Then, seeing how worn-out Clement looked, he abetted Sibby and Geraldine, in shutting their patient safe up in his bedroom, not to be "mislested" any more that night, said Sibby. So he missed the rush of the return. First came the two sober sisters, Anna and Emilia, only sorry that Aunt Cherry had not seen the lovely sea, the exquisite twinkle of silvered waves as the moon rose, and then the outburst of coloured lights, taking many forms, and the brilliant fireworks darting to and fro, describing curves, bursting and scattering their sparks. Emilia had, however, begun by the anxious question-
"Nan, what is it with Gerald?"
"I don't quite know. I suspect Dolores has somehow teased him, though it is not like her."
"Then there is something in it?"
"I can't help believing so, but I don't believe it has come to anything."
"And is she not a most disagreeable girl! Those black eyebrows do look so sullen and thunderous."
"Oh no, Emmie, I thought so at first, but she can't help her eyebrows; and when you come to know her there is a vast deal in her- thought, and originality, and purpose. I am sure it has been good for Gerald. He has seemed more definite and in earnest lately, less as if he were playing with everything, with all views all round."
"But his spirits are so odd!-so merry and then so grave."
"That is only during these last few days, and I fancy there must be some hitch-perhaps about Dolores' father, and we are all in such haste."
Emilia did not pursue the subject. She had never indulged in the folly of expecting any signs of actual love from her cousin. She had always known that the family regarded any closer bond as impossible; but she had been always used to be his chief confidante, and she missed his attention, but she would not own this even to herself, go she talked of her hospital schemes with much zest, and how she should spend her outings at a favourite sisterhood.
"For," said she, "I am tired of luxury."
It had been a delightful walk to Anna, with her companion sister, discussing Adrian, or Emily's plans, or Sophy's prospects. They had come home the sooner, for Emily had to pack, as she was to spend a little while with her mother at Vale Leston. Where was Franceska? They were somewhat dismayed not to find her, but it was one of the nights when everybody loses everybody, and no doubt she was with Uncle Lance, or with Sophy, or Gerald.
No such thing. Here was Uncle Lance with his two boys in varying kinds of delight, Adrian pronouncing that "it was very jolly, the most ripping sight he ever saw," then eating voraciously, with his eyes half shut, and tumbling off to bed "like a veritable Dutchman," said Lance, who had his own son in a very different mood, with glowing cheeks, sparkling eyes, appetite gone for very excitement, as he sprang about and waved his hands to describe the beautiful course of the rockets, and the fall of the stars from the Roman candles.
"Oh, such as I never-never saw! How shall I get Pearl and Audrey to get even a notion of it? Grandpapa will guess in a moment! Oh, and the sea, all shine with a path of-of glory! Oh, daddy, there are things more beautiful than anybody could ever dream of!"
"Go and dream then, my sprite. Try to be as still as you can, even if you do go on feeling the yacht, and seeing the sparks when you shut your eyes. For you see my head is bad, and I do want a chance of sleep."
"Poor daddy! I'll try, even if the music goes on in my head. Good- night."
"That will keep him quieter than anything," said Lance; "but I would not give much for the chance of his not seeing the dawn."
"Or you either, I fear," said Geraldine. "Have you slept since the discovery?"
"I shall make my sleep up at home, now I have had the whole out. Who comes now?"
It was Sophy, with her look of
"Gentle wishes long subdued, Subdued and cherished long."
Mr. Bramshaw had brought her to the door, and no doubt she and he had had a quiet, restful time of patient planning; but the not finding Francie soon filled her with great alarm and self-reproach for having let herself be drawn away from the party, when all had stood together on Miss Mohun's lawn. She wanted to start off at once in search of her sister, and was hardly pacified by finding that Gerald was still to come. Then, however, Gerald did come, and alone. He said he had just seen the Clipstone party off. No, he had not seen Francie there; but he added, rather as if recovering from a bewilderment, as Sophy was asking him to come out with her again, "Oh, never fear. Lord Ivinghoe was there somewhere!"
"I thought he was gone."
"No, he said the yacht got in too late for the train. Never mind, Sophy, depend upon it she is all right."
None of the ladies present felt equally pleased, but in a minute or two more in came a creature, bright, lovely, and flushed, with two starry eyes, gleaming like the blue lights on the ships.
"Oh, Cousin Marilda, have I kept you waiting? I am so sorry!"
"Where have you been?"
"Only on the cliff walk. Lord Ivinghoe took me to see the place where his father had the accident, and we watched the fireworks from there. Oh, it was so nice, and still more beautiful when the strange lights were out and the people gone, and only the lovely quiet moon shining on the sea, and a path of light from Venus."
"I should think so," muttered Gerald, and Marilda began-
"Pretty well, miss."
"I am very sorry to bo so late," began Francie, and Geraldine caught an opportunity while shawling Marilda to say-
"Dear, good Marilda, I implore you to say nothing to put it into her head or Alda's. I don't think any harm is done yet, but it can't be anything. It can't come to good, and it would only be unhappiness to them all."
"Oh, ah! well, I'll try. But what a chance it would be, and how happy it would make poor Alda!"
"It can't be. The boy's mother would never let him look at her! Don't, don't, don't!"
"Well, I'll try not." She kissed her fondly.
Gerald's walk had been with Dolores of course, a quiet, grave, earnest talk and walk, making them feel how much they belonged to one another, and building schemes in which they were to learn the nature of the poor and hard-worked, by veritably belonging to them, and being thus able to be of real benefit. In truth, neither of them, in their brave youthfulness, really regretted Vale Leston, and the responsibilities; and, as Gerald declared, he would give it up tomorrow gladly if he could save his name and his father's from shame, but, alas! the things went together.
Dolores wished to write fully to her father, and that Gerald should do the same, but she did not wish to have the matter discussed in the family at once, before his answer came, and Gerald had agreed to silence, as indeed they would not call themselves engaged till that time. Indeed, Dolores said there was so much excitement about Captain Armytage that no one was thinking of her.
CHAPTER XXIV. COUNSELS OF PATIENCE
He either fears his fate too much, Or his deserts are small, Who fears to put it to the touch, To win or lose it all.
If Sibby hoped to keep her "long boy" from being "mislested," she was mistaken. He knew too well what was to come, and when she knocked at his door with his cup of tea, he came to it half dressed, to her extreme indignation, calling for his shaving water.
"Now, Master Clem, if you would only be insinsed enough to keep to your bed, you might have Miss Sophy to speak to you there, if nothing else will serve you."