Thistle and Rose, Amy Walton [best beach reads of all time .TXT] 📗

manner which Anna found hard to bear, and it finally led to their first disagreement.

"Can you come over to church at Dornton with me this evening?" asked Delia one afternoon, as she and Anna met at the stile half-way across the fields.

"I should like to," said Anna, readily, "very much indeed, if Aunt Sarah doesn't mind."

"I'll walk back with you as far as this afterwards," said Delia. "You would see your grandfather. You've never heard him play the organ yet."

"I don't _suppose_ aunt would mind," said Anna, hesitatingly, her fair face flushing a little.

"Well," said Delia, "you can run back and ask her. I'll wait for you here. You will just have time."

The bells of Saint Mary's church began to sound as she spoke.

"Only you must go at once," she added, "or we shall be too late."

Still Anna hesitated. She hated the idea of asking Aunt Sarah, and seeing her mouth stiffen into that hard line which was so disagreeable; but it was almost as bad to face Delia, standing there, bolt upright, with her dark eyes fixed so unflinchingly upon her.

"I know," she said, appealingly, "that Aunt Sarah _has_ arranged for me to go to Dornton next week."

"Oh," said Delia, coldly.

"And," pursued Anna, turning away from her companion and stooping to pick a flower, "she does like me, you know, to go to the service at Waverley with her. She says uncle prefers it."

Delia's glance rested for a moment in silence on the bending figure, with the pale yellow hair outspread on the shoulders gleaming in the sunshine; then she said in rather a hard voice:

"The fact is, I suppose, you don't _want_ to go. If so, you had better have said so at first."

Anna rose quickly, and faced her friend:

"It's unkind, Delia," she exclaimed, "to say that. I _do_ want to go. You know I like to be with you--and I should like to go to Dornton church much better than Waverley."

"Then why don't you ask Mrs Forrest?" said Delia, calmly. "She can't mind your going if I walk back with you. It's worth the trouble, if you want to see your grandfather."

Anna cast down her eyes and fidgeted with the flowers in her belt.

"You don't understand," she began, rather nervously, "how difficult it is to ask Aunt Sarah some things--"

"But this is quite a right, reasonable thing," interrupted Delia; "there's nothing wrong in wishing to see your grandfather sometimes. Of course, if you never ask Mrs Forrest, she thinks you don't care about it."

"I do ask," said Anna. "I have often asked; but, you know I told you, Delia, Aunt Sarah never likes me to go to Dornton."

"Then you mean to give it up, I suppose," said Delia, coldly.

"If I'm staying with Aunt Sarah, I suppose I ought to do as she wishes," said Anna; "but, of course, I shan't give it up entirely. She doesn't wish me to do that."

Delia stood for a moment in silence, her eyes fixed on Anna's pretty, downcast face. The sound of the church bells came softly to them over the fields from Dornton, and "Well," she said, with a little sigh, "I mustn't stay, or I shall be late, and I promised to meet the Professor after church. He half expects to see you with me. What shall I say to him?"

"Oh, Delia!" cried Anna, looking up into her companion's face, "I _do_ wish I could go with you."

"It's too late now," said Delia, turning away. "Good-bye."

Anna lingered at the stile. Would not Delia turn round once and nod kindly to her, as she always did when they parted? No. Her compact figure went steadily on its way, the shoulders very square, the head held high and defiantly. Anna could not bear it. She jumped over the stile and ran after her friend. "Delia!" she called out. Delia turned and waited. "Don't be cross with me," pleaded Anna. "After all, it isn't my fault; and I _should_ like to go with you so much. And--and give my love to grandfather, please. I'm going to see him next week."

She took hold of Delia's reluctant hand and kissed her cheek. Delia allowed the embrace, but did not return it. Her heart was hot within her. Mrs Winn had said that Anna was not straightforward. Was it true?

Anna had not much time for any sort of reflection, for she had to get back to Waverley as fast as she could, and, in spite of her haste, the bell stopped just as she reached the garden gate, and she knew that her aunt would have started for church without her. It was barely five minutes' walk, but she had to smooth her hair, and find some gloves, and make herself fit for Mrs Forrest's critical eye, and all this took some time. When she pushed open the heavy door and entered timidly, her footfall sounding unnaturally loud, the usual sprinkling of evening worshippers was already collected, and her uncle had begun to read the service. Anna crept into a seat. She knew that she had committed a very grave fault in Mrs Forrest's sight, and she half wished that she had made up her mind to go to Dornton with Delia. She wanted to please every one, and she had pleased no one; it was very hard. As she walked back to the Vicarage with her aunt after service, she was quite prepared for the grave voice in which she began to speak.

"How was it you were late this evening, Anna?"

"I'm very sorry, aunt," she answered. "I was talking to Delia Hunt in the field, and until we heard the bell, we didn't know how late it was."

"If you must be unpunctual at all," said Mrs Forrest--"and I suppose young people will be thoughtless sometimes--I must beg that you will at least be careful not to let it occur at church time. Nothing displeases your uncle more than the irreverence of coming in late as you did to-day. It is a bad example to the whole village, besides being very wrong in itself. As a whole," she continued, after a pause, "I have very little fault to find with your behaviour; you try to please me, I think, in every respect, but in this matter of punctuality, Anna, there is room for improvement. Now, you were a quarter of an hour late for dinner one night. You had been with Delia Hunt then too. I begin to think you run about too much with her: it seems to make you forgetful and careless."

"But," said Anna, impulsively, "my being late had nothing at all to do with Delia this time. I was with Daisy Oswald."

"Daisy Oswald!" repeated Mrs Forrest, in a tone of surprise. "When did you make Daisy Oswald's acquaintance?"

She turned sharply to her niece with a searching glance. Anna blushed and hesitated a little.

"I--we--Delia and I met her father as we were walking home from Dornton. He asked me to go and see his cows; and then, after Delia had left me, I met his little girl in the lane just near the farm."

Mrs Forrest was silent. She could not exactly say that there was anything wrong in all this, but she highly disapproved of it. It was most undesirable that her niece should be running about the fields and lanes, and picking up acquaintances in this way. Daisy Oswald was a very nice little girl, and there was no harm done at present, but it must not continue. The thing to do, she silently concluded, was to provide Anna with suitable occupations and companions which would make so much liberty impossible for the future.

To her relief, Anna heard no more of the matter, but it was easy to see that Aunt Sarah had not liked the idea of her being with Daisy. It was uncomfortable to remember that she had not been quite open about it. Somehow, since that first foolish concealment, she had constantly been forced into little crooked paths where she could not walk quite straight, but she consoled herself by the reflection that she had not told any untruth.

A few days later Mrs Forrest, returning from a drive with her face full of satisfaction, called Anna to her in her sitting-room. She had been able, she said, to make a very nice arrangement for her to have some lessons in German and French with the Palmers. Miss Wilson, their governess, had been most kind about it, and it was settled that Anna should go to Pynes twice every week for a couple of hours.

"It will be an immense advantage to you," concluded Mrs Forrest, "to learn with other girls, and I hope, beside the interest of the lessons, that you will make friendships which will be both useful and pleasant. Isabel Palmer is about your own age, and her sister a little older. They will be nice companions for you, and I hope you will see a good deal of them."

From this time Anna's life was very much altered. Gradually, as her interests and amusements became connected with the Palmers and all that went on at their house, she saw less and less of Delia, and it was now Mrs Forrest who had to remind her when a visit to Dornton was due. There were no more country rambles, or meetings at the stile, and no more confidential chats. Anna had other matters to attend to, and if she were not occupied with lessons, there was always some engagement at Pynes which must be kept. And yet, she often thought, with a regretful sigh, there was really no one like Delia! Isabel Palmer was very pleasant, and there was a great deal she enjoyed very much at Pynes, but in her heart she remained true to her first friend. If only it had been possible to please every one! If only Delia would be kind and agreeable when they did meet, instead of looking so cold and proud! By degrees Anna grew to dread seeing her, instead of looking forward to it as one of her greatest pleasures at Waverley. Everything connected with Pynes, on the contrary, was made so easy and pleasant. Aunt Sarah's lips never looked straight and thin when she asked to go there, and Isabel Palmer was sure of a welcome at any time. The pony-cart could nearly always be had if it were wanted in that direction, though it seemed so inconvenient for it to take the road to Dornton. And then, with the Palmers there was no chance of severe looks on the subject of Mr Goodwin. Did they know, Anna wondered, that he was her grandfather? Perhaps not, for they had lived at Pynes only a short time. There was no risk of meeting him there, for Saturday, when he gave Clara a music-lesson, was a specially busy day with Mrs Forrest, and she always wanted Anna at the Vicarage.

It was strange that Anna should have come to calling it a "risk" to meet her grandfather, but it was true. Not all at once, but little by little, since her separation