Beechcroft at Rockstone. Yonge Charlotte Mary

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      ‘Then you should not have told me so much.’

      Val laughed triumphantly, and called her sister Mrs. Curiosity, and at that 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 too much proper feeling to allow this flat disobedience, and would not listen, much as she longed to do so. She heard her little sister rolling and tossing about a good deal, but made herself hard-hearted on principle, and acted sleep. On her own judgment, she would not waken the child in the morning, and Aunt Jane said she was quite right, it would be better to let Val have her sleep out, than send her to school fretful and half alive. ‘But you ought not to have let her talk last night.’

      As usual, reproof was unpleasing, and silenced Gillian. She hoped to extract the rest of the story in the course of the day. But before breakfast was over Valetta rushed in with her hat on, having scrambled into 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 of missing the discussion of the entertainment with Kitty, from whom she had been so cruelly parted.

      Tete-a-tetes were not so easy as might have been expected between two sisters occupying the same room, for Valetta went to bed and to sleep long before Gillian, and the morning toilette was a hurry; besides, Gillian had scruples, partly out of pride and partly out of conscientiousness, about encouraging Valetta in gossip or showing her curiosity about it. Could she make anything out from Kalliope herself? However, fortune favoured her, for she came out of her class only a few steps 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 southern look. Perhaps she was proportionably precocious, for she returned Gillian’s greeting without embarrassment, and was quite ready to enter into conversation and show her gratification at compliments upon her brother’s voice.

      ‘And does not Kalliope sing? I think she used to sing very nicely in the old 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 interrogative sound 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 the practices, though Alexis was always there. I know that was the reason for I heard la mamma mia trying to persuade her to go on with the society, and she was determined, and would not. Alex said she was quite right, and it is very tiresome of him, for now she never walks with us on 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. Stebbing would be against it; but mamma said he would get over them, if she would not be so stupid, and he could make her quite a lady, like an officer’s daughter, 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 little worldly-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 live properly, like ladies.’

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

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

      It would be a grand history to tell Alethea of her friend, when she should have learnt a little more about it, as she intended to do on Sunday from Kalliope herself, who surely would be grateful for some sympathy and friendship. Withal she recollected that it was Indian-mail day, and hurried home to see whether the midday post had brought any letters. Her two aunts were talking eagerly, but suddenly broke off as she 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 to herself on the table.

      ‘No; rather the reverse.’

      A horrible suspicion, as she afterwards called it, came over Gillian as she 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 will tell 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 you will know that I am very happy. You cannot guess how happy, and it is so delightful that mamma is charmed with him. He has got two medals and three clasps. There are so many to write to, I can only give my poor darling this little word. She will find it is only having another to be as 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 one fell swoop.’

      ‘It’s dreadful,’ said Gillian.

      ‘My dear, if you want to keep your sisters to yourself, you should not let them go to India, said Aunt Ada.

      ‘They said they wouldn’t! They were quite angry at the notion of being so 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 also short.

      ‘MY DEAREST GILLYFLOWER—I know this will be a great blow to you, as indeed it was to me; but we must not be selfish, and must remember that the sisters’ happiness and welfare is the great point. I wish I could write to you more at length; but time will not let me, scattered as are all my poor flock at home. So I must leave you to learn the bare public facts from Aunt Jane, and only say my especial private words to you. You are used to being brevet eldest daughter to me, now you will have to be so 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 these robbers? 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 first cursory reading before luncheon.

      ‘DEAREST СКАЧАТЬ