LITMIR.BIZ

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Weston had been much interested by what she heard respecting Mrs. Eden, and gladly discovered that she was just the person who could assist in some needlework which was required at Broom Hill.  She asked Lilias to tell her where to find her cottage, and Lily replied by an offer to show her the way; Miss Weston hesitated, thinking that perhaps in the present state of things Lily had rather not see her; but her doubts were quickly removed by this speech, ‘I want to see her particularly.  I have been there three times without finding her.  I think I can set this terrible matter right by speaking to her.’

      Accordingly, Lilias and Phyllis set out with Alethea and Marianne one afternoon to Mrs. Eden’s cottage, which stood at the edge of a long field at the top of the hill.  Very fast did Lily talk all the way, but she grew more silent as she came to the cottage, and knocked at the door; it was opened by Mrs. Eden herself, a pale, but rather pretty young woman, with a remarkable gentle and pleasing face, and a manner which was almost ladylike, although her hands were freshly taken out of the wash-tub.  She curtsied low, and coloured at the sight of Lilias, set chairs for the visitors, and then returned to her work.

      ‘Oh! Mrs. Eden,’ Lily began, intending to make her explanation, but feeling confused, thought it better to wait till her friend’s business was settled, and altered her speech into ‘Miss Weston is come to speak to you about some work.’

      Mrs. Eden looked quite relieved, and Alethea proceeded to appoint the day for her coming to Broom Hill, and arrange some small matters, during which Lily not only settled what to say, but worked herself into a fit of impatience at the length of Alethea’s instructions.  When they were concluded, however, and there was a pause, her words failed her, and she wished that she was miles from the cottage, or that she had never mentioned her intentions.  At last she stammered out, ‘Oh! Mrs. Eden—I wanted to speak to you about—about Mr. Devereux and your brother.’

      Mrs. Eden bent over her wash-tub, Miss Weston examined the shells on the chimney-piece, Marianne and Phyllis listened with all their ears, and poor Lily was exceedingly uncomfortable.

      ‘I wished to tell you—I do not think—I do not mean—It was not his saying.  Indeed, he did not say those things about the Gages.’

      ‘I told my brother I did not think Mr. Devereux would go for to say such a thing,’ said Mrs. Eden, as much confused as Lily.

      ‘Oh! that was right, Mrs. Eden.  The mischief was all my making and Jane’s.  We said those foolish things, and they were repeated as if it was he.  Oh! do tell your brother so, Mrs. Eden.  It was very good of you to think it was not Cousin Robert.  Pray tell Tom Naylor.  I cannot bear that things should go on in this dreadful way.’

      ‘Indeed, Miss, I am very sorry,’ said Mrs. Eden.

      ‘But, Mrs Eden, I am sure that would set it right again,’ said Lily, ‘are not you?  I would do anything to have that poor baby christened.’

      Lily’s confidence melted away as she saw that Mrs. Eden’s tears were falling fast, and she ended with, ‘Only tell them, and we shall see what will happen.’

      ‘Very well, Miss Lilias,’ said Mrs. Eden.  ‘I am very sorry.’

      ‘Let us hope that time and patience will set things right,’ said Miss Weston, to relieve the embarrassment of both parties.  ‘Your brother must soon see that Mr. Devereux only wishes to do his duty.’

      Alethea skilfully covered Lily’s retreat, and the party took leave of Mrs. Eden, and turned into their homeward path.

      Lily at first seemed disposed to be silent, and Miss Weston therefore amused herself with listening to the chatter of the little girls as they walked on before them.

      ‘There are only thirty-six days to the holidays,’ said Phyllis; ‘Ada and I keep a paper in the nursery with the account of the number of days.  We shall be so glad when Claude, and Maurice, and Redgie come home.’

      ‘Are they not very boisterous?’ said Marianne.

      ‘Not Maurice,’ said Phyllis.

      ‘No, indeed,’ said Lily, ‘Maurice is like nobody else.  He takes up some scientific pursuit each time he comes home, and cares for nothing else for some time, and then quite forgets it.  He is an odd-looking boy too, thick and sturdy, with light flaxen hair, and dark, overhanging eyebrows, and he makes the most extraordinary grimaces.’

      ‘And Reginald?’ said Alethea.

      ‘Oh! Redgie is a noble-looking fellow.  But just eleven, and taller than Jane.  His complexion so fair, yet fresh and boyish, and his eyes that beautiful blue that Ada’s are—real blue.  Then his hair, in dark brown waves, with a rich auburn shine.  The old knights must have been just like Redgie.  And Claude—Oh! Miss Weston, have you ever seen Claude?’

      ‘No, but I have seen your eldest brother.’

      ‘William?  Why, he has been in Canada these three years.  Where could you have seen him?’

      ‘At Brighton, about four years ago.’

      ‘Ah! the year before he went.  I remember that his regiment was there.  Well, it is curious that you should know him; and did you ever hear of Harry, the brother that we lost?’

      ‘I remember Captain Mohun’s being called away to Oxford by his illness,’ said Alethea.

      ‘Ah, yes!  William was the only one of us who was with him, even papa was not there.  His illness was so short.’

      ‘Yes,’ said Alethea, ‘I think it was on a Tuesday that Captain Mohun left Brighton, and we saw his death in the paper on Saturday.’

      ‘William only arrived the evening that he died.  Papa was gone to Ireland to see about Cousin Rotherwood’s property.  Robert, not knowing that, wrote to him at Beechcroft; Eleanor forwarded the letter without opening it, and so we knew nothing till Robert came to tell us that all was over.’

      ‘Without any preparation?’

      ‘With none.  Harry had left home about ten days before, quite well, and looking so handsome.  You know what a fine-looking person William is.  Well, Harry was very like him, only not so tall and strong, with the same clear hazel eyes, and more pink in his cheeks—fairer altogether.  Then Harry wrote, saying that he had caught one of his bad colds.  We did not think much of it, for he was always having coughs.  We heard no more for a week, and then one morning Eleanor was sent for out of the schoolroom, and there was Robert come to tell us.  Oh! it was such a thunderbolt.  This was what did the mischief.  You know papa and mamma being from home so long, the elder boys had no settled place for the holidays; sometimes they stayed with one friend, sometimes with another, and so no one saw enough of them to find out how delicate poor Harry really was.  I think papa had been anxious the only winter they were at home together, and Harry had been talked to and advised to take care; but in the summer and autumn he was well, and did not think about it.  He went to Oxford by the coach—it was a bitterly cold frosty day—there was a poor woman outside, shivering and looking very ill, and Harry changed places with her.  He was horribly chilled, but thinking he had only a common cold, he took no care.  Robert, coming to Oxford about a week after, found him very ill, and wrote to papa and William, but William scarcely came in time.  Harry just knew him, and that was all.  He could not speak, and died that night.  Then William stayed at Oxford to receive papa, and Robert came to tell us.’

      ‘It must have been a terrible shock.’

      ‘Such a loss—he was so very good and clever.  Every one looked up to him—William almost as much as the younger ones.  He never was in any scrape, had all sorts of prizes at Eton, besides getting his scholarship before he was seventeen.’

      Whenever Lily could get Miss Weston alone, it was her way to talk in this manner.  She loved the sound of her own voice so well, that she was never better satisfied than when engrossing the whole conversation.  Having nothing to talk of but her books, her poor people, and her family, she gave her friend the full benefit of all she could say on each subject, while Alethea had kindness enough to listen with real interest to her long rambling discourses, well pleased to see her happy.

      The

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