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  On Sunday, Gillian's feet found their way to the top of the garden,where she paced meditatively up and down, hoping to see Kalliope; andjust as she was giving up the expectation, the slender black figureappeared on the other side of the railings.

  'Oh, Miss Gillian, how kind!'

  'Kally, I am glad!'

  Wherewith they got into talk at once, for Lady Merrifield's safe arrivaland Sir Jasper's improvement had just been telegraphed, and there wasmuch rejoicing over the good news. Gillian had nearly made up her mindto confute the enemy by asking why Captain White had left Rockquay; butsomehow when it came to the point, she durst not make the venture, andthey skimmed upon more surface subjects.

  The one point of union between the parishes of Rockstone and Rockquaywas a choral society, whereof Mr. Flight of St. Kenelm's was adistinguished light, and which gave periodical concerts in the MasonicHall. It being musical, Miss Mohun had nothing to do with it exceptthe feeling it needful to give her presence to the performances. Oneof these was to take place in the course of the week, and there wereprogrammes in all the shops, 'Mr. Alexis White' being set down for morethan one solo, and as a voice in the glees.

  'Shall not you sing?' asked Gillian, remembering that her sisters hadthought Kalliope had a good ear and a pretty voice.

  'I? Oh, no!'

  'I thought you used to sing.'

  'Yes; but I have no time to keep it up.'

  'Not even in the choruses?'

  'No, I cannot manage it'--and there was a little glow in the clear browncheek.

  'Does your designing take up so much time?'

  'It is not that, but there is a great deal to do at home in after hours.My mother is not strong, and we cannot keep a really efficient servant.'

  'Oh! but you must be terribly hard-worked to have no time forrelaxation.'

  'Not quite that, but--it seems to me,' burst out poor Kalliope,'that relaxation does nothing but bring a girl into difficulties--anunprotected girl, I mean.'

  'What do you mean?' cried Gillian, quite excited; but Kalliope hadcaught herself up.

  'Never mind, Miss Gillian; you have nothing to do with that kind ofthing.'

  'But do tell me, Kally; I do want to be your friend,' said Gillian,trying to put her hand through.

  'There's nothing to tell,' said Kalliope, smiling and evidently touched,but still somewhat red, 'only you know when a girl has nobody to lookafter her, she has to look after herself.'

  'Doesn't Alexis look after you?' said Gillian, not at all satisfied tobe put off with this truism.

  'Poor Alex! He is younger, you know, and he has quite enough to do. Oh,Miss Gillian, he is such a very dear, good boy.'

  'He has a most beautiful voice, Aunt Ada said.'

  'Yes, poor fellow, though he almost wishes he had not. Oh dear I there'sthe little bell! Good-bye, Miss Merrifield, I must run, or Mrs. Smithsonwill be gone to church, and I shall be locked in.'

  So Gillian was left to the enigma why Alexis should regret the beautyof his own voice, and what Kalliope could mean by the scrapes ofunprotected girls. It did not occur to her that Miss White was her elderby six or seven years, and possibly might not rely on her judgment anddiscretion as much as she might have done on those of Alethea.

  Meantime the concert was coming on. It was not an amusement that AuntAda could attempt, but Miss Mohun took both her nieces, to the extremepride and delight of Valetta, who had never been, as she said, 'toany evening thing but just stupid childish things, only trees andmagic-lanterns'; and would not quite believe Gillian, who assured her ina sage tone that she would find this far less entertaining than either,judging by the manner in which she was wont to vituperate her musiclesson.

  'Oh! but that's only scales, and everybody hates them! And I do love aGerman band.'

  'Especially in the middle of lesson-time,' said Gillian.

  However, Fergus was to spend the evening with Clement Varley; and Kittywas to go with her mother and sister, the latter of whom was to be oneof the performers; but it was decreed by the cruel authorities that thetwo bosom friends would have their tongues in better order if they weresome chairs apart; and therefore, though the members of the two familiesat Beechcroft and the Tamarisks were consecutive, Valetta was quarteredbetween her aunt and Gillian, with Mrs. Varley on the other side ofMiss Mohun, and Major Dennis flanking Miss Merrifield. When he had dulyinquired after Sir Jasper, and heard of Lady Merrifield's arrival,he had no more conversation for the young lady; and Valetta, havingperceived by force of example that in this waiting-time it was notlike being in church, poured out her observations and inquiries on hersister.

  'What a funny room! And oh! do look at the pictures! Why has that mangot on a blue apron? Freemasons! What are Freemasons? Do they work inembroidered blue satin aprons because they are gentlemen? I'll tellFergus that is what he ought to be; he is so fond of making things--onlyI am sure he would spoil his apron. What's that curtain for? Will theysing up there? Oh, there's Emma Norton just come in! That must be herfather. That's Alice Gidding, she comes to our Sunday class, and do youknow, she thought it was Joseph who was put into the den of lions. Hasnot her mother got a funny head?'

  'Hush now, Val. Here they come,' as the whole chorus trooped in andbegan the 'Men of Harlech.'

  Val was reduced to silence, but there was a long instrumentalperformance afterwards, during which bad examples of chatteringemboldened her to whisper--

  'Did you see Beatrice Varley? And Miss Berry, our singing-mistress--andAlexis White? Maura says--'

  Aunt Jane gave a touch and a frown which reduced Valetta to silence atthis critical moment; and she sat still through a good deal, only givinga little jump when Alexis White, with various others, came to sing aglee.

  Gillian could study the youth, who certainly was, as Aunt Ada said,remarkable for the cameo-like cutting of his profile, though perhaps noone without an eye for art would have remarked it, as he had the callowunformed air of a lad of seventeen or eighteen, and looked shy andgrave; but his voice was a fine one, and was heard to more advantage inthe solos to a hunting song which shortly followed.

  Valetta had been rather alarmed at the applause at first, but she soonfound out what an opportunity it gave for conversation, and after a gooddeal of popping her head about, she took advantage of the encores toexcuse herself by saying, 'I wanted to see if Maura White was there. Shewas to go if Mrs. Lee--that's the lodger--would take her. She says Kallywon't go, or sing, or anything, because--'

  How tantalising! the singers reappeared, and Valetta was reduced tosilence. Nor could the subject be renewed in the interval between theparts, for Major Dennis came and stood in front, and talked to MissMohun; and after that Valetta grew sleepy, and nothing was to be gotout of her till all was over, when she awoke into extra animation, andchattered so vehemently all the way home that her aunt advised Gillianto get her to bed as quietly as possible, or she would not sleep allnight, and would be good for nothing the next day.

  Gillian, however, being given to think for herself in all cases ofcounsel from Aunt Jane, thought it could do no harm to beguile thebrushing of the child's hair by asking why Kalliope would not come tothe concert.

  'Oh, it's a great secret, but Maura told me in the cloakroom. Itis because Mr. Frank wants to be her--to be her--her admirer,' saidValetta, cocking her head on one side, and adding to the already crimsoncolour of her cheeks.

  'Nonsense, Val, what do you and Maura know of such things?'

  'We aren't babies, Gill, and it is very unkind of you, when you told meI was to make friends with Maura White; and Kitty Varley is quite crosswith me about it.'

  'I told you to be kind to Maura, but not to talk about such foolishthings.'

  'I don't see why they should be foolish. It is what we all must come to.Grown-up people do, as Lois says. I heard Aunt Ada going on ever so longabout Beatrice Varley and that gentleman.'

  'It is just the disadvantage of that kind of school that girls talk thatsort of undesirable stuff. Gillian said to herself; bu
t curiosity, orinterest in the Whites, prompted her to add, 'What did she tell you?'

  'If you are so cross, I shan't tell you. You hurt my head, I say.'

  'Come, Val, I ought to know.'

  'It's a secret.'

  'Then you should not have told me so much.'

  Val laughed triumphantly, and called her sister Mrs. Curiosity, and atthat moment Aunt Jane knocked at the door, and said Val was not to talk.

  Val made an impatient face and began to whisper, but Gillian had toomuch proper feeling to allow this flat disobedience, and would notlisten, much as she longed to do so. She heard her little sisterrolling and tossing about a good deal, but made herself hard-hearted onprinciple, and acted sleep. On her own judgment, she would not waken thechild in the morning, and Aunt Jane said she was quite right, it wouldbe better to let Val have her sleep out, than send her to school fretfuland half alive. 'But you ought not to have let her talk last night.'

  As usual, reproof was unpleasing, and silenced Gillian. She hoped toextract the rest of the story in the course of the day. But beforebreakfast was over Valetta rushed in with her hat on, having scrambledinto her clothes in a hurry, and consuming her breakfast in great haste,for she had no notion either of losing her place in the class, or ofmissing the discussion of the entertainment with Kitty, from whom shehad been so cruelly parted.

  Tete-a-tetes were not so easy as might have been expected between twosisters occupying the same room, for Valetta went to bed and to sleeplong before Gillian, and the morning toilette was a hurry; besides,Gillian had scruples, partly out of pride and partly out ofconscientiousness, about encouraging Valetta in gossip or showing hercuriosity about it. Could she make anything out from Kalliope herself?However, fortune favoured her, for she came out of her class only a fewsteps behind little Maura; and as some of Mr. Edgar's boys were about,the child naturally regarded her as a protector.

  Maura was quite as pretty as her elders, and had more of a southernlook. Perhaps she was proportionably precocious, for she returnedGillian's greeting without embarrassment, and was quite ready to enterinto conversation and show her gratification at compliments upon herbrother's voice.

  'And does not Kalliope sing? I think she used to sing very nicely in theold times.'

  'Oh yes,' said Maura; 'but she doesn't now.'

  'Why not? Has not she time?'

  'That's not all' said Maura, looking significant, and an interrogativesound sufficed to bring out--'It is because of Mr. Frank.'

  'Mr. Frank Stebbing?'

  'Yes. He was always after her, and would walk home with her after thepractices, though Alexis was always there. I know that was the reasonfor I heard la mamma mia trying to persuade her to go on with thesociety, and she was determined, and would not. Alex said she was quiteright, and it is very tiresome of him, for now she never walks with uson Sunday, and he used to come and give us bonbons and crackers.'

  'Then she does not like him?'

  'She says it is not right or fitting, because Mr. and Mrs. Stebbingwould be against it; but mamma said he would get over them, if she wouldnot be so stupid, and he could make her quite a lady, like an officer'sdaughter, as we are. Is it not a pity she won't, Miss Gillian?'

  'I do not know. I think she is very good,' said Gillian.

  'Oh! but if she would, we might all be well off again,' said littleworldly-minded Maura; 'and I should not have to help her make the beds,and darn, and iron, and all sorts of horrid things, but we could liveproperly, like ladies.'

  'I think it is more ladylike to act uprightly,' said Gillian.

  Wherewith, having made the discovery, and escorted Maura beyond thereach of her enemies, she parted with the child, and turned homewards.Gillian was at the stage in which sensible maidens have a certainrepugnance and contempt for the idea of love and lovers as aninterruption to the higher aims of life and destruction to familyjoys. Romance in her eyes was the exaltation of woman out of reach, andMaura's communications inclined her to glorify Kalliope as a heroine,molested by a very inconvenient person, 'Spighted by a fool, spightedand angered both,' as she quoted Imogen to herself.

  It would be a grand history to tell Alethea of her friend, when sheshould have learnt a little more about it, as she intended to do onSunday from Kalliope herself, who surely would be grateful for somesympathy and friendship. Withal she recollected that it was Indian-mailday, and hurried home to see whether the midday post had brought anyletters. Her two aunts were talking eagerly, but suddenly broke off asshe opened the door.

  'Well, Gillian--' began Aunt Ada.

  'No, no, let her see for herself,' said Aunt Jane.

  'Oh! I hope nothing is the matter?' she exclaimed, seeing a letter toherself on the table.

  'No; rather the reverse.'

  A horrible suspicion, as she afterwards called it, came over Gillian asshe tore open the letter. There were two small notes. The first was--

  'DEAR LITTLE GILL--I am going to give you a new brother. Mother willtell you all.--Your loving sister,

  'P. E. M.'

  She gasped, and looked at the other.

  'DEAREST GILLIAN--After all you have heard about Frank, perhaps youwill know that I am very happy. You cannot guess how happy, and it isso delightful that mamma is charmed with him. He has got two medals andthree clasps. There are so many to write to, I can only give my poordarling this little word. She will find it is only having another to beas fond of her as her old Alley.'

  Gillian looked up in a bewildered state, and gasped 'Both!'

  Aunt Jane could not help smiling a little, and saying, 'Yes, both at onefell swoop.'

  'It's dreadful,' said Gillian.

  'My dear, if you want to keep your sisters to yourself, you should notlet them go to India, said Aunt Ada.

  'They said they wouldn't! They were quite angry at the notion of beingso commonplace,' said Gillian.

  'Oh, no one knows till her time comes!' said Aunt Jane.

  Gillian now applied herself to her mother's letter, which was alsoshort.

  'MY DEAREST GILLYFLOWER--I know this will be a great blow to you, asindeed it was to me; but we must not be selfish, and must remember thatthe sisters' happiness and welfare is the great point. I wish I couldwrite to you more at length; but time will not let me, scattered as areall my poor flock at home. So I must leave you to learn the bare publicfacts from Aunt Jane, and only say my especial private words to you. Youare used to being brevet eldest daughter to me, now you will have to beso to papa, who is mending fast, but, I think, will come home with me.Isn't that news?

  'Your loving mother.'

  'They have told you all about it, Aunt Jane!' said Gillian.

  'Yes; they have been so cruel as not even to tell you the names of theserobbers? Well, I dare say you had rather read my letter than hear it.'

  'Thank you very much, Aunt Jane! May I take it upstairs with me?'

  Consent was readily given, and Gillian had just time for her firstcursory reading before luncheon.

  'DEAREST JENNY--Fancy what burst upon me only the day after mycoming--though really we ought to be very thankful. You might perhapshave divined what was brewing from the letters. Jasper knew of one andsuspected the other before the accident, and he says it prevented himfrom telegraphing to stop me, for he was sure one or both the girlswould want their mother. Phyllis began it. Hers is a young merchantjust taken into the great Underwood firm. Bernard Underwood, a very nicefellow, brother to the husband of one of Harry May's sisters--very muchliked and respected, and, by the way, an uncommonly handsome man. Thatwas imminent before Jasper's accident, and the letter to prepare me mustbe reposing in Harry's care. Mr. Underwood came down with Claude tomeet me when I landed, and I scented danger in his eye. But it is allright--only his income is entirely professional, and they will have tolive out here for some time to come.

  'The other only spoke yesterday, having abstained from worrying hisGeneral. He is Lord Francis Somerville, son to Lord Liddesdale, and acaptain in the Glen Lorn Highlanders, who have no
t above a couple ofyears to stay in these parts. He was with the riding party when Jasperfell, and was the first to lift him; indeed, he held him all the timeof waiting, for poor Claude trembled too much. He was an immense helpthrough the nursing, and they came to know and depend on him as nothingelse would have made them do; and they proved how sincerely right-mindedand good he is. There is some connection with the Underwoods, though Ihave not quite fathomed it. There is no fear about home consent, for itseems that he is given to outpourings to his mother, and had heard thatif he thought of Sir Jasper Merrifield's daughter his parents wouldwelcome her, knowing what Sir J. is. There's for you! consideringthat we have next to nothing to give the child, and Frank has not muchfortune, but Alethea is trained to the soldierly life, and they will bebetter off than Jasper and I were.

  'The worst of it is leaving them behind; and as neither of the gentlemencan afford a journey home, we mean to have the double wedding beforeLent. As to outfit, the native tailors must be chiefly trusted to, orthe stores at Calcutta, and I must send out the rest when I come home.Only please send by post my wedding veil (Gillian knows where it is),together with another as like it as may be. Any slight lace decorationsto make us respectable which suggest themselves to you and her mightcome; I can't recollect or mention them now. I wish Reginald could comeand tell you all, but the poor fellow has to go home full pelt aboutthose Irish. Jasper is writing to William, and you must get businessparticulars from him, and let Gillian and the little ones hear, forthere is hardly any time to write. Phyllis, being used to the idea,is very quiet and matter-of-fact about it. She hoped, indeed, that Iguessed nothing till I was satisfied about papa, and had had time torest. Alethea is in a much more April condition, and I am glad Frankwaited till I was here on her account and on her father's. He is goingon well, but must keep still. He declares that being nursed by two pairof lovers is highly amusing. However, such homes being found for twoof the tribe is a great relief to his mind. I suppose it is to one'srational mind, though it is a terrible tug at one's heart-strings. Youshall hear again by the next mail. A brown creature waits to take thisto be posted.--

  Your loving sister,

  L. M.'

  Gillian came down to dinner quite pale, and to Aunt Ada's kind 'Well,Gillian?' she could only repeat, 'It is horrid.'

  'It is hard to lose all the pretty double wedding,' said Aunt Ada.

  'Gillian does not mean that,' hastily put in Miss Mohun.

  'Oh no,' said Gillian; 'that would be worse than anything.'

  'So you think,' said Aunt Jane; 'but believe those who have gone throughit all, my dear, when the wrench is over, one feels the benefit.'

  Gillian shook her head, and drank water. Her aunts went on talking, forthey thought it better that she should get accustomed to the prospect;and, moreover, they were so much excited that they could hardly havespoken of anything else. Aunt Jane wondered if Phyllis's betrothed werea brother of Mr. Underwood of St. Matthew's, Whittingtown, with whom shehad corresponded about the consumptive home; and Aunt Ada regretted thenot having called on Lady Liddesdale when she had spent some weeks atRockstone, and consoled herself by recollecting that Lord Rotherwoodwould know all about the family. She had already looked it out in thePeerage, and discovered that Lord Francis Cunningham Somerville was theonly younger son, that his age was twenty-nine, and that he had threesisters, all married, as well as his elder brother, who had childrenenough to make it improbable that Alethea would ever be Lady Liddesdale.She would have shown Gillian the record, but received the ungraciousanswer, 'I hate swells.'

  'Let her alone, Ada,' said Aunt Jane; 'it is a very sore business. Shewill be better by and by.'

  There ensued a little discussion how the veil at Silverfold was to behunted up, or if Gillian and her aunt must go to do so.

  'Can you direct Miss Vincent?' asked Miss Mohun.

  'No, I don't think I could; besides, I don't like to set any one to pokeand meddle in mamma's drawers.'

  'And she could hardly judge what could be available,' added Miss Ada.

  'Gillian must go to find it,' said Aunt Jane; 'and let me see, when haveI a day? Saturday is never free, and Monday--I could ask Mrs. Hablot totake the cutting out, and then I could look up Lily's Brussels--'

  There she caught a sight of Gillian's face. Perhaps one cause of thealienation the girl felt for her aunt was, that there was a certainkindred likeness between them which enabled each to divine the other'sinquiring disposition, though it had different effects on the elder andyounger character. Jane Mohun suspected that she had on her ferret look,and guessed that Gillian's disgusted air meant that the idea of herturning over Lady Merrifield's drawers was almost as distasteful as thatof the governess's doing it.

  'Suppose Gillian goes down on Monday with Fanny,' she said. 'She couldmanage very well, I am sure.'

  Gillian cleared up a little. There is much consolation in being of alittle importance, and she liked the notion of a day at home, a quietday, as she hoped in her present mood, of speaking to nobody. Her auntlet her have her own way, and only sent a card to Macrae to provide formeeting and for food, not even letting Miss Vincent know that shewas coming. That feeling of not being able to talk about it or becongratulated would wear off, Aunt Jane said, if she was not worried orargued with, in which case it might become perverse affectation.

  It certainly was not shared by the children. Sisters unseen for threeyears could hardly be very prominent in their minds. Fergus hoped thatthey would ride to the wedding upon elephants, and Valetta thought itvery hard to miss the being a bridesmaid, when Kitty Varley had alreadyenjoyed the honour. However, she soon began to glorify herself on thebeauty of Alethea's future title.

  'What will Kitty Varley and all say?' was her cry.

  'Nothing, unless they are snobs, as girls always are,' said Fergus.

  'It is not a nice word,' said Miss Adeline.

  'But there's nothing else that expresses it, Aunt Ada,' returnedGillian.

  'I agree to a certain degree,' said Miss Mohun; 'but still I am not surewhat it does express.'

  'Just what girls of that sort are,' said Gillian. 'Mere worshippers ofany sort of handle to one's name.'

  'Gillian, Gillian, you are not going in for levelling,' cried AuntAdeline.

  'No,' said Gillian; 'but I call it snobbish to make more fuss aboutAlethea's concern than Phyllis's--just because he calls himself Lord--'

  'That is to a certain degree true,' said Miss Mohun. 'The worth of theindividual man stands first of all, and nothing can be sillier or inworse taste than to parade one's grand relations.'

  'To parade, yes,' said Aunt Adeline; 'but there is no doubt that goodconnections are a great advantage.'

  'Assuredly,' said Miss Mohun. 'Good birth and an ancestry above shameare really a blessing, though it has come to be the fashion to sneerat them. I do not mean merely in the eyes of the world, though itis something to have a name that answers for your relations beingrespectable. But there are such things as hereditary qualities, andthus testimony to the existence of a distinguished forefather is worthhaving.'

  'Lily's dear old Sir Maurice de Mohun to wit,' said Miss Adeline. 'Youknow she used to tease Florence by saying the Barons of Beechcroft had abetter pedigree than the Devereuxes.'

  'I'd rather belong to the man who made himself,' said Gillian.

  'Well done, Gill! But though your father won his own spurs, you can'tget rid of his respectable Merrifield ancestry wherewith he started inlife.'

  'I don't want to. I had rather have them than horrid robber Borderers,such as no doubt these Liddesdale people were.'

  There was a little laughing at this; but Gillian was saying in her ownmind that it was a fine thing to be one's own Rodolf of Hapsburg, andin that light she held Captain White, who, in her present state of mind,she held to have been a superior being to all the Somervilles--perhapsto all the Devereuxes who ever existed.

  CHAPTER VII. -- AN EMPTY NEST