"Yes, my dear, I dare say you have been very intimate; but you see you are very young; and his staying here--"
"I thought he would be so glad to come and be with the Colonel, who was his guardian and Bessie's," said Fanny, "and I have promised to have Bessie to stay with me, she was such a dear little thing--"
"Well, my dear, it may be a good thing for you to have a young lady with you, and if he is to come over, her presence will explain it. Understand me, my dear, I am not at all afraid of your--your doing anything foolish, only to get talked of is so dreadful in your situation, that you can't be too careful."
"Yes, yes, thank you, dear aunt," murmured the drooping and subdued Fanny, aware how much the remonstrance must cost her aunt, and sure that she must be in fault in some way, if she could only see how. "Please, dear aunt, help me, for indeed I don't know how to manage-- tell me how to be civil and kind to my dear husband's friends without--without--"
Her voice broke down, though she kept from tears as an unkindness to her aunt.
In very fact, little as she knew it, she could not have defended herself better than by this humble question, throwing the whole guidance of her conduct upon her aunt. If she had been affronted, Mrs. Curtis could have been displeased; but to be thus set to prescribe the right conduct, was at once mollifying and perplexing.
"Well, well, my dear child, we all know you wish to do right; you can judge best. I would not have you ungrateful or uncivil, only you know you are living very quietly, and intimacy--oh! my dear, I know your own feeling will direct you. Dear child! you have taken what I said so kindly. And now let me see that dear little girl."
Rachel had not anticipated that the upshot of a remonstrance, even from her mother, would be that Fanny was to be directed by her own feeling!
That same feeling took Lady Temple to Mackarel Lane later in the day. She had told the Colonel her intention, and obtained Alison's assurance that Ermine's stay at Myrtlewood need not be impracticable, and armed with their consent, she made her timid tap at Miss Williams' door, and showed her sweet face within it.
"May I come in? Your sister and your little niece are gone for a walk. I told them I would come! I did want to see you!"
"Thank you," said Ermine, with a sweet smile, colouring cheek, yet grave eyes, and much taken by surprise at being seized by both hands, and kissed on each cheek.
"Yes, you must let me," said her visitor, looking up with her pretty imploring gesture, "you know I have known him so long, and he has been so good to me!"
"Indeed it is very kind in you," said Ermine, fully feeling the force of the plea expressed in the winning young face and gentle eyes full of tears.
"Oh, no, I could not help it. I am only so sorry we kept him away from you when you wanted him so much; but we did not know, and he was Sir Stephen's right hand, and we none of us knew what to do without him; but if he had only told--"
"Thank you, oh, thank you!" said Ermine, "but indeed it was better for him to be away."
Even her wish to console that pleading little widow could not make her say that his coming would not have been good for her. "It has been such a pleasure to hear he had so kind and happy a home all these years."
"Oh, you cannot think how Sir Stephen loved and valued him. The one thing I always did wish was, that Conrade should grow up to be as much help and comfort to his father, and now he never can! But," driving back a tear, "it was so hard that you should not have known how distinguished and useful and good he was all those years. Only now I shall have the pleasure of telling you," and she smiled. She was quite a different being when free from the unsympathizing influence which, without her understanding it, had kept her from dwelling on her dearest associations.
"It will be a pleasure of pleasures," said Ermine, eagerly.
"Then you will do me a favour, a very great favour," said Lady Temple, laying hold of her hand again, "if you and your sister and niece will come and stay with me." And as Ermine commenced her refusal, she went on in the same coaxing way, with a description of her plans for Ermine's comfort, giving her two rooms on the ground floor, and assuring her of the absence of steps, the immunity from all teasing by the children, of the full consent of her sister, and the wishes of the Colonel, nay, when Ermine was still unpersuaded of the exceeding kindness it would be to herself. "You see I am terribly young, really," she said, "though I have so many boys, and my aunt thinks it awkward for me to have so many officers calling, and I can't keep them away because they are my father's and Sir Stephen's old friends; so please do come and make it all right!"
Ermine was driven so hard, and so entirely deprived of all excuse, that she had no alternative left but to come to the real motive.
"I ought not," she said, "it is not good for him, so you must not press me, dear Lady Temple. You see it is best for him that nobody should ever know of what has been between us."
"What! don't you mean--?" exclaimed Fanny, breaking short off.
"I cannot!" said Ermine.
"But he would like it. He wishes it as much as ever."
"I know he does," said Ermine, with a troubled voice; "but you see that is because he did not know what a wretched remnant I am, and he never has had time to think about any one else."
"Oh no, no."
"And it would be very unfair of me to take advantage of that, and give him such a thing as I am."
"Oh dear, but that is very sad!" cried Fanny, looking much startled.
"But I am sure you must see that it is right."
"It may be right," and out burst Fanny's ready tears; "but it is very, very hard and disagreeable, if you don't mind my saying so, when I know it is so good of you. And don't you mean to let him even see you, when he has been constant so long?"
"No; I see no reason for denying myself that; indeed I believe it is better for him to grow used to me as I am, and be convinced of the impossibility."
"Well then, why will you not come to me?"
"Do you not see, in all your kindness, that my coming to you would make every one know the terms between us, while no one remarks his just coming to me here as an old friend? And if he were ever to turn his mind to any one else--"
"He will never do that, I am sure."
"There is no knowing. He has never been, in his own estimation, disengaged from me," said Ermine; "his brother is bent on his marrying, and he ought to be perfectly free to do so, and not under the disadvantage that any report of this affair would be to him."
"Well, I am sure he never will," said Fanny, almost petulantly; "I know I shall hate her, that's all."
Ermine thought her own charity towards Mrs. Colin Keith much more dubious than Lady Temple's, but she continued--
"At any rate you will be so very kind as not to let any one know of it. I am glad you do. I should not feel it right that you should not, but it is different with others."
"Thank you. And if you will not come to me, you will let me come to you, won't you? It will be so nice to come and talk him over with you. Perhaps I shall persuade you some of these days after all. Only I must go now, for I always give the children their tea on Sunday. But please let your dear little niece come up to-morrow and play with them; the little Hammonds will be there, she is just their age."
Ermine felt obliged to grant this at least, though she was as doubtful of her shy Rose's happiness as of the expedience of the intimacy; but there was no being ungracious to the gentle visitor, and no doubt Ermine felt rejoiced and elevated. She did not need fresh assurances of Colin's constancy, but the affectionate sister- like congratulations of this loving, winning creature, showed how real and in earnest his intentions were. And then Lady Temple's grateful esteem for him being, as it was, the reflection of her husband's, was no small testimony to his merits.
"Pretty creature!" said Ermine to herself, "really if it did come to that, I could spare him to her better than to any one else. She has some notion how to value him."