"I was in hopes that the bazaar would have blown over, but the Bishop has been demanding of Fuller and his churchwardens how soon they mean to put the building in hand, and this seems to be their only notion of raising money."
"I am very glad of this opportunity of asking what you think I had better do about it. Your wife takes no part in it?"
"Certainly not; but I doubt whether that need be a precedent for you. I am answerable for her, and you could hardly keep out of it without making a divided household."
"I see the difference, and perhaps I have made myself quite unpleasant enough already."
"As the opposition?"
"And Camilla has been very kind in giving me much more freedom than I expected, and pacifying papa. She let me go every Friday evening to help Lady Susan Strangeways at her mothers' meeting."
"Lady Susan Strangeways! I have heard of her."
"She has been my comforter and help all this time. She is all kindness and heartiness,-elbow-deep in everything good. She got up at five o'clock to finish the decorations at St. Maurice's, and to- day she is taking five hundred school-children to Windsor forest."
"Is she the mother of the young man at Backsworth?"
"Yes," said Eleonora, in rather a different tone. "Perhaps she goes rather far; and he has flown into the opposite extreme, though they say he is improving, and has given up the turf, and all that sort of thing."
"Was he at home? I heard he was on leave."
"He was said to be at home, but I hardly ever saw him. He was always out with his own friends when I was there."
"I should not suppose Lady Susan's pursuits were much in his line. Is not one of the daughters a Sister?"
"Yes, at St. Faith's. She was my great friend. The younger ones are nice girls, but have not much in them. Camilla is going to have them down for the bazaar."
"What, do they patronize bazaars?"
"Everything that is doing they patronize. I have known them be everywhere, from the Drawing-room to a Guild-meeting in a back slum, and all with equal appetite. That is one reason why I fear I shall not see much of your mother; they are never tired, and I shall never get out alone. The house is to be full of people, and we are to be very gay."
She spoke with a tone that betrayed how little pleasure she expected, though it strove to be uncomplaining; and Julius, who had learnt something of poor Frank's state of jealous misery, heartily wished the Strangeways family further, regarding the intimacy as a manoeuvre of Lady Tyrrell's, and doubting how far all Eleonora's evident struggles would keep her out of the net; and though while talking to her he had not the slightest doubt of her sincerity, he had not long set her down at the lodge before he remembered that she was a Vivian.
Meantime Rosamond, carrying some medicament to old Betty Reynolds, found the whole clan in excitement at the appearance of Joe in all his buttons, looking quite as honest and innocent, though a good deal more civilized, than when he was first discovered among the swine.
"Only to think," said his great-grandmother, "that up in London all they could gie to he was a bad penny."
"It is the bronze medal, my lady," said Joshua, with a blush; "the second prize for crayons in our section."
"Indeed," cried Rosamond. "You are a genius, Joe, worthy of your namesake. There are many that would be proud to have the grandson you have, Betty."
"Tubby sure," added an aunt-in-law, "'tis cheap come by. Such things to make a young lad draught. They ought to be ashamed of themselves, they did oughter. Shut it up, Josh; don't be showing it to the lady-'tis nothing but the bare back of a sweep."
"My lady and Miss Vivian have seen it," said Joshua, blushing. "'Tis torso, my lady, from a cast from the museum."
"A black-looking draught," repeated the grandmother. "I tells Joe if he drawed like King Geaarge's head up at Wil'sbro' on the sign, with cheeks like apples, and a gould crown atop, he'd arn his bread."
"All in good time, Betty. He can't colour till he can draw. I'm glad to see him looking so well."
"Yes, my lady, he do have his health torrablish, though he lives in a underground sort of a place; and they fine servants puts upon he shameful."
"Granny!" muttered Joshua, in expostulation.
"He's a brave boy, and does not mind roughing it, so he can get on," said Rosamond.
"And the ladies are very good to me," said the boy.
"Show Lady Rosamond the draught you did of Miss Vivian, like a hangel," suggested the aunt.
The rising artist coloured, saying, "Please, my lady, don't name it to no one. I would not have shown it, but little Bess, she pulled down all my things on the floor when I was not looking. It is from memory, my lady, as she looks when she's doing anything for Sir Harry."
It was a very lovely sketch-imperfect but full of genius, and wonderfully catching, the tender, wistful look which was often on Eleonora's face, as she waited on her father. Rosamond longed that Frank should see it; but the page was very shy about it, and his grandmother contrasted it with the performances of the painter 'who had draughted all the farmers' wives in gould frames for five pound a head; but satin gownds and gold chains was extry.'
But Joe had brought her a pound of tea, and an 'image' for her mantelpiece, which quite satisfied her, though the image, being a Parian angel of Thorwaldsen's, better suited his taste than its surroundings.
The whole scene served Rosamond for a narrative in her most lively style for Mrs. Poynsett's amusement that evening. There was the further excitement of a letter from Miles, and the assurance that he would be at home in November. Anne had become far less chary of communications from his letters than she had at first been, but of this one she kept back so large a portion in public, that the instant Mrs. Poynsett had bidden them good night and been wheeled away, Rosamond put a hand on each shoulder, and looking into her face, said, "Now, Anne, let us hear! Miles has found Archie Douglas. It is no use pretending. Fie, Mrs. Anne, why can't you tell me?"
"I was not to tell any one but Julius."
"Well, I'm Julius. Besides, wasn't I at the very bottom of the tracing him out? Haven't I the best right to know whether it is bad or good?"
"Not bad, I am sure," said Julius, quickly and anxiously.
"Oh, no, not bad," answered Anne. "He has seen him-had him on board for a night."
"Where?"
"Off Durban. But this whole sheet about it is marked 'Private-only for Julius,' so I could say nothing about it before your mother. I have hardly glanced at it myself as yet, but I think he says Mr. Douglas made him promise not to tell her or Joanna Bowater."
"Not tell Jenny!" cried Rosamond. "And you said it was not bad. He must have gone and married!"
"I do not think that is it," said Anne; "but you shall hear. Miles says:-'I have at last seen our poor Cousin Archie. I told you I was following up your brother Sandie's hint about the agents for the hunters; and at last I fell in with a merchant, who, on my inquiry, showed me an invoice that I could have sworn to as in Archie's hand, and described his white hair. It seems he has been acting as manager on an ostrich farm for the last three years, far up the country. So I lost no time in sending up a note to him, telling him, if he had not forgotten old times, to come down and see me while I was lying off Durban Bay. I heard no more for ten days, and had got in the stores and was to sail the next day, thinking he had given us all up, when a boat hailed us just come over the bar. I saw Archie's white head, and in ten minutes I had him on deck. 'For Heaven's sake-am I cleared, Miles?' was the first thing he said; and when I could not say that he was, it went to my heart to see how the eager look sank away, and he was like a worn-down man of fifty. Poor fellow, I found he had ridden two hundred miles, with the hope that I had brought him news that his innocence was proved, and the revulsion was almost more than he could bear. You see, he had no notion that we thought him dead, and so he took the entire absence of any effort to trace him as acquiescence in his guilt; and when he found out how it was, he laid me under the strongest injunctions to disclose to no one that he is living-not that he fears any results, but that he says it would only disturb every one and make them wretched-"