‘It is fortunate that Father’s heart is stout enough for it all,’ said Daniel.
Chapter 12
‘Father has come home!’ said Honor, bounding into the schoolroom. ‘He was ill and unconscious, but he was never dead. Mother can’t marry Mr Ridley, and things will be like they used to be.’
‘I am so thankful for you, dear,’ said Miss Pilbeam, stooping to kiss her. ‘I heard last night and I rejoiced from my heart.’
Honor drew back with a look of consternation, and Gavin who was behind her, came to a sudden pause.
‘We should have had a holiday, if Mother had thought of it,’ resumed Honor, in an almost more than ordinary tone. ‘But she said, as you would have the trouble of coming, we were to have lessons.’
‘I think you would please your father by doing your very best.’
‘I don’t think he minds,’ said Honor, turning round on one foot.
‘Don’t you wish your mother could come back?’ said Gavin, with a simple air of superiority.
‘I do indeed,’ said Miss Pilbeam.
‘I don’t suppose she ever can, because she died in the house, didn’t she?’
‘No, I know she cannot.’
‘But I daresay you don’t mind her being dead as much as you did at first,’ said Gavin, revealing his own experience of the effect of time.
‘I mind quite as much. But I have had to get used to it.’
‘I call that not minding so much,’ said Honor, still turning round.
‘You went on minding about your father.’
‘I minded less; I had to. Everyone does. And other people get tired of your minding. Even Mother did. But if he really died now, I should mind more.’
‘And you have not worn black since we knew you,’ said Gavin to Miss Pilbeam.
‘We do not stay in black for ever.’
‘We do for a year, unless there is something to prevent it,’ said Honor. ‘We went out because Mother was going to marry again. The children can’t look as if they still minded, when the mother has proved that she doesn’t.’
‘I don’t think you quite understand your mother. She had to make the best of her life as it was.’
‘If you really still minded, you wouldn’t think there was any best.’
‘You wouldn’t think your father minded, if he was going to marry someone else,’ said Gavin.
‘I hope I should try to understand it. Indeed I do try to,’ said Miss Pilbeam, in a lighter tone.
‘Is he going to marry someone else?’ said Honor.
‘Yes, he told me last night,’ said Miss Pilbeam, with an open, easy smile.
‘It is funny that your father decided to marry someone else on the day when our mother knew she couldn’t.’
Miss Pilbeam did not dwell upon the coincidence, though it was to be explained on the ground that her father had found the news an opening for himself.
‘Does it make you hate your father?’ said Gavin.
‘No, not at all. You did not hate your mother, did you?’
‘Well, she went down in my estimation,’ said Honor.
‘You would not have wished her to be lonely.’
‘I should have thought it couldn’t be helped.’
‘The new woman will be your stepmother,’ said Gavin, with a threat in his tone.
‘Yes, she will. But she is an old friend.’
‘Perhaps your father always wanted to marry her, even when your mother was alive,’ said Honor.
‘No, I am sure he did not.’
‘Do people generally marry someone else, when their own wife or husband is dead?’ said Gavin.
‘No, only sometimes. I think men do it oftener than women.’
‘Can they go on doing it as often as they like?’
‘Yes, if they continue to lose their partners,’ said Miss Pilbeam, with a touch of facetiousness.
Nevill came into the room in an absent manner, his eyes on a ball of string in his hands.
‘Why, what a muddled ball!’ said Miss Pilbeam.
‘It is in a tangle,’ said Nevill, with quiet resignation.
‘I will soon put it straight for you.’
‘Mullet said, do it himself,’ said Nevill, with a sudden burst of tears.
‘Oh, I think Mullet must have been busy.’
‘Mullet was busy,’ said Nevill, in a cheered, relieved tone. ‘Poor Mullet was very busy. She wouldn’t say it another time.’
‘Miss Pilbeam’s father is going to be married,’ said Honor.
‘Not to Mr Ridley,’ said Nevill, instantly.
‘Of course not. A man can’t marry another man.’
‘He can’t have Mr Ridley’s house.’
‘He doesn’t want it. He has a house of his own. I suppose he will still live there.
‘Yes, he will,’ said Nevill. ‘That is a nice house too.’
‘You don’t know anything about it.’
‘Miss Pilbeam likes it,’ said Nevill.
‘Do you like it?’ said Gavin, to Miss Pilbeam. ‘I don’t think it is at all nice.’
‘I have not thought how it appears to other people. It has always been my home.’
‘Perhaps your stepmother will turn you out,’ said Gavin.
‘No, I don’t think she will do that,’ said Miss Pilbeam, with a smile.
‘You would laugh on the other side of your face, if she did.’
‘Miss Pilbeam would live here with Hatton and Mullet,’ said Nevill.
Honor and Gavin looked at each other, and burst into laughter at this estimation of Miss Pilbeam’s place.
Miss Pilbeam looked towards the window.
‘I am “he”; you are “she”; Miss Pilbeam is “it”,’ said Gavin, to his sister, seeming to receive an impetus from Nevill’s words.
Miss Pilbeam turned sharply towards him.
‘I suppose your father will like your stepmother better than you,’ said Honor, quickly.
‘He will have a different feeling for us.’
‘No, he will like Miss Pilbeam best,’ said Nevill.
‘I see you are determined to waste your time this morning.’
‘Well, it is natural,’ said Honor.
‘Yes, I think it is. Perhaps I had better read to you.’
Nevill at once ran to a book that lay on the sofa, brought it to Miss Pilbeam, and stood waiting to be lifted to her knee.
‘We don’t want that book,’ said Honor.
Nevill put it on Miss Pilbeam’s lap, turned the leaves until he came to his place, and began to read aloud to himself.
‘No, no, that is not the page,’ she said, putting her hand over it. ‘You are saying it by heart.’
Nevill turned the pages again, reached one that he actually recognized, and resumed his recitation.
‘No, you are not doing it properly. I will read a chapter of Robinson Crusoe. We are coming to the part where he sees the footprint on the ground.’
Nevill carried his book to the sofa and continued to read, resorting to improvization when his memory failed.
‘Now this is an exciting part,’ said Miss Pilbeam.
‘Sometimes you miss things out,’ said Honor. ‘I know, because I read the book to myself.’
‘It would be better not to read the book I am reading to you.’
‘I like reading things a lot of times.’
‘Well, this book is certainly worth it.’
‘Then why did you tell her not to?’ said Gavin.
‘I thought it might make my reading dull for her. But nothing could make Robinson Crusoe dull, could it?’
‘I think something makes it dull sometimes,’ said Gavin, in such a light tone that Miss Pilbeam missed his meaning as he half intended.
Miss Pilbeam began to read, and Nevill raised his voice to overcome the sound, and remained absorbed in the results of his imagination. Neither Honor nor Gavin appeared to be conscious of his presence.
When things had continued for some time, Eleanor and Fulbert entered.