Mrs. Curtis was tired, and stayed at home; and Grace spent the afternoon in investigations about the harrying of the thrushes, but, alas! without coming a bit nearer the truth. Nothing was seen or heard of Lady Temple till, at half-past nine, one of the midges, or diminutive flies used at Avonmonth, came to the door, and Fanny came into the drawing-room--wan, tearful, agitated.
"Dear Rachel, I am so afraid I was hasty, I could not sleep without coming to tell you how sorry I am."
"Then you.are convinced? I knew you would be."
"Oh, yes, I have just been sitting by him after he was gone to bed. He never goes to sleep till I have done that, and he always tells me if anything is on his mind. I could not ask him again, it would have been insulting him; but he went over it all of himself, and owned he ought not to have put a finger on the edge of the nest, but he wanted so to see what it was lined with; otherwise he never touched it. He says, poor boy, that it was only your being a civilian that made you not able to believe him, I am sure you must believe him now."
Mrs. Curtis began, in her gentle way, about the difficulty of believing one's children in fault, but Lady Temple was entirely past accepting the possibility of Conrade's being to blame in this particular instance. It made her bristle up again, so that even Rachel saw the impossibility of pressing it, and trusted to some signal confutation to cure her of her infatuation. But she was as affectionate as ever, only wanting to be forgiven for the morning's warmth, and to assure dear Aunt Curtis, dear Grace, and dearest Rachel in particular, that there was no doing without them, and it was the greatest blessing to be near them.
"Oh! and the squirting, dear Rachel! I was so sorry when I found it out, it was only Francie and Leo. I was very angry with them for it, and I should like to make them ask pardon, only I don't think Francie would. I'm afraid they are very rude boys. I must write to the Major to find me a governess that won't be very strict with them, and if she could be an officer's daughter, the boys would respect her so much more."
CHAPTER III. MACKAREL LANE
"For I would lonely stand Uplifting my white hand, On a mission, on a mission, To declare the coming vision." ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.
"Well, Grace, all things considered, perhaps I had better walk down with you to Mackarel Lane, and then I can form a judgment on these Williamses without committing Fanny."
"Then you do not intend to go on teaching?"
"Not while Conrade continues to brave me, and is backed up by poor Fanny."
"I might speak to Miss Williams after church, and bring her in to Myrtlewood for Fanny to see."
"Yes, that might do in time; but I shall make up my mind first. Poor Fanny is so easily led that we must take care what influences fall in her way."
"I always wished you would call."
"Yes, and I would not by way of patronage to please Mr. Touchett, but this is for a purpose; and I hope we shall find both sisters at home."
Mackarel Lane was at right angles to the shore, running up the valley of the Avon; but it soon ceased to be fishy, and became agricultural, owning a few cottages of very humble gentility, which were wont to hang out boards to attract lodgers of small means. At one of these Grace rang, and obtained admittance to a parlour with crazy French windows opening on a little strip of garden. In a large wheeled chair, between the fire and the window, surrounded by numerous little appliances for comfort and occupation, sat the invalid Miss Williams, holding out her hand in welcome to the guests.
"A fine countenance! what one calls a fine countenance!" thought Rachel. "Is it a delusion of insipidity as usual? The brow is good, massive, too much for the features, but perhaps they were fuller once; eyes bright and vigorous, hazel, the colour for thought; complexion meant to be brilliant brunette, a pleasant glow still; hair with threads of grey. I hope she does not affect youth; she can't be less than one or two and thirty! Many people set up for beauties with far less claim. What is the matter with her? It is not the countenance of deformity--accident, I should say. Yes, it is all favourable except the dress. What a material; what a pattern! Did she get it second-hand from a lady's-maid? Will there be an incongruity in her conversation to match? Let us see. Grace making inquiries--Quite at my best--Ah! she is not one of the morbid sort, never thinking themselves better."
"I was afraid, I had not seen you out for some time."
"No; going out is a troublesome business, and sitting in the garden answers the same purpose."
"Of air, perhaps, but hardly of change or of view."
"Oh! I assure you there is a wonderful variety," she answered, with an eager and brilliant smile.
"Clouds and sunsets?" asked Rachel, beginning to be interested.
"Yes, differing every day. Then I have the tamarisk and its inhabitants. There has been a tom-tit's nest every year since we came, and that provides us with infinite amusement. Besides the sea- gulls are often so good as to float high enough for me to see them. There is a wonderful charm in a circumcribed view, because one is obliged to look well into it all."
"Yes; eyes and no eyes apply there," said Rachel.
"We found a great prize, too, the other day. Rosie!"
At the call a brown-haired, brown-eyed child of seven, looking like a little fawn, sprang to the window from the outside.
"My dear, will you show the sphynx to Miss Curtis?"
The little girl daintily brought a box covered with net, in which a huge apple-green caterpillar, with dashes of bright colour on his sides, and a horny spike on his tail, was feasting upon tamarisk leaves. Grace asked if she was going to keep it. "Yes, till it buries itself," said the child. "Aunt Ermine thinks it is the elephant sphynx."
"I cannot be sure," said the aunt, "my sister tried to find a figure of it at Villars', but he had no book that gave the caterpillars. Do you care for those creatures?"
"I like to watch them," said Grace, "but I know nothing about them scientifically; Rachel does that."
"Then can you help us to the history of our sphynx?" asked Miss Williams, with her pleasant look.
"I will see if I have his portrait," said Rachel, "but I doubt it. I prefer general principles to details."
"Don't you find working out details the best way of entering into general principles?"
It was new to Rachel to find the mention of a general principle received neither with a stare nor a laugh; and she gathered herself up to answer, "Naming and collecting is not science."
"And masonry is not architecture, but you can't have architecture without it."
"One can have broad ideas without all the petty work of flower botanists and butterfly naturalists."
"Don't you think the broad ideas would be rather of the hearsay order, at least to most people, unless their application were worked out in the trifle that came first to hand?"
"Experimental philosophy," said Rachel, in rather a considering tone, as if the notion, when presented to her in plain English, required translation into the language of her thoughts.
"If you like to call it so," said Miss Williams, with a look of arch fun. "For instance, the great art of mud pie taught us the porous nature of clay, the expansive power of steam, etc. etc."
"You had some one to improve it to you?"