White Lilac; or the Queen of the May Part 23

CHAPTER TWELVE.

LILAC'S CHOICE.

"A stone that is fit for the wall will not be left in the way."--_Old Proverb_.

As the door closed on Lilac, the news burst forth from Mrs Greenways in such a torrent that it was difficult at first to follow, but at length she managed to make clear to her astonished hearers all that had pa.s.sed between herself and Mrs Leigh. It was this: A lady staying at the Rectory had seen Lilac at the concert, and asked whom she was.

Whereupon, hearing her history and her present occupation at Orchards Farm, she made the following suggestion. She wanted a second dairymaid, and was greatly pleased with Lilac's appearance and neat dress. Would Mrs Leigh find out whether her friends would like her to take such a situation? She would give her good wages, and raise them if she found her satisfactory. "It's a great opportunity for a child like Lilac,"

Mrs Leigh had said to Mrs Greenways; "but I really think from what I hear of her that she is quite fit to take such a place."

"Well, as to that," said Mr Greenways slowly when his wife paused for breath, "I suppose she is. If she can manage the dairy alone here, she can do it with someone over her there."

"Now I wonder who _could_ 'a told Mrs Leigh that Lilac made our b.u.t.ter," said Mrs Greenways; "somehow or other that child gets round everyone with her quiet ways."

"Most likely that interfering old Joshua Snell," said Bella, "or Peter maybe, or Ben. They all think no end of Lilac."

"Well, I don't see myself what they find in her," said Mrs Greenways; "though she's a good child enough and useful in her way. I should miss her now I expect; though, of course," with a glance at her husband, "she wouldn't leave us, not so long as we wanted her."

"That's for _her_ to say," said the farmer. "I'm not going to take a chance like that out of her mouth. She's a good little gal and a credit to her mother, and it's only fair and right she should choose for herself. Go or stay, I won't have a word said to her. 'Tain't every child of her age as has an offer like that, and she's deserved it."

"And who taught her all she knows?" said Mrs Greenways wrathfully.

"Who gave her a home when she wanted one, and fed and kep' her? And now as she's just beginning to be a bit of use, she's to take herself off at the first chance! I haven't common patience with you, Greenways, when you talk like that. It's all very well for you; and I s'pose you're ready to pay for a dairymaid in her place. But I know this: If Lilac's got a drop of grat.i.tude in her, and a bit of proper feeling, she'll think first of what she owes to her only relations living."

"Well, you ought to 'a told her how useful she was if you wanted her to know it," said Mr Greenways. "You've always gone on the other tack and told her she was no good at all. I shouldn't blame her if she wanted to try if she could please other folks better."

There was so much truth in this, that in spite of Mrs Greenways' anger it sank deeply into her mind. Why had she not made more of Lilac? What should she do, if the child, with the consent of her uncle and encouraged by Mrs Leigh, were to choose to leave the farm? It was not unlikely, for although she had not been actively unkind to Lilac she had never tried to make her happy at the farm; her jealousy had prevented that. And then, the money--that would be a great temptation; and the offer of it seemed to raise Lilac's value enormously. In short, now that someone else wanted her, and was willing to pay for her services, she became twice as important in Mrs Greenways' eyes. One by one the various duties rose before her which Lilac fulfilled, and which would be left undone if she went away. She sat silent for a few minutes in moody thought.

"I didn't say nothing certain to Mrs Leigh," she remarked at length, "but I did mention as how we'd never had any thought of Lilac taking service, no more nor Agnetta or Bella."

"Lor', Ma!" said Bella, "the ideer!"

"All the same," said the farmer, "when we first took Lilac we said we'd keep her till she was old enough for a place. The child's made herself of use, and you don't want to part with her. That's the long and the short of it. But I stand by what I say. She shall settle it as she likes. She shall go to Mrs Leigh and hear about it, and then no one shan't say a word to her, for or against. When's she got to decide?"

"In a week," answered his wife. "But you're doing wrong, Greenways, you hadn't ought to put it on the child's shoulders; it's us as ought to decide for her, us as are in the place of her father and mother. She's too young to know what's for her good."

"I stand by what I say," repeated the farmer, and he slapped the table with his hand. Mrs Greenways knew then that it was useless to oppose him further, and the conversation came to an end.

Now, when the matter was made known to Lilac, it seemed more like a dream than anything real. She had become so used to remain in the background, and go quietly on at her business without notice, that she could not at first believe in the great position offered to her. She was considered worth so much money a year! It was wonderful.

After she had seen Mrs Leigh, and heard that it really was true and no dream, another feeling began to take the place of wonder, and that was perplexity. The choice, they told her, was to remain in her own hands, and no one would interfere with it. What would be best? To go or stay?

It was very difficult, almost impossible, to decide. Never in her short life had she yet been obliged to choose in any matter; there had always been a necessity which she had obeyed: "Do this," "Go there."

The habit of obedience was strong within her, but it was very hard to be suddenly called to act for herself. And the worst of it was that no one would help her; even Mrs Leigh only said: "I shan't persuade you one way or the other, Lilac, I shall leave it to you and your relations to consider." Uncle Joshua had no counsel either. "You must put one against the other and decide for yourself, my maid," he said; "there'll be ups and downs wherever you go." She studied her aunt's face wistfully, and found no help there. Mrs Greenways kept complete and gloomy silence on the question.

Thrown back upon herself, Lilac's perplexity grew with each day. If she went to sleep with her mind a little settled to one side of the matter, she woke up next morning to see many more advantages on the other. To leave Orchards Farm, and the village, and all the faces she had known since she could remember anything, and go to strangers! That would be dreadful. But then, there was the money to be thought of, and perhaps she might find the strangers kinder than her own relations. "It's like weighing out the b.u.t.ter," she said to herself; "first one side up and then t'other." If only someone would say you _must_ go, or you _must_ stay.

During this week of uncertainty many things at the farm looked pleasanter than they had ever done before, and she was surprised at the interest everyone in the village took in her new prospects. They all had something to say about them, and though this did not help her decision but rather hindered it, she was pleased to find that they cared so much for her.

"And so you're goin' away," said poor Mrs Wishing, fluttering into the farm one day and finding Lilac alone. "Seems as if I was to lose the on'y friend I've got. But I dunno. There was your poor mother, she was took, and now I shan't see you no more. 'Tain't as I see you often, but I know you might drop in anywhen and there's comfort in that. Lor'! I shouldn't be standing here now if you hadn't come in that night--I was pretty nigh gone home that time. Might a been better p'r'aps for me and Dan'l too if I had. But you meant it kind."

"Maybe I shan't go away after all," said Lilac soothingly.

"You're one of the lucky ones," continued Mrs Wishing. "I allers said that. Fust you get taken into a beautiful home like this, and then you get a place as a gal twice your age would jump at. Some gets all the ups and some gets all the downs. But _I_ dunno!"

She went on her way with a weary hitch of the basket on her arm, and a pull at her thin shawl. Then Bella's voice sounded beseechingly on the stairs:

"Oh, _do_ come here a minute, Lilac."

Bella was generally to be found in her bedroom just now, st.i.tching away at various elegancies of costume. She turned to her cousin as she entered, and said with a puzzled frown:

"I'm in ever such a fix with this skirt. I can't drape it like the picture do what I will, it hangs anyhow. And Agnetta can't manage it either."

Agnetta stood by, her face heated with fruitless labour, and her mouth full of pins.

Lilac examined the skirt gravely.

"You haven't got enough stuff in it," she said. "You'll have to do it up some other way."

"Pin it up somehow, then, and see what you can do," said Bella. "I'm sick and tired of it."

Lilac was not quite without experience in such things, for she had often helped her cousins with their dressmaking, and she now succeeded after a few trials in looping up the skirt to Bella's satisfaction.

"_That's_ off my mind, thank goodness!" she exclaimed. "You're a neat-fingered little thing; I don't know what we shall do without you."

It was a small piece of praise, but coming from Bella it sounded great.

Lilac's affairs, her probable departure from the farm and how she would be much missed there, were much talked of in the village just now. The news even reached Lenham, carried by the active legs and eager tongue of Mrs Pinhorn, who, with many significant nods, as of one who could tell more if she chose, gave Mr Benson to understand that he might shortly find a difference in the b.u.t.ter. It was not for _her_ to speak, with Ben working at the farm since a boy, but--So even the great and important Mr Benson was prepared to be interested in Lilac's choice.

She often wondered, as day after day went by so quickly and left her still undecided, what her mother would have advised her to do. But then, if her mother had been alive, all this would not have happened.

She tried nevertheless to imagine what she would have said about it, and to remember past words which might be of help to her now. "Stand on your own feet and don't be beholden to anyone." Certainly by taking this situation she would follow that advice, and child though she was, she knew it might be the beginning of greater things. If she filled this place well she might in time get another, and be worth even more money. But then, could she leave the farm? the home which had sheltered her when she had been left alone in the world. Who would take her place? No one could deny now that she would leave a blank which must be filled up. She could hardly bear to think of a stranger standing in her accustomed spot in the dairy, handling the b.u.t.ter, looking out of the little ivy-grown window, taking charge of the poultry. "They'll feed 'em different, maybe," she thought; "and they won't get half the eggs, I know they won't." How hard it would be, too, to leave the faces she had known from childhood, all so familiar, and some of them so dear: not human faces alone, but all sorts of kind and friendly ones, belonging to the dumb animals, as she called them. She would miss the beasts sorely, and they would miss her: the cows she was learning to milk, the great horses who jingled their medals and bowed their heads so gently as she stood on tiptoe to feed them, the clever old donkey who could unfasten any gate and let all the animals out of a field: the pigs, even the sheep, who were silliest of all, knew her well and showed pleasure at her coming. She looked with affection, too, at the bare little attic, out of whose window she had gazed so often with eyes full of tears at the white walls of her old home on the hillside. How hard it had been to leave it, and now it made her almost as sad to think of going away from the farm.

But then--there was the money, and although Mrs Leigh said nothing in favour of her going to this new place, Lilac had a feeling that she really wished it, and would be disappointed if she gave it up. Everyone said it was such a chance!

It was not altogether a fancy on Lilac's part that everyone at the farm looked at her kindly just now, for the idea of losing her made them suddenly conscious that she would be very much missed. Mrs Greenways watched her with anxiety, and there was a new softness in her way of speaking; her old friends, Molly and Ben, were eager in showing their goodwill, and Agnetta, in spite of the approaching excitement of Bella's wedding, found time to enquire many times during the day if Lilac "had made up her mind."

"Of course you meant to go from the first," she said at length. "Well, I don't blame you, but you might 'a said so to an old friend like me."

The only person at the farm who was sincerely indifferent to Lilac's choice was Bella.

"It won't make any matter to me whether you're here or there," she said candidly; "but there's no doubt it'll make a difference to Ma. There's some as would call it demeaning to go out to service, but I don't look at it like that. Of course if it was me or Agnetta it wouldn't be thought of; but I agree with Pa that it's right you should choose for yourself."

So no one helped Lilac, and the days pa.s.sed and the last one came, while she was still as far as ever from deciding. Escaping from the chatter and noises inside the house she went out towards evening into the garden for a little peace and quietness. She wanted to be alone and think it over for the last time; after that she would go to Mrs Leigh and tell her what she meant to do, and then all the worry would be over. She strolled absently along, with the same tiresome question in her mind, through the untidy bushy garden, past Peter's flower bed, gay with chrysanthemums and Michaelmas daisies, until she came to the row of beehives, silent, deserted-looking dwellings now with only one or two languid inhabitants to be seen crawling torpidly about the entrances.

Lilac sat down on the cherry-tree stump opposite them, and, for a moment leaving the old subject, her mind went back to the spring evening when Peter had cut the bunch of flowers for her, and let the bees crawl over his fingers. She smiled to herself as she remembered how suddenly he had gone away without giving her the nosegay at all. Poor Peter! she understood him better now. As she thought this there was a click of the gate leading into the field, she turned her head, and there was Peter himself coming towards her with his dog Sober at his heels.

During this past week Peter as well as Lilac had been turning things over a great deal in his mind. Not that he was troubled by uncertainty, for he felt sure from the first that she would go away from the farm.

And it was best she should. From outward ill-treatment he could have defended her: he was strong in the arm, but with his tongue he was weaker than a child. Many a time he had sat in silence when hard or unkind speeches had been cast at her, but none the less he had felt it sorely. After the concert, when she had sung as pretty as a bird, how they had flouted her. It was a hard thing surely, and it was best she should go away to folks as would value her better. But he felt also that he must tell her he was sorry. That was a trial and a difficulty.

How should he frame it? Though he could talk more easily to Lilac than anyone else in the world, speech was still terribly hard, and when he suddenly came upon her this evening his first instinct was to turn and go back. Sober, however, p.r.i.c.ked his ears and ran forward when he saw a friend, and this example encouraged Peter.

"As like as not," he said to himself, "I shall say summat quite different the minute I begin, but I'll have a try at it;" so he went on.

There was a touch of frost in the air, and the few remaining leaves, so few that you could count them, were falling every minute or so gently from the trees. A scarlet one from the cherry tree overhead had dropped into Lilac's lap, and lay there, a bright red spot on her white pinafore. As Peter's eye fell on it it occurred to him to say gruffly: "The leaves is nearly all gone."