little leisure to devote to her, for just after Christmas I was unusually busy. Poor Mrs. Marshall died on the eve of the New Year, and both Mr. Hamilton and I feared that Elspeth would soon follow her.

A hard frost had set in, and granny's feeble strength seemed to succ.u.mb under the pressure of the severe cold; she had taken to her bed, and lay there growing weaker every day. Poor Mary had died very peacefully, with her hand in her husband's. I had been with her all day, and I did not leave until it was all over.

Jill was as good as gold, and helped me with Elspeth and the children, and she always spent an hour or two with Robin; but by and by she began asking to go up to Gladwyn of her own accord, or proposing to have tea with Mrs. Maberley.

'Of course I would prefer to stop with you, Ursie dear,' she said affectionately; 'I would rather talk to you than to any one else; but then, you see, you are never at home, and when you do come in, poor darling, you are so tired that you are only fit for a nap.' And I could not deny that this was the truth. After my hard day's work I was not always disposed for Jill's lively chatter, and yet her bright face was a very pleasant sight for tired eyes.

I used to question her sometimes about her visits to Gladwyn, and she was always ready to talk of what had pa.s.sed in the day. She and Lady Betty had struck up quite a friendship: this rather surprised me, as they were utterly dissimilar, and had different tastes and pursuits. Jill was far superior in intelligence and intellectual power; she had wider sympathies, too; and though Lady Betty had a fund of originality, and was fresh and _nave_; I could hardly understand Jill's fancy for her, until Jill said one day,

'I do like that dear Lady Betty, she is such a crisp little piece of human goods; no one has properly unfolded her, or tested her good qualities; she is quite new and fresh, a novelty in girls. One never knows what she will say or do next: it is that that fascinates me, I believe; because,' went on Jill, and her great eyes grew bright and puzzled, 'it is not that she is clever; one gets to the bottom of her at once; there is not enough depth to drown you.'

Jill did not take so readily to Gladys; she admired her, even liked her, but frankly owned that she found her depressing. 'If I talk to her long, I get a sort of ache over me,' she observed, in her graphic way. 'It is not that she looks dreadfully unhappy, but that there is no happiness in her face. Do you know what I mean? for I am apt to be vague. It rests me to look at you, Ursula; there is something quiet and comfortable in your expression; now, Miss Hamilton looks as though she had lost something she values, or never had it, and must go on looking for it, like that poor ghost lady who wanted to find her lost pearl.'

Jill never could be induced to say much in Mr. Hamilton's favour, though he was very civil to her and paid her a great deal of attention. 'Oh, him!' she would say contemptuously, if I ever hazarded an observation: 'I never take much notice of odd-looking, ugly men: they may be clever, but they are not in my line. Mr. Hamilton stares too much for my taste, and I don't believe he is kind to his sisters; they are half afraid of him.'

And nothing would induce her to alter her opinion.

But Miss Darrell thoroughly amused her. Jill's shrewd, honest eyes were hardly in fault there: she used to narrate with glee any little fact she could glean about 'the lady with two faces,' as she used to call her.

'Oh, she is a deep one,' Jill would say. 'I could not understand her at first. I thought she was just bright and talkative and good-natured, and I thought it nice to sit and listen to her, and she was very kind, and petted me a good deal, and I did not find her out at first.'

'Find her out! what do you mean, Jill?' I asked innocently.

'Why, that she is not good-natured a bit, really,' with a sagacious nod of her head. 'She keeps a stock of smiles for Cousin Giles and any chance visitor. She is not half so nice and charming when Miss Hamilton and Lady Betty are alone with her. Oh, I heard her one day, when I was in the conservatory with Lady Betty. Lady Betty held up her finger and said, 'Hush!' and there she was talking in such a disagreeable, sneering voice to Miss Hamilton, only I stopped my ears and would not listen. And now she has got used to me she says unpleasant little things before my face, and then when "dear Cousin Giles" comes in'--and here Jill looked wicked--'she is all sweetness and amiability, quite charming, in fact.

Now, that is what I hate, for a person to wear two faces, and have different voices: it shows they are not true.'

'Well, perhaps you are right, dear'; for, without being uncharitable to Miss Darrell, I wished to put Jill on her guard a little.

'I don't like the way she talks about you,' went on Jill indignantly.

'She always begins when we are alone; not exactly saying things so much as implying them.'

'Indeed! What sort of things?' I asked carelessly.

'Oh, she is always hinting that it is rather odd for you to be living alone; she calls you deliciously unconventional and strong-minded, but I know what she means by that. Then she is so curious: she is always trying to find out how often Mr. Cunliffe or Mr. Tudor comes to see you, or if you go to the vicarage; and she said one day that she thought you preferred gentlemen's society to ladies', as they could never induce you to come up to Gladwyn, but of course you saw plenty of her cousin Giles in the village.'

I felt my cheeks burn at this unwarrantable accusation, but Jill begged me not to disturb myself.

'She won't make those sort of speeches to me again,' she said calmly.

'She had a piece of my mind then that will last her for a long time.'

'I hope you were not rude, Jill?'

'Oh no! I only flew into a pa.s.sion, and asked her how she dared to imply such a thing?--that my cousin Ursula was the best and the dearest woman in the world, and that no one else could hold a candle to her. "Ursula care for gentlemen's society!" I exclaimed: "why, at Hyde Park Gate we never could get her to remain in the drawing-room when those stupid officers were there: she never would talk to any of them, except old Colonel Trevanion, who is nearly blind! You do not understand Ursula: she is a perfect saint: she is the simplest, most unselfish, grandest-hearted creature; and you make out that she is a silly flirt like Sara." And then I had to hold my tongue, though I was as red as a turkey-c.o.c.k, for there was Mr. Hamilton staring at us both, and asking if I were in my senses, and why I was quarrelling about my cousin, for of course my voice was as gruff and cross as possible.'

'Oh, Jill!' I exclaimed, much distressed, 'how could you say such absurd things?--you know I never like you to talk in this exaggerated fashion. A saint, indeed! A pretty sort of saint Mr. Hamilton must think me!' for it nettled me to think that he had ever heard Jill's ridiculous nonsense.

'Wait a moment, till I have finished: you are not too saintly to be cross sometimes. I will tell him that, if you like. Well, when he said this about quarrelling, Miss Darrell gave him one of her sweet smiles.

'"Nonsense, Giles, as though I mind what this dear foolish child says; she is indulging in a panegyric on her cousin's virtues, because I said she was a little masculine and strong-minded and rather looked down upon us poor women. I have pressed her over and over again to spend an evening with us, but she always puts us off. I am afraid we Gladwyn ladies are not to her taste."

'"Don't be silly, Etta. Have I not told you poor old Elspeth is dying?--Miss Garston will not leave her, you may be sure of that." And then Mr. Hamilton said to me in quite a nice way,--oh, I did not dislike him so much that evening,--"I daresay you misunderstand Etta. I a.s.sure you we all think most highly of your cousin, and she will always be a welcome guest here, and I hope you will induce her to come soon."

Wasn't it nice of him? Dear Etta did not dare to say another word.'