“That is a thing that must not be,” said Francis.
“And it would give him a hold on us,” said Alice.
“Do we realise that she is dead?” said Adrian.
“I don’t think we can. Indeed I think we must hope not.”
Bates entered the room, with her lips set and a change in her eyes.
“Well, this is a sad day for us all.”
Her hearers looked at her with their lips less under control.
“There are the feelings in our hearts,” she said, as though conscious they did not appear elsewhere.
“Did Aunt Miranda know she was going to die?” said Adrian.
“She knew not on what day or at what hour.”
“She ought to have had a foreknowledge,” said Francis.
“Well, there had been signs, sir.”
“Did she mind dying?” said Adrian, in an incidental tone.
Alice gave him a quick look and glanced at Francis.
“She passed in a moment, Master Adrian. And there is no need to wish it otherwise.”
“You mean she was prepared?” said Alice.
“That is the implication, miss, and I do not grudge it.”
“Was she surprised that she had to die like other people?” said Adrian. “Perhaps she was like Canute, and felt that in real things she was the same as they were.”
“I think it is unlikely,” said Francis. “She always assumed a difference.”
“And dampness is hardly to be compared with death,” said Alice.
“It is no moment for lightness,” said Bates.
“Things are to go on in the same way,” said Adrian.
“Well, that is the figure of speech, sir.”
“I think the house feels different.”
“From attic to cellar,” said Bates, in a deep tone.
“I think Cousin Rosebery minds the most. We are to call him that, because Aunt Miranda liked it.”
“There is a life that will be a blank,” said Bates.
“Surely not, if we call him ‘Cousin Rosebery’,” said Alice.
Bates checked a smile.
“I have said it is not the moment, miss.”
“I think it seems to be,” said Francis. “Shock may have many kinds of outlet.”
“Pleasantry is not the one,” said Bates.
“Has Aunt Miranda left you anything?” said Adrian.
“Well, I have been here thirty-seven years, sir,” said Bates, with sudden formality. “And I have brooked change. But I have cast no forward glance.”
“Has the thought never gone through your mind?” said Alice.
“Well, thoughts may be vagrant, miss.”
“Would you rather have Aunt Miranda or what she has left you?” said Adrian.
“That is not a query to put.”
“Did Aunt Miranda like you very much?”
“I had her respect, Master Adrian.”
“As we had not,” said Alice. “I wonder what it felt like to have it.”
“I am not familiar with any other situation, miss.”
A message from Julius summoned the children to a late meal downstairs.
“I expect we shall have more respect now,” said Adrian.
“That is not the line of thought,” said Bates.
“Shall we have to be a comfort to Uncle? It seems like a book.”
“There is no need for it to be too much like one. Be natural with the master. Don’t treat it as an occasion.”
“It has some claim to be seen as one,” said Francis.
“We shall always be at ease now,” said Adrian, as Bates left them.
“I did not dare to say it,” said Francis.
“Of course truth comes out of the mouth of babes,” said Alice. “They are too simple to suppress it.”
“Shall we have to pretend to-night?” said Adrian.
“You can observe Alice and me, and follow our example,” said his brother.
There was no need for this precaution. Julius came to the table in a normal manner, and Rosebery followed in his ordinary evening clothes.
“I see your eyes are resting on me, Father. But for me there is no reason to alter my ways. My mother is present, as always, to me. To me her place is not empty. For aught I know, her eyes are on us.”
“She would understand my not thinking of my clothes to-night.”
“Father, I feel she understands us both.”
“I am on Rosebery’s level,” murmured Alice. “It is Bates’s fault.”
“I think anything to be said to-night may be said openly,” said Rosebery. “It is not a day for words that have to be veiled.”
“But a day when it may be best to veil them,” said Julius.
“Then surely they would be better unsaid.”
“Did Pettigrew come to-night?” said Julius.
“No, I suppose he had heard,” said Francis, “and thought it proper to stay away.”
“And I think it was so, Francis,” said Rosebery, “and that it does honour to his feelings. It is surely not natural to treat the day as a usual one.”
“No one is criticising him,” said Julius.
“I thought there was an element of criticism in Francis’s words. There is something about the phrase, ‘thought it proper’, that hints at it.”
“Will he come tomorrow?” said Adrian.
“There is no reason why he should not,” said Julius.
“Father, I should have thought there was every reason until after Thursday,” said Rosebery, mentioning the day of the funeral.
“Then we will send him a message. It is better for the pupils to be occupied.”
“Shall we prepare for him?” said Adrian.
“No, not to-night. Your thoughts will be on other things.”
“And will not that hold good until after Thursday, Father?”
“It may for some time. But only to-day need be treated as an unusual one.”
“No doubt you feel that would be my mother’s wish.”
“I am considering the matter in itself. No one can deal with the questions arising from her death.”
“It seems that people ought to be able to,” said Adrian.
“So it does,” said Julius. “That is why we are finding them difficult.”
The door was softly opened, and Hester entered the room, and came in silence to her seat.
“You have missed the soup, Miss Wolsey,” said Julius.
“No, I meant to come in at this stage. You shall not have a stranger with you longer than you must.”
“Miss Wolsey, surely you are no longer that,” said Rosebery; “after the pleasure you gave my mother, and the added intimacy that came with it.”
“I felt it was coming. And my own disappointment is the greater. But it has no place by the other feeling.”
“It seems we might ask you to stay with us, Miss Wolsey,” said Julius; “and manage the house and have your eye on us all. Would you be prepared to think of it?”
“Father, may I second the request? A home is an unsteady bark without a woman at the helm.”
“I will stay indeed and do my best for you. I see there are things I can do. I am as interested in the young as in the old. And I am glad not to go again among strangers. I am not very fitted for my new life.”
“The demand on our own courage should help us to realise that on yours,” said Rosebery. “May we be as equal to it as you are.”
“It is not a very vigorous quality in me.”
“Miss Wolsey, it has not failed you.”
“It has threatened to at times. Often it has nearly turned tail and fled. But I have managed to recall it.”
“Then we may depend on you?” said Julius. “We are glad to be guided by someone chosen by my wife.”
“Father, I have felt it too deeply to say it,” said Rosebery, as though the sentiment should have been his.
“So you understand,” said Julius to the children. “Miss Wolsey takes your aunt’s place, as far as anyone can.”
“And that is not at all,” said Hester. “She takes her own place, that of housekeeper and manager; and she will be an adviser when she may be.”