Red Rose and Tiger Lily; Or, In a Wider World, L. T. Meade [digital book reader txt] 📗

name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 167]holding her hand. Harry, Boris, and Kitty were standing in a little knot by the open window eagerly discussing a subject which was causing them intense pain, and obliging them to use many bickering words. They were feverishly anxious about the removal of their several pets.

"I know the big rabbit will die," exclaimed Boris. "Unless we can take the hutch which is built into the wall he'll die. He never will sleep anywhere except in that one corner of his hutch. It makes him ill, I know it does, to sleep anywhere else. He'll die if he's moved."

"No he won't die," said Kitty roundly; "rabbits have got no souls, and you can't be affectionate and fond of a thing if you haven't got a soul."

"Oh, what a lie," interrupted Harry; "and you mean to tell me that my dormice aren't fond of me, and that they don't prefer me to you—you clumsy monkey."

Kitty looked nonplussed for a moment.

"That's only because you feed them," she said then. "If you didn't feed them, they'd love me just as well. Ah, yah; who's right? You can't answer me now, can you? It's only cupboard-love animals have got, and that proves that they have no souls."

"It seems to me," said Harry, in a would-be sarcastic voice, "that very much the same thing may be said of some girls. Who caught you stealing a peach a week ago? Ha, ha, Miss Kitty."

"Oh, for pity's sake, children, don't quarrel," exclaimed Molly.

"That's what I'm telling 'em," said Boris in a tearful voice; "and I think my big rabbit has a soul, and I'm awful 'feared it will kill him if he leaves his corner of the hutch."

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"Jane," interrupted Molly, "Guy and I are going over to the Grange to tell poor Nora about mother's letter, but we'll both be home before mother returns."

"Very well, my dear," replied Jane Macalister. "You'd better not have Nora back, though, Molly, for she's quite certain not to be sensible about matters, and that's the only thing left to us now. For heaven's sake, I say, let us keep our senses and not give way to sentiment at a crisis like this. Go, my dear; tell her that she must take it in a quiet, matter-of-fact way, and not consider herself in the very least. The Squire and your mother, and Guy are the three victims; the rest of us are of no consequence; go, Molly."

Jane blew her nose very hard after uttering this oration, and there were suspicious red rims round her eyes.

Molly joined Guy, and they started on their walk to the Grange.

Guy had now quite got over the stunned feeling which oppressed him. There was a great deal of grit in all the Lorrimers, and Guy and Molly had both even a larger amount of this most valuable quality than the younger children. The ground, therefore, no longer swam under the brave boy's feet, and Molly, now that she was obliged to act, and now that she knew exactly what was going to happen, felt really less unhappy than before the blow had fallen.

It was little after ten o clock when the children reached the Grange. They found Hester and Annie out in the garden picking flowers, and Nora, looking very happy and very pretty in her new pink cambric, was lying under a shady tree on the lawn.

"Hullo, what have you come over so early for?" [Pg 169]she asked of the two, as, dusty and hot, they came up to her side. Mrs. Willis was sitting near Nora, and reading aloud to her. Nora felt immensely flattered by her attentions, and yet at the same time not absolutely at home with her. Mrs. Willis could read character at a glance. She had taken an immense fancy to Molly, and pitied Nora without admiring her.

"She is a shallow little thing," she murmured to herself. "Pretty, of course, but nothing will ever make her either great or wise. Sweet Molly is one of the angels of the world."

She rose now to greet the brother and sister as they approached. The trouble round Guy's handsome eyes was not lost upon her. Poor Molly looked untidy, and quite worn and old.

"Oh, how the ball has fagged you!" exclaimed Nora; "see how fresh I am, and kind Mrs. Willis is reading me a charming story."

"I won't read any more at present, my dear," said Mrs. Willis, "as no doubt your brother and sister want to talk to you."

"Oh, I'm sure they don't," said Nora; "they can't have anything at all particular to say, and I am so immensely interested. I want to know how Lucile conquered her difficulties with the French grammar. I have such a fellow feeling for her, for I always detest grammar. Please, Mrs. Willis, don't go away."

"I'll come back presently," said Mrs. Willis; she crossed the lawn as she spoke, leaving the fascinating book open on Nora's sofa.

"How tiresome of you both to come and interrupt," said Nora in her crossest tone. "Molly, you look positively dishevelled; and Guy, you needn't [Pg 170]wear those worn-out tennis shoes when you come to the Grange. You really, neither of you, have the least idea of what is due to our position."

"Our position be hanged," growled Guy. "Look here, we have come to say something, and as it's particularly unpleasant, you had better listen as quietly as you can."

"Then I'm sure I don't want to hear it; I hate and detest unpleasant things. You know I do, don't you, Molly?"

"Yes, darling," said Molly, kneeling down by her; "but sometimes bad things must come and we must be brave and bear them."

She knelt down by Nora as she spoke, and laid her hot, and not too clean hand, on Nora's pretty fresh sleeve.

"I do think its unkind of you to rumple up my frock like that," said Nora; "if you don't care to look nice, I do, and if you've got unpleasant news, you shouldn't tell it to me; for the doctor says that I'm not to be worried at present. I'm getting well nicely, but I'll be thrown back awfully if I'm worried."

"That can't be helped," said Guy in a firm voice. "Sometimes unpleasant things have to be borne. It's no worse for you than for the others."

"Oh, Nonie, Nonie," sobbed Molly, burying her head on her sister's shoulder; "it's this, it's this: Guy, you mustn't be cruel; remember she is weak. Nora, darling, we wouldn't tell you if we could help it, but you must know, because everyone else will know. The Towers is sold. The dear old home is ours no longer. We are not the Lorrimers of the Towers any more."

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CHAPTER XIX. TOPSY-TURVEY.

While Guy and Molly were in vain endeavouring to comfort Nora, who, after uttering shriek after shriek, closed her eyes and lay perfectly still, so much so, that Molly thought for a moment that she had fainted, Sir John Thornton left his own private study, where he had been busily writing letters, and stepping out on the lawn, approached the spot where Hester and Annie, in their cool white dresses, were picking flowers to replenish the vases in the different sitting-rooms. The girls made a pretty picture, and Sir John always admired beauty in any form and under any guise.

"Really, Hester is becoming quite distinguished looking," he said to himself; "she inherits a good deal of her mother's grace, and although she will never be exactly pretty, she is very aristocratic in appearance. She has a good figure, too—graceful and lithe. Even beside Miss Forest, who is a regular beauty of the piquant gipsy order, she quite shows to advantage. Presently we may be able to get her presented, and, if necessary, we must have a house in town for three months in the season. (I shall detest it, but Laura says it is inevitable.) Yes, I'm sure I have done right. Hester is such a sensible girl that she will probably be glad of my news; yes, it is evidently my duty to take Hester into society, and Laura is just the woman to take all the care and worry off my hands. I should never have thought of marrying [Pg 172]again if it were not for Hester and Nan, but no one can say that I shirk a father's duties. Now I must break it to Hetty, for Laura says she will be here on Saturday. I would rather she did not bring her daughter with her, but she evidently has not the least intention of coming anywhere without Antonia. Dear, dear, I hope Hester will be sensible. I don't want a bad quarter of an hour."

Sir John had now reached the two girls. He had quite forgotten his dislike to Annie, and smiling at her, asked her in his gracious way why she did not offer him a rosebud.

She picked one at once, and he got her to place it in his button-hole.

"Thank you," he said with a smile; "your taste is admirable, and now I have a favour to ask of you."

"Granted, of course," said Annie with a smile.

"I want to deprive you of Hetty's company for a quarter of an hour. I have some domestic matters to discuss with my fair housekeeper."

"You can arrange the flowers, Annie," called Hester, dropping her basket as she spoke, and going up to her fathers side.

He drew her hand through his arm and they walked across the lawn together.

"I have just been admiring you and your friend," he said. "Do you know, Hester, that you really grow very nice looking."

Hester flushed with a strange mingling of irritation and elation.

To be praised by her fastidious father was something to be remembered, but she always shrank from having her personal appearance commented upon.

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Sir John turned round now and smiled into her blushing face.

"Come down this shady walk with me," he said. "I have a good deal to talk over with you. Hester, you and Nan have always found me a kind, indulgent father, have you not?"

"You have been very good to us," replied Hester.

"Oh, perhaps not so good as some fathers, but good according to my lights, eh?"

"You have been very good to us," repeated Hester.

"And you are a good, dear daughter," replied Sir John, with almost enthusiasm; "you never complain of the dull life I give you at the Grange."

"The life is not dull, father."

"My dear, my dear," Sir John patted Hester's long slim fingers as they rested on his arm, "I was young once myself and I know what youth wants, and I have seen other girls, and I know what my girl requires. Hester, I am not unmindful of you; and the step—the step I am about to take is taken not wholly, but mainly, on your account and Nan's."

Hester suddenly withdrew her hand from Sir John's arm. A kind of intuition told her what was coming. Like a flash a sword seemed to pierce right through her heart. She had a memory of her mother, of the loving eyes now closed—the voice so full of sympathy now silent. Was her mother to be supplanted and because of her? For once passion got the upper hand of prudence.

"Do it," she said, suddenly flashing round upon Sir John; "do it, certainly, if you wish, but do not do it for Nan's sake and mine. Nothing in all the wide world could pain us more."

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Sir John looked as astonished as if Hester had suddenly slapped him in the face.

"Your words are extremely vigorous, my dear," he said in a voice of ice; "and I am not aware that I have yet told you what I mean to do."

"Oh, I know, I know," answered Hester; "you are going to marry again. Oh, don't do it for our sakes; that is all I have to say."

Sir John was quite silent for nearly a minute. Then he said quietly: "As you have been so clever as to guess my intention, you have of course saved me the trouble of breaking my news to you. Young girls sometimes resent the presence of a stepmother, but as a rule they appreciate the advantage of one when once they have become accustomed to the change. The lady who has honoured me by promising to accept my hand is Mrs. Bernard Temple. She is about my own age and has one daughter of seventeen—your age, Hester—whose name is Antonia. I have not yet seen Antonia, but I am told that she is a most charming, ladylike girl. Mrs. Bernard Temple has written to me to say she will come here on a visit on Saturday with Antonia. This