UCSB LIBRARY THE SUNNY SIDE OF THE HILL FOURTH EDITION The Sunny Side of the Hill By ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY Author of "The Household of Peter," "The Mistress of Brae Farm," "Rue With a Difference," etc. A. L. BURT COMPANY PUBLISHERS NEW YORK COPYRIGHT, 1908 BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANV Published September, 1908 CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. "Ir MAUREEN !" 7 II. THE HOMESTEAD AND ITS MISTRESS 16 III. "You HAVE BEEN VERY GOOD ABOUT IT" . . 25 IV. MARGARET BRYDON 35 V. "A FEMALE CURTIUS" 43 VI. POT-POURRI 53 VII. "MISTRESS AND MASTER" 63 VIII. AT THE GARDEN HOUSE 72 IX. ST. CYPRIAN 81 X. MARSH HALL 90 XI. ROMNEY CHAYTOR 99 XII. "Mv LITTLE PREACHERS AND MINSTRELS" . . 109 XIII. "ROSEMARY AND RUE" 118 XIV. A GOOD COMRADE 126 XV. MAUREEN'S ADVENTURE 136 XVI. A ROCK-GARDEN 144 XVII. THE VIKING'S CASTLE 153 XVIII. MAUREEN RECEIVES AN INVITATION 163 XIX. "I WANT You TO UNDERSTAND" 173 XX. "You HAVE BEEN SUCH A COMFORT" .... 182 XXI. "FATHER'S GIRL" 191 XXII. "THE MAN'S A FOOL" 200 XXIII. SUNNY HOURS 209 XXIV. "HAROLD SAYS IT is ALL RIGHT" . . . . . 219 v vi The Sunny Side of the Hill CHAPTER PAGE XXV. AMONG THE SAND-DUNES 228 XXVI. "ENTRE-NOUS" 237 XXVII. TOBIAS JOINS THE SUPPER-PARTY 247 XXVIII. "THERE'S No PLACE LIKE HOME" 255 XXIX. HAROLD REFUSES TO BE CROSS-EXAMINED . . 264 XXX. RED AND GOLD CHRYSANTHEMUMS 274 XXXI. "On DEAR! OH DBAR!" 283 XXXII. "HE DOES NOT SEEM QUITE FIT" 292 XXXIII. THE SON OF JEZEBEL 301 XXXIV. "MY LADY OF DREAMS!" 310 XXXV. "A LAME DOG AND A STILE" 319 XXXVI. THE GOLD CROSS 328 XXXVII. TOBIAS SEEKS FOR HIS MASTER 337 XXXVIII. "A HAPPY NEW YEAR, DEAREST!" 346 XXXIX. "I AM TRYING TO LEARN IT" 355 XL. "A HOPE FOR ME, AND A HOPE FOR You" . . 364 XLI. "I CANNOT FACE THE Music" 374 XLII. GOLDEN SHEAVES 384 THE SUNNY SIDE OF THE HILL i "IF MAUREEN " God's angels drop the grains of gold, Our duties, 'midst life's shining sands. ANON. Character is an atmosphere rather than a sum of qualities, ... It is revealed in crises. BISHOP CREIGHTON. "!F Maureen !" It was over these two words, this insignificant, broken fragment of a sentence, that Maureen was knit- ting her brows in such a perplexed fashion. Up to this point the letter had been comprehensive enough, concise, sensible a clear statement of the writer's wishes, put in Aunt Margaret's straightforward, lucid manner. Nothing could be more simple and reasonable. Aunt Margaret was lonely and needed companionship; her brother, her only surviving brother Daniel, had a house- ful of girls and boys! The deduction was as obvious as the fact that two and two make four. Surely the richly-filled nest at Homestead could furnish one bright active young creature to be the much-needed companion of a lone spinster! " A lone spinster, indeed ! " murmured Maureen in rather a scoffing fashion. " I wish all spinsters bless them, how I hate the word! were as comfortable and cheerful as Aunt Peg." And then her eyes became glued again to the two unlucky and suggestive words that formed the entire postscript. 7 8 The Sunny Side of the Hill " If Maureen ! " Could anything be more cleverly suggestive, more awful and designing than that crafty, wily " if " why, it was just the thin end of the wedge, it was jobbery, backstairs influence, and ma- noeuvre. In her indignation Maureen could almost have hated that dearly-loved aunt. " Father understood it and mother too," she continued in that dumb soliloquy. " I am sure of it by the way father looked at me when he handed me the letter and told me that Irene and the other girls had read it. ' You were out, Maureen;' mother added, and there was rather a troubled look in her eyes ; ' read it carefully, dear, and tell us what you think of it.' " They were sure, both of them, that I was the one Aunt Margaret wanted, though she knew better than to say so. Oh! oh! I should like to shake her." And Maureen hurried off in search of her usual confidant, Harold, her eldest brother, who was her exact opposite in temperament, and whose opinions and worldly wisdom were, in consequence considered by her as worth their weight in gold, although she did not always agree with them. When anything troubled Maureen the whole house- hold soon knew it; she was an extremely frank young person, who never could be induced to "look at her words before she spoke them," though she was not without plenty of practical common-sense. She took life with a sort of barbaric simplicity. She loved to be comfortable herself, and above even this she liked to make other people comfortable. She had a really sweet temper, though she could work herself into silent rages, which without due cause seldom boiled over. Her nature was peace-loving, and she hated what she called a " scrowl or a tornado." If people disagreed, she thought they ought to say so plainly and not fuss unduly; and if she thought them fools, she never told "If Maureen " 9 them so, and was ready to pat the most aggressive culprit on the back at the least sign of penitence. " Life is not long enough for quarrels," Maureen would say in her easy, comfortable fashion; " I am not going to get wrinkled with worry before my time." And really in her own little world Maureen was rather a delightful person, though Irene and the twins beat her in looks. Maureen always called herself the ugly duckling, but neither her family nor friends endorsed this. With- out being pretty, she was quite a nice-looking girl. She had a healthy brown skin, rather deeply tanned by sun and wind for all the Brydons lived out of doors as much as possible and never took much heed of their com- plexions but her white teeth and frank smile, and a certain atmosphere of freshness and youthful energy which seemed to radiate from her, made her very attractive. It was rather an ambiguous April day, and there was a sharp suggestion of dour March in the air, never- theless, Maureen knew that, in spite of the sprained ankle that kept him prisoner for a few days, Harold would be found in his favorite seat at the far end of the lawn; and as usual her surmise was correct. He was half-sitting, half-lying on the garden seat, rolled in a rug, with an old shepherd's plaid over his shoulders and a cricket cap at the back of his head, and he was writing with a stylographic pen very rapidly on blue paper on a sloping blotting-pad. As Maureen settled herself in an uncomfortable iron chair near him, he frowned slightly and remarked, " I am busy. Tres- passers on the paths of literature are liable to be prose- cuted. Beware of the dog ! " as a small and exceedingly young and frisky fox-terrier rushed at Maureen with all the ardour of puppy love. " Down, Brat ! " exclaimed Maureen, as the little creature, half-demented with the joy of existence and hi^ own exuberant vitality, executed wild rushes round 10 The Sunny Side of the Hill his two human friends. " Oh, Harold, do make him quiet ; I must talk to you, ^for I am so dreadfully wor- ried." And of course when Maureen spoke in that pathetic tone, and when her soft eyes looked like saucers of woe, even that stoical and self-restrained young man Harold Brydon, commonly known in the family as " Entre-nous," on account of his extreme and guarded reticence, wavered, and laying down his pen, called the Brat severely to order. Most families have their little peculiarities and fads and fancies: the Brydon family were remarkable for the havoc they played with their baptismal names. Strangers always found this perplexing, if not ridiculous. Harold was a fine old Saxon name, and well befitting its dig- nified owner; so why should his brothers and sisters address him in that absurd way, " Hurry up, Entre-nous, we are all waiting," and so on? Ivy, the youngest girl, had the sobriquet of " The Creeper," and Ninian degenerated into Ninny or Noddy ; Irene was often called " Pax or the Peaceful," out of compliment to the derivation of her name; while the twins, Lois and Sybil, were the Tweenies number one and number two. Now, it was well known in the family that Maureen was exceedingly proud of her name, which had belonged to an Irish ancestress who had married into the Brydon family, and most people agreed with her that it was very uncommon and pretty. In an unlucky moment, Harold, who was feeling aggrieved by some slighting remark on Maureen's part, and was lying in wait for revenge, heard a lady friend of theirs describing a visit to some old Welsh Castle, a show-place for tourists. " The tapestry was beautiful," she said, " but one room has such faded old moreen hangings." Entre-nous quietly interrupted her there was a con- cealed spark of malice in his eye. " How do you spell the word ? " he asked ; " I had no idea that there was "If Maureen- 11 such a material." Then Maureen rushed heedlessly on her own destruction. " Boys are so absurd," she said, in an amused voice. " I do believe that Harold thinks there are only two materials for women's clothes gingham and chiffon. I believe he once soared to the idea of serge, but he was never quite sure of it." " I am not likely to make a mistake for the future," was the venomous retort; and from that day Maureen was distressed to hear herself addressed as Serge or Chiffons whenever her brother was in the mood so to do ; and Maureen dared not rebel lest worse things should befall her. More than once Entre-nous had been heard murmuring to himself, " Faded moreen, how touching ! " Maureen always privately thought that Harold was the handsomest and cleverest of her brothers, or any of her friends' brothers ; and in spite of his undemon- strative nature and provoking ways, they were great chums. Maureen always told Harold all her joys and grievances ; and Harold listened, and occasionally deigned to reply. He rather prided himself on his reticence, and observed more than once that any fool could chatter, but that few people had the genius for silence. " When other people talk and they usually talk rot I do my thinking, and I know who makes the most hay in the long run," he said once when Clive chaffed him. Harold Brydon was a good-looking young man; he had a clean, well-cut face, a little pointed at the chin, and peculiarly firm lips. For some years he had worn pince-nez, which made him look older. In reality he was not quite four-and-twenty, and had but recently left Oxford. He was now training for a solicitor, his father's profession. Mr. Brydon was by no means a rich man, and his family was large ; he had an old-fashioned and tolerably reliable business, and was much respected by his clients for his fair dealing and quiet shrewdness; but those 12 The Sunny Side of the Hill who knew him best said he would never die a wealthy man. " He is too honest," they would remark vaguely, " and he keeps his hands too clean." Harold was a clever fellow, and through his own exertions in winning a brilliant scholarship he had suc- ceeded in going to the university. He knew that his father wished him to enter his profession. Mr. Brydon thought Harold's undoubted abilities and youthful energy would infuse new spirit into the business and widen the clientele. Harold had secret yearnings towards the Bar; he was ambitious and somewhat set on taking his own way, but circumstances made him yield. He was a good fel- low, and quite capable of self-sacrifice, if he saw just cause for immolating himself and his ambitions on the altar of duty. He was much attached to his brother Clive. Clive was also clever, but he was not strong, and a sharp illness once or twice had resulted in the loss of the scholarship upon which he had set his heart. Harold knew that Clive wished to take orders, and that a university training would be necessary. Clive had failed in his efforts to gain a scholarship; he had lost two chances by no fault of his own, for he was both clever and hard-working. It would be difficult for his father to send him to Oxford, but if Harold gave up all idea of the Bar and would pass his examination as his father wished, the thing might be done. " If I hang about and eat my dinners and do desultory work, father would have to come to my help, and then Clive would go to the wall," he said to himself ; " and the poor old chap is so set on wagging his head in a pulpit." And so it was that Harold took his fence of duty boldly, and Mr. Brydon's soul was gladdened by this concession to his wishes. It was characteristic and quite in accordance with Harold's reserved and stoical nature that he took no one into his confidence. Clive had no idea why his brother "If Maureen " 13 had so suddenly changed his mind, and only Maureen, who was very clear-sighted on all matters that concerned Harold, guessed the reason why he was so glum and unapproachable, and so seldom opened his lips except for some scathing remark. " Entre-nous is a bit rusty and wants oiling," Ninian remarked affably one of those days, but he took care that this speech should be audible. But Harold only shrugged his shoulders and went on with his book. Noddy's opinions were too crude to affect his mature and legal mind. Ninian might be a young giant, but he was only a schoolboy. When Brat had been brought to order, Harold regarded his sister with languid curiosity; to tell the truth, he looked slightly bored. "What's the trouble, Chiffons?" he asked, drily; but Maureen's next speech made him sit up both literally and metaphorically. " Entre-nous," she said, solemnly, " I do think it is quite providential that you should have sprained your ankle just now." Harold stared at her; then he draped himself more comfortably in his shepherd's plaid. " Well, of all the sisterly speeches this beats the record," he observed, resignedly. Then Maureen, in some confusion, tried to explain herself. " I don't mean that I am really glad that you have hurt your ankle; but if the bicycle accident had to hap- pen, I am glad it took place just at this very time when I want so badly to talk to you." " Oh, I see," returned her brother. " If that is Aunt Peg's letter in your hand, you may as well hand it over, for I did not half read it " ; and Maureen, with a deep sigh, obeyed this request. " Every one in the house seems to have read it," she observed, plaintively ; " and there I was enjoying my walk and never guessing that such a blow awaited me." But Harold made no reply to this as far as ex- 14 The Sunny Side of the Hill pression went, his face might have been cut in stone; and troubled as she was, Maureen thought for the hun- dred and first time what a beautiful profile Harold had. She waited patiently as he read and reread it; then he paused over the brief postscript, and the next moment their eyes met. " Well ? " rather breathlessly from Maureen. " Oh, it is as plain as A B C ! " But Harold spoke in rather an irritated manner. " Aunt Peg wants you, but she does not think it polite to say so, for fear of hurting Irene's feelings." " Irene ! " in a despairing voice. " Harold dear, mother could not possibly spare her. Fancy home with- out Irene and her mending-basket ! " Harold made a horrible face at Brat, it relieved his feelings; but as usual he kept his thoughts to himself. " Fancy home without Maureen," he said, inwardly. " How about the Tweenies then number one or number two they are young enough and bright enough to suit Aunt Peg? Now I come to think of it," he went on quite seriously, "that is why I found Lois in such a very uncomfortable state. She and Sybil were holding on to each other, and they seemed only to have one handkerchief between them, and the Creeper was grin- ning at them like a little demon." " Oh, poor children," returned Maureen, in a pitying voice, at this painful and realistic description, " some one must have teased them about Aunt Margaret's letter, and Lois has got into one of her nervous states." " Tweeny number one is a duffer," returned Harold, sententiously, "but number two has far more sense. Come now, Sybil is not a bad sort of little person, Aunt Peg would find her quite decent." But Maureen shook her head rather mournfully. The clouds in her domestic horizon were certainly not rolling by; on the contrary, they were increased in blackness. " Harold, old boy, we must just look it in the face, "If Maureen " 15 you and I," she said, bravely ; " I want you to help me see things in a right light." And as he nodded at this appeal, she continued : " One of us girls will have to go to Aunt Margaret father, and even mother, will say that." " Yes, but only for a visit," suggested her brother. But Maureen again shook her head. " That is only a thin end of the wedge," she observed, sadly. " Aunt Margaret does not like to propose out- right that one of her nieces should live with her, but I can read between the lines: one of us is to pay a long visit, which is to last as long as she and her young companion are mutually comfortable and happy." " Well, I call that a decent arrangement." " Oh, so do I, dear. And of course, as Aunt Mar- garet is so well off now, father will think it is for our benefit. Aunt Margaret would be sure to treat us well and give us things I mean, whichever one goes. I am not very lucid, I am afraid." " Girls never are ; hurry up, old girl." But Harold muttered to himself, " The fat's in the fire ; Aunt Peg's postcript has done the business." And Entre-nous drew a long breath which almost sounded like a sigh. n THE HOMESTEAD AND ITS MISTRESS We long for great events, for imposing duties. . . . We could make something of our life, we think, if only we had not such small, sordid cares and tasks. . . . We ask for heroic duties, but the duties that lie to our hand are heroic. The so- called heroic occasions are, after all, often easier, and therefore less heroic, than the common-place trials that daily tell the stuff of which we are made. HUGH BLACK. THE silence became slightly oppressive. Entre-nous was in a brown study, and Maureen dared not interrupt him. She had hurried up, according to order, but an uncomfortable little lump in her throat had checked her eloquence, and she now sat with her little brown hands clasped tightly together they were rather pretty, well- shaped hands in spite of their brownness and regarded her young guide and philosopher with wistful intensity. Harold was thinking hard. He had a little of the bull-dog tenacity in his temperament, and would not consent to let go his grip until forced by stern necessity to do so. He preferred to fight even a losing battle to the bitter finish. " Look here," he said so suddenly that Maureen jumped and Brat uttered one of his futile and puppyish barks, " I don't see in the least why Irene should not go. The mater's as young and fit as possible, and any of you girls could tackle the mending-basket." " None of us could ever take Irene's place," returned Maureen, dejectedly. " You have no idea the comfort she is to mother. If Irene were to go to Aunt Margaret, mother would give up her parochial work and stay at home, and she does so hate pottering over the house- keeping. Irene has just a genius for it. You know yourself, Harold, that when she's away even for a week or two, nothing seems to go right." 16 The Homestead and Its Mistress 17 Harold shrugged his shoulders. He remembered a certain disastrous evening during one of Irene's brief absences when he had brought home one of his Magdalen friends unexpectedly to dinner. Maureen, who was a very inexperienced housekeeper, had gone to her mother in despair; but Mrs. Brydon was busy, and a little put out by her son's carelessness. " It is too late to send out for anything now," she observed. " Harold must put up with fish and cold mutton. Your father will not mind." But alas for Maureen's peace of mind the fish would not go round, and the pudding was a failure. Harold's face was a study as the meal progressed; but he had the magna- nimity not to add to Maureen's humiliation by any reproaches. But he winced even now at the recollection. " Well, then, Sybil can be the family scapegoat," he said, doggedly. But it was evident that Maureen did not agree with him. " Of course Sybil is very nice and bright," she returned, " and Aunt Margaret would find her very com- panionable, but it would be sheer brutality to part her and Lois. Lois is not as strong as the rest of us, and she does so depend on Sybil, and Sybil is so good to her. I don't think they are apart for a single hour in the day. Don't you know, Aunt Margaret used to laugh and call them the love-birds ? " " Lois would get on all right if you were to take her in hand," he observed, firmly. " No, dear, I am afraid you are wrong," returned Maureen, gently. " Lois would fret herself ill, and Sybil would never have a moment's peace about her. If only Ivy were older, but I am afraid she is out of the question," and Harold nodded assent to this. " So there is no one but poor me," she continued with a sigh, " and oh dear, how I shall hate to go." Then Entre-nous gave her one of his nice looks. 2 18 The Sunny Side of the Hill " Don't worry," he said, kindly. " You must have a talk with the mater and Irene. The letter need not be answered for the next twenty-four hours, and father and I will have a palaver over our pipes to-night. Now I must get on with my work." Then Maureen rose stiffly and reluctantly to her feet ; the wind was cold and the seat was hard, and there was little warmth in the sunshine. " Yes, I will leave you in peace. Thank you, Harold dear, for being so nice to me. Very well, Brat, you had better come with me, for your master is busy." Maureen found her sister in the morning-room; at this hour Mrs. Brydon was generally out " parishing." It was also the smoking-room and boys' room; in fact, it was a sort of nondescript apartment, used for all man- ner of purposes. The Homestead had been built by Mr. Brydon's father, and after his death it had come into his son's possession. It was a low grey house, very prettily veiled by evergreen creeper, which hung like a deep fringe over the porch. A good many years before it had been enlarged to suit the requirements of an increas- ing family. An extensive lawn lay on one side of the house, with wide borders filled with old-fashioned flow- ers, and an arch, covered with a crimson rambler, led to the kitchen-garden, which was full of fruit trees. Sibthorpe was a quiet little suburb, and Allingham Road, where the Brydons lived, had an old-world air of seclusion. There was little traffic, and the houses were built round a tiny green, fenced off from the road and planted with shady trees. One or two seats, tempting to tired nursemaids, were placed for weary pedestrians. The young people were devoted to their home, but of late years Mrs. Brydon had been heard to say from time to time that one was apt to stagnate in a place like Sibthorpe. Mrs. Brydon had been a very handsome girl when she married the struggling young solicitor, Daniel The Homestead and Its Mistress 19 Brydon. An old friend of the family once assured her daughters that not one of them could hold a candle to their mother. " As though we ever should want to do such a thing," observed Ivy, pertly. When Anna Seldon announced her engagement, her friends looked at her in sheer astonishment. " I am marrying for love," she said quite frankly to one of them ; " I never could marry any one but Dan." But the friend had wisely held her peace. " What on earth could Anna see in that quiet little insignificant man," she thought, " and she such a beautiful girl too ! " Anna offered no explanation, but she certainly never repented her marriage. Nevertheless, as the years went on, it was evident to more than one keen observer that she was the typical round peg in a square hole. She did not exactly fit into her environment, though she would rather have died than own this even to herself. The fact was, she was a woman of strong character and great capacity. In a larger and wider sphere she could have ruled nobly, and been a leader and influence for good. At Sibthorpe her talents were wasted and her ambitions died a natural death. In her limited sphere she had no scope: her home, her children, and a little parish work were not sufficient for her restless energies. If her hus- band had been a rich man, if she could have mixed in different society, things might have been better for her; but the little suburban backwater wearied her sadly at times. Her acquaintances for she would not claim them as friends were not to her taste. They were mostly kind-hearted creatures, but their society bored her; her own critical and refined nature proved her worst enemy. " Margaret suits me better than any one," she would say to herself. Mrs. Brydon was not a demonstrative woman, and even with her husband and children she was rarely soft and caressing. Nevertheless, both her sons and her daughters were devoted to her; and when they were 20 The Sunny Side of the Hill ill or needed help, it was always the mother to whom they turned. The old friend whose remark had so incensed Ivy once said to her : " Do you know, you are a very brave woman, Anna, and you are a splendid actor too." And as she looked at him in surprised silence, " All these years you have succeeded in making your husband and children believe that you have not a wish ungratified in the world; but you and I know better"; and Sir Ralph Clinton threw back his grey head and laughed, but his laugh was very kindly. " After all, my dear, you would have done much better if you had married me-. If you remem- ber, I pointed this out to you more than once. Your lap would have been filled more richly with loaves and fishes." But Anna shook her head with a faint smile. Sir Ralph Clinton was an old and valued friend, and she never minded his odd speeches. He was a privi- leged person with her and her husband, and his wife, Lady Clinton, was also her friend. " I could not have brought myself to marry any one, but Dan," she said, softly ; " and, Ralph, dear old friend, you must not vex me by saying such a thing again. I am happier, far happier than I deserve to be." And at that moment Mrs. Brydon certainly meant what she said. Irene was in the morning-room, but the mending- basket was not beside her as usual. She was making blouses for the Tweenies, and as Maureen entered she held up one that she had just finished for her inspection. Needlework was a joy to Irene, and her dainty stitches were regarded by her sisters with awe ; even her darning and patches were works of art, and her smocking and embroidery left nothing to be desired. She was a fair, pretty-looking girl, but a certain staidness and gentle sedateness of manner made her seem older than she really was. Clive once told her that she was not a modern product The Homestead and Its Mistress 21 at all that she was Early Victorian to her finger-ends. " There is something of the Jane Austen sort of young lady about you, Pax/' he observed, quite seriously ; and Sybil, who had just finished Emma and Mansfield Park, clapped her hands delightedly. "How clever of you to find that out, Give; and it is so true too. If Irene would only wear sandalled shoes, and carry a satin bag, and have her waist under her arms, and dear little curls on her forehead, and a coal-scuttle of a bonnet lined with cabbage-roses, she would be quite perfect." But Irene only said calmly, " How can you waste your time talking such nonsense ! " And then, like Werter's Charlotte, she went on cutting bread and butter, another of her neat-handed accomplishments. "\Yhen Maureen had admired the blouse, Irene put out her hand and patted her arm in a comfortable sort of way. " How tired and worried you look, dear ; sit down and tell me all about it. I am afraid Aunt Mar- garet's letter is troubling you." And Maureen needed no further invitation. She poured out her perplexities while Irene went on with her sewing ; but it was evident that her attention was given to her sister, and as soon as Maureen paused, she put down her work again. " Oh, dear, what a pity it is that Aunt Margaret wants one of us to go to her; but it is only natural, as father says, and I can see that he thinks we can hardly refuse." " No, I suppose not " ; but Maureen spoke in a weary manner. Irene looked at her and hesitated a moment. " Maureen dear. I am sure you know me well enough not to think me selfish if I say that I do not believe that it is my duty to leave home." " You mean that mother cannot do without you ? Oh yes, I know that. I told Entre-nous so at once, but he would argue the point." 22 The Sunny Side of the Hill " That is because you are his favourite," returned Irene, who had not a grain of jealousy in her nature. She was quite content to be her mother's girl, and to know that she was absolutely necessary to her. She loved all her brothers and sisters, but perhaps Clive was her favorite. " Harold does not like the idea of parting with you. It is rather hard for him, poor fellow, now he is to be always at home." Maureen sighed. " He wanted Sybil to go, but I told him that it would be too cruel to separate her and Lois." " Oh, that would never do," returned Irene, quickly. "It would be very bad for Lois; she would just fret herself ill. She has been quite upset all the morning because father said jestingly that Sybil ought to go. I believe she thought he was in earnest, and Sybil has had such work with her." " Then I may as well put them out of their misery, for I knew as soon as I read the letter that I should be the one to go." There was an unusual sharpness in Maureen's voice, and such a troubled look in her eyes that Irene felt quite sad. They had quite a long talk after this, and Irene said so many nice comforting things that after a time Maureen took a more cheerful view of the situation. A little tact and sympathy will do wonders. When Irene praised her for her courage and unselfishness, Maureen felt as though she was really doing some fine and heroic thing which would earn the gratitude of her family. And then Irene was so sensible and practical. " Aunt Margaret only invites you for a long visit," she went on, " and of course you will come home from time to time, and I daresay she will often have one of us down to stay. Things may be much better than you expect, Maury dear, and you will have the satis- faction of knowing you are doing your duty." And when she had said this Irene kissed her affectionately, and told her that luncheon would be ready in five minutes. The Homestead and Its Mistress 23 The family were already gathered round the table when Mrs. Brydon entered. She still wore her hat, and had only divested herself of her warm jacket. This was her usual custom when she was " parishing," and no one took any notice. Sir Ralph Clinton was right, and Mrs. Brydon was certainly handsomer than any of her daughters, though there was rather a careworn expression at times on her face. " Mother has her tired look," one or other would say; but the fatigue was more mental than physical. She was somewhat careless in dress, but no shabbiness of attire seemed to detract from her dignity and self- possession. And under all circumstances she was a striking-looking woman. As Mrs. Brydon took her seat she glanced at the twins. " I hope your head has left off aching, Lois," she said quietly ; " you had better try and eat your luncheon." And Lois, who had been trifling with the contents of her plate, colored a little, as though her mother's bracing remark did not please her. " How is a person to eat when one is not hungry ? " she observed to Sybil in a whisper. " A person can always try their level best," returned Harold, who had sharp ears. " Mother, I hope you and Mrs. Reynolds . have not been fighting again " ; for it was well known in the neighborhood that Mrs. Brydon and the Vicar's wife did not always pull together. Mrs. Reynolds, who was a well-meaning but ex- tremely fussy person, was a little jealous of Mrs. Brydon's capabilities and clever management. It was a pain and grief to the good lady that the Vicar seemed to depend on her so much. It was all very well for Mrs. Brydon to defer to her in public, but in reality Mrs. Reynolds was a nonentity compared to her energetic col- league, and she was often unpleasantly aware of the fact. Even dense people have their feelings and can be sensi- tive on some points. Mrs. Brydon took no apparent notice of her son's 24 The Sunny Side of the Hill speech. She always ignored any remark or question which she did not care to answer. She preferred to keep her parochial troubles to herself. Mrs. Reynolds's helplessness and absurd jealousy threatened to be a seri- ous obstruction to her work. She had begged Mrs. Brydon with tears in her eyes to take the Mothers' Bible Class off her hands, as she was so frightfully overworked, but now Mrs. Reynolds seemed jealous of the increasing numbers. " In my time I could never get more than eighteen women," she said rather fretfully to her husband, " but Mrs. Brydon says she has thirty on the books, and she thinks one or two more are coming. It is very hard, George, for I used to take such pains with my lesson." But the Vicar only said a soothing word and went on with his paper. He was very fond of his homely little wife, who had plenty of household virtues to endear her to a husband's heart. She was an excellent wife and mother, but she was limited, and Mrs. Brydon was one of the cleverest women he knew. He had a great respect for her, and was deeply grateful for her help in the parish. It was a pity that Fanny seemed inclined to be jealous, but women often had these fancies. He was an earnest, hard-working man, and it would have been grievous to him if anything should mar the good work, but it was better to leave them to fight it out. " Fanny will come to her senses by and by," he said to himself as he went off to his study to consider his sermon for the following Sunday. Ill "YOU HAVE BEEN VERY GOOD ABOUT IT" Peace in this life springs from acquiescence even in disagree- able things, not in an exemption from bearing them. FENELON. It does no good to brood over our troubles ; it does not help matters out a bit. Be on the lookout for bright rays and you will certainly find them. ANON. THE Brydons taken as a whole were certainly a good- looking family; and in spite of Sir Ralph's disparaging remark, the young people grouped round the luncheon- table would have favourably impressed an onlooker. The twins, Lois and Sybil, who had just left their eighteenth birthday behind them, were tall graceful girls. Most people thought that Lois was decidedly pretty, her features were good and her colouring charming; but Sybil's bright eyes and animation made her almost equally attractive. Ivy, who was the youngest of the family, and who was alternately teased and spoiled by her brothers, was only fourteen. She had a clever, piquante little face. She had her mother's dark eyes and a mass of fair hair, tied up loosely with black ribbon. It was Ninian's delight to untie this on every possible occasion, to Ivy's intense indignation, and unless Mrs. Brydon were present a battle-royal would ensue. When luncheon was over, Maureen, who had been very quiet and subdued during the meal, looked at her mother rather appealingly. " Are you too busy to talk to me now, mother ? " Then Mrs. Brydon smiled and shook her head. " No, dear, I am only going up to my room ; you can come with me if you like, I shall be rather glad of a rest." Then Maureen followed her upstairs. 25 26 The Sunny Side of the Hill Mrs. Brydon's room was over the drawing-room; it was a large pleasant room, with a wide window over- looking the little green and a side window with a view of the garden. These two rooms and a bathroom and dressing-room had been added some years previously. Mrs. Brydon took off her hat and smoothed her hair without looking at herself in the glass; then she sat down on a wide roomy couch which stood at the foot of the bed, and invited Maureen with a gesture to take the opposite corner. " Will you let me have your Aunt Margaret's letter," she said, quietly, before the girl could open her lips ; " I want to read it again." And Maureen silently handed it to her. She read it slowly from beginning to end, folded it up again, and replaced it in the envelope. " I will give it back to your father this evening," was all she said. " Mother, I do wish you would tell me exactly what you really think about the letter," burst out Maureen. " I have been talking to Harold and Irene, and thought I think we all agree, and have come to the same conclusion, yet I would rather have your opinion first." But Mrs. Brydon hesitated. " When your father read the letter, he said at once that one of you ought to go to Aunt Margaret; and though I do not want to part with any of my girls, I think he is right. He has always so disliked the idea of her living alone." " But she is not young, mother. I should think Aunt Margaret must be nearly fifty." " No, she is only forty-seven ; she is four or five years younger than your father. But we were not con- sidering her age, Maureen; even at fifty an unmarried woman can be lonely." " Oh, yes, of course. Not that I should think Aunt Margaret would ever be dull, she has so many resources." " True, my dear ; but, as you see, she is very anxious "You Have Been Very Good About It" 27 to find a companion. But we need not go into that now. Your father thinks that one of you ought to go, at least for a time, and the question is who ? " Mrs. Brydon paused ; it seemed difficult for her to go on. She was afraid of hurting Maureen's feelings, and yet she could only speak the truth. " I don't see how we are to spare Irene," she went on. " She is my right hand, and we should all be lost without her. You don't think we ought to let her go, do you, Maureen ? " in an anxious voice. " Of course not ; Irene cannot be spared," returned Maureen, hastily ; " she is far too useful to you and father and the boys, and she would hate to leave home." For she knew well Irene was the mother's girl, on whom she depended for help and comfort. Irene had a con- tented nature, and she fitted into her home niche very comfortably. She had no yearnings for a wider scope and broader horizons: the daily task, the trivial round, the little inexpensive pleasures which fell to her lot quite satisfied her. Mrs. Brydon often envied the girl; Irene's tranquil, peaceful nature was such a contrast to her mother's secret discontent and restlessness. But, unknown to both of them, Irene had from her very childhood exer- cised a calming influence on her mother. " I do not see how I could spare her," echoed Mrs. Brydon, in a troubled tone ; " and though some one sug- gested Sybil, I do not think we ought to separate her and Lois. Lois is not strong, and she is never happy without Sybil." " Oh, no. Please do not say any more, mother ; of course I know that I am the only one who can go to Aunt Margaret." " I am afraid so, dear," returned Mrs. Brydon gently, and her eyes were full of maternal solicitude. " I think from her postcript that you are the one she really wants. ' If Maureen ! ' Oh yes, even your father thought that." 28 The Sunny Side of the Hill " Yes, and father evidently thinks I am the one to go," returned Maureen, with an effort. The lump had come, back into her throat and her voice was rather husky. " No, my dear, he never said so. As far as I can remember, he looked at Sybil when he said one of the girls ought to go. Your father will not like losing you, Maureen, neither shall I " ; and there was such unwonted softness in her mother's tone that Maureen gave her hand a little squeeze. She was on the brink of tears, only she knew* her mother's dislike to a scene. She had reproved Lois more than once quite sharply for her want of self-control. " If you are unhappy," she observed once, " there is nO ( need to make the rest of the family uncomfortable. You are too emotional, my child. If you have not learnt self-restraint, you have not mastered one of the first lessons of life." But Lois had thought her mother very severe and unsympathetic, and had gone to Sybil for consolation. But though Mrs. Brydon could be bracing at times with her daughters, she certainly practised what she preached. She was not in the least blind to the painful effort Maureen was making to keep the tears from her eyes ; on the contrary, she secretly admired the girl for her pluck, and her mother's nature yearned to comfort her and to make things easier for her. " I have made up my mind to go, mother," continued Maureen presently ; " Harold and Irene are both sorry, but they think it is right." " I am sorry too," returned her mother, with a sigh ; "you know that, do you not, Maureen? But, my child, you are rather impulsive; there is no need to decide things in such a hurry ; to-morrow, or even the next day, would be soon enough to answer the letter." But Maureen shook her head vehemently at this. " No, I have quite decided, mother. What is the use of prolonging the agony and making every one uncom- fortable? If some one must go to Aunt Margaret, I must be that some one." " Very well, we will consider it settled then," returned Mrs. Brydon, with rather a sad smile. But Maureen broke in eagerly: '' And and I mean to make the best of it ; there is no good being half-hearted about things. I am very fond of Aunt Margaret, and I ought to feel flattered by her wanting me; and if it were not for leaving you all, and Entre-nous just settled at home " And here one small tear was furtively brushed away. But Mrs. Brydon wisely took no notice. " There is nothing like looking on the bright side of things, Maureen," she observed, encouragingly. " You are only going on a visit a long visit perhaps but that will depend largely on yourself and Aunt Margaret. If you like your life at Branksmere, you may be quite con- tent to prolong your stay indefinitely. 'Nothing need be settled beforehand ; you are a free agent, and no one will blame you if you throw it all up in a fit of home-sick- ness." Mrs. Brydon was quite aware as she said this that nothing would be more unlikely. Maureen had too much backbone, too high a sense of duty, to desert her post for any inadequate reason. As she and Entre-nous often said to each other, " It is dogged that does it." " Oh, I don't mean to do anything so ridiculous," she returned, in answer to this remark. " Of course, if any of you are ill and need me, Aunt Margaret would be the first to advise me to come home." "Yes; and although the journey is a little trouble- some, Branksmere is not so very far from London, and there are three posts daily. It is not as though you were going to Australia." Maureen smiled; then she tried bravely to follow her mother's lead. " I daresay I shall like it when I get used to it," she observed, with an attempt at cheerfulness. " Irene thinks that Aunt Margaret will be sure to have her or the twins down for a week or two occasionally, or one of 30 ,The Sunny Side of the HiU them might even take my place for a time while I came home." " I have not a doubt of it," returned Mrs. Brydon, briskly. " Now, my dear, as we have had our talk, I think I must send you away, for I have two or three letters to write before tea." And then, as Maureen kissed her, she put her hand caressingly on the girl's shoulder. " Cheer up, dear ; you have been very good about it, and I shall not be a bit surprised to hear that you and Aunt Margaret are quite happy together." " I am sure I hope so, mother." But Maureen's face was still grave as she went out of the room. Her mother had been nice and comforting, and her manner had told her plainly that she was pleased with her. Mrs. Brydon very rarely praised any of her daughters, and those few words, " You have been very good about it," conveyed a good deal to Maureen's ears. " I am glad I was not really silly," she thought, as she closed the door. Maureen had hoped to take refuge in her own room. She slept in a small front room opening out of the larger one occupied by the twins. The door of communication was generally closed, unless by mutual consent, but on this afternoon it was wide open, and the Tweenies in their hats and jackets were evidently lying in wait for her. " Oh, Maureen, what an age you have been ! " ex- claimed Sybil, anxiously. " Have you settled things with mother? Lois has been worrying herself for the last half-hour, and of course her head is bad again." " Oh yes, it is all settled," returned Maureen, rather shortly. " You need not worry, Lois ; I told mother that I would go to Aunt Margaret." Then the Tweenies simultaneously embraced her, and there was a sisterly peck on either cheek. " Oh, I am so glad ! I mean, I am so glad that Sybil will not have to go," observed Lois in a tone of rapture. " You are just splendid, Maury dear, and Sybil "You Have Been Very Good About It'* 31 and I are nearly bursting- with gratitude; and you are a perfect darling is she not, Syb ? " " Oh, that's all right," returned Maureen, good- humoredly. " I am glad that you are glad, and all that sort of thing." " But we aren't a bit glad that you are going, Maury. We would sooner lose Irene than you. Sybil and I were saying so just now." ;< Then you were both very silly, Lois. If Irene went you would soon retract your words. But don't let me keep you, you are both going out." " Yes, but we could not go until we knew what was settled. Won't you come with us, Maury darling? " and Lois spoke in her most coaxing fashion. " We are going for a long walk over the common, and it would be so nice to have you with us." But Maureen was not to be tempted. " No, thank you ; two are company and three none. Irene is going to work hard at her blouses, and I shall join her by and by." " Come, Lois, we are losing the best part of the afternoon," observed Sybil, impatiently. But Maureen's heart misgave her as they ran down- stairs. " Poor little souls," she thought, remorsefully, " I am afraid they did not find me very responsive ; but sometimes it strikes me that her love for Sybil makes Lois just a little selfish, though she would be horrified if any one told her so." Maureen had a pleasant consciousness that afternoon that her self-sacrifice had lifted her into the position of a family heroine. Every one seemed occupied with her. She had hardly settled down to her work before Entre- nous limped in and ensconced himself with his books and blotting-pad on the couch. " You can go on talking, it won't disturb me," he said benevolently; but to his sister's surprise he soon joined in the conversation. It was really wonderful the comforting things that 32 The Sunny Side of the Hill he and Irene found to say. They simply ignored the dark side, and only drew a pleasant and lively picture of the life at Branksmere ; and they annotated each other's remarks, following up each cheerful suggestion with another still more consolatory, till Maureen felt several degrees happier. " I think it is so nice to feel that some one depends on you," remarked Irene, softly. " I always knew that you were Aunt Margaret's favourite, though she tried .so hard to hide it; and of course after this you will seem to belong specially to her." " Oh, they will be hand in glove," observed Entre- nous, who was drawing devils on the margin of his paper by way of improving the shining hours. " Hold hard a moment, I have got such a splendid old Beelzebub, and I want to touch him up. What was I saying? Oh yes, that you and Aunt Peggy will be bosom friends. She is rather a superior sort of old girl, you know, or the governor would not be so proud of her." " Oh, Harold, please do not call him the governor," and Irene looked quite distressed; she was really so touchingly Early Victorian. " But he does not often say it, dear " ; for Maureen never liked her brother to be blamed. " Old Pax is right," returned Entre-nous, regarding his favourite demon with great satisfaction. " I say, Chiffons, you had better make hay while the sun shines. Aunt Peg is a woman- of property now, and if you get into her good graces " But Maureen interrupted him quite indignantly. " I wish you would not be so absurd, dear. Don't let him talk in that ridiculous fashion, Irene. Aunt Mar- garet's property is nothing to me ; though I don't believe she is really so rich after all." " Oh dear, no," returned Irene ; " but she is very comfortably off. Father often says so, and calls her a lucky woman." " Well, it was an unexpected fluke Mrs. Rayner "You Have Been Very Good About It" 33 leaving her the house and all that money," observed Harold, in quite a serious tone. " Aunt Peggy told me herself that, though the old lady had taken such a fancy to her, and shown her so much kindness in her lifetime, she never expected her to leave her anything except a hundred pounds, or so, and that she almost jumped out of her chair when the lawyer told her." " Yes, I remember," laughed Irene. " Aunt Mar- garet was quite melodramatic about it; but it was really very nice of the dear old lady." " But she had really no one belonging to her, Irene ; her children were dead." " Yes, the invalid daughter died a year or two after Aunt Margaret went to Branksmere. She was such a comfort to Mrs. Rayner at that time. You see she was with her eighteen years, and they were almost like mother and daughter, and Aunt Margaret always seemed so happy with her." " If only Mrs. Rayner could have got over her dis- like to visitors, at least to people staying in the house," returned Maureen. " You know, Irene, during all those years we only stayed once at the Garden House, and we did not half enjoy it. Aunt Margaret always seemed so afraid of our talking too much and tiring Mrs. Rayner. I think, after all, Aunt Margaret must have had rather a dull sort of life;" and Entre-nous's em- phatic " Rather " endorsed this remark. In her family's opinion Margaret Brydon had done rather a fine thing in refusing to be a burden on her' brother's benevolence and in asserting her intention of working for her own livelihood. The couple of thousand pounds which was all her father could leave her only brought in about seventy or eighty pounds a year. Mr. Brydon the elder had died a comparatively poor man. Owing to unfortunate speculation, he had lost the greater part of his life's savings, and during his latter years he had drawn largely from his capital. Daniel Brydon, who was devoted to his sister, had 8 34 The Sunny Side of the Hill pressed her most earnestly to continue to live at the Homestead. " It has always been your home," he said, " and you will have sufficient money for your own wants. Anna is very anxious that you should come; you have always been such good friends, Peggy." But Margaret shook her head. " No, dear ; no, my dear brother. I am very grateful to you and Anna, too, but I will not be a burden on my own folk as long as I have health and strength to work. I already have a niche offered to me, and I have made up my mind to try it." And when Margaret spoke in that tone Daniel knew well that nothing would turn her from her purpose. " Have your own way, Peg," he said, a little sadly. And Margaret took it, and if her life for the next few years was dull and uneventful, she certainly never com- plained of it or of her environment. IV MARGARET BRYDON His life-work may be a failure from human standpoints, even from his own; and yet an invisible something has been added by him to the priceless stock of human work and fidelity. This general truth is a consolation to lift us over many a stage of broken and disappointed hope. L. L. ELIOT. AFTER the first, Daniel Brydon grew mo^e reconciled to his sister's stoical determination to work for her own maintenance, and in his secret heart he applauded her for her sturdy independence. As his children grew up and his expenses increased, he owned more than once to himself that Margaret had done a wise thing; and as she seemed perfectly content with her life, and had become much attached to Mrs. Rayner, who, indeed, after her daughter's death treated her like her own- child, there was certainly no room for regret. Margaret spent all her holidays at the Homestead, and was much appreciated by her nephews and' nieces ; but from the first she had shown a decided preference for Maureen, whose breezy, sunshiny nature seemed to attract her, and she had more than once deplored to her brother that she could not have Maureen more with her on account of Mrs. Rayner's infirmities and failing health. When, after eighteen years of faithful devotion on the one side and clinging affection on the other, Mrs. Rayner's suffering life was ended, her friends and neigh- bours were not greatly surprised to find that she had left her house and a comfortable income to her companion. Mrs. Rayner wronged no one, they said ; she had every right to dispose of her money as she liked. Her children were dead, and her only surviving relatives were some distant cousins in America well-to-do people 55 36 The Sunny Side of the Hill who needed no money, and Daniel Brydon was the first to point this out to Margaret. The income was strictly settled on her for her own- use, and during her lifetime she was forbidden to share or divide it. Daniel smiled -quietly to himself as he read the clause. Margaret was also prohibited from selling the house. But when she expressed her regret that she was unable to do as she liked with the money, her brother refused to endorse it. " I could have helped Clive to go to Oxford," she had said seriously to him ; " there were so many things that I could have done for you and the boys. But Mr. Torrance tells me that I shall only have enough to keep up the house and garden as dear Mrs. Rayner liked to see them " ; and it was evident that this was a matter of strong regret to Margaret, for she had a generous nature, and would have loved to share her good things with her brother's family. Margaret Brydon had never been good-looking even in her youth, and Anna had more than once told her laughingly that she was cut out for an old maid; but it was also true that, though she had no beauty of feature, there was a charm and atmosphere about her that made her attractive to some men. After Margaret had been a year or two at Branks- mere, a little bird had brought certain vague reports to the Homestead which Daniel pooh-poohed, but to which Anna listened rather greedily. A certain Mr. Torrance, a solicitor in fair practice, and highly esteemed by his friends and clients, was un- doubtedly paying attention to Mrs. Rayner's companion. Mr. Torrance made business a pretext for going frequently to the Garden House. He often met Miss Brydon in the village a not impossible circumstance, as the windows of his house looked out on the High Street and Church Road and he would walk with her to her own door. But at this point Daniel had refused to hear more. Margaret Brydon 37 " How could you listen to that women, Anna ? " he said, rather irritably ; " every one knows Mrs. O'Brien is a gossip, and she is rarely accurate in her statements. How disgusted Margaret would be if she heard of the rubbish with which Mrs. O'Brien was regaling our ears this morning." But Anna only smiled at her husband's reproof. " I only hope it is true," she said softly. " Margaret would make such a lovely wife, if she only cared for some one." But Daniel made no answer to this. Anna said no more on the subject, but for a month or two she awaited Margaret's weekly letters with con- cealed eagerness; but when Daniel handed them for her perusal there was no special news to electrify the family with evidently nothing had happened. Then Margaret came for a long visit, and Anna felt mpre mystified than ever. Margaret was not exactly uncheerful, but she was thinner and certainly graver in manner. Even in those six months she had grown older and more staid. " There has been something," Anna said to herself that first night, " but we shall never know anything more about it ; Margaret is not the woman to talk about her troubles." And Mrs. Brydon was right. Something had happened, certainly one of those vague, shadowy happenings which glide ghost-like across some women's lives, and rob them of their dearest hopes and illusions, and for which the poor souls are hardly to blame. " Any one could have made the mistake," thought Margaret, but she spoke in humility, not bitterness ; and, after all, it was the man who was in fault. At one time Henry Torrance had really believed himself in love with Margaret. She was not handsome, but her society was pleasant to him, and it pleased and soothed his masculine vanity to see how she brightened up at his appearance, and how kindly her eyes welcomed him. Margaret had beautiful eyes; they were of a clear 38 The Sunny Side of the Hill hazel and very soft and full of expression, and perhaps Margaret herself hardly knew how eloquent they could become. How did it all happen ? How do such things happen ? A few impulsive words on the man's side, meant at the moment and quite sincere ; an interrupted conversation that was becoming decidedly critical; then the business call to London, and the accident which detained Henry Torrance for so many weeks in a nursing home. Was it the man's fault or Margaret's misfortune that the nurse who waited upon him had one of the loveliest faces he had ever seen in his life, and a gentle, refined manner that told him that she was a gentle- woman? Was it the irony of fate that Henry Torrance should be laid there in his helplessness, unable to free himself from his own toils? Poor Margaret! " I never said anything definite," he muttered to him- self, as he tossed restlessly on his pillows, unable to sleep for pain. " We were always good friends ; she knew I liked to talk to her, she is so bright and intelli- gent; but I never told her outright that I loved her." : ' Five minutes more and you would have asked her to be your wife," whispered the inexorable voice of con- science ; " and if you did not tell her outright that you loved her, you assuredly made her believe that you did " and Henry Torrance groaned afresh. " I like her still, but I cannot marry her now; I cannot I dare not," he went on. " If I marry any one it will not be Margaret." And Henry Torrance kept his word. A few months later, Daniel handed his wife the morn- ing paper that he had been reading, and pointed silently to the paragraph which had attracted his attention. TORRANCE STEELE. On September 5, at St. Jude's, South- sea, by the Rev. Walter Keeley, Henry Lionel Torrance, only son of the late Richard Torrance, of the Old Grey House, Branksmere, to Esther, the only child of the late Major Steele, Royal Army Medical Corps. 39 Two years later there was another announcement: On October 3, at the Old Grey House, Branksmere, Esther, the beloved wife of Henry Torrance, aged twenty-seven. And the following day the death of an infant daughter was also recorded. Poor Henry Torrance with his short-lived happiness ! Esther, with her Madonna-like beauty and gentle ways his Fleur-de-Lys, as her husband had fondly called her lay in her quiet grave in St. Cyprian's churchyard, with her new-born baby at her breast, and the Old Grey House was a house of mourning. Mrs. Brydon had never changed her opinion, and as time went on she was still more convinced that the blighting influence which had robbed Margaret of her secret hopes had not left her unscathed. In spite of her apparent cheerfulness, her sister-in-law's affectionate solicitude often detected a strained, weary look when she thought herself unobserved, and now and then a furtive sigh followed the laugh which was hardly as clear and ringing as usual. But Anna never hinted this to Daniel : it would have pained him too much to think all was not right with his dear Peggy. When Henry Torrance became a widower, certain vague hopes stirred in Anna's mind. Men often con- soled themselves. The greater their past wedded bliss, the more unbearable their present loneliness. But she kept these thoughts to herself. But nearly fourteen years had passed since then, and as far as she could find out, Henry showed no inclina- tion to take to himself another wife. Margaret often mentioned him in her letters. He came frequently to the Garden House, and they seemed excellent friends. " Mr. Torrence seems our only visitor," she wrote once, " for Mrs. Rayner never invites any one now ; people seem to tire her so. But I do not think Mr. Torrance is ever in the way, and she does so depend on him for everything." 40 The Sunny Side of the Hill By and by, when the Rayners' grim old vault was opened to receive its last descendant, Margaret seemed to see almost as much of Mr. Torrance. " I really don't know what I should do without him," she wrote one day about two months after Mrs. Rayner's death. " There are so many troublesome little business complications which I do not in the least understand; but Mr. Torrance is so kind, and takes such trouble in explaining things to my limited comprehension." After this there were frequent allusions to him. " Mr. Torrance thinks I ought to keep on old Giles," she wrote, " though he is really not quite up to his work. He does so forget tilings. I tell him his head is like a sieve; and he only nods assent and grins and shows his tooth- less old gums. When I pointed out to him the disgrace- ful condition of the path down by the herbaceous border, which dear Mrs. Rayner used to call her Madeira Walk, because the high wall sheltered it so, and which, owing to his carelessness, is quite green with weeds, and more like a duck-pond than a garden path, he just scratched his old head and muttered, ' Drat them old weeds ! ' But I think, don't you, Dan, that some one else ought to be dratted? I hope that is not a very naughty word, dear, but I never could make out what it meant; to me it is just a slum word and nothing more. Well, I sup- pose Mr. Torrance is right, and it would not do to turn off an old servant; so Giles must daunder through his day's duties, and I must get some strong young fellow to help him." Mrs. Brydon seldom made any comment on these letters ; she merely said once that Margaret was evi- dently recovering her spirits, and that when she had put her affairs in order she must pay them a long visit. For Margaret had felt the loss of her old friend keenly. Eighteen years of companionship had drawn them closely together, and Mrs. Rayner had told Henry Torrance the very night before her death that she had blessed the hour that Margaret Brydon had come to her. " I Margaret Brydon 41 expect Margaret would endorse this," he thought, as he remembered certain clauses of Mrs. Rayner's will. Mrs. Brydon wondered sometimes if Margaret had forgotten her old trouble, whatever it might have been. She thought the position a little strange. But in reality it was all perfectly simple. Margaret, if she had chosen, could have explained the whole in a very few words. She had not forgotten she never would forget but at the same time there was nothing to remember. A mistake, a misapprehension can hardly be definitely defined. Fate, or rather Providence for Margaret objected to the heathenish word had ordained, and doubtless for wise purposes, that the love her nature specially craved should be denied her. But was that any reason why she should whine and complain like a fretful child deprived of some coveted treasure? If she could not have the best, she must try and content herself with the other good things which re- mained to her. If Henry Torrance's love was denied her, she could be sure of his friendship. Margaret was a woman intensely capable of friendship, she had a sort of genius for it ; and, contrary to most people, she some- how contrived to eliminate little feminine vanities and jealousies, and to free it from any embarrassing adjuncts. In other and plainer words, she could be a man's good comrade and never treat him to little sentimental side- shows ; it was not her nature to pose, and she had too much dignity to dress for any part but her own. If in her faithful heart she still retained some special tenderness for Henry Torrance, certainly no one, not even he himself, guessed it. Her cordial welcome, bright sympathy, and undisguised pleasure in his society never gave him any such suspicion. Now and then he told himself vaguely that Margaret was very good to him, and that, on the whole, he was happier than he ever expected to be. He still cherished the memory of his beautiful young 142 The Sunny Side of the Hill wife, and the idea of giving the Old Grey House another mistress never seriously entered his head. He had grown used to his quiet ways, and was a little precise and methodical in his arrangements. His excellent cook- housekeeper made him sufficiently comfortable. " Joanna is a treasure," he would say sometimes to Margaret. " We have our treasures in earthen vessels," she remarked once, when he had made this observation more solemnly than usual. " Joanna is a good woman, but she is not perfect, and you must put your foot down firmly if she gives you boiled mutton quite so often; and if you like you can tell her that I said so " which speech most certainly proved that Margaret was on very friendly terms with the family adviser. V "A FEMALE CURTIUS" I am not bound to make the world go right, But only to discover and to do, With cheerful heart, the work that God appoints. JEAN INGELOW. God sends great angels in our sore dismay, But little ones go in and out all day. F. LANGBRIDGE. THE letter which had made such a sensation in the family circle had been expected by the heads of the house for months. Margaret had hinted more than once during her flying visits to the Homestead that she would soon be glad to have one of her nieces to keep her company, and Mrs. Brydon had several times expressed her surprise to her husband that Margaret had said no more on the subject. But Margaret, who seldom acted as other people expected, was only biding her time. She felt the loss of her dear old friend acutely, and for the first few months after Mrs. Rayner's death she preferred her own company. She was extremely busy, as the Garden House was old and some structural re- pairs were necessary. The little stable and coach-house, where Margaret's pony and governess cart were housed, were sadly dilapidated, and the house itself required painting and repapering. During the latter years of her life Mrs. Rayner had disliked the sight of a work- man, and in consequence things were in a bad state. Under these circumstances, Margaret preferred to be alone. But she spent a few days now and then at the Homestead, and pleased herself by taking out her nieces on shopping expeditions, and choosing smart hats and jackets for them. On these occasions she was strictly 43 44 The Sunny Side of the Hill impartial, and Ivy, for whom she cared least, had her full share of Aunt Margaret's bounties. During the earlier part of their married life the Bry- don's dinner-hour had been the signal for the children to retire upstairs; but as they grew older, first one and then another joined their parents, and at last even Ivy took her place beside her father. And as Daniel Brydon looked at the bright young faces surrounding him, he often thought it was the most enjoyable meal of the day. And " the dinner of herbs," as he would term it some- times, was more palatable to him that a city feast. There were certainly few luxuries at the Homestead, for the housekeeping purse was somewhat limited, and youthful appetites had to be largely satisfied; but, thanks to Irene's excellent management, the simple meal was always well cooked and appetising; and as Mr. Brydon was no epicure, and was always more ready to praise than to blame, there was very little grumbling to be heard at the dinner-table. Sometimes Lois, who was rather fanciful, would beg her father not to help her so largely. Then Daniel Brydon would lay down his carving knife and fork and look at her in sorrowful reproval. "You are taking away my appetite, Lois," he ob- served once. " How is a man to enjoy the good food that Providence sends him if he sees his child unable to eat? Anna, my love, if this goes on we must have Dr. Evans round a stitch in time, you know." Then Lois, crimson with annoyance under this banter, and secretly jogged by Sybil's elbow, would set herself to demolish the viands on her plate. To do Daniel Brydon justice, he always carved for Lois miore carefully than for the rest of the family. People always called Daniel Brydon an insignificant little man, and they would often add that he was a great contrast to his handsome wife. He was certainly rather short in stature, but he had a well-bred air and a certain alert ease of carriage which redeemed him from insignifi- "A Female Curtius" 45 cance. His face was thin and sallow like Margaret's, but his mouth was distinctly good, and there was a look of power about his brow and the quiet grey eyes which could read people so accurately, and which seldom let anything escape them. Nervous, fussy clients found themselves mastered and soothed in a most incomprehensible way. A few words, a question or two had somehow done the business. One irate spinster, soured by contact with an un- appreciative world, had called once at Mr. Brydon's office for some alterations to be made in her will. She was so brimming over with excitement and the desire for revenge that she was slightly incoherent, and Mr. Bry- don stopped her with a quiet gesture. " If you please, we will take one thing at a time, Miss Beckwith. Will you kindly give me the Christian name of the cousin you are desirous to strike out of your will ? " And the woman, who was absolutely shak- ing with suppressed rage, pulled herself together and answered him like a reasonable person. Somehow, before the conversation was ended, Miss Beckwith was persuaded to let things stand for a while. " You have only to wire and I will come down any time and settle the business for you," observed Mr. Brydon, as he shook hands cordially with her. " I expect your cousin will apologise, and then you will be glad you took my advice." Poor Miss Beckwith never sent for her solicitor; neither did she live many months after that little episode. The cousin, who was poor and proud, regretted bitterly that he and Rachel had parted bad friends. " I wish I had made it up with her, and told her I never really meant what I said," he thought, remorsefully, as he went back to his home a richer and a sadder man. For unmerited blessings sometimes bruise as well as heal, and Claude Beckwith would have given much to remember that he had made a lonely woman's life happier. 46 The Sunny Side of the Hill When Daniel Brydon let himself into his house with his latch-key that evening, he found Maureen lying in wait for him, and his eyes brightened. If Irene was her mother's girl, Maureen was her father's, and she herself was pleasantly aware of this fact. " Maureen and I are famous chums," he said once, when she was a mere child. " Oh, yes, we are nice and chummy," answered the small girl, with great seriousness. " Where is your mother ? " he asked, as Maureen put up her face to be kissed, a habit she had retained from childhood; for Daniel always looked round for his wife at once. " I am afraid I hindered mother this afternoon," returned Maureen, " and she had so many letters to write that she has only just finished now and gone upstairs to dress. Dinner will be a little later this evening, father, for something has gone wrong with the oven and Mar- tin is so cross. Martin is always cross when accidents happen." " So are many people, my dear." And then Maureen ushered him into the morning-room, which Irene had left so trim and tidy. Harold and the twins were in the drawing-room, and she wanted to have her father to herself for a few minutes rather a difficult thing to achieve when Ninian and Ivy were always rushing in and spoiling sport. Mr. Brydon was quite willing to be detained for a few minutes before he went upstairs to his dressing- room ; he was tired, and had had rather a worrying day. He threw himself into the easy-chair with an air of relief, and Maureen planted herself on one of the sub- stantial arms. But her first remark was rather irrelevant. " Dad, do you know you are getting bald ? There is actually a little bare place the size of half-a-crown " ; and Maureen laid a gentle finger on the spot. " I daresay," returned Mr. Brydon, placidly. " Jessop was saying so only yesterday when he was cutting my "A Female Curtius" 47[ hair. I am nearly fifty-two; please remember that, young lady." " Oh, but I don't want you to get bald," returned Maureen, playfully, but she was serious, too. " Some- how, I can never imagine you and mother being really old. I know mother will be a handsome, stately old lady, but " " Yes, and I shall be a dried-up, withered old chap," returned Mr. Brydon. " No fear of my getting fat. But here we are chattering nonsense, and I want to know if you and your mother have settled anything with regard to your Aunt Margaret's letter." Mr. Bry- don never beat about the bush : he asked a straight ques- tion and expected a straight answer. " Oh yes," observed Maureen, with a sigh of self- pity, " we have all of us been talking hard nearly all day. Of course we settled that I was the one to go to Aunt Margaret. I think that was a foregone con- clusion from the first. No one else seemed ready to go, and we think Aunt Margaret wanted me." " There is no doubt of that," returned Mr. Brydon. During the day he had more than once chuckled in- wardly at the remembrance of Peggy's masterly post- script. " Well, my dear, I think you have decided quite rightly. It is rather unselfish of me to say so, for I shall miss you terribly; but I cannot help thinking it will be for your benefit in the long run." " I don't know why you should say that, father ; I could never be so happy anywhere as I am at home." " That is good hearing, Maureen." " But it is the truth," she returned, earnestly, in her sincere young voice ; " I could never want to leave you and mother and Harold." Then Mr. Brydon patted the little brown hand very kindly. His nature was more demonstrative than his wife's, and at certain moments he was capable of great softness with her and his children. " That makes me all the more proud of a certain 48 The Sunny Side of the Hill brave little woman," was the reply. And then he con- tinued more gravely : " I see you are making a real sacrifice, Maureen, and that you have no wish to leave home; but I cannot help being glad that you have made up your mind to do this thing, because I feel that we all owe a duty to your Aunt Margaret. I do not think a lonely life suits her. She is a large-hearted woman, and I am quite sure that she will be very grateful to you for the sacrifice you are making, and that she will do everything in her power to make you happy." " I told mother that I knew that you would wish me to go," returned Maureen, looking up into her father's face rather wistfully, " and I am doing it for all your sakes." '"' Then for all our sakes I thank you, darling," he said, kissing her with unusual affection. " Now I must really go." And Maureen smiled and nodded. His words had strengthened and comforted her. Both her parents were pleased with her, but her father had said the most. He had called her " a brave little woman " and *' darling," and had told her that she was making a real sacrifice; and when Maureen was praised by any one she loved, it was pathetic to see how she strove to live up to that person's good opinion. " To be a heroine one must live like one," she had observed once to her Aunt Margaret, and Margaret had replied a little drily that she never could imagine how a heroine felt. " It is quite clear that I shall never be one myself," she ob- served, " and I don't think that you will be one either, Maury dear " which was slightly crushing to her young hearer. Maureen was not quite sure that she entirely en- dorsed this remark. Certainly on that eventful evening she felt as though she were first cousin once removed to a heroine, for why was she such an object of interest to the whole family, and why did every one make so much of her? "A Female Curtius" 49 " They think I am doing rather a fine thing-," thought Maureen, with modest pride ; for her bump of self- esteem was well developed, and it was a melancholy satisfaction to see for herself how the family circle would miss her. " I think I should like to watch my own funeral," she observed once to her Aunt Margaret; but Margaret had quite shuddered at the idea. " How can you say or even think such a thing ! " she returned, in a shocked voice. " I could not imagine anything more terrible. To see one's dearest friends grieving and breaking their hearts with sorrow and not to be able to comfort them, or to whisper in their ears that all is well with us, and all the time the clods of earth are falling on our coffin. Oh, Maureen, you can- not mean it ? " And she was right. Maureen did not always care to be brought to book for her odd speeches. Even Ninian left off teasing Ivy, and paid Maureen some attention that evening. That lout of a boy, as his brothers called him, seemed bent on making himself agreeable. Ninian was only sixteen, but he was already taller than Harold. He was a fair-haired, blue-eyed young giant who had not yet learned to manage his own limbs, but he promised to be a fine-looking fellow in time. He went to St. Paul's School, but his devotion to cricket and football was greater than his love of study. With- out being a dunce, he was far from brilliant, and there was not a remote chance of his ever gaining a scholarship. " He is rightly named Ninny," Harold remarked once with a brother's brutal frankness ; " he will never score anything except ''n the playground. I don't know what the governor will do with him." But Ninian only grinned in his good-humoured, stolid way. " He had better send me to Canada," was his reply. Two or three of our fellows are going this autumn. Feel this muscle, old fellow," and Ninian bared his arm; 4 ' 50 The Sunny Side of the Hill "that would fell a tree rather. You tell dad that I am just the chap for a ranch. I am not going into any beastly old office, not if I know it." And Ninian, in a slightly cracked voice, began singing a verse of Irene's last new song in such a discordant and ear- piercing manner that the whole family rose up bodily and jeered him out of the room. Maureen played ping-pong with Ninian, and Ivy and the Tweenies watched them ; but Maureen, who hated the game, and often remarked that she wished it had never been invented, was secretly thankful when the evening came to an end. " I am tired," she said, a little shortly, as she closed the door of communication between her room and the twins, " and I mean to hurry to bed." But this remark was intended for Lois's ears. Lois loved to dawdle and chatter in an aimless way with any sister who chose to indulge her. Maureen had carried herself bravely all the evening, but when she had turned off the gas and jumped into bed, she drew the clothes up as far as they would go, and had a real comfortable little cry. She felt she had earned the luxury; it cost her nothing; no one would be the wiser, and it would do her good; and when she at last thrust a moist handkerchief under her pillow, she certainly felt relieved and more ready to sleep. " But I wish I wish that I had not to leave home," she sighed, as she turned over on her pillow ; and then she uttered a startled exclamation as a white figure came gliding towards her. " It is only me, Maury dear," whispered a suppressed voice ; " but Sybil is asleep, and I don't want to wake her. I did not mean to frighte*- you " ; and Lois sat down on the edge of her sister's bed. " Any one would have been startled," returned Maureen, indignantly, " to see a tall, ghostly figure steal- ing out of the darkness. You ought not to walk about with bare feet, Lois; you will take a bad chill one night." "A Female Curtius" 51 " I am not very cold," returned Lois, but she shivered a little, " and I am not going to stay long." The room was not wholly dark, as the reflection of a gas lamp was thrown on the walls, and Lois in her long white nightdress, with her fair hair streaming over her shoulders, looked not unlike a stray angel who had wandered into a human habitation by mistake. " You will catch cold," repeated Maureen ; but Lois only huddled up her feet in the quilt and made herself comfortable. " I had to come," she said, plaintively ; " I could not go to sleep until I had thanked you again, Maury. I can tell by your voice that you have been crying, and I know you are not a bit happy about going to Aunt Margaret, and that you would much rather stay at home with us, and that is why Sybil and I think you are such a dear." " I am glad you think so, Lois." " Of course we think so, and we love you a hundred times more than we ever did. I quite ache with grati- tude I do indeed, Maury; and I want to say a lot of nice things." " I would rather you left them until to-morrow, Lois," returned Maureen, sleepily. " Oh, but one can't say those sort of things in the daylight one wants a comfortable, creepy darkness when one cannot even see each other's faces. Do you know what Harold said to Sybil when she was groaning about your going? 'Maureen's a regular little brick; she has never hesitated for a moment really : she was ready to fling herself like a female Curtius into the family breach.' I thought you would like to know that." " Yes, dear ; thank you for telling me " ; but Maureen remembered the damp ball under her pillow with sudden shame. What would Entre-nous think of the flood of tears that she had shed? But even heroines have their weak moments. " But it is a shame to wake you up when you are 52 The Sunny Side of the Hill so sleepy," went on Lois, penitently, " so I will just bid you good-night and go." Then the two sisters hugged each other, and Lois crept back to her warm bed feeling that she had a little unburdened herself; while Maureen whispered to herself: " I am glad Entre-nous thinks that of me " ; and in a few minutes the day's trouble was forgotten as the two girls passed into dreamland, VI POT-POURRI Let mystery have its place in you ; do not be always turning up your whole soil with the ploughshare of self-examination, but leave a little fallow corner in your heart ready for any seed the wind may bring, and reserve a nook of shadow for the passing bird ; keep a place in your heart for the unexpected guest, an altar for the unknown God. HENRI FREDERIC AMIEL. HAROLD'S magnificent eulogy had acted on Maureen with the beneficial effects of a tonic ; it braced and nerved her to fresh efforts. If that was really the opinion of her dearly beloved Entre-nous, she must be careful not to disappoint him. In accordance with this resolution she took more pains than usual with her appearance the next morning, and took her place at the breakfast- table with such outward cheerfulness and composure that Lois regarded her with silent amazement. But Harold, as he returned Maureen's greeting", noticed the heavy eye- lids, and the shadow under the eyes, which were cer- tainly less bright than usual ; but he said nothing and seemed wholly engrossed with his Daily Graphic. The conversation was not as lively as usual. Ninian, who breakfasted earlier than the rest of the family, had already left the house ; and Ivy, who had overslept her- self, was hurrying full speed through her meal ; the twins talked to each other in low tones; and Irene sat beside her mother, assisting her as usual ; but as she was silently reviewing the day's menu, and the choice between rissoles and hashed mutton weighed heavily on her mind, she did not contribute largely to the conversation, and it was Maureen who talked to her father in her old sprightly way. Presently Mr. Brydon addressed his wife. " Love," he said, quietly, "have you and Maureen settled any- 53 54 The Sunny Side of the Hill thing definite about the date of her visit? I suppose you will be writing to Peggy to-day ? " " Yes, dear ; Maureen and I both intend to write to her; but we have not fixed any time yet," and Mrs. Brydon looked thoughtfully at her daughter. Her hus- band was absently watching the little brown hands which were buttering his toast. " I wonder who will do this for me after you have gone," he asked, as she laid it carefully on his plate. " Oh, dad, there are so many of us to do it ! " ex- claimed Lois, in a hurt voice; but her father only gave her a kind, whimsical smile which soothed her wounded amour propre, and returned to the subject. " Peggy never likes to wait long for her good things," he observed ; " you and Maureen had better settle some date as soon as possible." Then Maureen turned a little pale ; but as her mother gave her a hesitating glance, she proved herself equal to the occasion. " Oh, we must not hurt Aunt Margaret by putting it off too long," she said, bravely. " I shall be ready to go whenever mother and you think best." Here she faltered a moment and then went on rather breathlessly : " There is not so much to be done, after all, but I should like to have a few days. Would next Wednes- day or Thursday do, father; that will be just upon a week?" " I should think that would suit all parties excel- lently," returned Mr. Brydon. " Do you agree, mother? " " Yes, I suppose so," replied his wife. " But it is getting late, dearest, and you will lose your train." It was always Mrs. Brydon's custom to go to the hall door with her husband. She had done it from her earliest married days and she knew that he would not like her to omit this little attention. Often two or three of the girls would accompany her, and bandy jests with their father until he was out of hearing. Those little harmless jokes rang sweetly in his ears as he went forth Pot-Pourri 55 to his day's work; but his last look was always for the quiet, stately woman on the threshold. " Queen Anna," as he had more than once playfully called her, " sur- rounded by her merry maids of honour " Maureen always the merriest of them all. Oh the sweetness of these dear old family customs, how good they are to remember when one grows old and the green graves are filled in the quiet gardens of the dead ! One may laugh at them in youth or tire of their sameness, but in the years to come they will have a fragrance of their own. As Maureen ran back into the house with the bright drops of an April shower wetting her hair, she saw her mother watching her. " If you like to write your note now," she said, quietly, " I will enclose it in my letter. Then you and I and Irene will have a good talk about things. You want a new trunk, Maureen, and, I think, a hat-box. Your father was saying last night that he wishes you to be properly fitted out." " Oh, mother, there is surely no need for that," re- turned Maureen, in a distressed tone. " My things are all tidy. I have those two new blouses that Irene made me, and the beautiful hat and jacket that Aunt Margaret gave me." " Yes, but you will want two or three summer frocks. Don't look so frightened, Maureen. Your father would not like you to be shabby, and we will not put him to much expense ; but we will have a review of your ward- robe when Irene has finished her housekeeping." So Maureen wrote her note, and then the small com- mittee met in the morning-room to consider ways and means and the deficiencies in Maureen's wardrobe. And on that afternoon and the next there were shopping ex- peditions, and the young dressmaker who worked for the girls took up her abode at the Homestead. All the girls assisted, and Irene took possession of the sewing- machine. As many hands made light work, the two dresses would be finished by Thursday, which was ulti- 56 The Sunny Side of the Hill mately the day fixed. After some hesitation, Mrs. Brydon had ordered a tailor-made coat and skirt. Irene had one, and she thought Maureen deserved the unusual extravagance, and her husband had offered no objection. He always trusted his wife implicitly in such matters, and she certainly never disappointed him. She spent little on her own dress; indeed, of late years he had found it necessary to supplement her wardrobe, and he had formed a habit of giving her a new gown on her birthday. Anna used to remonstrate sometimes, but she never ventured to lay it by, as he would ask her almost daily if it were made up; the only chance for peace was to wear it as soon as possible, and then he he would be satisfied. " I wish I could afford to buy you a silk dress every year," he observed once, when she reproved him for his culpable extravagance. " Irene ought not to have let you choose anything so delicate and unserviceable," she observed, as she looked lovingly at the shimmering folds of grey silk. " It was not right, Daniel, especially now when we have so many expenses with Clive." But it was Maureen, not Irene, who had pleaded for the grey silk. " Mother will love it," she said, " and she will look so beautiful in it " ; and Daniel had been unable to resist the temptation. " I wish I were a richer man for your sake, love," he said to her, as she thanked him for her birthday gift. " I should so enjoy giving you and the girls pretty frocks." " You do give us nice things," she returned, in her quiet, affectionate, manner, which was always softer to him than to any other person ; even Irene had not heard that peculiar vibrant tenderness which was kept for her husband's ear. " Don't look so grave about it, Dan. What do such trifles matter? The girls and I have all we want." And Anna meant what she said. She had no carnal hankering after fine linen and gorgeous attire. Although such Pot-Pourri 57 things were good in her eyes, her longings were not so material: the wider horizons, the fuller life that she craved were far more spiritual and noble. To influence and be influenced by kindred minds ; to sit metaphorically at the feet of some wise Gamaliel and to feel strange stirrings of the soul as one listened to some eloquent pouring-out of suggestion and thought ; to feel that there were still giants in the land, clear dominant intellects capable of leading the multitudes such things would have been more dearly prized by Anna Brydon than any amount of creature comforts. " Anna has too big a mind, she loses her way about it," Margaret said to herself once. " Her nature is intense; but Daniel, with all his adoration, has never found it out; she has such a masterly way of pulling down the blinds." And Margaret, who certainly under- stood her sister-in-law, had some method in her madness. One day, when the two women had been talking quietly together over the impossibility of solving the many problems of life, and the sadness this caused to many sensitive minds, Anna had sighed heavily. " That is so true," she said, in a low voice. " I believe that to some people life is more a terror than a blessing." " My dear Anna ! " " I mean," she returned, flushing slightly at the im- plied rebuke, for, she never liked Margaret to misun- derstand her, " that to many thoughtful and morbidly inquiring minds life is so many-sided, so hedged round with impossible difficulties, that at times they seem to wander in a melancholy maze, where there is no apparent outlet." Margaret looked at her a little wistfully. " Anna," she said, in her impulsive way, " I wonder if Dan has ever found out how clever you are. But I don't believe that you ever say the strange things to him that you do to me." Anna shook her head. " He would not like it. I think you are the only person to whom. I talk in this 58 The Sunny Side of the HiU way. Margaret, do you ever long to be a child again? I think I do sometimes. When I look back my child- hood seems to me a storehouse of bright memories." " How singular that you should say that," returned Margaret, smiling. " You know how fond I am of Emerson's Essays. I like to dip into them as children dip into a bran pie, and I always bring up some treasure or other." " I thought Henri Frederic Amiel was your prime favourite." " So he is, he is always so pathetic and interesting ; but his constant melancholy rather jars on one some- times. But you have interrupted me, Anna. I was going to read to you a little paragraph in Emerson I lighted on, which rather touches on this subject. Please listen to this : ' If you gather apples in the sun- shine, or make hay, or hoe corn, and then retire within doors and shut your eyes, and press them with your hand, you shall still see apples hanging in the bright light with boughs and leaves thereto, or the tumbled grass, or the corn-flags, and this for five or six hours afterward. There lie the impressions on the retentive organ, though you knew it not. So lies the whole series of natural images with which your life has made you acquainted in your memory, though you know it not, and a thrill of passion flashes light on mis dark chamber, and the active power seizes instantly the fit image as the word of its momentary thought.' " " Is that all ? " as Margaret paused ; she had a sweet voice and read well. " No, I will give you another sentence or two. ' It is long ere we discover how rich we are. Our history, we are sure, is quite tame. We have nothing to write, nothing to infer. But our wiser years still run back to the despised recollections of childhood, where always we are fishing up some wonderful article out of that pond, until by and by we begin to suspect that the biography of one foolish person we know is in reality nothing less Pot-Pourri 59 than the immature paraphrase of the hundred volumes of the universal History." " How grand ! I have always loved Emerson. Well, we are never as happy or as unhappy as we think, Mar- garet, and there are few of us who understand rightly the law of compensation." " No, indeed," was Margaret's reply, and then a sud- den smile lit up her face. " Two men looked out from prison bars, The one saw mud, the other stars," she said, solemnly, but there was a mutinous spark in her eyes. Margaret was an optimist by nature, in spite of her avowed admiration for that solitary, introspective thinker, Henri Frederic Amiel. But Anna forgave her for her abruptness; when Margaret wearied of a subject she generally ended it in this fashion. Not long after that she wrote in Anna's favourite quotation book a line by Langbridge : " All windows look south in Sunny Heart Row." The days flew by. Never had a week passed so rapidly for Maureen, though not a moment had been without its occupation. There were long dressmaking mornings when the entire sisterhood worked with zeal and ardour under Miss Milner's guidance. Lois was a skilled needle- woman, and Sybil always acquitted herself fairly. The young people were accustomed to make their own dresses with Miss Milner's help, and they all took very kindly to their work. This was all the more strange as Mrs. Brydon was a very indifferent sempstress and they had certainly not inherited their love of needlework from her. In the afternoons Maureen paid farewell visits to her young friends, or took long walks with her sisters. Harold's foot was better, and he was able to go back to the office; but Maureen heard to her delight that her 60 The Sunny Side of the HiU father intended him to take her down to Branksmere, and that he would stay the night at the Garden House. " Your Aunt Margaret has asked him to remain until Monday," observed Mrs. Brydon. " We are not quite sure whether your father will consent to spare him as long, but I told him last night that Harold looked a little pale, and that the change would do him good." " Yes, and Harold has never been to Branksmere," returned Maureen, excitedly. " Oh, mother, do ask father to spare him; it would make me so happy to have him " ; and Mrs. Brydon promised that she would do all she could. Probably her influence turned the scale, for two days later Harold informed Maureen that the governor had made it all right, and that he would have three whole days at Branksmere. " It was awfully decent of Aunt Peg to invite me," he observed. " Of course, as my father says, you are so unused to going about alone that you need some one to look after you." And though usually Maureen would have argued such a point, she was far too happy to contradict him, although she was sure in her own mind that she could perfectly well take care of herself; for Maureen had plenty of backbone, and never suffered from nerves. The day before Maureen's departure Mrs. Brydon had gone as usual to her district, and Maureen and Irene had employed themselves in packing the new trunk, while Miss Milner and the twins put in finishing stitches to the new frocks. The tailor-made tweed lay folded before their eyes, and as Maureen looked at it with admiring eyes, she assured Irene that she had never had so many nice new things in her life. " You have not needed them," returned Irene, as she turned her attention to the hat-box. " I am sure you deserve nice things, Maury dear; but how we shall miss you ! " and there were actually tears in Irene's sweet eyes. The impending parting made her feel that she had not loved Maureen half enough. Pot-Pourri 61 When luncheon was over, Maureen followed her mother upstairs without waiting for an invitation. " I feel as though I must have a little talk with you, mother," she observed, " though I have nothing special to say ; only to-morrow, you know, I may be longing for the opportunity." Then Mrs. Brydon looked at her very kindly. " I hope not, Maureen ; you must try and make the journey pleasant to Harold; and you will have him for three whole days." Then Maureen cheered up visibly. " Yes, and it was so nice of father to spare him. I feel as though I could never thank him enough. You have all been so good to me, and I have not half de- served it." " Oh, I do not know about that." " Oh, but I know, and I wish I had done better much better. Mother, why is it that one never values a tiling so much as when one is about to lose it? I always thought that I loved home and all my belongings so dearly; but I see now that I never loved you all half enough " and poor Maureen looked rather sad. " My dear child, I think you have always been very good," returned her mother, softly. " These feelings are very natural, especially at your age, but I advise you not to give way to them. " You are leaving us to discharge a duty, and that thought ought to give you courage. Good-byes are never pleasant. Your father and I will certainly realise that to-morrow when we send you away from us. But, my child, we would neither of us have you stay." " You mean because of Aunt Margaret ? " " Yes, I mean that and more than that. I mean that we love our children too well ever to hold them back from doing their duty, even if it costs them present pain. Do you think I am a Spartan mother, Maureen ? " " No, I think you are all a mother ought to be," returned the girl, lovingly. Then Anna smoothed the brown head, which had ventured to nestle against her 62 The Sunny Side of the Hill shoulder, with a lingering pressure that spoke volumes. " No, dear, I do not mean to be hard. I hope and trust with all my heart that you and Aunt Margaret will be very happy together; and when you come home well you will see for yourself how welcome you will be." And as she rose from the couch with a reassuring smile, Maureen kissed her hand gratefully. Her mother had never been so good to her, and Maureen, who had been on the brink of breaking down, felt herself strengthened and encouraged. " Mother feels it, but she will not tell me so," she said to herself as she left the room. VII . "MISTRESS AND MASTER" I have already got to the point of considering that there is no more respectable character on this earth than an unmarried woman who makes her own way through life quietly, persever- ingly, without support of husband or brother ; and who, having attained the age of forty-five or upwards, retains in her pos- session a well-regulated mind, a disposition to enjoy simple pleasures, and fortitude to support inevitable pains, sympathy with the sufferings of others, and willingness to relieve want as far as means allow. CHARLOTTE BRONTE. TWENTY-FOUR hours later Harold and Maureen stood at the entrance of the station at Branksmere waiting for the luggage to be put on the little omnibus before they took their places. It was the last day of April, and there was a decided keenness in the fresh wind, but Harold lifted his cap and sniffed the air appreciatively. " I think you told me that St. Quintin is quite a mile and a quarter away," he observed, " but the wind seems blowing straight from the sea. There is quite a salt taste in my mouth." " Yes, I know. Aunt Margaret used to tell us that on windy days she could often smell the sea in the village. I am afraid you will be disappointed with St. Quintin I remember Irene and I were; it is rather a dreary, uninteresting, little watering-place." " Oh, I would put up with that if one could only see the waves rolling up on the beach," he returned. " Jump in, Maureen; they are going to start now. We are evi- dently the only passengers." Maureen was too busily engaged in looking out for certain landmarks she remembered to talk much. It was five or six years since she and Irene had spent three weeks at Branksmere. She could not have been more m 64 The Sunny Side of the Hill than fourteen, but she had always had a pleasant recol- lection of the wide, shady road leading to the village, with seats under the trees, and on either side sunny meadows with sheep and cattle feeding. " What a jolly sort of place ! You are in luck, Maureen," observed Harold, as they turned out of the rural boulevards. There were one or two parcels to deliver on the way. They stopped once at an ivy-covered house, where Maureen recollected the doctor lived; and another time the omnibus waited at a house with a delightful little avenue and wide green lawns, looking like an enchanted garden in its sunny stillness. But when Harold asked the name she shook her head. " I can't remember. I don't believe we ever went to any of the houses. We lived in the garden unless "Aunt Margaret took us for walks. And it is such an age ago, really. Dear me, I had forgotten how pretty the village was. This must be the High Street, but we shall turn off here. >No, they are going to stop again a parcel for the butcher's wife, I suppose. Just look at that dear old house, Harold : it will be quite covered with wistaria presently. Oh, and there is St. Cyprian; you can see the tower with its four pinnacles is it not grand ? " Harold nodded assent. He had an artistic eye, and the long, wide village street pleased his fancy. Some of the houses were old, and the note of colour that pre- dominated was chiefly grey and green, with here and there a red roof. Like most villages, a sleepy quiet seemed to brood over it in the early afternoon; only in the distance there was a sound of marching feet on a flagged court, that sounded like children being drilled. " Oh, the schools are down there, I remember," con- tinued Maureen. " Irene and I used to watch the chil- dren. How long are we going to stay here, Harold? I think the conductor must have business of his own " ; for Maureen was anxious to arrive at the Garden House. "Mistress and Master" 65 But she had scarcely spoken before the omnibus started again. They had turned down by the house which Maureen had pointed out. The side view was decidedly picturesque, with its arched doorway and quaint windows and massive high grey walls overhung with creepers. Harold turned his head more than once to look at it; it seemed to him as though it must once have belonged to- some monastic building, though the dwelling-house it- self seemed of a later date. He had caught a glimpse of an old courtyard, which evidently led to the garden. They were passing another meadow, where sheep and lambs were feeding; the footpaths showed it to be a public thoroughfare. Some pretty modern cottages standing back in long gardens were on the other side. A quiet little street lay beyond; a few unpretending, neat-looking houses were on one side; on the other a little dissenting chapel. Then the omnibus stopped be- fore an old-fashioned red brick house, almost covered with Virginia creeper; but before any one could knock the door was opened, and a tall woman in brown stood smiling on the threshold. " Good people, do you know you are quite half-an- hour late, and I have got a stiff neck craning out of the open window ? " she said, as she kissed first one and then the other. " Take the luggage by the side-door, Wiggins." And then, keeping Maureen's hand, she led the way to the dining-room, a large, cheerful room over- looking the road, in which there was a bright fire and a round table where preparations for the tea were already made. Harold followed them more slowly. He lingered for a moment to admire the hall sitting-room, with its arched doorway at one end, and broad low stairs car- peted with crimson. The cabinet of china and com- fortable oak settles appealed strongly to him. " Aunt Margaret," he said, approvingly, " I think you have a very jolly house." Then Margaret beamed at him. 66 The Sunny Side of the Hill " I thought you and Maureen would be pleased with my new sitting-room," she said, in a gratified voice. " You see, Harold, the drawing-room is so low and dark that I never use it if I can help it. It is cosy enough on winter evenings, but the closeness and want of light are serious defects. If I were a rich woman," she added gaily, " which I am not, I would throw out a bay window, with a circular seat overlooking the garden. Mr. Tor- ranee wanted me to do it, but it would cost far too much." "You and Harold are kindred spirits on the subject of light and air," observed Maureen, in an amused voice. " Yes, we are both air-maniacs like Roger Chaytor that is what they used to call him, poor fellow but I hope we are not quite so eccentric. But if I love fresh air I am also a fire-worshipper " ; and Margaret settled herself comfortably in the big easy-chair which had al- ways been Mrs. Rayner's favourite seat. Margaret Brydon was a tall woman, and it had always been a matter of regret to her that Daniel was short. In every other way she considered him perfect ; but it was always a trial to her to see him walking with his wife; Anna's fine proportions and noble car- riage seemed to eclipse him. But he never seemed to realise this ; his whole-souled devotion to the mother of his children made any such comparison impossible to him. He had always admired tall women, and he thought Anna was handsomer than ever when they celebrated their silver wedding. Margaret's face was thin and sallow, and she had few claims to good looks, indeed most people thought her plain ; but her eyes were bright and expressive they were clear hazel and her eyelashes were unusually long. Her hair, too, was dark and abundant, and she wore it in a heavy coil rather low on the neck, but it somehow suited her. She was rather a graceful person altogether, and she dressed in a pic- turesque way. She liked rich dark tones of colour a "Mistress and Master" 67 particular shade of red, pansy violet, and warm browns but she disliked black. She always went into mourn- ing reluctantly and lightened it as soon as possible. She always said that it made her downright ugly, and that it was more of a penance to her than to most women. " It is really a blessing to think that I am never likely to be a widow," she had once said quite seriously to her sister-in-law. " I simply could not have con- formed to custom and worn a bonnet and veil like Mrs. Mayhew. Fancy shrouding oneself in crape for two years, with my brown nutshell of a face too " for Margaret honestly thought herself ugly. But if Margaret Brydon was plain, judged by the canons of beauty, there was a decided charm about her. She was so unconscious, so anxious to please, so touch- ingly humble about her own merits, and her frank vivacity was so delightful. People were always at home with her at once. She could have made friends by the hundred if she had cared to do so; but a host of ac- quaintances would have bored her, and though she was sociable by nature, she preferred a smaller circle of tried and trusted friends. " With acquaintances one has so much to explain," she said once. " They know nothing of one's past life, unless one undraws the curtains and lets in a glimmer now and then, but the old friends need no explanations " ; and her hearer could not deny that she was right. Margaret warmed herself lazily as she talked to the young people, questioning them about the journey and the home-folk. Maureen had plenty of messages to give her. When the maid brought in the brass kettle Mar- garet moved to the table and made tea. She had provided all manner of good things to regale youthful appetites. " Of course you have only had a scrappy luncheon in the train," she remarked, " so you must just make a hearty tea. We are not dining late to-night; we shall have supper at eight." Neither Harold nor Maureen needed pressing. By 68 The Sunny Side of the Hill some oversight the parcel of sandwiches provided by Irene for their refreshment had been left in the com- partment when they changed trains at Felsham, and in reality they were famished. Margaret was horrified when she discovered the fact. She wanted to have the cold meat brought at once, but neither of them would hear of it. The eggs and cold ham and scones and cakes were quite sufficient, as they assured her; and as soon as her hospitable instincts were satisfied, Margaret set- tled down comfortably to conversation. " I have not seen you, Harold, since you made up your mind to be a solicitor." " Oh, I am not a full-fledged solicitor yet, Aunt Mar- garet, but of course I am working hard." " You must have a talk with Mr. Torrance," she returned ; " he has a nice country practice of his own. I expect you passed his house. I wonder if you noticed it ? It faces the High Street, and has a wistaria growing over it." " Oh, yes," exclaimed Maureen, " and grey walls festooned with some creeper! Of course we noticed it. It was so delightfully picturesque." " Oh, strangers always say that, but it has its draw- backs as a living house. It is called the Old Grey House. It was a priory once, and those two quaint windows belong to the kitchen. It is such a fine old room and was part of the old building. There are a few fragments of the ruins remaining in the courtyard." "Is there a nice garden, Aunt Margaret?" " No ; Mr. Torrance rather neglects it ; it is chiefly kitchen garden, but a little care and labour would make it a different place. But he says as long as the paths are kept weeded, so that he can walk up and down and smoke his pipe, he does not care for anything else. You are an animal lover, are you not, Maureen? By the bye," interrupting herself, " you have never seen my new acquisition a handsome brown collie that Mr. Torrance gave me. He is quite young and a splendid-looking fel- "Mistress and Master" 69 low, and we are so devoted to each other. I christened him Master. I believe it is rather an uncommon name, but it came into my head and he seemed to like it. So we are Mistress and Master, you see," and Margaret gave a low laugh. There was something very fresh and child-like in her laugh ; it was never loud, but it always expressed such light-hearted enjoyment that people found it 'quite infectious. It had evidently reached an unseen listener's ear, for at this moment there was a mighty thump against the door, as though some heavy body had been used as a battering-ram. Margaret rose hastily, and as she opened the door a beautiful brown and white collie rushed tumultuously into the room, and circled round the visi- tors in an excited way. " Master, where are your manners?" asked his mis- tress, sternly; and in a moment the feathery tail drooped and Master sat down meekly on his haunches, looking like a scolded child. " Shake hands with Maureen and Harold, and tell them you are glad to see them," continued Margaret, in a less severe tone; and Master, with a short bark, wagged his tail and laid a heavy paw on Maureen's lap. " Take it, Maury dear," observed Margaret ; " Mas- ter is perfectly gentle, and he seldom takes a dislike to any one." And then Master went gravely through the same performance with Harold. "What a darling!" exclaimed Maureen, as the dog stood by his mistress and looked in her face for approval. Then Margaret kissed his tawny forehead. " Yes, Mistress is very pleased with Master," she said. " Please give him a scone, Harold a whole one and he would like it buttered ; he thinks a buttered scone ambrosia. If you will put the plate down on the hearthrug you will see what a gentleman he is. Grace before meat. Master." Then the collie gave vent to a short bark of suppressed eagerness as the coveted dainty was placed before him. 70 The Sunny Side of the Hill Margaret looked at him lovingly. " He is a dear fellow," she said, caressing his glossy head, " and he has been such a companion to me all these months. I used to teach him these tricks in the evening. Dear, dear, what games we had together! He knocked me down once in sheer exuberance of spirits; but when I pretended to be unable to move, he sat beside me and pawed me gently to find out if I were hurt. Oh, you are just a jewel and the darlint of my heart! " " That is the sort of dog I should like to have," observed Harold, " but father never liked the idea of a big dog in the house. We have only a fox-terrier puppy. The Brat is rather a knowing little beast." " Mr. Torrance has a strange pet," observed Mar- garet, smiling. " I believe I was going to tell you about that, only I broke off about Master. He has a black Persian cat who would follow him anywhere, I believe. He calls him Tobias ; why or wherefore I know not, but the creature answers very kindly to the name. He has followed him to this house more than once, before Mas- ter took up his residence here. Tobias is a real beauty, and every one admires him. He has a handsome collar and a bell attached to it, and when Mr. Torrance goes out in the garden to smoke his pipe, Tobias follows him like a black shadow." Margaret was apt to be a little discursive and ramb- ling in her talk; she liked to wander off at her own sweet will into any bye-path that pleased her fancy. Daniel called them " Peggy's Divagations." In all probability one anecdote after another of Tobias's sagacity and Master's canny way would have followed as long as her hearers cared to listen; but just at that moment the grandfather's clock in the hall re- called her to her duties as hostess. " I really think I ought to show you your rooms," she said ; " I had no idea it was so late." And as neither of her guests made any objection, she led the way quickly upstairs. "Mistress and Master" 71 As they passed through the hall Maureen peeped in through the open door of a small but cosy room. A writing-table, a well-filled bookcase, and two or three easy-chairs composed the furniture. A French window opened on a wide lawn with a high yew hedge and some shady trees. " What a dear little room, Aunt Margaret ! I sup- pose this is your particular sanctum ? " And her aunt nodded. " It will just hold two people. Your father once said that with care one might swing a kitten without injury to life and limb." Maureen smiled ; then she said coaxingly, " I think I could squeeze into that easy-chair and leave room for you and Master." Then Margaret tucked her hand in Maureen's arm. " It shall be Master and Mistress and Co.," she said with one of her delightful laughs. " Poor little Co. ; does she half know how glad I am to have her ! " VIII AT THE GARDEN HOUSE I am always happy (out of doors be it understood, for indoors there are servants and furniture), but in quite different ways, and my spring happiness bears no resemblance to my summer or autumn happiness, though it is not more intense, and there were days last winter when I danced for sheer joy out in my frost-bound garden, in spite of my years and children. But I did it behind a bush, having a due regard to the decencies. Elizabeth and her German Garden. " I HAVE given you my old room, Maureen," observed Margaret, as she opened a door " I have been in pos- session of dear Mrs. Rayner's since Christmas so we shall be close together. I am afraid the furniture is rather old-fashioned, but I have done my best to freshen it up with a little new cretonne." " Oh, Aunt Maggie, it is beautiful ! " exclaimed Maureen she was the only one of Margaret's nieces who generally abbreviated her name and indeed after her small room at the Homestead it looked delightfully comfortable to the girl's eyes. With the exception of Margaret's room, which with the dining-room had been added to the house about ten years before, all the bedrooms at the Garden House were low, with small high windows and quaint little tiled fireplaces. The brown room, as it was called, was a fair size, and the two open lattice windows overlooking the lawn and the yew hedge gave it an air of cheerfulness. The furniture was certainly not modern, but the brown cre- tonne with its sprays of yellow marguerites was quaintly pretty, and blended with the Spanish mahogany. Mar- garet pointed out the deep wide cupboard which was used instead of a wardrobe ; then she lingered a moment to offer her help. But when Maureen hesitated, she did 72 At the Garden House 73 not press it. " I daresay you would rather be quiet," she said, for Margaret was never deficient in tact," so I will just go down and write a note to your mother, and then Harold and I will have a talk. What a good- looking boy he is; he certainly beats Clive in looks." " I am sure you would think Clive improved," re- plied Maureen. " He is so happy at St. John's, and Oxford seems to suit him." " Yes, I am glad your father has managed to send him " ; but Margaret looked a little thoughtful ; she was always wondering if she could possibly spare a little of her income to help Daniel with the boys. " There is Ninian," she said to herself as she went downstairs, " that boy will never settle in an office. Dan ought to send him to Canada. His muscles are more developed than his brains; he would make a splendid navvy." Maureen was glad to be left to herself for a time. She was tired not physically so much as mentally. Noth- ing could have been kinder than her Aunt Margaret's welcome. Without saying much, she seemed to take it for granted that Maureen was to consider herself at home. When she looked at her, there was a contented expression in her eyes. " She is a dear," Maureen thought, as she trudged backwards and forwards between her trunk and the big cupboard, which seemed to swallow up her few frocks and jackets in quite a surprising way. " I never saw such a cupboard in my life," she said to herself ; " I shall have to look in every night to be sure some tramp on his way to the workhouse is not hidden there. Dear me, what is that?" as a heavy thump against her door made her jump. To her surprise she found Master outside eagerly demanding admission. Without wait- ing for an invitation, he marched in, his feathery tail waving in a friendly way; and having gravely investi- gated the half-empty trunk and the row of garments hanging 50 mysteriously in the cupboard, he lay down 74 The Sunny Side of the Hill in the centre of the room, and resting his black nose on his paws, proceeded to take stock of the visitor. He seemed gratified when Maureen addressed him, but never moved his position until the last thing was put away, and Maureen, feeling hot and somewhat fatigued, sat down for a moment to rest herself ; then he walked to her side and laid his head in her lap in the friendliest way. " What a dear old thing you are, Master ! " she said, stroking his head. " You and I are going to be chums, I see that. What a funny world it is, old fellow. A week no, nine days ago I was reading Aunt Margaret's let- ter and puzzling over her postscript, ' If Maureen ! ' Well, Maureen is here actually here in the Garden House, and not knowing one bit whether she is glad or sorry or both ! " A pause, during which Maureen pulled Master's ears in a caressing fashion, but her thoughts were travelling homewards. " I wish I could see father to-night ; I know he will miss me. I must write to him and mother, too, to- morrow. Perhaps it is because I am tired that I feel so dull ; I will dress myself and go downstairs " and Maureen roused herself. " Don't sit still when you are unhappy," Margaret had once said to her when she found her fretting over some trouble. " Do something, for pity's sake ; when one has the hump there is nothing like bustling round and pretending to yourself that you are busy." Maureen had only been a slip of a girl when Margaret had given her this advice, but she had never forgotten it. Margaret meanwhile had written a brief note to her sister-in-law, and was just addressing the envelope when she saw Harold crossing the lawn he had discarded his stick, though he still walked more slowly than usual so she put down her pen and hurried after him. He was not on the tennis lawn as she expected, so she passed under a rustic arch with a crimson rambler growing over it into the spacious walled-in kitchen garden. It was a pleasant place, with wide beds filled with At the Garden House 75 herbaceous and old-fashioned flowers, and narrow paths bordered by apple and pear trees. Here she came upon him pacing up and down a broad walk always called the Madeira Walk on account of its sheltered and sunny aspect. Even in early spring Margaret could bring her book or work and sit for an hour or two protected from the keen winds and enjoying the golden glories of her daffodil bed. Margaret always revelled in her spring flowers. She liked to have masses of wild blue hyacinths and clumps of pale yellow primroses amongst the fruit trees, and red and yellow wall-flower growing in the wall itself. The house was less dear to Margaret than her garden, indeed she had wept tears of pure joy and gratitude, her kingdom of delight. Margaret was not selfish. To old Giles's disgust, she insisted on consider- ing it a bird sanctuary, and in the spring she would go tiptoeing in the shrubberies and in secluded corners to seek for nests, and would stand enraptured at the sight of some bright-eyed little mother sheltering her shiver- ing offspring so patiently hour after hour. Margaret had a grand bird's bath sunk in one corner of the lawn near the house, where she could watch them from her tiny morning-room. In winter she provided royally for her guests. Cocoa-nuts were hung up for the tits ; bas- kets of millet seed and crumbs and other scraps were suspended in safe places. " The little hosts of thieves and rascals," as Giles called them, bathed and gor- mandised at their own sweet will, and repaid their kind hostess by singing from morning to night in the spring and early summer, and trying their best to rob her of her finest cherries and strawberries. " It most breaks a man's heart to see the dratted critturs pecking at the nectarines through the netting," Giles would say ; " but then we all have a bee in our bonnets, as the parson says, and missus is just crazed about the birds." And he went off grumbling;, while the blackbird watched him from the acacia tree, and then with a warning note flew off to join his mate and cheer her up with a song. 76 (The Sunny Side of the HiU Harold would have thrown away his cigarette when his aunt joined him, but Margaret stayed his hand. "Don't my dear; I really like it, and if it were not that I consider it unfeminine and weakly self-indulgent, I am quite sure that I should enjoy a cigarette myself." " Then why not break your rule for once, no one will be the wiser ? " and he held out his case. But Margaret closed her eyes, as though to shut out temptation. " Avaunt, Satanus," she said, piously. " No, Harold, I am too old-fashioned, and I should have quite a dis- agreeable pain in my conscience if I could ever bring myself to do such a thing. I must pay the penalty of my femininity and advancing age. I am forty-seven, my dear, and seventeen days over, and many delights are now denied me. I may no longer climb trees and eat small hard apples ; and as it is quite impossible to play rounders by myself, I have been compelled to give up the game, though I still indulge in battledore and shuttle- cock in an empty attic. But as Master has found me out, and has basely betrayed me to the household by rushing downstairs with a shuttlecock in his mouth, I fear even this solace will be denied me. Noblesse oblige. You are a very dignified person yourself, my dear Harold, so I am sure you will understand me." " Oh, we will draw the line at cigarettes and green apples if you like," he returned, " but battledore and shuttlecock are all right, Aunt Margaret ; it is a famous game for a cold day, promotes circulation and makes you feel fit. Maureen loves it." Then Margaret brightened up, and her girlish laugh was good to hear. " Oh, I forgot Maureen ; how nice of you to remind me! Of course, a girl cannot be happy without games. It will be my duty to provide her with amusement. By the bye and now I am quite serious, Harold I want to thank you and the whole of the blessed family, col- lectively and individually, for sparing Maureen to me. You have all been so good and unselfish about it." At the .Garden House 77 " Well, it was a bit of a wrench," he confessed. " Maureen is the sort of person one does not quite want to spare from the family circle. She is so lively, and keeps the ball rolling, and I expect we shall miss her a good deal." " I am afraid you will," and Margaret spoke rather gravely. " She is Dan's girl, too your father's, I mean. I am not quite sure that I was right to do it. But if you remember, Harold, I only asked for one of the girls?" " Yes, and I could not help wondering why you did not invite Maureen outright, as we all knew that you wanted her." " Well, my dear, I fully intended to do so, but when I began my letter my heart failed me. I did not want to hurt any one's feelings, or to be selfish about it ; but I own I was rather anxious until your mother's letter came, and then I was so pleased that Master and I both kissed it indeed, Master wished to swallow it whole." " Aunt Margaret, when you added that ambiguous postscript at the last moment, I suppose you had a secret hope that it would be understood ? " Then Margaret's eyes sparkled. She looked like a child detected in a piece of mischief, and too proud of her cleverness to feel very penitent. " I thought Maureen would understand," she said, softly. " And somehow I felt I was safe not to be dis- appointed. I knew Irene could not be spared." " Oh, no, that was a foregone conclusion ; but there were the Tweenies." " Oh, I could not have divided the love-birds," she said hastily. " I am afraid Lois would not have suited me; she is too emotional and has too little depth; and though Sybil is a nice little girl, she does not come up to Maureen's mark." " Certainly not ; you are right there Aunt Margaret." " No, Maureen is the best of the bunch, and I hope with all my heart that I shall be able to make her happy. 78 The Sunny Side of the Hill You can all trust me to do my best, can you not, Harold ? " in a wistful tone. " Need you ask such a question ? I am quite sure that you and Maureen will hit it off famously together. But you must give her a little time to get used to things. It will seem a bit strange to her at first." " Yes, indeed ; and when she gets hipped and home- sick, I shall just pack her off to the Homestead for a week or two. We are in a free country, and we won't make tiresome hard-and-fast rules. If Maureen does not settle down happily in due time, I shall be disap- pointed, but I shall accept my failure like a wise woman." " Do you mean that you will send her home and try one of the other girls ? " asked Harold, in a puzzled tone. But Margaret shook her head rather emphatically. " No, no ; that is not my idea at all. It will be Maureen or my own company; I shall not trouble any of my other nieces." And then Margaret dismissed the subject a little abruptly, asking him in a coaxing man- ner, whether he would not like to spend his three weeks' holiday at Branksmere. " I could put you up in August, and you and Maureen could have quite a good time together," she went on. " There will be plenty of tennis going on. There is always a tennis tournament at Gayton Lodge in August ; the Brants are such hospitable people. And they play tennis, too, at the Rectory." " You are really very kind, Aunt Margaret," returned Harold, and it was evident from his manner that he was extremely pleased with the invitation. And then it was settled that he should write later on and fix his date. They had walked more than once round the garden by this time, and as the air was decidedly chilly, Mar- garet proposed returning to the house. " I am quite sure that Maureen will have finished her unpacking by this time," she observed. And she was right. The girl was sitting by the fire with Master still mounting guard over her, and as Margaret sat down on the rug beside At the Garden House 79 them, Maureen told her of Master's polite attentions to the guest. " That is his usual habit," returned Margaret ; " he never will be satisfied until he has taken complete stock of a visitor and is perfectly sure of his or her re- spectability. It is Master's duty to protect Mistress." And as Margaret looked into her favourite's eyes, he gave her an adoring look which made them all smile. The evening passed far more happily than Maureen had expected. After supper Margaret had asked Harold a question or two about his old college, Trinity. " I remember the Lime Walk so well," she said; and some- how these few words seemed to start Harold on reminis- censes of his undergraduate life, and one good story followed another. Maureen, who was always happy when Harold was, listened in boundless content, taking the good of the present hour in her wholesome way and leaving to-morrows to take care of themselves ; while Margaret, enchanted to find her usually reserved nephew such good company, leant back in her easy-chair in luxurious idleness of mind and body. Daniel once made the remark that it was quite extraordinary how a busy and active woman like Peggy could revel in absolute idleness. " I have seen her sit for two hours with her hands on her lap looking perfectly happy," he said. But when this speech was retailed to Margaret she merely remarked, " Some one nice must have been talking to me all the time. Dan forgets that if I have to count stitches and follow a pattern I cannot properly enjoy conversation. Besides, I am a disciple of Buddha. I want to form the habit of sitting still and resting mind and body. When I appear most idle, I am in reality doing most. I am strengthening my powers of observa- tion, setting my mind in order, and generally raising the tone of my inner woman," for Margaret loved to indulge in a rambling sort of philosophy. If she were not always lucid, she laid the blame on her defective education. 80 The Sunny Side of the Hill When the grandfather's clock chimed ten, she ruth- lessly checked her nephew's flow of eloquence. " It is time for Maureen to go to bed," she said, with a motherly air which would have amused Anna. But Maureen remonstrated. " I did not know you were such a martinet, Aunt Maggie. I feel far too com- fortable to move, and Harold is so amusing. I thought you went to bed at all sorts of odd times." " My dear Maureen," returned Margaret, solemnly, " I never let my own personal habits affect the house- hold. I expect the maids to be in their rooms by ten." "Then you do not retire yourself?" " Not always. Sometimes the fire and I keep each other company, or I am seized with a sudden desire to write some letter which has been on my mind for months. Occasionally, when I do go upstairs in good time, I have a fit of tidying; but Master so strongly objects to this that I have had to turn over a new leaf." " You don't mean that you have that big dog in your room ? " asked Harold, in a shocked tone. " No, my dear boy ; but he sleeps outside of my door, and if I keep him awake too long he thumps with his tail, until for the sake of peace and quiet I pretend I am ready for bed. Would you like to stay up a little longer, Harold ? " " No, thanks ; this air makes me sleepy " ; and then he followed them upstairs. Margaret lighted the candles in Maureen's room ; then she put her hands affectionately on her niece's shoulders. " You are a good little girl, Maureen," she said, ten- derly, " and it makes me so happy to have you here." " I am glad of that, Aunt Maggie." " I hope that very soon you will be able to tell me that you are happy too ; but we will bide a wee for that, won't we, darling?" But Maureen's only answer was to put her arms round Margaret's neck, with an earnest kiss which was eloquent enough. Certainly at that mo- ment Maureen felt she had done the right thing. IX ST. CYPRIAN Aphis that I am ! How leave my inch-allotment, pass at will Into my fellow's liberty of range ! BROWNING. What good gift have my brothers, but it came From search and strife and loving sacrifice. E. ARNOLD. Ax breakfast the following morning, after Margaret had satisfied herself that her young guests had rested well, she remarked carelessly, addressing Maureen: " I daresay you and Harold will be able to amuse yourselves while I am busy. I do not think visitors care to be entertained. I like people to feel at home and do as they please." This was said so naturally, and sounded so like an impromptu, that neither of the young people guessed that this speech had been re- hearsed beforehand. Margaret had said to herself as she was dressing that morning, " Now I am not going to be selfish ; I shall have Maureen to myself on Monday, and I can wait until then. She and Harold will enjoy running about together, and I am not going to be number three. A well-regulated mistress of a house is always busy in the morning," and so on. " Oh, we are not going to lie heavy on your hands, Aunt Margaret," observed Harold. " I vote that we go to St. Ouintin, Maureen, if we could get a lift part of the way, for my ankle is not over strong yet." Then Margaret eagerly interposed. Nothing was easier. They could sit on the Boule- vard until the little omnibus passed on its way to the station, and they could probably induce the driver to take them on to St. Quintin. "We call it the Boule- 6 81 82 The Sunny Side of the Hill vard," she explained, " because it sounds so much nicer than Station Road, which always gives one an idea of bricks and mortar, and really it is quite a pleasant place in which to sit " ; and to this they both assented. Maureen, who had written to her mother before breakfast, was quite disposed to enjoy her outing. It was delightful for her to have Harold all to herself for a whole morning; and as they walked in the direction of Station Road more than one passer-by looked ap- provingly at the girl with the frank smile and the white teeth, who was talking so eagerly to her companion. " A handsome, well set-up young fellow," observed one of them to himself. " They have got a Brydon look about them; I expect they are the nephew and niece that Margaret has been expecting " ; and Mr. Torrance gave them another look before he turned into Gayton Lodge. When they reached St. Quintin, Harold was obliged to confess that Maureen was right, and that the place was not specially interesting. Possibly the golf links were the attraction, and there was a good hotel and some decent lodging-houses ; but the beach seemed almost empty, and the grey sea rolled up on the sand with a slow, sullen wash. The morning was dull and cloudy, but by and by the sun broke through the clouds, and then things looked more cheerful. Harold chose a sheltered spot under a boat, and wrapped a rug round himself and Maureen; then he lighted a cigarette and prepared to enjoy himself. " I call this awfully jolly ! " he exclaimed, in quite a boyish tone. " If you were to put up a big stone on that post, Chiffons, we could shy pebbles at it." And Maureen, who was always ready to follow his lead, col- lected stones and played Aunt Sally until her arm ached with fatigue and she was forced to give in. Then Harold, who had won his laurels, lay back con- tentedly, with his arms under his head and his cap tilted over his eyes, and told Maureen about Aunt Margaret's St. Cyprian 83 invitation for August. Maureen could scarcely believe her ears. " Three whole weeks are you quite sure, Entre- nous ? " Then Harold nodded ; he never wasted words. " Oh, what a dear she is ! I never thought of her planning such a thing so soon. But that is the best of Aunt Margaret; she does such nice, unexpected things, and one never seems to come to the end of her." " I knew you would be pleased," returned Harold, in a satisfied tone. " I thought it was rather decent of her myself. Of course, I shall bring my bicycle down, and we will have long spins together." And then they began making plans, as young people will ; and all the time they talked, Maureen's bare little brown hand rested lovingly near Harold's coat sleeve, now and then fingering it. It was her closest approach to a caress ; Harold was far too undemonstrative and reserved to care for outward signs of affection. " He and Maureen were chums," one could take that for granted without fuss. Neverthe- less, there was a kind look in his eyes now and then as they talked. Presently Maureen grew a little absent in her manner; she wanted to ask Harold a question, and she was not sure that he would care to answer it. Still, she might never have so good an opportunity again. " Harold, dear," she began a little timidly, " there is something I want you to tell me. Do you feel more content about things? I know how hard you are work- ing, and how satisfied father is; but I do hope that you do not dislike it quite so much." This was evidently unexpected, and Harold felt he must sit up a bit. A three-cornered stone had long tempted him ; it was supported on two others. If he could only dislodge it from the others he felt his morn- ing would not have been wasted ; so he chose his pebble, and Maureen held her breath and waited. The next moment the three-cornered stone rolled over. " That was a splendid shot, Entre-nous " ; and he nodded and lay down again. 84 The Sunny Side of the Hill " Somebody told father the other day," he remarked casually, " that I was a cool, level-headed fellow, and would make a good solicitor. The governor was so pleased." " Oh, yes ; I daresay," rather impatiently ; " but I am not thinking of father just now." " I don't call that filial" returned her brother, re- proachfully. " Elliston told me the other day that father has looked years younger since I came to the office. You know what a funny chap Elliston is. ' Your father's as fit and perky as possible, Mr. Harold,' he remarked, rubbing his hands." This was interesting as far as it went, but Maureen was not satisfied. " Oh, that is all very well," she said in quite a hurt voice, " but I see you don't intend to answer my ques- tion." Then Harold rolled over and caught her wrist. " Come, come, don't put on side, Chiffons. I have been answering it for the last five minutes. What makes you so dense? Don't you see, if the governor is happy, that is all we need consider? When I undertook the job, I was not gratifying my own particular taste." " No, of course not, dear. But," with a sigh of intense sympathy, " it does seem so hard the Clive should have the wish of his heart, and that yours " " We won't go into that, please," he returned, firmly. " Clive is going to be the man of the family, and I won't begrudge the old chap his good luck. Look here, when I was a kid in white frocks with a blue sash, I used to cry for the moon mother told me so once. We all do it in the early stage of life," continued the young philosopher, " and some of us do not outgrow the habit until we are quite venerable; but it does not help us to get our daily bread." Maureen was silent. Harold still held her wrist in an iron grasp, though he seemed hardly aware of the fact. " The other night I had such a queer dream," he St. Cyprian 85 went on. " I thought I was defending a young soldier who was accused of murdering his sweetheart. I knew the man was innocent, and I vowed to myself that I would get him off." " Oh, Harold, what a curious dream ! " " Yes, and it was so strongly vivid. I remember passing down a little lobby; there was a mirror at the end, and I saw myself reflected quite plainly in my wig and gown. ' That is Brydon, who is to conduct the defence.' I actually heard those words behind me. ' He is a sharp fellow, and full of resources; I expect he will get the poor beggar off/ and then I woke." " What a singular dream ! " And then Maureen gave another sigh, as she thought how well Harold's clearly- cut face would look under a barrister's wig. " Well, it was a bit queer." But Harold did not tell his sister how he had tossed restlessly hour after hour that night, unable to quiet his mind or to banish the vain longings for the career that he would have chosen. " It is paying too dearly for a dream," he said to himself more than once. " Come," he said, rousing himself a minute later, " it is nearly one o'clock, and we must make tracks." " Do you think you can walk back all that way ? " asked Maureen, dubiously. " I shall have a good try," was the confident response. But in the end they chartered an empty fly that was returning to Branksmere ; and Margaret praised them for their punctuality. After luncheon Harold proposed that he and Maureen should inspect the church and village. " It is a fine afternoon, and I want to make the most of my time, and I have hardly walked at all. You had better come with us, Aunt Margaret." But she rather regretfully pleaded an engagement. An old woman in the workhouse in whom she was much interested had sent a message to her just before luncheon. It was brief and to the point. " Tell my dear lady that I have worsened a good bit since 86 The Sunny Side of the Hill she was here, and would like to see her." " The doctor thinks Mrs. Blair won't last more than a day or two more," added the messenger. " I am afraid I must go to the poor old body," con- tinued Margaret ; " but I will join you at Evensong, if you and Maureen care to stay for that. It is at four, and we shall have tea afterwards." And the young peo- ple willingly agreed to this; but a moment afterwards Margaret proposed an amendment. " I really should like to show you the church," she observed, rather wistfully ; " St. Cyprian is such a grand old building, and we are all so proud of it. If we start now, I could spare twenty minutes before I go to the workhouse." Then Maureen flew upstairs to put on her hat, and ten minutes later they were walking past the long meadow and the Old Grey House. As they turned down Church Row they saw a gen- tleman in clerical dress coming out of the schools. He quickened his steps when he saw them. " That is the rector," whispered Margaret, " the Rev. Bryan Whitworth. I shall be glad to introduce you to him, Harold." And the next moment Mr. Whitworth was greeting them cordially. He was a tall thin man, and looked about fifty. He had a sallow complexion and grey hair and wore spec- tacles; but Maureen liked the look of him. She told Harold afterwards that he had such kind eyes. " This seems a very fine church, sir," observed Harold, looking up admiringly at the grey old tower with its four pinnacles. " Yes," returned the rector ; " it was originally a Norman church, of which only the nave remains, and it is pretty certain that the existing chancel was built early in the fourteenth century. " Do you see the western tower has four stages, which plainly indicates that it has been erected at differ- ent dates. The round-headed western doorway, with its elaborate moulding, is always admired; indeed it is St. Cyprian 87 claimed to be the grandest Normanesque tower in Kent." " I am glad we met you, Mr. Whitworth," observed Margaret, with her pleasant smile ; " I could not have explained things properly to my nephew ; he would have soon found out my ignorance of architecture." " You have too humble an estimate of yourself, Miss Brydon," he returned, courteously. " I am sorry," turning to Harold, " that this door is always closed on week-days, and that we cannot enter. There is another entrance round the corner." But as they followed the rector down some steps, he paused to warn them that there were two or three more steps leading down into the church. On entering the tower, they noticed a beautiful pointed arch ornamented with billet-moulding opening on to the grand nave with its six Norman arches on either side, and above each arch a small Norman window, which were formerly clerestory windows, but which now looked into the roof. As they walked up the nave the rector pointed out the position of the original three chancels. The centre one, he explained, was erected about the time of Edward II., and the beautiful east window had been recently put up. " At one time there were three altars," went on the rector. " You see they contain sedilia and the usual piscina as well as hagioscopes squints, as some folk call them through which the high altar could be seen." " I am afraid I must not stay any longer," observed Margaret at this point. Then the rector took out his watch. " That reminds me that I have an important engagement, and I must hurry off if I am to be back in time for the service. Happily the business will not take me long." After this Harold and Maureen were left alone to wander about at their own sweet will, to examine the tombs and brasses ; and then they roamed about the ancient churchyard, shaded with old trees, until Harold 88 'The Sunny Side of the Hill reminded his sister that they would only just have time to walk through the village. It was a bright, sunshiny afternoon, and Branksmere was looking its very best. Every minute they stopped to notice something that excited their interest. Now it was an ivy-covered house or a grey old cottage with red roof; then the low quaint shops, with steps leading down to them, and old-fashioned bow windows, attracted them. Here and there were more modern shops. The wide street, the quiet peacefulness, the air of leisure pervading the village were very pleasant to Maureen. " What a dear old village it is ! " she observed more than once as they retracted their steps. For, though no bell had sounded, they were afraid of being late. Just as they were crossing to the church they saw Margaret waving to them in the distance and went to meet her, and they went into the church to- gether. Margaret's seat was very near the pulpit. The high pews with doors seemed rather oppressive to the young people, but Margaret said she was used to them. " The rector is late," she observed, as they took their places; but as she spoke a bell sounded, and the next moment a little old lady came quickly up the aisle and seated herself in the Rectory pew. She was rather a nice-looking old lady, but she reminded Maureen of a bright-eyed little bird. She had a thin, sharp little face, and curly white hair, and she wore a hat tied down by a grey veil. She had little birdlike movements and quick motions of the head ; and Maureen observed after- wards that she would not have been surprised if she had hopped up the aisle. But this flippant remark made Margaret shake her head at her. " You shall not laugh at my friends, Maureen. Mrs. Whitworth is a dear old thing, and I am very fond of her. But she is certainly like a bird," she added ; " but I have always heard that she had been very pretty in her youth. It is rather a curious type of face; but she St. Cyprian 89 really looks very nice at times, when she takes the trou- ble to dress herself nicely." When the bell stopped the rector went into the vestry, and a minute or two later the service commenced. He had a beautiful voice, and read the lessons and prayers with a clearness of enunciation and reverence which Harold noticed and appreciated. " I wish all clergymen read like Mr. Whitworth," he remarked, as they walked back to the Garden House. " I think we are peculiarly favoured," returned Mar- garet. " The rector preaches remarkably well ; his ser- mons are excellent, and he understands his congregation." " Has he no curate ? " asked her nephew, in surprise. " No, but I believe he intends to have one soon; he is not as strong as he was, and the daily services are rather a tie. Not that he ever shirks his work. I do not believe he would miss a service even if he had a curate." "Is his wife nice, Aunt Maggie?" Then Margaret looked amused. " Mr. Whitworth is not a married man," she returned. " I believe he is a confirmed bachelor. The old lady you saw in the Rectory pew is his mother and lives with him." But Margaret had no time to say more, as they had reached the Garden House. X MARSH HALL There is but one happiness, Duty; There is but one consolation, Work; There is but one delight, The Beautiful. CARMEN SYLVA. Human nature is rarely uniform. SCOTT. As SOON as Maureen had taken off her hat she hur- ried downstairs. Margaret had told her that they were later than usual and must have tea at once. On enter- ing the dining-room, which looked the picture of cosiness with its bright fire and windows open to the evening sun- shine, she found Harold engaged in conversation with a gentleman who was warming himself on the hearthrug; while Margaret, who had taken off her hat, lay back in her favourite easy-chair and listened to them with a contented expression on her face. She roused herself at Maureen's entrance. " This is my old friend Mr. Torrance, Maureen," she said quietly, " the owner of the Old Grey House and Tobias." But though Mr. Torrance smiled at this in- troduction, he was evidently accustomed to Margaret's speeches. " I hope you are fond of cats, Miss Brydon," he said, as he shook hands. " I am very proud of Tobias ; he is a fine fellow, and quite a character in his way. But for this gentleman," looking at the collie with pre- tended sternness, " Tobias would have accompanied me here this evening; but Master has slammed the door of the Garden House in his face, and there is no admittance for poor Tobias for the future." 90 Marsh Hall 91 Master wagged his tail rather feebly at this. He felt that he was being blamed for some unknown fault, and he looked so dejected and out of spirits that his mistress consoled him by telling him that he was the best of dogs, and that only a barbarian could scold him for racial differences and an hereditary feud that had probably lasted from the days of Noah. " But I do believe," she added, seriously, " that Master has such a generous nature that he could easily be induced to make friends with Tobias." But it was evident that Mr. Tor- ranee held a different opinion. " They might probably be trained to live together if they were under one roof," he observed, " but I am afraid the introduction would end in disaster. Tobias has a lordly spirit and fears no foe ; the first sight of the collie would transform him into a black demon, snarling fury and defiance." And Margaret owned that the picture was not a pleasing one. They all moved to the tea-table after this, and Mr. Torrance resumed his conversation with Harold. They had a mutual acquaintance Evans of Trinity and Harold learnt that his friend's father, a Welsh clergy- man, had been an old school chum of Mr. Torrance's. " I remember Rupert when he was quite a little chap," he remarked, " but I have not seen him since he has grown up. When I was in Wales the year before last I went over to Bettws-y-Coed to see his father, and spent nearly a week with him. Rupert is to take orders, I hear; I believe he is a clever fellow." Margaret seemed to listen with much interest. She, was glad that he was drawing Harold out ; on the sub- ject of Trinity and Trinity men he could be eloquent enough. Meanwhile Maureen was taking stock of Mr. Torrance himself. He looked a year or two younger than the rector, but he was a very different type of man. He had a clever clean-cut face and dark hair streaked with grey; and though his manner was easy and genial, and he was 92 The Sunny Side of the Hill evidently quite in harmony with his environment, Maureen noticed that he was a little absent at times, and that he had odd, restless ways. Once he got up from the table and walked to the window, and then seem- ingly forgot to resume his seat, until Margaret reminded him that his tea was getting cold. Another time he helped himself to two or three lumps of sugar while he was talking, and then complained pathetically that his cup was over-sweetened. Margaret took it from him with an indulgent smile. " When you know Mr. Torrance better, Maureen," she said, in a tolerant tone, " you will be careful not to leave the sugar-basin within his reach, for he has a habit of helping himself at every pause in the conversation. I have seen him with my own eyes take six or seven lumps." Mr. Torrance laughed a low chuckling laugh. " I am an absent-minded beggar," he said, good-humouredly. " Wasn't it Dr. Johnson who would sometimes drink fifteen cups of tea ? " " It is to be hoped the cups were small," returned Margaret. " I should not have cared to be in Mrs. Thrale's place endless tea-drinking and learned talk, not to mention snuffy waistcoats," and she made a lit- tle grimace as she rose from the table. Maureen hoped that Mr. Torrance would have stayed some time longer. She thought him decidedly inter- esting; but to her chagrin he wanted Harold to walk back with him to the Old Grey House. " How tiresome of him to take Harold away ! " she said a little petulantly when they had gone. " Mr. Torrance wants his pipe as well as Harold's company," returned Margaret, quietly ; " he is in one of his restless moods this evening. I see he has taken a fancy to Harold, and they will talk better without us; we can make ourselves cosy." And then Margaret plunged into a regular Homestead talk, and she was so delightfully sympathetic, so interested in every domestic Marsh Hall 93 detail, that Maureen quite forgot how time was passing, and was pleasantly surprised when Harold returned and told them that he had been away nearly two hours. " We have had such a jolly talk, Aunt Margaret," he said, with unusual animation. " Mr. Torrance was awfully good company; he seems to know a lot about most things." Margaret nodded. " I though you would get on together," she remarked, placidly. " He seems a bit lonely in that big house. I like his study, and his housekeeper seems a decent body." " Oh, yes ; Joanna is a respectable woman," returned Margaret very slowly from her chair. " She makes him fairly comfortable, though as I tell him, there is room for improvement, and even an old servant ought not to have her own way too much. Maureen, we must really go upstairs now; Harold must tell us more after dinner." But strange to say, she did not again refer to their visitor except in quite an incidental way ; for, to Maureen's surprise, her thoughts seemed occupied with Harold himself. " I have always so wanted to tell you that I think you have done a fine thing in sticking to your father," she said suddenly in her frank, outspoken way. " If I had not been such a lazy woman, I should have written to tell you so. You have gone up several degrees in my estimation." Harold flushed. " You are very kind to tell me so, Aunt Margaret." " My dear boy, there is no kindness about it ; it is simply my duty to tell my nephew that I know how to appreciate his self-sacrifice. Maureen and I know all about it ; and, Entre-nous," with a delightful smile, " we think you just a little bit of a hero." " Oh, that is absurd, begging your pardon." " No, my dear, but I will spare your blushes ; besides, I never gush. I wanted just for once to tell you this. 94 The Sunny Side of the Hill And, Harold, let me say one more word: in years to come you will not repent this, and you will have a lighter heart than if you were a K.C. and wore silk." And as he averted his eyes a little hastily, she said softly, " If I could only have helped you, dear ; but for the present at least that is impossible." Harold got up from his chair. He was plainly em- barrassed by the conversation, and a change of posture was a relief. " It is awfully good of you to say all this," he re- turned, " but a man must help himself. Maureen was talking about it this morning; but somehow I always feel that if one has a difficult bit of work to do it is no use wasting words over it. It is not that I am ungrateful for sympathy, but " " My dear boy," replied Margaret, kindly, " there is no need for you to explain. Maureen and I both under- stand you are pulling up the hill, and we only wanted to push the wheels a little." And then with much tact she changed the subject by asking Harold if he had any plans for the next day; and as he hesitated for a moment, Maureen answered for him. " I think he would like another morning at St. Quintin. Harold can never keep away from the sea, and I should enjoy it, too," " But we shall not go without you," observed Harold firmly, who began to suspect that Margaret was only effacing herself for their benefit, " so you need not trump up any engagement." Then Margaret laughed and blushed a little guiltily. " Well, I will go on condition that you amuse your- selves in the afternoon, for I really have an important piece of business " ; and she was so evidently in earnest that Harold owned himself convinced. The morning proved fine and cloudless, and they passed it very pleasantly. They sat under the old boat again, and Margaret was initiated into the mysteries of Aunt Sally, and when the tide went out they walked Marsh Hall 95 along the wet sands and looked for shells and seaweed, and it was with difficulty they caught the omnibus. Luncheon was a late and hurried meal, and Margaret had to leave her young guests to finish at their leisure while she went off to keep her appointment. It was an ideal May afternoon, and the fresh breeze blew softly in their faces as the brother and sister strolled across the little meadow and past the Rectory grounds, with its high walls and pine trees. The meadow was full of ewes with their lambs, and Maureen stopped to admire a grand old barn ; the russet brown and red of its roof and weather-stained walls made it a most picturesque object. Then they passed some charming gentlemen's cottages with long gardens gay with spring flowers ; lilac bushes, mauve and yellow irises, masses of the field-flower called by some country folk ragged robin, bluebells and forget-me-nots, candytuft and clouds of ox-eyed daisies, forming a lovely border to the narrow trim lawn. They passed a farm and another meadow; then a windmill attracted their attention, and they climbed up the grass mound, which gave them a charming view of the surrounding country. " A little farther on we shall come to the Marsh of which Aunt Margaret told us," observed Harold " Branksmere Marsh ! I have always wished to see that." And then they walked more quickly down a road with some pleasant old houses and cottages, until they reached an ancient-looking inn, The Three Pigeons, where two roads branched off. The lower road seemed more inviting, so they took it. A little farther on they stopped simultaneously. " How glorious ! " burst from Maureen ; but Harold only took off his cap that he might feel the sea-wind blow. The dyke land lay beyond them long green pastures, with hundreds of feeding sheep, and here and there a group of oxen. Myriads of larks were singing in the blue expanse. As they watched they saw one drop down 96 The Sunny Side of the Hill to its nest in the grass; the next moment another soared upward, filling the air with its delicious music. The wide wind-swept spaces, the far horizons, the keen freshness of the breeze gave them intense enjoyment. Harold for- got his thwarted ambitions and Maureen her home-sick- ness as the sheer joy of life took possession of them. " I shall come here nearly every day ! " exclaimed Maureen breathlessly, as they walked on. Presently they paused at the unexpected sight of a strange-looking castellated house standing solitary on the Marsh. It seemed so far from any other habitation though later on they found a small isolated farm hid- den behind a clump of trees it looked so grim and grey in its loneliness, so exposed to the winds of heaven, that their curiosity was strongly roused. " What a great ugly place," observed Maureen. " Fancy any one living here in the winter ; surely the wind would be enough to cut one to pieces." " I think the owner must be a misanthrope or an eccentric sort of person," returned her brother. " We must question Aunt Margaret. I fancy there is some kind of garden behind those high walls there are some trees ; but it is too far off to see." " I wonder if we might cross that bridge and go a little way up the drive ? " suggested Maureen ; for the wide dyke or ditch which bordered the road was spanned by a substantial bridge, leading to a tolerably kept carriage drive with open pasture land on either side ; a formidable-looking gateway was discernible in the distance. " I think we had -better not attempt it," returned Harold. " The people who live here may be friends of Aunt Margaret's." And Maureen reluctantly acquiesced in this. She was very glad that he had not yielded to her curiosity, for the next moment they heard the sound of hoofs behind them, and before they could move away a gentleman on a beautiful bay horse passed them, and slightly raising his hat, rode towards the house. Marsh Hall 97 Maureen drew a quick little breath of relief. She had not been found trespassing, but she fancied there had been a surprised look in the stranger's eyes. Maureen's cheek burnt with annoyance. Probably he thought them intrusive and curious. But Harold took it very coolly. " What a fine-looking man," he observed ; " quite a Viking with his tawny hair and moustache. He did not seem altogether pleased with us ; he gave me a very sharp look as he rode past." But Maureen only shrugged her shoulders. She was rather a proud little person, and the rencontre had disturbed her. She was sure she had seen a flash o-f annoyance in the gentle- man's eyes. " If a cat may look at a king," she said to herself, " there could be no harm, surely, in looking at his castle ! " When they reached the Garden House they found Margaret had returned before them and was watching for their arrival. She questioned them about their walk, and seemed amused with their curiosity about the House on the Marsh. "Why, that is Marsh Hall," she returned, "and it certainly is rather an ugly building, though it is com- fortable enough inside. It was built by Mr. Chaytor's grandfather; the air-maniac they called him. By all accounts he was a very eccentric individual." " He was certainly not overlooked by neighbours," observed Harold. " It was even more isolated then," replied Margaret ; " Little Marsh Farm was not even built that belongs to the Hall. Old Roger Chaytor was a decided crank ; he was fonder of his own society than of other people's, and he was too argumentative and ready to quarrel to be a pleasant companion. I believe in early life he was very different, but something went wrong with him. " He was perfectly crazy on the subject of fresh air," she went on, " and his one idea was to build a house where he would have a wide open space, with nothing 7 98 The Sunny Side of the Hill between him and the sea, and to have the wind blowing round him. From the road you could hardly notice that part of the roof is flat, besides the parapets are too high. Well, he had a little cabin erected there, and I have been told that on the coldest night in winter the old man would sit in the little stone shelter wrapped in his fur coat and smoking, with the wind rushing over the Marsh and roaring round the Hall like a pack of hungry w r olves." " What an extraordinary person, Aunt Maggie ! " " Well, he was not quite normal, though he was sane enough on most things. He was a regular old Viking " Maureen started at this, for it was the very word that Harold had used of his grandson " with his snow-white hair and beard, and his sunburnt, weather-beaten face. Romney Chaytor is very like him, they say; he has the same strongly-marked features and the same singular blue eyes. I never saw eyes so intensely blue, though they are rather too keen for my taste ; but he is a good- looking man, and it is a thousand pities that he is so lame." " Lame ! " exclaimed Maureen. " Surely you are not speaking of the present Mr. Chaytor, who rode past us just now? " "On a beautiful bay horse? Yes, that was certainly Romney Chaytor and his favourite Dick Turpin. But I must not chatter any more just now, as it is nearly dinner-time. We will continue in our next; you know serial stories generally break off in a thrilling part, just to whet their reader's curiosity." And Margaret nodded to Maureen in rather a provoking way as she collected her walking apparel. Margaret's habits were decidedly Bohemian, and as Maureen followed her upstairs she registered a private resolve to cure these feckless habits. " What is the use of having a parlour-maid, if she is not to wait on her mistress ? " thought the girl, with a vivid remembrance of the well-trained servant at the Homestead. XI ROMNEY CHAYTOR And now the stream has reached a dark deep sea, And Sorrow dim and crowned is waiting thee. A. MOULE. Joy is the lesson set for some, For others, pain best teacher is ; We know not which for us shall come, But both are Heaven's high ministries. S. COOLIDGE. WHEN dinner was over, Margaret led the way to the drawing-room, where they found a bright little fire burn- ing, and one of the windows thrown open as usual. " I thought you told us that you never sat here in the evening except in the winter," observed Maureen. " But really, Aunt Maggie, if the ceiling were not quite so low and there was a little more light, it would be a very pretty room ; it has such nice old-fashioned furni- ture, and those shelves of china are charming." " Oh, it is cosy enough in the winter," returned her aunt, carelessly ; " but when I am alone, I greatly prefer my big dining-room. But if I am to have smart London visitors, I must get out of my hugger-mugger ways and use my drawing-room in a proper civilised manner. In summer I live out of doors or in the hall ; and wherever I am I generally contrive to make myself exceedingly comfortable," settling herself in an easy-chair as she spoke. " I hope you keep up your music," remarked Maureen, glancing at the fine semi-grand piano. " I know you used to play to Mrs. Rayner every evening." " Yes, she was so fond of listening to me, dear soul,'* returned Margaret, softly ; " and I did not like the idea of moving the piano from its old place. But I have not 99 100 The Sunny Side of the Hill practised so much as usual lately; I must turn over a new leaf." " Suppose you play something to us now," returned her niece, coaxingly. But Margaret was not in the humour for music. " I am a very moody person, as you will soon find out, Maureen," she observed ; " I have musical moods and reading moods and working moods." " And gardening moods," suggested the girl, smiling. " No, you are wrong there," returned Margaret, quite seriously ; " gardening is my most important work in life. The garden that I love is the object of my thoughts from early dawn to dewy eve. I have no moods with regard to it I simply live for it." Harold's face wore an amused expression. He found his aunt decidedly entertaining. " I suppose you understand a lot about it," he ob- served in an interested voice. " My dear boy, I know nothing absolutely nothing. My ignorance is simply pitiable. The mistakes I make are awful. My great anxiety is to hide them from Giles. I am afraid that I must be a very artful person, for he certainly thinks I am a reliable authority on horticulture. With all his grumbling and obstinacy, he has a great respect for my judgment." " Are you not afraid that Giles will find you out one day, Aunt Maggie?" "My dear girl, I have not a doubt on the subject; but I intend to keep off the evil day as long as possible. You have no idea how far a little knowledge spread very thin will go, if eked out with assurance and a com- manding air. Then I take in all kinds of gardening papers, and when Giles begins to argue I bring him one with the page turned down and point to it triumphantly. ' Read it for yourself/ I say ; ' it is down there in black and white, exactly as I told you yesterday ' ; and how is the poor old fellow to guess that I had only been quoting from memory ? " Romney Chaytor 101 " Aunt Margaret, you are giving yourself away," remonstrated Harold ; " I don't believe you are as ig- norant as you make yourself out." " Well, I hope I shall improve in time," she observed placidly. " I have certainly made fewer mistakes this spring. And, after all, one's ignorance does not hinder one's enjoyment. The grass is just as green and the flowers bloom and a hundred sweet surprises give one little thrills of pleasure. Birds and flowers, why, they are just the loveliest things in life; what can any one want more ? " But here Margaret stopped and said with great solemnity, " I forgot one thing that is wanting to my happiness." And then looking mournfully at the wall opposite to her " If only I had that bay window and circular seat ! " "Is it quite impossible?" asked Harold, in a sym- pathetic tone. " I am afraid so " Margaret spoke quite sadly ; " it will cost too much, and I do not like to be extravagant. But I assure you that bay window is never out of my thoughts. I actually dreamt of it one evening. It was such a delicious dream. I was sitting there and the sun was shining, and there was the yew hedge with the Gloire de Dijon roses climbing over it. I think some one was sitting beside me on the circular seat, but I have not a notion who it was. But when I woke there was the blank wall again. We might draw a moral from that, eh, Harold?" Margaret was in a talking mood that evening, and presently she recollected that she had promised to tell them about Mr. Chaytor's lameness; but she commenced in her usual erratic way: " I know very little of Mr. Chaytor personally, for he is not very sociable with his neighbours. His two inti- mate friends are the rector and Mr. Torrance, but I believe he rarely, if ever, enters their houses." " Is he a crank like his grandfather? " "Well, I should hardly call him that; but all the 102 The Sunny Side of the Hill Chaytors the men, I mean seemed rather eccentric, and they certainly had tempers. Romney Chaytor is somewhat peculiar; but then he is so heavily handi- capped, and Fate has not been specially kind to him. Mr. Torrance has told me all I know. " His father was a strikingly handsome man, but he had a very arbitrary and ungoverned temper; and his mother a very sweet woman, whom he adored died when Romney Chaytor was about twelve. " An old friend of Mr. Torrance's who was staying at Marsh Hall at the time of Mrs. Chay tor's death, told him that it was impossible to say whether the father or son felt her loss most; but it was certain that the boy fretted himself ill and was sent abroad for some months. After that his time was principally spent at Winchester. " About two years after his mother's death, Romney received a letter from his father telling him that he had just married again, and that he was at present on his wedding tour. ' I am quite sure you will like your new mother, Romney,' he went on ; ' and as she is our su- perior in rank and fortune, she. has a right to our con- sideration, and we must do all in our power to make her happy.' " ' What does he mean ? ' exclaimed the poor lad ; ' one can only have one mother ' ; and he looked piteously into his friend's face, a young master who had taken a great deal of notice of him. ' I will never forgive father for this insult to my own dear mother/ And no amount of reasoning on his friend's part could calm his rage. The Chaytor temper had descended to the third generation." " I think it was horrid of his father to marry again," remarked Maureen, " and I do not wonder one bit that the poor boy was furious. But how did Mr. Torrance know all this, Aunt Margaret ? " " He gained his information from old Mrs. Corbett ; for, though her visits to Marsh Hall ceased after Mrs. Chaytor's death, she still saw a great deal of her boy Romney Chaytor 103 during his holidays. From her accounts Romney cer- tainly behaved rather badly to his father and step-mother. He set his father at defiance, and repelled Mrs. Chaytor's attempts to be friendly. The sight of the handsome black-browed woman sitting in his mother's place drove the boy to the verge of madness, and his father's severity only widened the breach. The scenes between the father and son grew so intolerable that Mrs. Chaytor implored her husband to send the boy away until he learnt to behave with common civility. " Mr. Chaytor thought this only reasonable, and for more than a year Romney did not return to Marsh Hall. Mrs. Corbett, who wrote to him from time to time, told him that he had a baby sister, and that his stepmother had been so ill that at one time they had despaired of her life. And though Romney was too proud to own it, this news certainly softened him a lit- tle ; and though he never ceased to dislike his stepmother a dislike which she certainly returned he was wise enough to conduct himself with outward civility. But it was evident that he had not forgiven his father, and that there was little sympathy between them. The boy's intense loyalty to the memory of his dead mother seemed a perpetual reproach to Geoffrey Chaytor, and even strangers noticed how seldom the father and son were together. " Romney seemed very indifferent to his baby sister, though little Ruth would hold out her arms and cry to go to him. ' She is only my half-sister,' he said once very coldly to Mrs. Corbett ; ' and she is too much like Mrs. Chaytor for my taste,' he added contemptuously. Nevertheless, one day when Romney believed himself alone with the child, he lifted the dark-eyed baby out of her perambulator and carried her to the stable-yard to see a brood of young chickens. ' Pretty, pretty,' laughed the little one, dimpling with joy. But her smiles turned into sobs when Romney refused to put her down 104 The Sunny Side of the Hill on her unsteady feet, and tucked her up again in her perambulator." Margaret paused for a moment; not that she was tired, oh dear no! but she always disliked this part of the story. " Go on," observed Harold, approvingly. " I think this instalment of the serial quite interesting; don't you, Chiffons ? " But Maureen was too much absorbed to heed this remark; her lively imagination was conjur- ing up visions of that lonely and thwarted boyhood. " I believe he did love his baby sister after all," she said aloud. Margaret nodded. " That has always been my opin- ion too," she returned. " Well, I suppose I may as well go on. " From the time of her child's birth Mrs. Chaytor's health had not been satisfactory, and as Marsh Hall was in too exposed a condition for an invalid, they generally wintered abroad, and Romney spent his Christ- mas holidays with an uncle in London. George Chaytor was a barrister, a Q.C. with a large and increasing prac- tice. He had a handsome house at Kensington; and as there were boys and girls of all ages, from an infant in arms to rough schoolboys a little younger than Rom- ney, it certainly appeared a desirable holiday residence for the boy. But Romney did not care for his uncle, and he had very little affection for his cousins. They were high-spirited, boisterous children much given to practical jokes. The girls teased and laughed at him and dubbed him Don Quixote, much to his indignation. Nevertheless, he repeated his visits for two more years. " One summer, when Romney was between sixteen and seventeen, Mr. Chaytor, who was becoming anxious about his wife's health, took an old rectory for a month or two in a pretty village in Surrey, and there the house- hold migrated, and Romney joined them as soon as the vacation commenced. " Mr. Chaytor was making some important alteration Romney Chaytor 105 at Marsh Hall, and he went up every now and then to superintend the workmen, remaining for two or three days at a time. " Things had been going on more smoothly of late, and Mrs. Chaytor privately told her husband that she thought her stepson much improved ; and Mrs. Corbett, who now lived at the Mill House, informed Geoffrey Chaytor that he ought to be proud of such a son. ' He is as fine-looking a young fellow as you would see in a day's march/ were her words; and a gratified expres- sion had crossed Geoffrey Chaytor's face. " That night, as he slept peacefully in his wind-blown fortress, he little guessed that his only son was in awful peril, and that his rescue from death seemed a miracle. " I can only give the few particulars which Mr. Torrance had heard later from Mrs. Corbett. How the fire had broken out was a mystery, but the family and household had been asleep for an hour or two before the alarm was given. " The rectory was old and in bad condition, and it seemed to burn like tinder. The barking of the yard dog under his window aroused Romney, and as he opened his door a volume of smoke met him. He succeeded in waking his stepmother, and with difficulty conveyed her and the maid who slept in her dressing-room to a place of safety. One of the servants had the presence of mind to ring the alarm-bell, and the villagers came hurrying up to offer their help. " It was not until the household were gathered on the lawn that it was discovered that baby Ruth and her nurse were missing. In the panic they had been forgotten. Unless the alarm-bell had roused them, they would be still sleeping. Mrs. Chaytor was nearly frantic in her anguish. She implored the men to save them, but no one would volunteer to enter the burning house. Ladders were brought, but they were too short ; the delay in bringing up longer ones would be fatal. " * If BO one will go, I will have a try myself ! ' ex- 106 The Sunny Side of the Hill claimed Romney; and though a stableman caught him by the arm and tried to hold him back, so great was the youth's strength that he flung him off and dashed into the house. One or two of the men tried to follow him, but the smoke daunted them, and they could not see where he had disappeared. Others had gone for the ladders. The main staircase was burning, but there was still a chance that the backstairs might be avail- able. Though Romney never related his experiences, and never could be induced to open his lips on the sub- ject, it was evident that he must have reached the nursery in this way. The question was how the return journey could be accomplished, for by this time the hall was blazing. One sturdy fellow, the sexton, announced his intention of getting the back door open. ' If the young master manages to bring them down to the passage, he will be caught in a trap unless we can open the door ! ' he exclaimed. The next moment a side window was broken open, and Joe Atkins clambered in and unlocked the door. He had scarcely done so before Romney, with the child on one arm and dragging the nurse, half-in- sensible, after him, appeared at the end of the passage. There were only a few yards between them and safety when one of the burning rafters fell as they passed under it, and struck Romney to the ground. How the nurse and child escaped injury could never be known, but before they could drag Romney Chaytor from underneath the burning wood the mischief had been done." Here Margaret shuddered. " I never would let Mr. Torrance tell me about it." " Oh, how terrible ! " murmured Maureen. " I should have thought nothing could have saved him." " No, my dear ; as every one said, it was a perfect miracle that he was not killed outright. For weeks he was not expected to live. Even his doctors and nurses declared it was an impossibility. But he was young and had a good constitution, and after a time the head wounds healed, and only one leg was seriously affected. Romney Chaytor 107 " What that poor boy must have suffered ! I believe that his stepmother was very good to him, and that his own mother could not have waited on him more devotedly. And they were certainly better friends. He undoubtedly felt her death when it occurred three years later." " Was his father good to him too, Aunt Maggie ? " " Yes, indeed, and everything was done for his relief and comfort. But I am afraid there was never any real sympathy between them. The strangest part was that for a year or two the poor boy could hardly bear the sight of little Ruth. Probably his nerves were dis- organised by his sufferings, mental and physical; but they were obliged to give way to him in this, and for two years, he scarcely saw her." " How awfully sad ! " exclaimed Maureen ; and Mar- garet nodded. " It was not quite so unnatural as you may think it," she returned, " for no doubt the sight of the child brought back the memory of that terrible night, and in his weakened state he was unable to control this feeling. " After his father's death, which took place when Romney was about three-and-twenty, he and his Uncle George became joint guardians of the child, and then it was arranged that Ruth should live with her aunt and uncle and share her cousins' studies. It certainly seemed a more desirable home than Marsh Hall." " But it seemed rather sad that Mr. Chaytor should be left alone in that gloomy old house," observed Maureen. " He was not always there," returned Margaret, " and I believe he would have found the care of a young sister somewhat irksome. He is a Chaytor, you must remember that, and some of the family eccentricity has descended to him. I believe he is much attached to his wind-blown castle, but he is a great traveller too." Then Harold looked up quickly. " I thought you said he was lame, Aunt Margaret ? " 108 The Sunny Side of the Hill " Yes, that is true ; but he is no longer helpless. For some years he was on crutches, but now he does not always use a stick. But until one gets used to it, it is very painful to see him walk. You know he was so dreadfully burnt, and I fancy the sinews of the thigh shrank, for one leg is a little shorter than the other; and though he manages to walk now, it is such a pain- fully lurching gait all the more because he is such a fine-looking man. Mr. Torrance tells me that he feels it acutely, and that his lameness makes him morose and unsociable. He is certainly becoming something of a hermit." " But he rides, Aunt Margaret." " Yes, and he is extremely active. He has just got a fine motor. Little Marsh Farm belongs to him, and he interests himself a good deal in farming. He spends most of his time in the open air, and every now and then he goes abroad, chiefly to Iceland and Norway. He has a devoted servant, Francis Gale, who goes every- where with him." " Does he never see his sister ? " " To be sure he does, and I know for certain that Ruth is very fond of her brother. She generally spends six weeks or two months with him in the summer, but he hardly ever goes to town. Now I have talked myself hoarse, and Harold will be quite bored." But though they both eagerly refuted this, Margaret assured them that she had nothing more to say. XII -MY LITTLE PREACHERS AND MINSTRELS" Don't bewail and moan, omit the negative propositions. Don't waste yourself in rejection nor bark against the bad, but chant the beauty of the good. EMERSON. A lantern in the hand is worth a dozen stars. Be a lantern then with all your might. E. M. BAKER. THE Viking story, as Maureen always called it, made a deep impression on her, and she could not get it out her mind. This was partly owing to Margaret's vivid descriptions; she was always so keenly interested in her own narrative, she realised so intensely the scenes she pourtrayed, that she forced her listeners to realise them too. It was natural to her to dramatise and em- bellish her account with little touches which heightened the interest; without any deviation from the truth, she unconsciously cast the glamour of her own imagination over her recital. It was some time before Maureen could sleep that night, her thoughts were so busy with all she had heard. " I wonder if Ruth Chaytor is nice," she said to herself just before she dozed off. When the morning sunshine awoke her, she suddenly remembered that it was Harold's last day, and that she must make the most of every hour. As they walked across to St. Cyprian's for the morn- ing service, Harold suggested that they should spend the afternoon at St. Ouintin. " There is not a cloud in the sky," he said, " and the tide will be going out and the sands will be uncovered." And Margaret encouraged this idea. " Master and I generally spend our Sunday after- noons in the garden," she observed. " I wrap up warmly, 109 110 The Sunny Side of the Hill and take two or three of my favourite books, but I rarely open one." " Does that mean that you go to sleep, Aunt Maggie ? " But Margaret refuted this with some indignation. " No, you absurd child ; I am far too interested to waste my time in napping. I have my bird families to visit. My tame robin is bringing up a family in the big lilac near, and I have to leave my card in the shape of bread-crumbs and raw shreds of meat on Lady Black- bird and Mrs. Thrush and some neighbours of theirs, the Tomtits and Jenny Wrens. A garden is always more delightful on Sunday than on any other day of the week ; and if, as St. Paul says, ' Evil communications corrupt good manners/ which is certainly true, one as surely benefits by good society, and my little preachers and min- strels have given me plenty of consolation in sad times." They were at the church porch by this time, and Margaret had no time to say more. As they walked up the aisle, Maureen noticed a gentleman who was sitting alone in one of the high pews. He turned his head slightly at the sound of footsteps, and Maureen recog- nised the tawny hair and strongly-marked features of the owner of Marsh Hall. And as she took her place she was conscious of a feeling of relief that, in spite of his eccentricity, Mr. Chaytor was not unmindful of his religious duties. During the service she often heard a deep tone join- ing in the responses, and she was fully aware that a very fine bass voice proceeded from the Chaytor pew. The bird-like little old lady, who they now knew was Mrs. Whit worth, occupied her accustomed corner in the Rectory pew; but instead of her hat, she wore a hood- like bonnet with a grey veil tied over it. Maureen and Harold were much impressed with the rector's sermon. Simple as it was, it bore the stamp of much deep and earnest study. There was a restrained eloquence about it, as though the preacher feared to My Little Preachers and Minstrels 111 let himself go. Harold commented on this afterwards. " I think Mr. Whitworth gave us an excellent ser- mon," he said, as they left the church. " Does he always preach extempore, Aunt Margaret ? " " Yes, always," she returned. " But I know he pre- pares his sermons very carefully, and does not grudge time and study. Sometimes he ends a little abruptly, as he did this morning. " That was just what I was going to observe," replied her nephew. " He had matter enough for a far longer discourse, but he seemed to put a sudden check on himself." Margaret smiled. " You are observant, Harold ; but it is quite true. Mr. Whitworth will not allow himself to be carried away by his subject. He limits himself to fifteen or twenty minutes, and I have known him at the last moment divide a sermon into two parts and finish it at Evensong. He has more than once told me that a little well digested is better than too much; and that, though he could preach for an hour with ease and pleasure to himself, the sight of his church-warden look- ing at his watch would paralyse him at once." Margaret had not left her seat until some of the pews were empty, but Maureen saw that Mr. Chaytor still kept his place. He looked at her as she passed out. She felt sure he recognised her; his keen blue eyes were rather searching. A handsome motor with a smart chauffeur was wait- ing outside the church. Margaret glanced at it with some curiosity as they passed. " Mr. Chaytor must have spent a large sum on that motor," she observed ; " but he has plenty of money, and he has no one but himself to please." " You forget his sister, Aunt Margaret." " Indeed I do not ; I am very fond of Ruth. But she is not dependent on her brother. She will inherit her mother's fortune." At this moment a crisp, quick voice behind them 112 The Sunny Side of the Hill brought Margaret to a full stop, and she turned to greet Mrs. Whitworth, and to introduce her nephew and niece. The old lady's bright eyes took stock of them at once. " So you have come to keep your aunt company," she said to Maureen, with a little friendly nod ; " that is very right and proper, my dear, for, as I tell my son, it is not good for either man or woman to live alone. Are you coming to the Rectory, Margaret? I am only waiting for Bryan, he will be here directly." But Mar- garet excused herself. They were lunching early, as the young people wished to spend the afternoon at St. Quintin ; she would bring Maureen to tea another day. As they passed the Old Grey House, Mr. Torrance came down the steps he was evidently waiting to speak to them. He walked back with them to the Garden House, and Margaret took him into the garden to see her herbaceous border. Harold accompanied them. As Maureen looked out of her bedroom window she saw them pacing up and down the lawn by the house. Margaret had evidently announced her intention of going in, and had then taken another turn in her erratic way. She glanced up and kissed her hand to Maureen as they passed. " How bright and happy she seems," thought the girl ; " one would think she had not a care in the world. I wonder why she looks so much nicer than other peo- ple. She is not young, and she is certainly not pretty, and she dresses rather oddly at times, and yet one cannot help admiring her. That heliotrope cashmere is quite old," she went on, " she wore it three years ago to my knowledge, and yet with that black feather stole and hat with the long black ostrich feather curling over the brim she looks quite well dressed. She is certainly a rather graceful person. I feel such an ordinary little mortal beside her." Before Harold and Maureen started for the St. Quin- tin sands they saw Margaret comfortably established in her high-backed garden chair, which looked like a bee- My Little Preachers and Minstrels 113 hive cut in halves. Margaret always called it her " Grannie chair." It was provided with well-worn cushions and was extremely comfortable. Margaret's Sunday preparations generally needed helping hands ; not only cushions, but rugs, and shawls, and a folding- table and footstool were necessary. The Madeira Walk was sheltered, but in May the winds were not always kind. The books, too, were rather weighty; a volume of Newman's Sermons, preached in his Anglican days ; Keble's Christian Year, illustrated and massively bound; and the Road-Mender and The Gathering of Brother Hilarius were all selected as her garden companions. " I will carry the birds' basket myself," she observed. " Master always has the Church Times." " Aunt Maggie," burst out Maureen, " why do you saddle yourself with all these books, especially as you read so little ? " Then Margaret looked at her with mild approach. " It is my rest afternoon, and to rest properly one must have nothing on one's mind. How am I to know at this moment which book will fit in with my mood? If I left one of my Select Library behind, that would be the very one I should need. But do you suppose I would go back to the house to fetch it ? " and Mar- garet arched her eyebrows meaningly. They both laughed at this, but Harold announced his intention of questioning her on the subject of her Sun- day literature on his return. Margaret only gave him a lazy nod. " I must visit little Bobs and his wife first," she remarked. Maureen was rather quiet that afternoon, the shadow of to-morrow's parting was over her. But Harold, who quite understood the reason of her gravity, laid himself out to cheer and amuse her. They walked a long way over the sands, and only reached the Garden House in time for tea before the evening service. Margaret, who thought Maureen looked tired, pressed her to remain at home. " Harold shall 8 114 The Sunny Side of the Hill stay with you," she observed. But the girl would not hear of this. She was glad afterwards she had gone, for the bright, hearty service seemed to rest her. Neither Mr. Chaytor nor Mr. Torrance was at church, but Margaret observed casually during supper that Mr. Torrance generally walked over to Marsh Hall on Sunday evenings. " By the bye," remarked Harold wickedly, as they went into the drawing-room for Margaret had promised to play to them " did you read one of Newman's Ser- mons or Keble's Christian Year this afternoon ? " Margaret considered a moment. " Let me see. What did I read? Oh yes, I know. I read a couple of pages of the Road-Mender about the two tramps but it made me melancholy. So I visited my bird families over again, and they seemed rather glad to see me. I don't think I was quite in the mood for any of my books," continued Margaret frankly, as she placed herself at the piano. Harold had to take the early train the next morning, but both Margaret and Maureen were down before him. Maureen could not trust herself to say much a brief message to her father and mother and Irene was given as she and Harold stood together in the hall. Margaret had bidden her nephew a cheery good-bye, and had thoughtfully retreated to the dining-room. " I wish you were not going, Entre-nous," observed poor Maureen, in rather a sad voice; "it has been just lovely having you here." Then Harold took her hands and looked at her very kindly. " We have had an awfully nice time ; I have enjoyed myself immensely, and I mean to look forward to August." Then he paused. " Look here, Maureen, you will be all right with Aunt Margaret, I am quite sure of that." Then he kissed her with unusual affection, and walked quickly down the street to meet the omnibus. Maureen dashed the tears from her eyes and went in search of Margaret. She was standing by the dining- My Little Preachers and Minstrels 115 room window, and was evidently in a brown study. She roused herself as Maureen entered. " Well," she said, with an affectionate smile, " so that dear boy has gone, and we shall miss him dreadfully. I do think he is my favourite nephew, though it is rather rough on Clive and Ninian to say so." Maureen's sad little face cleared at this. Too much sympathy would have made the tears flow, but this judicious praise of the beloved one gave her a thrill of pleasure. " I am so glad you are fond of him, Aunt Margaret. People do not always understand him, be- cause he is so quiet and reserved, but there are such depths in his nature." Margaret nodded. " He is certainly not shallow. Now, Maureen, I wonder how you would like to spend your morning? I shall be rather busy for an hour, but afterwards " Here Maureen stopped her. " You must not treat me like a visitor if this is going to be my home." She said this quite steadily, though her lip trembled a little. Margaret put her arm round her and kissed her fore- head. " That was bravely said, dearest. Only to-day I should like you to do just what you wish." " Then, if you do not mind," returned the girl, quickly. " I should like to put my bicycle in order and cycle down to St. Quintin ; and, if you do not mind, I would rather go alone." It cost Maureen an effort to say this, for she was very tender of other people's feel- ings. But it was evident from Margaret's manner that she had expected this. " Very well, then, we will meet at luncheon," she returned. " I am afraid I must go to the workhouse this afternoon; but you will probably have letters to write." " And this morning, Aunt Maggie ? " " Oh, I shall scold Giles, and clean out the fernery, and if there is time I shall do some weeding." Margaret spoke with brisk cheerfulness. 116 The Sunny Side of the HiU When Margaret really intended to "have a regular gardening morning, she always equipped herself in what she called her pinafore or digger's costume. And as soon as she was ready she displayed herself to Maureen, who was polishing the handles of her new bicycle a present from her father on her last birthday. Maureen gave a little surprised exclamation. " Why, I hardly knew you, Aunt Maggie ! " she said slowly. " I daresay it is not becoming," remarked Margaret calmly, " but it keeps me clean, and I do so hate to be messy." " It is queer, but I do not dislike it," observed Maureen. Margaret wore a long brown overall which reached to the hem of her dress, with a broad leather belt round her waist for greater convenience, and it was fastened at the neck with an amber-coloured knot of ribbon. A brown woollen Tarn o'Shanter was set rather rakishly on her dark hair. In summer this headgear was replaced by a broad-brimmed hat or a white sun- bonnet, but the brown overall never varied. It was undoubtedly a curious costume for a woman of her age, bvit it was quite surprising how young and slim Mar- garet looked in it. And the amber ribbon at her throat gave an effective touch of colour. " My pinafore begins to look mouldy," she observed ; " I shall have to invest in a new one. You would look rather nice in a dark green linen smock yourself, Maureen. You have no idea how it protects your clothes. I must see about it when I get mine." And then she whistled for Master and went off blithely with a rake over her shoulder. It is impossible to be much in contact with 'a sun- shiny nature without being insensibly cheered, and Maureen felt a little less depressed when she mounted her iron steed and rode slowly down the Boulevard. It was still early and she had a long morning before her, so there was no need to hurry. The air blew freshly in her face. One or two nurses and some children were My Little Preachers and Minstrels 117 wending their way to the sea front. Presently there was the sound of ringing hoofs behind her, and the next moment Mr. Chaytor passed on his bay horse, Dick Turpin. They passed her so quickly that she had only time to recognise him. But she noticed he rode well, and seemed to be enjoying his morning gallop. " How impossible to realise that he is lame ! " Maureen thought, as she glanced at the massive shoul- ders and fine carriage of the head. He seemed so strong and vigorous that the idea of any physical infirmity was quite incongruous. He looked like a Nimrod among men a mighty hunter or explorer. The Vikings of old with their sea-blue eyes and weather-beaten faces must have resembled Romney Chaytor. Maureen rode on more quickly after this. When she reached St. Quintin she carried her bicycle down a little piece of sloping beach and sat down under the old boat. " Now I must be good and think myself into a better frame of mind," Maureen said to herself quite sternly. XIII "ROSEMARY AND RUE" My very thoughts are selfish, always building Mean castles in the air. I use my love of others for a gilding To make myself look fair. Alas ! no speed in life can snatch us wholly Out of Self's hateful sight. FABER. Thank God, bless God, all ye who suffer not More grief than ye can weep for ! E. A. BROWNING. DURING the following week or two Maureen often recalled Harold's parting words : " Look here, Maureen, you will be all right with Aunt Margaret, I am quite sure of that." And as the days went on the girl was constrained in sheer honesty to admit that her brother's judgment had been correct. Maureen had always been strongly drawn to her aunt, but until she lived with her she had never quite realised how lovable she was, and what a delightful comrade she could be. As Margaret was never dull or hipped herself, she took good care that her young companion should not be dull either; and while leaving Maureen absolutely free to follow her own pursuits, she often suggested some pleasant plan for the girl's amusement, or some interesting occupation that they could share together. It was only natural that Maureen should have hours of home-sickness and depression; for she was a loyal, affectionate little soul, and there were times when she craved for a sight of the dear home faces with a yearn- ing which was absolutely pain. Her worst moments were towards evening, the time 118 "Rosemary and Rue" 119 when her father and Harold returned home and a large, cheerful party collected round the dinner-table. " I hope father does not miss me too much," she would say to herself, "and that Harold will not get into unsociable ways." And once, as she and Margaret were sitting together looking out at a glorious spring sunset, she observed a little wistfully: " How strange it is that we never know how much we love people until we lose them or are parted from them ! I mean, that we take their affection too much as a matter of course." Margaret gave one of her quick little nods of assent ; she always comprehended things at once in the most delightful way. " Aunt Margaret and I understand each other so per- fectly," Maureen wrote after this to Harold. " We speak the same language and like the same things, that is why we are such good comrades." " If one had only been nicer ! " went on Maureen, with a little sigh. Then Margaret withdrew her eyes from the sunset glory and looked at the girl rather pityingly. "Life is not always easy, is it, dear? I know what you mean. I think most people have said the same things at some moment of their lives. You see, we are all, even the best of us, so selfish and egotistical we never shut the door on ourselves." " I am not sure that I quite follow you, Aunt Maggie." " It is perfectly simple," she returned. " You have a fit of the Iieitmt'eh this evening, darling do you think I do not see that? You are full of little natural regrets and remorses. But you are thinking of yourself as well as your dear ones. Do you know what my favourite Amiel, that most provoking and morbid of philosophers, says : ' It is when one expects nothing more for oneself that one is able to love ' ? " "But surely that is a hard saying?" 120 The Sunny Side of the Hill " There is a roughness of rind certainly, but you will find the kernel of truth inside. In my opinion, dear, we waste a good deal of time in regrets. ' If I had only been nicer ! ' were not those your words ? kinder and more patient, I expect you really meant ' I should not feel so depressed and low in my mind as I do at this moment.' " " Oh, Aunt Maggie, how could you guess that ? " " My dear child," returned Margaret, solemnly, " when I lay in my cradle, and the fairies came round me with their gifts, a particularly nice, good-natured fain.' gave me a divining-rod labelled ' sympathy/ and she prophesied that when I cared for any one I should be able to read them like print. Now and then I have made a mistake " and Margaret's eyes were a little sad " but that was because I projected my own shadow too strongly. But life has taught me many things, and if I had my way I would like every woman to learn that sentence by heart, and to repeat it every night and morning." " Will you say it over again, Aunt Margaret ? " " Of course I will a hundred times if you wish ! And, Maureen, do please lay it to heart, for it is fragrant with deep meaning, rosemary and rue and all sorts of precious things, but you must break through the nutshell first. ' It is when one expects nothing more for oneself that one is able to love.' " "And that is all?" " Yes, and it is sufficient. What more do we need ? When we have learned to love unselfishly, we have also learnt to live " ; and Margaret's clear hazel eyes held a solemn, veiled meaning. Maureen felt a little startled, but the next minute Margaret rose with a low laugh. " Come," she said, " we have talked enough ; Mistress and Master both want exercise. It is too lovely an even- ing to waste indoors ; let us go for a turn on the Marsh." Maureen ran off joyfully to put on her hat. She could "Rosemary and Rue" 121 not find out if Margaret proposed the walk for her own or Maureen's pleasure ; but there was certainly no trace of restlessness or gravity in her manner as they walked briskly down the road. But an hour afterwards, as they were returning home in the summer dusk, she said casually : " I am going to ask your father to run down for a week-end. Of course he must choose his own day, but I shall beg him to come as soon as possible. Why are you pinching my arm black-and-blue, you tiresome child ? Dan is my brother do you suppose that I am not doing this to please myself as well as you ? " But Maureen only laughed and shook her head. But though the note of invitation was written that night, Daniel Brydon was unable to accept it for some weeks. Maureen had no reason to complain of any neglect on the part of her family. They wrote to her con- stantly. Margaret used to look at the letters some- times and observe in a feeling tone that poor Button's work must be doubled. Sutton was the Branksmere postman. " You will have to give him a handsome Christmas box," she continued. " Yes, of course, three to my one your father, and Irene, and, let me see, is not that letter from Clive? It has the Oxford postmark." Then Maureen took it from her. Her eyes were shining with pleasure. " Oh, the dear boy ! What a nice long letter ! " And Maureen sat down to enjoy her feast of good things. Margaret always left her in peace. " I shall hear all the news by and by," she would say to herself. She knew how Maureen loved to talk over her letters when she had fully digested them, and to read out any specially interesting passage. It was Mrs. Brydon's custom to write once a week to any absent member of the family, and she never deviated from this rule. She generally wrote to Maureen on Sunday. Now and then, but at rarer intervals, Mr. Brydon wrote too; and though Harold always voted 122 The Sunny Side of the HiU correspondence a bore, he did his duty manfully, and Maureen's eyes were often gladdened' by the sight of the beloved handwriting. Irene and the twins also wrote regularly; but it was Sybil who first started the idea of a Journal-Letter con- taining the news of the week. " We shall all help to write it," she explained, " and it will save no end of time and trouble; and we shall take separate days, and sign our portion. I don't believe Entre-nous will join ; he likes doing things by himself. But the rest of us think it will be fun. It will be just like that funny story game : we shall each one write as much or as little as we like. Lois, who is fond of writing letters, says she will take two days. But we will try it next week, and you can answer it collectively if you like. The great idea is that you should share as much as possible in our daily life." " It is not a bad plan," observed Margaret ; " I won- der how it will answer." But the Sisters' Journal, as they called it, proved quite a success. Perhaps Irene's portion was the most satisfactory. If she undertook a thing she always did it well, and spared herself no time and trouble. Lois wrote copiously, but her style was uneven; she under- lined her words too much, and her digressions were a little bewildering. Sybil wrote more briefly and to the point, and Ivy's school-girl scrawl was naive and re- freshing. It always reached Maureen on a Wednesday, and with all its imperfections it certainly told her all she wanted to know. Irene was Maureen's chief confidante, but now and then she wrote long descriptive letters to the collective Journalists, which were much appreciated in the home circle. On the whole, Maureen spent a good deal of time over her correspondence " her paper chat," as she termed it. But Margaret never interfered with her. She only made it a condition that she should write out of "Rosemary and Rue" 123 doors whenever the weather permitted. So Maureen carried her little sloping blotting-case into all manner of sunny and sheltered corners of the old garden. " After all, it is a nice old world," she wrote one lovely June morning, " and, my dear Lady Journalists, I hope you all agree with me. I wonder if you really have an idea of how comfortable I am, and how good Aunt Margaret is to me. But there, if I once let myself go on that subject, I shall have no room for anything else, and I want to tell you a little about our friends. " We go a good deal to the Rectory, and I am get- ting quite fond of Mrs. Whitworth. With all her funny little ways, she is the dearest old lady, and I foresee that we shall be great friends. She is very fond of young people, and has always longed for a daughter. I believe she lost two or three baby boys, and that Mr. Whitworth was the only one to grow up, and she per- fectly idolises him. When we are alone together she talks of little else. She shows me little miniatures and pictures of him when he w r as a baby and in various stages of boyhood, and is full of anecdotes of his wonderful sayings and doings; not that they seem wonderful to me, but I listen with intelligent sympathy. I really do believe that she thinks there is no one like the rector, and yet I am not sure that I find him particularly inter- esting. He has kind eyes, and he is very good to his people, especially if they are in trouble, and he is very studious and learned ; but there is a sort of gentle abstrac- tion about him, as though his thoughts were elsewhere. But here comes Aunt Maggie with my new green smock, and I have just remembered that I promised to help her weed the paths on the Madeira Walk. So good-bye, little girls, until to-morrow, and my blessing on you all." But the next day Maureen took up her pen again. " Well, dears, here I am beginning again about the rector. But was it not strange, I was asking Aunt Margaret last evening if she did not think it a great pity that he was so silent and dreamy at times, and she 124 The Sunny Side of the HiU seemed quite surprised, and said that she was so used to him that she never noticed his little peculiarities? " ' But there is such an air of remoteness about him.' I objected. * I suppose he really hears what people say, but he does not appear to listen.' " ' You are quite wrong, Maureen/ she returned ; ' I can assure you that nothing escapes the rector. His sense of hearing is quite abnormal, and if you were to question him on any subject that had been discussed and discussed in his presence you would find that he had heard and digested every word. But I am aware that people often carry away this impression; but as I want you to appreciate him properly, I will tell you something about him, and then you will understand him better.' " And oh, my dears, it was such a sad, tragical lit- tle story she told me. I was always so sorry for poor Mr. Torrance losing his beautiful young wife and baby girl, but somehow Mr. Whitworth's appears sadder still. " It seems that when Mr. Whitworth was a young man he had a curacy in the north of England. His mother, who was then a widow, lived with him. I be- lieve this was the happiest time in his life. He was very intimate with the vicar's family, and after a few months he fell in love with the eldest daughter, and they were engaged. Her name was Dorothy Osborne such a pretty, quaint old name, and it reminds me of that Dorothy Osborne who wrote such delightful letters to her lover, Sir William Temple. She must have been a sweet creature, and poor Mr. Whitworth's Dorothy must have been sweet too. Not that she was a bit pretty; Mrs. Whitworth told Aunt Margaret that she was rather plain than otherwise, but that Bryan fairly worshipped her. During the three years they were engaged they seemed everything to each other. Well, I will hurry through the rest of the story or Lois will cry her eyes out. It was just a week before the wedding, and she went over to Leeds to see a married sister who had just had a baby. Dorothy was to be godmother. There was "Rosemary and Rue" 125 a railway accident, a dreadful one, and Dorothy was too much hurt to recover. She did not die for some days, and her mother and Mr. Whitworth were with her to the last. In spite of his own grief, he ministered to her and comforted her, without any thought of himself, but only his mother knew what he must have suffered during that terrible time. He has never married he never will marry, Aunt Margaret says he seems quite content with his parish work and books and his mother's society. When I told Aunt Margaret that I liked him all the better for his faithfulness to Dorothy, she said quietly : " ' She was not his wife certainly, but I expect he felt as though she were. When a man is married in heart and spirit to the woman he loves when they are really and truly mated a second love is well-nigh im- possible/ And I suppose she is right." But though Maureen repeated Margaret's words, she made no com- ment on the strange look of pain in her eyes. More than once she recalled it, and asked herself what it had meant; but she could find no clue to the mystery. She was beginning to realise more and more that there were hidden depths in Margaret's nature which her girlish intelligence could not yet fathom. XIV A GOOD COMRADE Learn that if to thee the meaning Of all other eyes be shown, Fewer eyes can ever front thee That are skilled to read thine own; And that if thy love's deep current Many another's far outflows, Then thy heart must take for ever Less than it bestows. JEAN INGELOW. ONE lovely June afternoon Maureen had gone to Gayton Lodge to play tennis with the Brant girls. Later on there was to be a grand Tennis Tournament, with handsome prizes to be given to the winners, and Maureen, who was very keen on the game, had got into the habit of going round once or twice a week for practice. The Brants were friendly, hospitable people; they entertained largely; they were well connected; General Brant had been a distinguished officer ; and one generally met nice people at the Lodge. Maureen described the family once for her sisters' benefit. " The General had been dead some years," she wrote. " Aunt Margaret says he was such a fine old man ; but his widow seems remarkably cheerful. Aunt Maggie says I must not judge, and that Mrs. Brant felt his death keenly, but that the Brant nature is more buoyant and cork-like than other people's, and that however deeply they may be submerged in their troubles, they soon rise to the surface again. And of course this may be perfectly true. " Mrs. Brant is certainly the biggest and most genial 126 A Good Comrade 127 of women. Everything about her is large ; not only her ample figure, but her voice without being aggressively loud it seems to dominate the room ; when Mrs. Brant is talking it is quite impossible to hear your neighbour speak, and her laugh puts one in good-humour at once. She is such a good-looking woman too. " Her daughters take after her : they are what peo- ple call fine young women. Hermione, the elder, is the handsomer, but Ginerva or Jenny, as they call her is more to my taste, and I think I like her best. Then there is an orphaned niece of the General's living with them. Her name is Thora, and she is as unlike them as possible. She is the most mannish young lady I have ever met ; if you only saw the upper half of her in the dim light you would certainly take her for a man. I did for half a minute ; but it was between lights, and I could not see her back hair. " She is very tall and thin, and wears tailor-made tweed garments, short skirts, a manly sort of coat, turned down collar and tie, a close felt billycock hat, and hair brushed away from her temples. She has a clever three- cornered sort of face too I hardly know how to describe it. Very thin and determined-looking, rather like a clever young barrister's who cannot obtain a brief, and who is not sure of getting a good dinner, not a bit a womanly face. But the funny part is, her voice does not match in the least, it is quite nice and gentle. " Her cousins are very good to her, though they laugh at her and call her crank to her face. All her pursuits are manly. She likes golf and hockey and tennis, yes, and cricket too, and she is a good shot, and never walks less than ten miles a day. You meet her at all hours with Booby, the sheep-dog, walking as though for a wager, and I am afraid but I will spare Irene's feelings still, I did once see a natty little silver match-box which certainly told tales. "Judge of my surprise, then, when Jenny one day told me that Thora was engaged to be married to an 128 The Sunny Side of the HiU eccentric old squire at Felsham thirty years older than herself. ' Mother approves, because Mr. Harewood comes of a good old family/ Jenny explained to me. ' And he is really a gentleman, although you would not guess it from his appearance. He is the roughest and toughest piece of humanity I ever saw. But Thora thinks him far preferable to the modern young man. His name is Erasmus, and he reads nothing but his Bible and the newspaper. Fishing is his hobby, espe- cially salmon-fishing, and I believe the similarity of their tastes on this subject brought about the engagement. They are the most undemonstrative couple; they seldom meet, and I don't believe he would have given her an engagement ring if mother had not reminded him of the omission; and then he gave her a seal ring of his own. It is a shabby, old-fashioned thing, and Hermione and I were quite cross about it ; but Thora said it would do very well, and that she hated smart rings. " Mr. Harewood and I do not care for finery," she added. And then Ginerva went on rather wickedly : " Can you fancy Thora in a wedding dress? If she condescends to wear one it will be cut as straight as a satin shroud ; but I expect she will get a new tweed for the occasion.' There, I have gossiped enough ta-ta, my girlies." The afternoon was so warm and sunny that Margaret ordered tea to be brought out on the tennis lawn, there was plenty of shade there. She was expecting a visitor, and she was not sorry that Maureen would be out. Now and then she liked to have her old friend Henry Tor- ranee to herself. It was his birthday, and since his wife's death he had always put in an appearance on that day. Margaret told Maureen so quite frankly, she had no mysteries with regard to Henry Torrance. " He is one of my oldest friends," she said quite simply, and then she showed the gift she had ready for him. It was an umbrella, the best of its kind, with his name and address engraved on the handle. " It is a very handsome present, Aunt Maggie," A Good Comrade 129 returned Maureen. There was a faint suspicion of sur- prise in her voice; it brought a slight tinge of colour to Margaret's face. " He has helped me a great deal," she answered. " And I knew it was what he wanted. He is so dread- fully careless with his belongings ; to my knowledge he has lost three umbrellas in the last two years, that is why I have had the name and address inscribed, that the finder may send it back. I think myself it is a very nice one," she observed complacently. It has been said before that Margaret had a genius for friendship. She certainly had no illusions with regard to her own and Henry Torrance's feelings " When a man is married in heart and spirit to the woman he loves when they are really and truly mated a second love is well-nigh impossible," she had said to Maureen, and the girl had not known that she was speaking of Henry Torrance, and that in her heart of hearts Margaret knew that Esther's husband would always be her faithful widower, and that no other woman would ever take her place. " He cares for me more than for any living person, and in many ways I am absolutely necessary to him," she once said to herself ; " but if the world lasted till doomsday we should never be man and wife." And, strange to say, Margaret had in time learnt to say this without the old stinging pain. And yet she loved him, had always loved him, and would continue to do so to the day of her death. But in the secrecy of her chamber she often thanked God that the intensity of her passion had been subdued and changed into the purest and most sisterly affection. And yet, as Anna Brydon surmised, it had passed through the refiner's furnace. Fourteen years before Margaret had thought herself beloved. There was not a cloud on her woman's horizon. Not for one moment did she doubt that one day Henry Torrance would ask her to be his wife. His acts, his looks, his little lover-like ten- 9 130 The Sunny Side of the HiU dernesses told her that he loved her. And that evening he had gone farther; he had taken her hands and com- pelled her to look at him. " Margaret," he had said, " I am not a rich man, but I think I have enough to make a woman comfortable, and if you could care " And here the interruption came. " In another moment he would have finished his sentence," she would say to herself with that anguish which is so insupportable to a proud nature ; " but if I were on my oath, I would say that that evening he certainly meant to ask me to marry him." And of course she was right. Henry Torrance's fickleness was due to circumstances, not to nature. If he had never seen Esther's lovely face, he would have married Margaret and lived happily ever afterwards. But it is also true that he would never have loved her as he loved Esther. Margaret was his friend, his good comrade, his world would have been a desert without her; but it never occurred to him to put out his hand to her and say : " Margaret, come home ; let the same roof shelter us both." And Margaret never expected him to say it. Fourteen years before she had fought her battle; it liad been a hard one, as it always is to an earnest soul, but in the end she had conquered. In looking back at that time of stress and trouble, Margaret marvelled at her own powers of endurance. " I could not have done it in my own strength," she would say to herself. " I was helped, thank God ! He never failed me." But there were times when her courage and simple faith almost deserted her, when her burden seemed too heavy to be borne, and she would have given all she possessed to have shaken off the dust of Branksmere. But Mrs. Rayner was just then in sore trouble and she could not leave her. Her daily task was not a light one. She had not only to conceal her inward pain from watchful and loving eyes, but she had to tutor herself to receive Henry Tor- A Good Comrade 131 ranee with her old friendliness, and to welcome her inno- cent and unconscious rival with kindness and considera- tion. There must be no evidence of wounded pride in her bearing, nothing strained and awkward in her man- ner; she must not fail in gentle courtesy, and then per- haps he would forget that he had ever imagined himself in love with her. Men forget so easily, she would add with natural bitterness. And then came the tragedy of Henry Torrance's life. Strange to say, the news of Esther's death was an awful shock to Margaret. She had grown to love her ; she had become accustomed to the sight of their happiness, and time, that universal healer, had allevi- ated her pain. Her healthy nature had refused to be crushed. She was still young and the world was beau- tiful, and she had many dear ones who needed her. Dan and Anna and the children, and her old friend Mrs. Rayner. What if she lived and died in single blessedness, would she be worse off than thousands of other women who had no one to work for them? " One must not choose one's cross," she would say to herself in her Sunday afternoon meditations. " I did so long to have children of my own. When I was quite a little girl I used to build imaginary air-castles and people them with little ones. I even gave them names. There was a blue-eyed Dora, I remember. Oh, how silly one is in youth ! " And Margaret laughed, though there were tears in her eyes. " It was so dear and amusing, but it was a dreadful waste of time. Ah well, one learns wisdom in time-; I know now that one can be happy to mother other women's children." When Henry Torrance, in his loneliness and grief, turned to his old friend for sympathy, Margaret gave it him freely; but she never for one moment deceived herself with any illusive hopes. She knew exactly the extent of her influence over him : he was broken-hearted, his home was in ruins, and as far as it lay in her power to comfort him, she was ready to pour out of her abun- 132 The Sunny Side of the Hill dance. She would grudge him nothing time, trouble, or sympathy and the world might say what it liked and she would pay no heed. But this was all ancient history. At the present period Margaret's generosity had brought its reward. Her life was richer and fuller than most unmarried women's and her lap was filled with blessing. She had independence, easy means, and a good home, and she was Henry Torrance's trusty comrade and friend. And now her favourite niece, the one most in touch with her, had come to live under her roof; and Margaret sung her daily Magnificat with a grateful heart. Margaret had put on her pansy-coloured silk in honour of the occasion. It was by no means new one of the breadths was a little faded but it made a pretty spot of colour as she stood under the trees arranging her tea-table. Henry Torrance thought so as he walked across the lawn. He had two or three Gloire de Dijon roses in his hand, which he offered her with a smile. " You look quite a picture, Margaret," he said, pleas- antly. "Is that a new gown, you extravagant woman?" Then Margaret shook her head at him. She was fasten- ing the roses in her bodice. " That is so like a man," she observed when she had finished. " My dear sir, just look here and here," and Margaret took hold of her dress as though she were going to dance a minuet, and brought the faded streaks into view. " My favourite and most clearly beloved of gowns," she continued mournfully, " fading, absolutely fading before my eyes." Mr. Torrance looked amused. She was so absorbed with her dress that she had forgotten to give him the usual birthday greeting, but he was not going to remind her. " You can afford to buy a new one now," he re- marked, lightly. " That was the very thing I was saying to my sell just now," she returned, delightedly. " I shall invest in A Good Comrade 133 a new wine-coloured silk. I think it will be lovely. I must talk it over with Maureen. By the bye, Henry, she cksired me to give you her love and say that she was sorry to miss you." " Are you sure she sent her love ? " he asked, rather abruptly. Then Margaret blushed a little at her own careless- ness. " No, of course it was her kind regards. My wits were wool-gathering as usual." Then holding out her hand to him with one of her beaming smiles, " And I have never given you my good wishes did you think I had forgotten ? " And then she offered him her little gift, and watched him with pleased eyes as he unfurled it and examined it carefully. " It is far too handsome," he said, seriously ; " any old gingham would have been good enough for such a careless fellow. But I will promise not to lose this; it shall live to be recovered." " I shall rely on that promise. Now draw up to the table and let me give you some tea." There was mar- vellous content in Margaret's tone. She spoke with the buoyant cheerfulness of a child. She for once did not regret Maureen's absence. Now and then she liked to have a tcte-a-tcte with her old friend. Strange to say, Mr. Torrance echoed her thoughts. " I am so glad to find you alone this afternoon," he said, quietly ; " your niece is a charming girl, and I like her immensely, but it is pleasant to have one of our old talks, eh, Margaret?" " Oh yes," she returned with her usual warm response to his mood. " But I am so glad you like Maureen ; she is such a dear, unselfish child, and I have always been so fond of her." " And her coming has made you happier? " he asked, with quiet interest. " I do not think that I needed to be happier," she returned, frankly ; " one is rather afraid of carrying a brimming cup. But you know what I mean. Maureen 134 The Sunny Side of the Hill certainly makes a great difference to me. It is like opening all one's windows wide for air and sunshine. That is the best of young people they are so breezy, they blow all the dust away." " I should not have thought you had any dusty cor- ners," he returned, quickly. " I think you are the most contented woman I know. When I want to be freshened up and get rid of all my cobwebs, I just stroll across to the Garden House. ' Margaret will talk to me and do me good,' I say to myself." " Do I always do you good ? " she asked, a little wistfully. " Yes, always," was the unhesitating reply. " When I have been with you half-an-hour I seem to take a fresh lease of life; things look more hopeful altogether. This morning I had a very worrying bit of business. A man whom I always thought honest turned out to be a fraudulent rascal. That sort of thing is pretty sickening, especially as it involves trouble on innocent people." " Oh, I am so sorry, and on your birthday, too ! " Margaret spoke in a soft, cooing voice. He smiled rather gravely in answer, but he was willing to humour her. " On my forty-eighth birthday to turn up a knave ! Sad, was it not? But, my dear friend, we lawyers see the rough as well as the smooth side of life. We cannot always separate the sheep from the goats in this world ; the tares, and the wheat grow together; the good and the bad are jumbled up anyhow; and we have to make the best of it, and grope our way by the light of our own little farthing dips." " I don't think I should like to be a lawyer, Henry," returned Margaret^ with unusual seriousness. " By the bye, talking of business, there is a letter I ought to show you. Mallinger has sent in an account rendered, and I cannot find the receipt." A Good Comrade 135 " I remember putting it on the file myself," he re- turned ; " it is certainly paid. We have finished tea, and if you will allow me I will bring the file out here and we will go through it together. You are some- times too quick to be strictly accurate " ; and Henry Torrance proved the truth of his words when the missing receipt came duly to light. XV MAUREEN'S ADVENTURE Do the work that's nearest, Though it's dull at whiles ; Helping when you meet them Lame dogs over stiles. CHARLES KINGSLEY. A FEW days after this Maureen had a little adventure. It did not amount to much certainly, but it furnished matter for an exceedingly long and amusing letter to the Sister Journalists. It was one afternoon when Margaret was busy with a school committee that Maureen announced her inten- tion of cycling over to Hawkhurst a village about five or six miles from Branksmere and as usual Margaret applauded the idea. It was a lovely afternoon, she observed; warm but not oppressively so. And there was always a refreshing breeze blowing from the sea across the Marsh. " If you could only have a pleasant companion/' she added regretfully. But Maureen declared that she was just in the mood for a solitary ride. Margaret stood at the door and watched her until she was out of sight. " Dear child, I think she is beginning to be happy with me," she said to herself, as she went up to prepare for the committee meeting. Maureen had a delightful ride. When she reached Hawkhurst she looked over the church and churchyard. Then she got a glass of milk and a few biscuits in the village, as she did not intend to hurry back ; indeed, it was nearly five before she began her return journey. All had gone well until she turned down a narrow lane which branched off from the main road, when she suddenly found herself involved in difficulties. They 136 Maureen's Adventure 137 were mending the road. The tooting of a horn behind heralded the near approach of a motor. A huge brewer's dray was coming towards her. There was no room to pass, and in her haste to gain a place of safety she swerved round too quickly; her bicycle struck against a heap of stones, and the next moment she and her iron steed were landed in a dry deep ditch. The dray rumbled noisily over the stones. Evidently the driver had not perceived her, the hood had concealed her from view. What had become of the motor? that was Maureen's first thought as she sat up and straight- ened her hat. Perhaps, after all, it had taken another road. She would get out of the narrow lane herself as soon as possible. She brushed the dust from her dress; laughed at her own awkwardness, and the ridiculous tableau she must have presented. Then, as the coast seemed clear, she mounted again and rode cautiously until the road widened, and then what had happened? Something was wrong with her bicycle. She jumped off and ex- amined it. Yes, it was punctured; riding over those horrid stones must have done it. She must blow up the tyre and ride very carefully. There were five miles before her and it was getting late. Again she mounted and rode on slowly, but before she had gone a quarter of a mile she felt there was something seriously wrong with the machine. She sat down on a grassy bank to investigate it. If only she had somebody with her; for whatever was the mischief it was clearly impossible for her to ride with safety. She must just trudge back the five miles propelling it as she best could. " I don't mind a bit for myself," she thought, " but Aunt Margaret will be so anxious if I do not turn up in time for dinner, and I certainly shall not at this rate." She checked her jeremiad as she caught sight of a motor coming rapidly down the road. The next mo- ment it was opposite to her, and she recognised Mr. Chaytor. He pulled up at once. 138 The Sunny Side of the HiU " I trust you have not met with an accident," he said, courteously enough, but his keen eyes gave her a search- ing look. Perhaps she was still a little battered and dusty, rather an unpresentable-looking object, but it was no good thinking of that. Maureen laughed nervously as she explained her predicament. The lane was so narrow that a brewer's dray had completely blocked it up, and she had had no room to pass. She had manipulated her machine awkwardly and landed herself in a ditch. " But you are not hurt, I hope ? " in a civil, pleasant voice. " Oh no, oh dear no ! " with the bright sunshiny smile which always lit up the little brown face so pleasantly. " But I am afraid my bicycle is badly damaged, and I am five miles away from home." " That can easily be remedied." Mr. Chaytor spoke in a cool, matter-of-fact voice. " I believe that you are staying with Miss Brydon at the Garden House ? " "Yes, I am her niece. My name is also Brydon." He raised his cap slightly. " We are neighbours then. My name is Chaytor, and I live at Marsh Hall. As we are going in the same direction, I shall be able to take you and your machine without the slightest in- convenience. If you will allow me, I will just examine it, and then I will get it into the tonneau." And before Maureen could answer he stepped down into the road. Maureen told Margaret afterwards that she just had presence of mind to suppress an exclamation as Mr. Chaytor lurched unsteadily towards her. " It was too dreadful," she said, " that tall, splendid- looking man to be so horribly lame. I thought he was falling, but I am so thankful now that I held my tongue. I think he was so bent on helping me, that he forgot his lameness." " I believe it is a terrible trouble to him," replied Margaret, gravely, " and he hates any comment or offer Maureen's Adventure 139 of help. Walking even a short distance is very difficult to him, and he lives on horseback or in his motor." When Mr. Chaytor had examined the bicycle he told Maureen that it was not only badly punctured, but he feared there was some other damage. " I cannot be sure of this ; but my man, Gale, is an authority on these mat- ters, and, with your permission, I will get him to put it to rights." " But I could not think of troubling you," returned Maureen. But Mr. Qiaytor took not the slightest notice of this remark ; he lifted the machine into the motor, and then stood quietly waiting for Maureen to take her place. " You will soon find yourself at the Garden House," he observed ; but this time it was Maureen who did not answer. She had never been in a motor, and the rapid gliding motion was unlike anything she had ever known ; it was so surprising, so delicious to be skimming through the air like a swift-winged bird. " Oh, how delightful ! " she exclaimed, a little breathless with excitement. " But is it safe ? Do people always go so fast ? " Mr. Chaytor smiled. " We are only going twenty miles an hour ; but I will reduce the speed if you like. But I can assure you there is no need to be nervous, I could put the brake on in an instant." " I am not the least nervous," returned Maureen ; " it is only that I have never been in a motor before, and I never felt so like a bird in my life." " I had no idea it was a new experience," returned Mr. Chaytor, in an interested tone. " I have not long had my car, so it is quite a new toy to me. I hope to motor through the length and breadth of England before the year is out. Poor old Dick Turpin has a rival, but I generally have a morning ride over the Marsh." " Oh, that beautiful horse yes, I remember him," re- plied Maurten. " Why, there is Marsh Hall in sight ; 140 The Sunny Side of the Hill I can hardly believe it ! I should have been at least two hours if I had walked and steered my bicycle, so you can imagine how grateful I feel for your help." " I am very glad that I came up at the right time," observed Mr. Chaytor, pleasantly. And then they crossed the bridge and passed rapidly up the drive. The heavy iron gates were closed, but as he sounded his horn a man appeared and threw them open. " I am not coming in just now, Drake," explained his master, " but as I shall not be long, you can leave the gates open. Now will you send Gale to me? I want him to look at this lady's bicycle." And the man touched his hat and hurried away. Maureen looked curiously through the open gate- way at the wide carriage sweep, with trim grass borders, and the smooth well-kept lawn in front of the house. An archway to the right seemed to lead to some sort of garden, for the tops of two or three shady trees were visible over the high walls. The house itself looked even more like a fortress on nearer view. The door was heavily clamped with iron under a low stone porch, and the high narrow windows on either side might have belonged to an old Norman keep. But Maureen had no time to notice more, as a slight dark man, looking like a confidential servant out of livery, came quickly towards them, and after a few words of explanation carried off the bicycle. Maureen liked the man's face, and evidently he and his master were on the best of terms. " Gale is a clever fellow ; he will soon put it to rights for you," observed Mr. Chaytor, as they resumed their way. " He is an all-round man, and machinery bicycle or motor is a passion with him. We have a regular workshop, he and I. Gale is my right hand; he has been all round the world with me, and though he is a silent chap, I could not want a better companion. He reads a good deal and I lend him books. I tell 141 him sometimes that I am standing in my own light; but I don't think he will ever leave me." It was evident that the Viking could make himself exceedingly pleasant if he chose. Maureen was in- tensely interested. She was quite sorry when the Rectory came in sight, and a few minutes later they drew up before the Garden House. Margaret was just letting herself into the house with her latch-key when the unusual sound made her turn her head. Her astonishment when she saw Maureen nodding and smiling at her from the motor was so naive and undisguised that Mr. Chaytor seemed amused. " I found your niece in difficulties, Miss Brydon," he said, as he shook hands with her. " She had had a spill and damaged her bicycle, so I offered to bring her home." " I was not in the least hurt ! " exclaimed Maureen, as Margaret looked rather alarmed at this ; " but I was ever so many miles from home, and my poor machine was so badly punctured, so you may guess how thank- ful I was when Mr. Chaytor came to my rescue. Oh, Aunt Maggie," rather breathlessly, " if only you were rich enough to have a motor! Nothing could be more delicious than skimming through the air in this delightful way." They both laughed at the girl's enthusiasm ; and then, as Mr. Chaytor seemed inclined to move on, Maureen thanked him a little shyly. He gave her a pleasant look in response and lifted his cap. " He might have shaken hands with me as well as with Aunt Margaret," she thought, a little discontentedly, as she moved away. But Margaret lingered a moment. " Have you heard from Ruth lately, Mr. Chaytor ? I suppose she will be coming to you this summer as usual?" " She is coming next week," he returned. " My uncle is making some alterations in his house, and the family are obliged to turn out. I believe Ruth will be 142 The Sunny Side of the Hill with me for about three months this summer. I am afraid it will be very dull for her, poor girl." " So you always say," returned Margaret, rather gravely, " but I know Ruth thinks differently. Tell her she must come and see me." And Mr. Chaytor prom- ised to give her this message. There was no time to talk, so Maureen hurried away to dress for dinner; but later on she gave Margaret a vivid description of her adventure. But to her surprise Margaret took the matter rather gravely. " I know the place," she said, quickly. " They are always patching up the road, and there is hardly room for two vehicles to pass each other. You might easily have sprained your ankle or dislocated your arm, for the ditch is rather deep ; but it was a mercy Mr. Chaytor came to your help, or I should have had an anxious hour or two." " He was so much nicer than I thought he would be," returned Maureen. " He was quite pleasant and like everybody else." " Well, he is a gentleman, you see," returned her aunt, " and he would wish to put you at your ease, as you were under his protection. And I know from ex- perience how agreeable he can be when he chooses. Though we do not often meet, we are very good friends. Mrs. Whitworth tells me that he always shows me his best side, people generally do," added Margaret, with a frank laugh, " though I am bound to confess that he has his moods. But then, poor fellow, he is so heavily handicapped." " Is his sister at all like him, Aunt Maggie ? " " Not in the least. She is only his half-sister, you know, and about fourteen or fifteen years younger than himself. She is a pretty little thing, and I am rather fond of her. She will be a nice companion for you, Maureen. She is quieter and more refined than the Brant girls." Maureen's Adventure 143 " I shall be very pleased to make her acquaintance," returned Maureen ; " but I don't need companions when I have you, Aunt Maggie ; you are a host in yourself." Maureen spoke with such evident sincerity that Margaret blushed as though she had received an unexpected com- pliment. "Did ever any one hear the loikes of that?" she returned, in drawling accents. " Sure, you have been kissing the Blarney stone, mavourneen ! " But the girl shook her head. " I really mean it. There is something about you, Aunt Margaret, that seems to take the shine out of ordi- nary people. You make everyday life so interesting somehow, one forgets the trivial round and the ruts, and the stupid little jars and frets and difficulties." But Margaret refused to hear another word. " If I were not the least conceited of women you would make me quite vain." But it was good to see Margaret's beaming eyes as she spoke. " You are a dear little soul, Maureen, and I am sure you mean every word you say, but my conscience refuses to endorse these flattering remarks " ; and here Margaret rose hastily and went to the piano. XVI A ROCK-GARDEN But the lesson I have thoroughly learnt, and wish to pass on to others, is to know the enduring happiness that the love of a garden gives. I rejoice when I see any one, and especially children, inquiring about flowers and wanting gardens of their own, and carefully working in them. For the love of gardening is a seed that once sown never dies, but always grows and grows to an enduring and ever-increasing source of happiness. GERTRUDE JEKYLL. Two days after Maureen's adventure the bicycle was brought back in excellent condition, with Mr. Chaytor's compliments. Maureen would have sent back a message of thanks by the bearer, but the servant informed her that his master had left home a few hours previously on his way to Warwick and Stratford-on-Avon, and would not be back for some days. Maureen remembered Mr. Chaytor's words : " I hope to motor through the length and breadth of England before the year is out " ; and she repeated them to Margaret. " I expect he will take his sister with him on some of his expeditions ? " she observed. But to her surprise Margaret did not seem to share this opinion. " I am not so sure of that," she said, dubiously. " Ruth is rather a timid little thing, and Mr. Chaytor prefers going about with only Gale to bear him company. I do not think he would ever take Ruth on any of his long expeditions the pace would frighten her to death. " " But he could not leave her alone in that grim old fortress ! " exclaimed Maureen, indignantly. " It is far more comfortable than you imagine," re- turned Margaret, smiling. " When Ruth comes we will pay a formal call at Marsh Hall, and then you shall judge of it for yourself. We shall see a great deal of 144 A Rock Garden 145 Rtith, for she is a very constant visitor at the Garden House, and I hope you will take to her." But just then a visitor was announced, and the subject dropped. Maureen was rather sorry that Mr. Chaytor would not be in church the next day, she liked to hear his voice behind her. But she was more than usually en- gaged the next few days. Margaret was bent on turning a damp, secluded corner of the garden into a small rock- garden, and as usual she worked up herself and Maureen into a state of enthusiasm on the subject. For more than one evening she talked of nothing else. " I have been consulting Miss Jekyll's Home and Garden," she observed ; " she's quite an authority on rock-gardens. Look here, Maureen, let me read you just this passage. You remember the corner I mean with those ragged shrubs and the dingy-looking yew?" " The place you call your rubbish heap ? Oh yes, of course I remember it. There were some snails and dock-leaves and a thistle or two. It is the only ugly corner in the whole garden." " Just so," returned Margaret, triumphantly. " But I mean to wave the wand that the fairy order gave me, and transform the rubbish heap into a charming rock- garden. I shall set Giles to work to-morrow to dig up the shrubs and cut down the yew. Now just listen to this: 'It (the rock-garden) is absolutely artificial, and only pretends to be a suitable home for certain small plants that I love. . . . Four broad and shallow steps lead down to the path-level. There is a long-shaped is- land in the middle, and sloping banks to right and left all raised from the path by dry-walling from one to two feet high. The joints of the dry-walling are planted with small ferns on the cool sides, and with stonecrops and other dwarf sun-loving plants on the sides facing south/ I will spare you the Latin names of the plants Miss Jekyll mentions. But just listen to this ; ' In the joints of the stones and just below them are little ferns, and in 10 146 The Sunny Side of the HiU all vacant places tufts and sheets of mossy saxifrage, coolest and freshest-looking of Alpine herbage.' " Then closing the book with a rapt expression : " It is bedtime, and I must not keep you up any longer, for, thought you are not aware of the fact, you have yawned twice." " Oh, Aunt Maggie, how dreadfully rude of me ! And I was so interested too but I really am sleepy." " And I am as wide-awake as Tobias when he takes his walks abroad to serenade Miss Tabby over the way. Maureen, I shall dream of that rock-garden." And Margaret kept her word, though she owned at breakfast-time that the dream had not been satisfactory, as Giles had insisted on wheeling away the stones and bricks which were needed for the walk, and Thomas, who had been ordered to cut down the yew, jeered at her from the top of a tall ladder, and utterly refused to do a stroke of work unless she raised his wages there and then. " Of course I gave him warning on the spot, and then he and Giles threw brickbats at me, and I awoke in a fright." " I do not think that is a good omen," observed Maureen, solemnly, when she had recovered from a fit of laughing. " Oh, I don't believe in omens," returned Margaret, cheerfully. " I ought not to have eaten that second cheese-cake, and the nightmare was a punishment for greediness. If you are disposed to help me this morning, you had better put on your pinafore, Maureen, for I have been out already to give the men their orders, and I expect they are hard at work now." " Aunt Margaret can talk of nothing but her new rock-garden from morning to night," Maureen wrote to Irene. " We are as dirty and happy as two children making mud-pies in a gutter; and when we strike work in the evening we ache all over. But it is dreadfully interesting, and I actually coaxed Thomas to let me do a bit of the dry-walling. I do so love daubing the A Rock Garden 147 bricks with mortar and sticking them together. As for Aunt Maggie, it is perfectly delightful to see her. " The other afternoon Mr. Torrance came in. He wanted his tea; but while Lydia was getting it ready he stood and watched us with such an amused expression on his face. ' What a woman you are, Margaret ! ' he said to her. You know they are such old and dear friends that they often call each other by their Christian names, and somehow I like to hear it. ' If you were delving for gold you could not dig harder. But why on earth are you shutting your eyes ? ' " ' I am so afraid of cutting the poor worms in halves,' she replied, ' that I never dare to look. But this damp day has given Giles the rheumatism, and Thomas is fetching the bricks. But we will leave off now, Maureen ; I am sure we shall all be glad of our tea.' It was so exactly like Aunt Margaret to say that. I know she fully hoped to have dug over the whole bed in readi- ness for the next day's work; but Mr. Torrance was tired from a long walk and his comfort was her first consideration. I could easily have given him his tea, as I told her afterwards when she was lamenting the job was unfinished. ' Yes, I know, and I would have asked you to do it,' was her answer, ' but I knew he would enjoy it more if I poured it out for him.' And she actually pretended fo be tired, and kept him longer than usual, because she said the rest would do them both good. And the next morning she got up at five o'clock to finish the bed. That is what I like about Aunt Margaret's friendship with Mr. Torrance; she never seems to re- member herself or her own comfort, if only she can add to his. Sometimes I wonder if he ever recognises this. He is a good man, and his manner is always so nice to her, but even good men are sometimes absorbed in them- selves, and somehow I fancy that he takes more than he gives. Do you know what I mean, dear?" Aunt Margaret is one of those who give largely and expect 148 The Sunny Side of the Hill little in return, but you would never get her to believe this." The work had made good progress. By the end of the week the steps were laid and the dry-walling finished, and in a few days the soil would be ready for planting. An order for hardy ferns, dwarf rhododendrons, and other flowering plants suitable for the purpose had already been despatched to the florist; and by luncheon- time on Saturday Margaret observed regretfully that there was nothing more to be done for the present. " I have given Walls and Co. plenty of time to get me all I need by September," she observed ; " for of course we must not plant the rhododendrons before then. I have a few ferns already, and Walls will get me some more soon. Still, the hardest part of the work is done, and I don't mind confessing that I am pretty well tired. I shall ask Lydia to put my bee-hive chair under the trees on the tennis lawn, and I shall either finish the novel I am reading or have . nap " ; and Mar- garet spoke in a tone of keen enjoyment. " I think you had better follow my example, Maureen." But the girl scouted this idea. She had lived in the garden for a whole week, and her soul panted for pastures new. " I think I would rather have a bicycle ride," she replied ; " I never can sleep in the daytime." And Mar- garet was too languid to argue the point. " No more adventures ! " she said, in a warning voice ; and Maureen coloured up, though she hardly knew why. " I am only going for a short ride," she observed, in an off-hand manner, " and I shall certainly be back to tea." But Margaret only nodded in reply. She was really very tired, and for the next hour her book lay upside down on her lap. " I feel like a very worn-out old woman," she said to herself. But she certainly did not look like one, for there was something of the unconscious grace of girl- hood in her attitude as she slumbered peacefully in the pleasant shade. A Rock Garden 149 Maureen enjoyed her ride; the air and exercise had freshened her up; she had met with no adventures, and had given Marsh Hall a wide berth. She put up her bicycle and went in search of Margaret. To her surprise she found her looking very wide-awake and rested, and engaged in animated conversation with a visitor. A young lady in white, with a large Gainsborough hat, was sitting very close to her. Lydia was arranging the tea-table. " Oh, I am so glad you have come, Maureen ! " ex- claimed Margaret, as the girl crossed the lawn. " I want to introduce you to Miss Chaytor." Then the young lady rose from her seat and extended a daintily- gloved hand to Maureen. There was a shy eagerness in her manner. " I have heard of you," she said, with a pretty dimp- ling smile ; " you are the young lady whom Romney found sitting in a ditch the other day and brought home in his new motor car." " Oh, I had scrambled out of the ditch long before he discovered me," returned Maureen, laughing. " I was only resting by the roadside, and wondering how on earth I was to drag my bicycle all those miles, and then your brother arrived in the guise of a Good Samaritan." " Oh yes, Romney gave me a very amusing account of the whole thing. It was your first motor drive too. Do you know, my brother has been having a delightful five days' motoring trip to Warwick and Stratford-on- Avon ; he must have travelled at an awful pace " and Miss Chaytor gave a little shudder. Maureen was watching her intently. She had never admired any one so much at first sight in her life. Margaret had told her that Ruth Chaytor was a pretty little thing, but Maureen thought that she had never seen a more beautiful little face, and yet it was of an unusual type. Ruth's colouring was dark, her smooth glossy hair looked almost black, and though her eyes were hazel, the long dark lashes seemed to shadow and deepen 150 The Sunny Side of the Hill them. The small face was a pure oval, and the com- plexion that of a brunette. There was something child- like and appealing in her manner which made her look younger than her age something timid and yet eager which reminded one of a bright-eyed bird that had lost its way and could not find its nest. It was Margaret who once said this. The expensive simplicity of her dress filled Maureen with wonder and admiration. " I felt like a little brown earthworm beside her in my old linen frock," remarked Maureen afterwards " all those tucks and embroideries, and the only touch of colour that crimson rose peeping out of the lace." " I thought she looked very sweet," returned Mar- garet. " Ruth always wears white in the summer, her brother likes it chiffon, muslin, linen, serge, any or every material. I often tell her she must spend a fortune on her frocks ; but she says her aunt likes her to dress well, and as they move in a very smart set, and she has plenty of money at her disposal, one can hardly blame her for making herself pretty." Margaret had moved to the tea-table by this time, and at her invitation the two girls drew up their chairs. Master, who had joyfully recognised an old acquaintance in Ruth, sat bolt upright beside her; now and then a small ungloved hand rested on his head. " How I love this dear old garden ! ' observed Miss Chaytor presently, in rather a pensive tone. " I often think of it when I am at Westcombe Lodge." " Have you told Miss Chaytor about the new rock- garden, Aunt Maggie ? " asked Maureen. " To be sure I have, and she looks upon us both as marvels of industry, though she cannot at all under- stand the joys of digging and dry-walling." " I am so ignorant, you see," returned Ruth, humbly. " I know so little about gardening, though I am very fond of flowers. I never shall forget the mischief I once did when I wanted to help Miss Brydon. I pulled A Rock Garden 151 up a row of young sweet peas under the impression they were weeds." Margaret laughed, she well remembered the circumstance. " Oh, you would soon learn," she returned, cheerfully ; " Maureen and I must take you in hand. There will be plenty of time for your horticultural education, for Mr. Chaytor tells me that your visit will be much longer this summer." " Yes, Uncle George and Aunt Sophy want to get rid of me, and of course I am only too glad to be with Romney " only here Ruth sighed and hesitated. " I am quite sure your brother will be pleased to have you," returned Margaret, with a kind look at the girl, and Ruth brightened up at once. " Do you think so do you really think so ? " in rather an anxious tone. " He is very kind he always is but I am afraid I am spoiling his summer plans. He has just got this motor, and I know he meant to go to Westmoreland and Yorkshire, and now he says he can- not possibly leave me alone at Marsh Hall." " He might take you with him," suggested Maureen, " and how delightful that would be ! " But a horrified expression crossed Ruth's face. " Oh, no, I could not possibly go with him," she said in an alarmed voice. " I am a dreadful coward, and Romney is so reckless, he goes at such a dreadful pace; I should always be afraid of an accident, and beg him to go slower, and that would annoy him." " Are you sure of that, Ruth ? " asked Margaret, gently. " Mr. Chaytor is not really reckless, and he is an exceedingly careful driver Mr. Torrance tells me. He has been out with him several times, and he has never even run over a chicken. I am quite sure that he would moderate the pace to suit you." But Ruth shook her head. " Oh no, I could not go Romney will never ask me ! But if he would only leave me behind, I should be quite 152 The Sunny Side of the Hill happy, and then I should not feel so dreadfully in the way." " Leave you alone at Marsh Hall ! " exclaimed Maureen, in an astonished tone. " Yes, why not ? " exclaimed Ruth, smiling. " I am very fond of my own company, and I should not be the least dull. I have my piano; I should practise and sketch and read I am very fond of reading. And I could ride and walk and pay frequent visits to the Gar- den House. Oh, the day would not be long enough for all I have to do ! " " Then in that case you had better talk to your brother, Ruth," observed Margaret. But Ruth only sighed again in rather a pathetic way. " I talked to him last night, but it was no use ; when Romney has made up his mind about anything, there is no moving him. He declared nothing on earth would induce him to leave me alone at Marsh Hall ; that it was far too lonely and isolated for a girl of my age, as though dear old Bonnie would not take care of me ! " finished Ruth, in rather an injured tone. XVII THE VIKING'S CASTLE The moral sensibility which makes Edens and Tempes so easily may not always be found, but the material landscape is never far off. ... In every landscape the point of astonish- ment is the meeting of the sky and the earth, and that is seen from the first hillock, as well as from the top of the Alleghanies. There is nothing so wonderful in any particular landscape as the necessity of being beautiful under which every landscape lies. EMERSON. RUTH CHAYTOR had to hurry away after this. They were to dine earlier than usual that evening, she ex- plained, as her brother had proposed a late ride. " It is such a lovely idea," she continued, enthusi- astically ; " I do so enjoy riding by moonlight. If course I have brought Lady Betty down with me." " Is Lady Betty a horse? " asked Maureen. " Yes, and she is such a dear thing, and she and Dick Turpin are such friends. Now, Miss Brydon, be- fore I go, you must promise to fix some afternoon to bring your niece to tea. On Monday Romney and I are going over to Chillingford for the day, but we shall be quite free on Tuesday." " Are you sure that your brother will not find us in the way, Ruth ? " " Oh no, I told him that I was going to ask you, and he said ' All right ' in quite a comfortable tone. So I shall expect you both for quite a long afternoon. Now I must really go." And Ruth kissed Margaret and shook hands very cordially with Maureen. " Well, what do you think of that little person ? " asked Margaret, when the white gown had vanished from sight. But she put the question smilingly. " Oh, Aunt Margaret, she is just lovely ! I was 153 154 The Sunny Side of the Hill admiring her so much that I am afraid I stared at her quite rudely. I don't think I ever saw any one so dainty and pretty." " I saw that you had lost your heart to her," returned Margaret, in an amused tone. " Well, it is a winsome little face, though there is something rather sad and pathetic about it. But she is a dear child, and I am very fond of her." " I should think her brother must be very proud of her," observed Maureen, thoughtfully. " Yes, indeed, and Ruth has always been devoted to him from a child. Her aunt and uncle are extremely good to her, and treat her like one of their own children, but I often fancy that she would be happier at Marsh Hall with her brother. She never likes going back after her holiday, and generally frets and mopes for the first week. But you would never get Mr. Chaytor to believe this." "What makes you so sure of that, Aunt Maggie?" " Well, dear, I sounded him once when we were hav- ing a friendly talk together. You may be certain that I said very little, for I am not without tact. But he scorned the idea as though it were absolutely absurd. " ' What on earth should I do with the child ! ' I remember so well his saying that. ' Fancy burying that bright, pretty little creature in mis lonely house! Why, she would die of dulness in three months.' " ' I don't believe it,' was my reply. But he would not listen. You should have seen the determined look on his face. " ' I may be selfish,' he went on, ' most men are, but I am not as selfish as all that. Fancy the change from Westcombe Lodge, full of bright, happy young people, to this grim old hermitage! Mind you, it is quite to my taste, Miss Brydon, and I am absolutely con- tent with my environment ; but it would not do for Ruth, and she would be a great care and responsibility to me. No, no, ske is far better at Westcombe Lodge, Aunt The Viking's Castle 155 Sophy is like a mother to her, and she is the spoilt darl- ing of the house.' And after this there was nothing more to be said." " No, of course not," returned Maureen, dubiously. " Perhaps, after all, Mr. Chaytor is right, and Ruth is happier where she is." But Margaret made no reply to this. And then as it was late they separated to dress for dinner. Margaret smiled to herself more than once that even- ing for Maureen could do nothing but talk about Ruth Chaytor. She asked so many questions about her, and seemed quite disappointed that Margaret could not always answer them. She could not tell her the names or ages of her cousins. She had seen Mr. George Chaytor once, and liked the look of him. He had a clever face, and a good-humoured twinkle in his eye. And yes, she had also been introduced to Mrs. Chaytor at the Army and Navy Stores. She had quite forgotten it for the moment. But they had only exchanged half- a-dozen words. She was a plain, motherly-looking per- son ; rather too smartly dressed for her taste, but not a bad sort of person. " Prosperity was written legibly on both George Chaytor and his wife," she finished, with a laugh. " Ruth is rich, too, is she not ? " asked Maureen. " Yes, I believe so ; she has her mother's money. But I hope you are not going to ask me the amount of her fortune, for I have not an idea. She has her own horse and maid, and dresses beautifully; and since she came out, she has led a gay society life. What, another question ? " with a resigned and chastened air. " Yes, but it is the last," returned Maureen, laugh- ing ; " I can see I am boring you dreadfully. I only wanted to know how old she is." " I think she is between nineteen and twenty, but I am not sure. But I daresay you will soon find all this out for yourself. Now I am going to read, and I advise 156 The Sunny Side of the Hill you to follow my example, and by and by we will have a moonlight stroll round the garden." But Margaret did more than this, for the moonlight was so seductive that they wandered down the road and across the Rectory meadows. And just by the Old Grey House they came upon Mr. Torrance standing outside the garden door, with his pipe in his mouth and Tobias beside him. He joined them at once, and Tobias, with uplifted tail, led the way to the Garden House. " Don't let your pipe get cold, Henry," observed Margaret; " you know I never object to it out of doors." " Oh, I have smoked enough for to-night," he re- turned, indifferently. " I prowled in the direction of the Marsh just now, and met Chaytor and his sister. They had been having a long ride. That pretty little mare of Miss Chaytor's had kept up capitally with Dick Turpin. She and her mistress are a pretty pair." " I hope you hear that, Maureen," observed Mar- garet, provokingly. " My niece has quite fallen in love with Ruth." " Well, why not," he returned, kindly ; " she is a nice little thing, and I wish she could be more at Marsh Hall." And then as they reached the Garden House Maureen said she was tired and went in ; but Margaret and Mr. Torrance paced up and down for another quar- ter of an hour, followed by Master. Tobias had retreated to a neighbouring doorstep and commenced washing his black coat industriously. Now and then he left off with an impatient mew, as though to remind his master of the lateness of the hour. But as soon as the collie had disappeared into the house with Margaret, Tobias came purring and fondling to his master's side and rubbed himself lovingly against him. " Time to go in, is it, old chap ? " observed Mr. Tor- rance, as he refilled and relighted his meerschaum. He had no idea that Margaret was watching him from an upper window. Nevertheless, he was thinking of her The Viking's Castle 157 in a friendly, philosophic way as he walked slowly towards the Old Grey House. " What a good sort she is ! " he said to himself. " She never disappoints one. She is the largest-hearted woman I ever knew." But it was not of Margaret he was thinking as he unlocked his garden door, for Esther's fair face with its haunting beauty came ever between them, and the old dull ache and pain took pos- session of him again as he paced up and down the flagged path. Maureen was secretly much excited at the prospect of an afternoon at Marsh Hall. It was not only that she longed to see Ruth Chaytor again, but she was also full of curiosity and interest at the idea of being admitted into the Viking's Castle, as she always called it. And when Tuesday came she almost counted the hours until it was time to start. Margaret was amused at the girl's restlessnesss, but she took no apparent notice. Maureen was so young, she thought, and enjoyed everything so intensely. " You look very nice, dear," she said approvingly, as they walked slowly towards the Marsh in the glowing sunshine, with Master following them. Ruth had ex- pressly included him in her invitation. Margaret had every right to admire the pretty grey linen frock with its white embroidery, as it was her own gift, and so was the shady hat that matched it. She had taken stock of Maureen's modest wardrobe and was adding to it by degrees. " It is my affair now," she had said quietly as Maureen thanked her ; " your mother has daughters enough to dress, and you don't realise the pleasure it will be to me to choose pretty frocks for you." " Are you sure that you can afford it, Aunt Maggie ? " But when Margaret had satisfied her on this point, Maureen was quite content to receive her good things, for, like most girls, a pretty frock or hat was a joy to her. " It is not a bad place in the summer," observed 158 The Sunny Side of the HiU Margaret, as they walked up the carriage drive. " How those larks are singing, Maureen, and there is quite a pleasant breeze blowing off the Marsh ! " She set a deep bell ringing as she spoke, and a young man-ser- vant admitted them into an immense stone hall with a wide staircase also of stone, uncarpeted, and a huge fireplace full of green boughs. An oak table and settle and an umbrella-stand were the sole articles of furniture. One or two handsome skins lay here and there. To Maureen's surprise the man led the way upstairs. " The sitting-rooms are all on the first floor," whis- pered Margaret. " Those doors only lead to the ser- vants' hall and kitchen offices." Maureen, who had been somewhat dismayed at the cold emptiness of the entrance hall, felt reassured at the sight of a wide lobby with crimson carpet, and low book- cases on either .side, and some handsome bronze figures with lamps in their hands. Some high narrow windows gave plenty of light and air. As the servant threw open the door of the morning-room, a very small and beau- tiful little fox terrier flew out barking furiously at Master. " Down, Maisie ! I think Miss Chaytor is with my master in the garden," observed the man. " If you will sit down ma'am, I will go and see." But as soon as the door closed behind him and the dog, Maureen sprang from her seat. " What a charming room, Aunt Maggie, but what queer windows ! " for they were deeply set in wide em- brasures, which formed very high window-seats. To facilitate their use a couple of steps had been made. Some soft cushions, a book or two, and a small embroid- ery frame lying on the seat gave them the impression that Ruth had only recently left the room. " This is Ruth's special sanctum," returned Mar- garet ; " it is called the morning-room. There is no drawing-room at Marsh Hall. Mr. Oiaytor lives in the library, and there is only the dining-room besides, and The Viking's Castle 159 a small smoking-room. They are both fine large rooms, and occupy the whole floor. The bedrooms and bath- rooms there are two are above, and the upper floor is for the use of the servants. Gale has a sitting-room of his own on the ground floor." " And this is Ruth's room," observed Maureen, softly; " how delightful for her to have such a cosy, pretty sitting-room ! " and Maureen silently noted the piano and couch, and cabinets of books and china. A few beautiful engravings in tasteful frames hung on the walls ; a little French clock and two charming statuettes of children were on the mantelpiece; a white rug lay before the fireplace, and a daintily cushioned basket which was evidently Maisie's property; and plants and flowers occupied every available space. " Yes, it is very nice," returned Margaret. " Mr. Chaytor refurnished it about two years ago, and I think he has shown excellent taste. It is an ideal girl's room." " There are one, two, three, no, four easy-chairs," counted Maureen, " and all look equally comfortable. I suppose Mr. Chaytor sits here sometimes ? " " No I believe not ; I remember Ruth once told me that she never could induce him to sit down for a minute. He lives entirely in the library. It is a very large room, and there is a grand piano in it, so that she can sing and play to him in the evening. But Mr. Chaytor is a good musician himself. I wonder why Ruth is keeping us all this time. Marshall must have found her long ago. I shall tell her we have come too early." But Margaret had scarcely finished her sentence before Maisie bounded into the room, followed by her young mistress. "Oh, Miss Brydon, will you forgive me?" she ex- claimed, breathlessly ; " but Marshall has only just found me. I was in the garage with Romney and Gale, and he thought I was in the garden; it was Maisie who dis- covered me." And then Ruth took Maureen's hand and told her how pleased she was to see her. To Maureen's eyes Ruth looked prettier than ever. 160 The Sunny Side of the Hill There was a winning graciousness in her manner as she welcomed her guests that reminded her of a little princess. She was dressed very simply in a white morn- ing frock and a sun-hat trimmed with lovely drooping poppies. " We are going to have tea in the garden if you do not mind," she went on, addressing Margaret ; " Romney suggested it." Then turning to Maureen ; " It is not much of a garden, and I am afraid you will think it a very dull, shut-in little place after your aunt's dear old garden, but I am rather fond of Shady Nook, as I call it. If you care to look out of the window you will see it quite plainly. The window-seat is dreadfully high, but it is a pleasant place to sit with one's book or work." Maureen was ready to endorse this opinion as she seated herself in the cushioned recess. The window overlooked an archway with a crimson rambler, and a small lawn surrounded by brick walls and narrow flower-borders full of bloom. At the end was a group of trees, between which hammocks were swinging; here she could see Marshall setting out the tea-table. " It is not much of a view, but I like it," observed Ruth, who had followed her to the window-seat " Rom- ney cannot endure it because he says it is so confined ; he much prefers the outlook from the library. If you like, I will take you there." " Do you think you could show Maureen the view from the roof ? " asked Margaret, and Ruth nodded delightedly. " Certainly I will ; Marshall will not be ready for us for twenty minutes, so we shall have plenty of time. I will take you into the library first." And then they crossed the lobby, and Ruth presently ushered them into a lofty, spacious apartment with four windows all deeply set in embrasures and lined with cushions. One side of the room was filled by book- cases, which reached from floor to ceiling; on the other there was a grand piano, a music cabinet, and a well- The Viking's Castle 161 used writing-table. The centre of the room was occu- pied by a round table with a reading-lamp on it, and easy-chairs and couch ; one or two fine proof engravings filled up vacant spaces, and books, magazines, and papers were strewn on window-seats and chairs. Ruth shook her head as she saw them. " Oh, the untidy boy; I must tell Gale to make a clearance to- morrow. Gale is the only person who is allowed to lay a finger on anything; I believe poor Wingate, the house- maid, hardly dares even to dust them; but Gale will put things to rights before Romney is up. Look at the view. Is not the Marsh lovely in the sunshine? From that window you can get a glimpse of the sea, but' we shall have a still wider view from the roof." And then again she led the way, and Maureen, with a lingering look at the beautiful room, followed her. They went up another flight of stairs with hand- some crimson carpet, and down another lobby with bed- rooms and bathrooms on either side, up a narrower flight, then opening a massive door, they ascended a sort of ladder which led to the roof. Here there was a heavy door which Ruth opened with difficulty. " Welcome to Windy-How ! " she exclaimed gaily, as they stepped on to the flat stone surface surrounded by massive parapets. Maureen almost held her breath with surprise and delight. She had never seen such a sight before. The roof was perfectly flat in this part, and in one corner was a stone cabin with a roughly hewn seat, and all around, below them, lay the Marsh and dyke lands, fringed to seaward by banks of shingle and blown sand. On one side the great shingle bank, which formed a natural sea-wall, was plainly visible, and the dim blue line beyond was the open sea. In the sunshine of the summer afternoon the open expanse was supremely peaceful and beautiful; the Watteau-like group of cattle near the Marsh Farm; the countless flocks of feeding sheep scattered over the wide 11 162 The Sunny Side of the Hill pastures ; the larks rising and falling in their swift flight ; the fresh salt breeze blowing in their faces. " Well, Maureen, what do you think of Windy-How, as Ruth calls it?" asked Margaret, with a glance at the girl's abstracted face. But Maureen was too much ab- sorbed to answer. She was trying to picture it on win- ter nights, when the dyke land was black and the stars were shining, and the air-maniac, as they called him, old Roger Chaytor, sat in his stone cabin with the winds of heaven blowing his white beard, while the world was asleep below him and his wild soul held revel with the mighty forces of nature. XVIII MAUREEN RECEIVES AN INVITATION Be yourself, simple, honest, and unpretending, and you will enjoy through life the respect and love of friends. SHERMAN. Time is infinitely long, and every day is a vessel into which much may be poured if we fill it up to the brim. GOETHE. IT was rather difficult to induce Maureen to leave Windy-How, but as Ruth seemed anxious not to keep her brother waiting, she reluctantly tore herself away. " You must bring me up here again," she said, as they went down the stone staircase. And Ruth nodded as she linked her arm in Maureen's in the friendliest way. " You shall come as often as you like, dear. We will spend a whole afternoon in the cabin if you please. Romney seldom goes up there, the stairs try him so much. But one starlight evening he took me up with him, and Gale was there too, and we spent a wonderful hour the stars seemed so much nearer, somehow." " You would have liked to have been there, too, would you not, Maureen ? " observed Margaret, and the girl smiled assent. " It was really very interesting," returned Ruth, dreamily. She had taken off her hat, and it looked like a basket of poppies swinging on her arm; and her beautiful little head was as glossy and sleek as a bird's wing in the sunlight. " Romney had been studying astronomy, and he and Gale talked so cleverly. Gale is a most intelligent person. Romney talks of buying a telescope and turning one of the empty rooms on the top floor into an observatory. But he thinks he cannot afford it this year he paid so much for his motor." "Your brother seems to have plenty of resources, 163 164 The Sunny Side of the HiU Ruth. What with farming, motoring, riding, and study- ing agriculture, astronomy, and German philosophy, his time must be fully occupied." Margaret spoke in an approving tone for an idle man was her pet aversion. " You forget Romney's love of music, dear Miss Brydon," returned Ruth, eagerly. " When he is in the mood he will spend hours at the piano. There is noth- ing I like better than to curl myself up on the window- seat and listen to him. He will play one thing after another, and sometimes he will extemporise I like that best of all; and often he has forgotten I was there, and has quite started when I spoke to him suddenly and reminded him of the lateness of the hour." They were passing under the rose arch as Ruth said this, and into the little walled garden with its velvety lawn and gay flower-borders. The walls were high but the trees overtopped them, and there was quite a pleasant shade to be found under them on the most sultry summer's day. The red and white striped hammocks, the comfortable wicker chairs, and the dainty little tea- table, looked very cosy and inviting to Maureen's eyes. Mr. Chaytor, who was standing to receive them, wel- comed them with no lack of cordiality. He was evi- dently on excellent terms with Margaret. Ruth told Maureen afterwards there was no one whom he more liked or respected. " So you have been up on the housetop," he observed to Maureen. " Can you imagine my grandfather keep- ing tryst with the stars on winter nights? They called him the air-maniac, and he was certainly a bit of a crank." " I should love to be up there at night," returned Maureen. There was a glow on the little brown face as she spoke, and her white teeth gleamed in a frank smile. Margaret thought she had never seen her look to more advantage. " Maureen is not pretty," she said to herself, " but she lights up so wonderfully and has so much expression. Maureen Receives an Invitation 165 Now Ruth is a thorough little beauty, there is no deny- ing that; but yet Maureen's face pleases me more." Romney Charter looked at the girl a little curiously as she said this, but he took no apparent notice of her remark. During tea-time his conversation was chiefly directed to Margaret, and the two girls talked to each other; they were evidently mutually attracted, and their intimacy made great strides. Ruth informed Maureen that they were sure of meeting again three days later, as she had been invited to both the Rectory and Gayton Lodge for tennis. " Jenny tells me that you have prom- ised to go on Saturday." " Oh yes," returned Maureen, delightedly. " And Mrs. Whitworth has asked us for Friday. We are to have tea in the garden, and play croquet as the rector will be a\vay. The dear old thing is so fond of the game, but Mr. Whitworth only likes tennis. There is no one else asked just you and me and Aunt Margaret." " Romney is going away for the week-end," returned Ruth, " so he is quite glad that I have those two invi- tations. Very likely he will not be back until Tuesday morning." " Then I shall ask Aunt Margaret to invite you to spend Sunday with us." Maureen spoke so clearly that Margaret heard her name, and insisted on knowing the subject of their conversation. " Of course you must spend the day with us, Ruth," she said, in her pleasant, hearty way. " The weather is so warm just now, unusually so for June, and it will save you a long hot walk to and from church. You can come to us quite early to breakfast, if you like and we will walk back with you after supper." " Will you allow me to propose an amendment ? " suggested Mr. Chaytor. " My sister will be alone, and it would be a great boon to both of us if your niece would stay with her for those two nights. You would like that, would you not, my dear ? " and there was some- 166 The Sunny Side of the Hill thing fatherly in his tone as he addressed his young sister. To his surprise Ruth hesitated a moment. " I should love it you know I should love it, Romney and it would be a delightful arrangement only only " here Ruth faltered and looked at him wistfully. " Only what ? Speak up, little woman," with a trace of impatience in his tone. " Only I do so want you to understand " and Ruth spoke quite pathetically " that I never mind your leav- ing me alone, and that I am never dull, and the time never seems long. It would make me so much happier if you would only believe this, Romney." " Well, well, I think we have talked this over before, my dear, and I have told you my mind pretty plainly," and Mr. Chaytor's manner was a little abrupt. " I am afraid Miss Brydon," with a glance at Maureen, " will think you are not anxious for her company." " Oh, no, she will never think anything so unkind ! " and Ruth struggled hard with some passing emotion, and tried to be her winsome self again. " You will come back with me on Sunday evening, will you not, dear? And if you like we will spend the whole of the next day in Shady Nook and Windy-How ; and perhaps in the evening we could have a long bicycle ride." " Oh, how delightful ! Will you spare me, Aunt Maggie?" And Margaret nodded. She was well pleased by this neighbourly attention on Mr. Chaytor's part; it showed that he approved of Maureen as a com- panion for his sister. To the best of her knowledge none of the Brant girls had ever been invited to Marsh Hall, though Mrs. Brant and Hermione had once had tea there when they called. She questioned Ruth on the subject afterwards. " Oh no," she said frankly ; " Romney does not care for the Brants; he thinks them loud and boisterous, and he quite dislikes Thora. I asked him once if I could not invite them, as they showed me so much attention; Maureen Receives an Invitation 167 but I saw the idea did not please him, though he never objects to my going there he could not very well, as General Brant was my god-father." " Oh yes, I always forget that," returned Margaret. " Maureen ought to consider herself highly honoured, for Mr. Chaytor invited her without any prompting on your part." " Yes ; I never was more surprised," returned Ruth, naively. " But then she is your niece, dear Miss Brydon, and we all know what a favourite you are. Still, I am sure that Romney must have approved of her or he would never have suggested a visit to Marsh Hall. I remember he said that she was a nice, genuine sort of girl, when he told me about her adventure." But Ruth prudently refrained from repeating the remainder of his speech : " She is a regular little brown Jenny Wren only her white teeth and smile are rather fetch- ing." No, Ruth properly kept this to herself. Neither did she offer another piece of information gratuitously: that Romney had teased her more than once by speaking of her new friend as " Jenny Wren." After tea Ruth carried Maureen off to the house to see her bedroom and some of her treasures, and then she insisted on Maureen choosing which room she would prefer to occupy. There were three spare rooms, all kept aired and ready for use, though few visitors ever tenanted them. " Charles and Rudolf used to come now and then for a night or two," continued Ruth. " They are my eldest cousins; but since their marriage they have never stayed here. Romney does not care for their wives. They married sisters. Besides, he does not like lady visitors, and Millie and Elise are too gay and managing to suit him." Maureen was not long in making her choice, and she very soon declared her preference for a small, sim- ply-furnished room just opposite Ruth's. And when this matter was settled, and they had inspected Ruth's 168 The Sunny Side of the Hill pictures and nick-nacks, they went back to the garden, where Margaret and Mr. Chaytor seemed engaged in earnest talk. Neither of them heard the girls' light footsteps over the grass ; and so it was that some words of Mr. Chaytor's reached Maureen's ears. " You are certainly right, and I see you understand him better than most people. He is not a person to talk of his feelings even to his closest friends, but at least he is the saddest man I know ; sometimes his silence makes me quite ache with sympathy." " Oh, I know just what you mean," returned Mar- garet, in a moved tone. And then they became aware of the girls' presence, and she checked herself rather abruptly. Were they speaking of Mr. Torrance, Maureen won- dered; but she need not have asked the question, for Henry Torrance's most intimate and trusted friends were Margaret Brydon and Romney Chaytor, and probably this knowledge was a bond of union between them. " I was beginning to think you were lost, Maureen," observed Margaret, but her cheerful tone was a little forced. " Are you aware it is nearly six, and we have outstayed our welcome ? " " I cannot endorse that," exclaimed Mr. Chaytor, pleasantly ; " the afternoon has certainly not seemed long to me." And then he shook hands, but did not attempt to walk towards the gate with them. As Maureen passed through the arch she glanced back. He was still standing, and his hat was in his hand. What a grand figure of a man he looked, with his massive shoulders and strong, weather-beaten face. Then she quickly averted her eyes, as though something pained her. He had moved. There was the old awkward lurch which she had never forgotten ; and the harmony of the picture was broken. Maureen was so quiet for the first half-mile that Margaret thought her afternoon had disappointed her, but she was soon undeceived. Maureen had enjoyed Maureen Receives an Invitation 169 every moment, and was looking forward with delight to her proposed visit. " It was so kind of Mr. Chaytor to ask me," she went on. " I thought Ruth seemed quite taken aback for the minute, but she explained it to me afterwards. She could not help being a little bit surprised, as he has never asked any one before. ' It was sweet of him to think of it,' she went on ; ' but if I could only make the dear old fellow believe that I should not be dull alone,' and then she sighed in quite an oppressed way." " Yes, that is Ruth's sore point ; but she can make no impression on him. But I am thankful to see that Mr. Chaytor shows some inclination to creep out of his shell. He was at the Rectory last night. Mr. Tor- ranee was there too, and Mrs. Whitworth wanted Ruth to go, but she was too tired with her long day at Chillingford." " Do you mean to ask him to the Garden House, Aunt Margaret ? " " I shall not put myself out of the way to do so. I have invited him more than once, and he has always excused himself; so I shall leave him to come round of his own accord. By the bye, he scarcely spoke to you this afternoon, Maureen." " That is because you were there, Aunt Maggie," returned Maureen, archly, for she would not allow even to herself that she had been just a little bit hurt at his seeming neglect. " And it was my first visit, too," she thought ; and then her usual humility and good sense put the matter in a clearer light. " He did not mean to neglect me," she said to herself. " He looked very kindly at me once or twice. But of course he found Aunt Margaret so much more inter- esting, and she looked such a dear this afternoon." Maureen was in an unusually self-deprecating mood that evening, for, as she smoothed her hair at the glass, she continued thoughtfully : " It is all very well for father 170 iThe Sunny Side of the Hill and Harold to make much of me, for they are so used to me by this time, and one must be fond of one's be- longings; but it is not likely that a grand, clever man like Mr. Chaytor should take notice of such a homely little brown thing"; and Maureen shook her head at her reflection. They went to the Rectory the following afternoon, and found Ruth playing croquet with Mrs. Whitworth; and on Saturday Maureen went alone to Gayton Lodge, and was surprised to find several people there. The Brants were famous for getting up impromptu parties " surprise parties," they called them ; but they did not always give satisfaction to other people. Ruth, who wore her white morning dress and poppy hat, took advantage of a change of partners to whisper rather discontentedly to Maureen : " It is just like the Brant girls, asking all these strangers and never giving one a hint. I never even troubled to change my frock. ' We want you and Maureen Brydon to run in on Saturday, and we will practise for the next tennis tourna- ment ' that is what Jenny said to me. Just look at all those smart people," and Ruth waved her racquet with a petulant baby frown, and then went back to her game without hearing Maureen's soothing remark: " What does it matter, dear ? You always look so nice " which was certainly the truth. That afternoon Ruth had no lack of partners, and even when she said she was tired, and moved away to rest herself in a shady nook, she was not left in solitude, for half the young men on the ground were in attend- ance to wait on her and bask in the light of her bright eyes. "Awfully fetching, isn't she?" observed one under- graduate to Maureen. " Made quite a sensation last sea- son, my cousin tell me," for he was one of the General's numberless nephews. " I hear Lipscombe of Oriel is quite gone on her. He has a fancy for dark beauties." Maureen Receives an Invitation 171 And so the ingenious youth prattled on, to Maureen's secret amusement. " I think your friend has very good taste," she said demurely. " Now, as I am rested, shall we go on with our game ? " " What did you say that girl's name was, Hermione ? " asked Teddy Brant rather curiously, when the game was finished. Then, as his cousin enlightened him " Well, she is a good sort ; plenty of go about her and no hum- bug ; never got in my way or took my ball." And Teddy marched down the avenue with his cricket cap at the back of his head, whistling in his light-hearted, boyish way. " So it was a regular tennis-party after all ! " ob- served Margaret, in sympathetic indignation. " Now, I call that too bad of Hermione and Jenny. But never mind, Maureen, that grey linen was just the right thing." " Oh yes, I was not thinking of my appearance, but Ruth seemed a little put out about it; she need not have troubled herself, for all the men were crowding round her. Young Mr. Brant cousin Teddy, as they call him; he is such a nice boy, Aunt Maggie told me that she made quite a sensation last season. Did you ever hear of a Mr. Lipscombe ? " Margaret nodded. " Yes, Mrs. Whitworth told me about him. I believe he made Ruth an offer and she refused him. They are very wealthy people his father made his fortune as an oil merchant and then entered Parliament." " Is the son nice ? " " Well, he is a strong, bull-headed young man, with a rather red face. But I believe he is a good-natured fellow, though not endowed with much brains. But Ruth could not be induced to listen to him." " I am sure I do not know who would be good enough for her," returned Maureen, and she spoke with earnest sincerity. But she had no idea why Margaret suddenly gave her a kiss. 172 The Sunny Side of the Hill " Dear little soul," she said to herself, when Maureen had left the room, " I don't believe she has a spark of envy in her nature ; she is always making much of other people and little of herself. But I don't believe she has an idea how fond I am of her." And Margaret smiled happily as she took up her work. XIX "I WANT YOU TO UNDERSTAND" Let no misfortune ever master thee ; For only strong endurance leads thee to The day of bliss. Whate'er can Chance to man, that he has strength to meet; What he has strength for, That it behooveth him to bear, Dear Soul. A Layman's Breviary. RUTH walked over to St. Cyprian for the early service the next morning; when Maureen entered the church she saw her in the Chaytors' pew. When the service had ended the two girls walked back to the Garden House. Ruth would have waited in the porch for Mar- garet, but Maureen told her that she would follow as soon as she was ready. " I never wait for her," she observed as they crossed the Rectory meadow. " I know all her ways by this time. When one is no longer young, one makes little rules for one's self. I seldom even bid her good-morning until we meet at breakfast." Ruth sighed. " If only one could be as good as Miss Dry don. Somehow Sundays here seem so different to those at Westcombe Lodge. There is plenty of church- going even the boys dare not stay away, Uncle George is so particular but they make up for it during the rest of the day. Olivia and Gwendoline have their friends in the afternoon, and Percy and Tony have theirs, and sometimes it is as noisy as possible." " I should not care for that," returned Maureen, thoughtfully. " Our Sundays at the Homestead were never dull ; in the summer there was the garden, and in winter father liked us to walk with him, and we always 173 174. The Sunny Side of the Hill went to the evening service; and after tea father gen- erally asked us to play and sing to him. Somehow the day never seemed long " ; and Maureen's voice was a little sad, for she still had her moments of home-sickness. They spent the afternoon in the garden. As usual Margaret dozed over her book, and the girls chatted to each other in low tones. Margaret assured them after- wards that their voices had lulled her into a dream. " There was a pleasant buzzing in my ears," she con- tinued. " I have not an idea what you were talking about, but I feel very much refreshed and rested by my nap." " You have not read much," observed Maureen, slyly, as she picked up the book which had fallen from Mar- garet's lap, and was lying face downwards on the grass ; " I never saw you turn a page." But Margaret took this remark calmly. " Some pages do not need turning," she said, sen- tentiously ; " a sentence or two well digested is often sufficient nourishment for a well-regulated mind." And as Maureen laughed, she continued in a satisfied tone; " At least I have not wasted my time, for wholesome rest is better than frothy talk and gossip." And then Margaret, with an air of great briskness, summoned her young companions to the tea-table. After supper Margaret kept her promise of walking over with them to Marsh Hall, and it was quite late when she and her faithful satellite Master retraced their steps. The girls stood on the little drawbridge watching until she was out of sight. " I hope the dear thing will not be dull without you," observed Ruth, as they walked up the drive. But Maureen shook her head. " Aunt Margaret is never dull ; I don't believe she knows how to spell the word. It is my belief that she has bottled up so much heart sunshine that she has ''I Want You to Understand" 175 always plenty for dark days; she is one of the most cheerful and self-sacrificing people I know." Maureen was so excited by finding herself really inside the Viking's Castle that she could hardly sleep that night. She amused herself by writing imaginary pages of description to Harold. " He shall certainly have my next letter," she said to herself rather drowsily, and then she fell asleep and had curious oddments of dreams, in which the air-maniac, old Roger Chaytor, and his grandson Romney seemed strangely blended together. Maureen heard herself assuring him gravely that she had no idea that his beard was white. " You are far too young for anything so patriarchal," she con- tinued, " and in my opinion it is extremely unbecoming and inconvenient." " Who cares what a little brown thing like you thinks ? " was the uncivil answer, and Mr. Chaytor laughed in a jeering manner. And then the wind began to blow, and the walls rocked, and Maureen cried out, and woke to find the sun shining in at her window and the soft morning breeze fanning her temples. As soon as breakfast was over, the two girls estab- lished themselves cosily in the little stone cabin in Windy- How with their work. And Maisie curled herself up on her mistress's lap. " I wonder why your brother does not have a dog," observed Maureen, as she stroked the white satin-like coat of the little fox-terrier ; " he seems so fond of ani- mals, and it would be such a companion for him." " He could never bring himself to replace poor old Jack," returned Ruth, in a low voice. " They were inseparable, and Romney never went anywhere without him. Jack was a great brindled bulldog. I always thought him dreadfully ugly, but he had such a pedigree, and Romney considered him perfect. He was certainly very human, and seemed only to live for his master. He took cold one wet day, and it developed into pneu- monia, and in spite of all his doctor's care, poor Jack 176 The Sunny Side of the Hill grew rapidly worse. Romney never left him the night he died, and I believe he grieved as much for him as if he had lost a human friend. That is just like Romney ; he never likes people in a half-hearted way. He is very tenacious in his attachments, though one cannot deny that he cares for few people. I have heard him say more than once, that he has only three friends in Branks- mere Mr. Torrance, the rector, and Miss Brydon." Maureen was a little silent after this. Then she roused herself to ask where Jack was buried. And after luncheon Ruth took her to see the place. There was a regular tombstone with Jack's name engraved on it, and under it the words : " Here lies the most faithful of friends." It was while they sat side by side in the little stone cabin that Maureen questioned Ruth about her life at Westcombe Lodge. " It is not curiosity," she said, quite earnestly ; " but I feel so interested in all that concerns you, and I should dearly like to hear anything you like to tell me about your cousins and your daily life. I asked Aunt Margaret once, but she knew so little about them." " There are so many of them," returned Ruth, smiling, " and as Miss Brydon has never seen any of them, it was hardly surprising that she should know little or nothing about them. Shall I begin with the girls?" Maureen nodded. " Well, Olivia is the eldest. She is an extremely handsome girl, and very much admired far more than Gwendoline, who is only passably good-looking. Olivia is just engaged ; it has been quite a family excitement. Clement Le Marchant is a barrister, he is very well off, and since his cousin's death a few months ago he is the presumptive heir to a baronetcy. So Uncle George and Aunt Sophy are very much pleased with the engagement." " But is Mr. Le Marchant really nice ? " "I Want You to Understand" 177 " Oh yes, Olivia says so, and I suppose she ought to know. She certainly seems to like him very much, and Percy says he is a capital fellow. He seems to me a little bit too self-assured and fond of his own opinion, but perhaps he has been spoilt. Olivia has plenty of good sense, and she must take him in hand ; they will not be married before next spring, but we are already discussing the bridesmaids' dresses." Maureen was immensely interested. " And then comes ' Gwendoline, who is only passably good-look- ing,' " she continued, in a tone which betokened her enjoyment. " Well, she takes after Aunt Sophy, you see, but she is very nice and good-tempered, so people never think her plain. " Doris, who comes next, is really pretty. She is my special friend, and as we are the same age we made our debut together. She is a dear girl, and I am very fond of her; and when I am away she generally writes to me once or twice a week." " I am glad of that," returned Maureen ; " for when one is away from home, one cannot have too many letters." " I do not know why it is," observed Ruth, pensively, " but I never can look upon Westcombe Lodge as my home, and yet they are all so good and kind to me. But never mind that just now, let me finish about the cousins. Jessie, the youngest girl, is between fifteen and sixteen, and is still in the schoolroom with mademoiselle. She is rather unfledged at present, a tall slip of a girl, but I daresay she will improve in a year or so." "How many boys are there?" asked Maureen, as Ruth paused. " Five. But, my dear girl, one cannot call them boys. Charles and Rudolf are married, and have chil- dren of their own. Why, Charles is getting a little bald, and his eldest boy is eight years old. The Rudolfs, as we call them, have the dearest little twin girls. Then 12 178 The Sunny Side of the Hill there is Percival, who is in the Civil Service, and at present lives at home; but he talks of taking a flat with a friend.' " Is he nice ? " But to her surprise Ruth blushed and hesitated. " Yes, I believe so ; he is certainly very good-looking, and all the girls seem to admire him. But Kenneth is my favourite. He is a dear fellow, and so good and unselfish ; he is with his regiment in India, and Doris and I nearly cried our eyes out when he left." Ruth said this with such frank simplicity that any idea of some budding romance connected with the young soldier died a natural death. It was evident that Ruth only felt a warm sisterly affection for her cousin Kenneth ; indeed, her next words proved this. " Kenneth isn't a bit good-looking," she went on, " but he is so strong and manly, and has such a pleasant, honest expression. I really think if he were my own brother I could not be fonder of him ; and he is so kind, and writes to me such nice long letters. He is every inch a soldier, and loves his work, and we are very proud of him." " There is one more cousin ? " " Yes, Antony Tony we call him but he is quite a boy still, though he has left Harrow and gone to Oxford. Percy calls him a cub, and he is certainly a little rough, but he is a good-hearted fellow, and I expect the university will polish him. There, you have my list complete," finished Ruth gaily. " And I think it is your turn to talk now." As Maureen was never loath to enlarge on the merits of her belongings, she was soon plunged into an ex- haustive description of the Homestead and its inmates, until they were summoned to luncheon. They spent the afternoon in Shady Nook swinging lazily in their hammocks, now talking by snatches, followed by inter- vals of enjoyable silence. After tea they had a bicycle ride, only returning home in time to dress for dinner. "I Want You to Understand" 179 The rest of the evening was spent in Ruth's sitting- room. At Maureen's request Ruth had sung two or three songs. She had a charming voice, and sang with a good deal of expression; she had evidently been well taught. Maureen, who established herself comfortably on the high window-seat, listened with a great deal of pleasure, and was sorry when Ruth closed the piano. " I shall not be able to talk to you to-morrow," she observed, as she seated herself in the opposite corner, " so I will make hay while the sun shines." And Ruth laid her soft little hands affectionately on Maureen for a moment. " Isn't it strange how soon we have got to know each other? If we had been friends for years instead of days I could not talk more comfortably to you. You are so sympathetic and understand so quickly." " I am so glad to hear you say that." " Yes, and it is the truth. Do you know, dear, fond as I am of Doris, there are things I never mention to her. What would be the use? She would not under- stand. That is what I feel with all my cousins; in spite of their good hearts they are extremely limited. It is so trying," continued Ruth, plaintively, " when one is very much in earnest on a subject, and feels very strongly about it to be met with a blank stare or an incredulous laugh. ' What an odd little creature you are, Ruth ! ' I have heard Olivia say that again and again. ' You are so full of fads and fancies that no healthy-minded person can understand you.' And then Gwen would chime in and tell me I was an ungrateful chit to be discontented. ' If I were only in your place,' she would say. That is the worst of them they all think so much about my money." " Money is rather nice," returned Maureen. " I often wish I had more of it, if it were only for Harold's sake." " Oh yes. of course it is a blessing," returned Ruth, hastily, " and I suppose I like pretty frocks and nice 180 The Sunny Side of the Hill things as much as most girls but it is not everything. " Oh dear, no." "If it were not for mother's money, I expect Romney would let me live with him. In that case, he would have hought it his duty to take care of me." Ruth's tone was so suggestive of sadness that Maureen looked at her in surprise. " Should you have liked that ? " she asked, softly. Outside the moonlight was shining on the lawn of the little walled garden, only the tree shadows lay dark at the farther end. Two shaded lamps cast a pleasant, subdued light on the room, but the deep embrasure with its heavy curtains, where the girls sat, was so dark that they could hardly see each other's faces. Ruth was silent for a moment after Maureen had put the question. " Should I like it ? " she returned, with such intense longing in her voice that Maureen was startled. " This morning you were talking about your brother Harold. You were telling me how dear he was to you, the pride you took in him, and no one who heard you could have doubted your sincerity for a moment. I could scarcely refrain from tears as I listened. Maureen, you do not love him more than I do Romney." " Dear Ruth, I am quite sure that you love your brother. Aunt Margaret has always told me so. He saved your life when you were a little child. But forgive me if I pain you I would not do that for the world but Mr. Chaytor is so much older, you have lived with him so little, and then your mother was not his." " And you think all that ought to make a difference to my affection ? " returned Ruth, a little indignantly " That is what they all say. Aunt Sophy has pointed out to me more than once that I ought not to fret so r.fter Romney, when he evidently does not wish to keep me with him; but it is cruel of her to tell me these things," and Ruth's voice was a little choked. "I Want You to Understand" 181 " I am quite sure from all Aunt Margaret has told me that Mr. Chaytor is thinking more of your happiness than his own convenience," returned Maureen, sooth- ingly. But Ruth was not to be so easily consoled. " Xo, no, she is right, and Romney does not want me; only it breaks my heart to realise it. Maureen, I do so want you to understand, it will make me feel less lonely. Just listen to me a moment. From a mere baby I was devoted to Romney. My nurse has often told me how I used to hold out my arms to him, and scream when he left me. I think even in those days I knew him best, and yet he was so strange that he took hardly any notice of me unless we were alone. Then he saved my life but you have heard all about that from Miss Brydon." Maureen assented to this. " I am thankful that you know, for I never could tell that story; it turns me cold even to think of it. Yes, he saved my life, noble fellow, but at what a price ! " And then Ruth hid her face in her hands and sobbed. " Oh, but he has never repented it," returned Maureen, softly. " Please, please, do not cry so." " I always cry when I think of it. Sometimes I feel as though I could hardly bear it. We have never spoken of it to each other never once; he will not allow any one to say a word to him upon the subject. But one day when I was feeling very miserable I wrote to him, and he sent me such a dear little letter in reply. I have almost worn away the edges of the paper reading and re-reading it ; but I know it by heart now." "And it was kind?" " Oh yes ; and it did me so much good. He told me that if it should all come over again and he could foresee the consequence, that he would do the same thing; that only a barbarian could leave a little child to suffocate in the flames ; that he had never reproached me in his thoughts. And he begged me not to be morbid. Oh, it was a dear letter, and it has been a comfort to me ever since." XX YOU HAVE BEEN SUCH A COMFORT Comfort one another with the hand-clasp close and tender, With the sweetness love can render, And the looks of friendly eyes. Do not wait with grace unspoken, While life's daily bread is broken; Gentle speech is oft like manna from the skies. M. E. SANGSTER. MAUREEN never knew why speech seemed so difficult at that moment; in reality she was brimming over with sympathy. For once she lacked expression; but Ruth found no fault with her silence, she instinctively felt that she was understood. Maureen at least had not told her that she was fanciful and morbid. " Romney said in his letter that it was only the for- tunes of war," she went on ; " that many a brave fellow goes halt or maimed during the remainder of his life ; so why should he cry out because an accident has dis- abled him in the discharge of his duty. And then he begged me never to refer to the subject again." " I should think such a letter must have comforted you." " So it did for a time, and then the old ache and pain came back. No, you must not blame me," as Maureen tried to speak ; " how can I help it ? Oh, you do not know Romney, how proud and sensitive he is. And then he is so terribly lonely, and I know it is all my fault." " Oh no, you must not say that, Ruth. Besides, it is not true. You were only a baby an innocent agent in the hands of a higher Power. You should let Aunt Margaret talk to you she is so much wiser than I," continued Maureen, humbly, "and she would find 182 You Have Been Such a Comfort 183 just the right words to say. Don't you see that if your brother's life is marred, it is because it was God's will that you should both suffer? I do not know quite how to explain my meaning, but perhaps one does not know this very loneliness and distress of mind, and the feeling that he cannot move about like other men, may be just the cross given him to bear, and it may be your duty to submit to it for his sake as well as your own." " Oh, Maureen, I knew you would understand," ob- served Ruth. " Yes, I think I can grasp your meaning. A good old clergyman, a great friend of ours, but he is dead now, once said much the same thing to me, only he expressed it rather differently. " ' You take care of your own life-work, child, and leave your brother to do his. What is the use of trying to pull him back, when he is climbing as well as he can? Loving hands should help, not hinder.' ' : "Well, dear, I think that is beautiful." " Yes, and I do try my hardest to be patient. But, Maureen, if you only knew the longing I have to devote my life to Romney. If he would only let me live with him; if I could draw him out of his solitude, and make him believe how people would welcome him. What does his lameness matter! But no, he shuts himself up and lives like a hermit, and the habit will soon be too strong for him." " I wish he were not so terribly proud," returned Maureen, rather gravely. " I can understand his feelings. He hates people to notice or pity him. But after the first they would get used to it." " That is what I want to tell him, but I never dare to hint at such a thing. It is all pride, pride. ' Why are you not fair on other people?' that is what I want to say to him. ' You are living for yourself, and you will not let even your little sister be a comfort to you ; and it is wrong, Romney, and you ought to know it.' But I do not think I shall ever have courage to make my 184 The Sunny Side of the Hill little speech " with a pitiful smile that Maureen could not see. " Perhaps the opportunity will come," she returned, hopefully. " Do you think, do you really think, Ruth, that you would be happier here, in this isolated house, than with all your cousins at Westcombe Lodge ? " " I was never more sure of anything in my life," returned Ruth, earnestly. " I told you this morning that I never could consider Westcombe Lodge as my home. It is difficult to explain, but the whole atmosphere is not congenial to me. There is too much talk about money and money-making; too much pleasure, and too little time for thinking. Even Doris, dear soul, can talk of nothing but balls and ball-dresses from morning to night. Sometimes I get so weary of the noise and bustle and endless chatter that I go and shut myself up in my own room. I don't know what your opinion may be, Maureen, but I don't think we are sent into the world to play about, as though we were children, and had nothing to do but amuse ourselves." " I wish Aunt Margaret could have heard that." " Oh, Miss Brydon agrees with me. We have famous talks sometimes. She wants me to find some work, to keep me ' sane and happy,' as she expresses it. ' If you only befriend one or two crippled children, and go and amuse and talk to them sometimes,' she said once. ' it will fill up little crannies of your time very usefully.' But, my dear, there are no spare moments at West- combe Lodge. We are in a bustle and hustle from morn- ing to night. It is rather pleasant at the time ; but there is such an empty feeling afterwards, .as though one were very hungry and had only a dessert of raisins and candied fruits to appease one's appetite." Ruth spoke in such a quaint, old-fashioned way that Maureen laughed outright; but the homely illustration seemed to her very apt and true a daily round of per- petual pleasure-seeking furnishes very poor nutriment to one who needs better things. Maureen felt impressed. You Have Been Such a Comfort 185 Ruth was certainly full of surprises. Who would have supposed that this pretty creature, with her childish air and winsome ways, had so much force of character, and such feelings concealed beneath her charming personality ? It was quite evident to her that Mr. Chaytor did not realise this, and that while he cherished her with brotherly tenderness, and did all in his power to make her happy, he felt no special need of her companionship. Probably he thought the great difference in their ages prevented any closer sympathy between them. " Very likely she is a little shy and timid with him," she said to herself, " and so he never sees this side of her at all." Maureen's shrewdness had grazed the truth. In Romney Chaytor's eyes Ruth was only a clever child. A little restless and discontented, as many girls are, but very easily guided and controlled. " I am afraid I am boring you dreadfully," observed Ruth ; " and you have been so good and patient with me. Do you know, it must be very late, and Marshall must be waiting to shut up." Then Maureen, who was not in the least tired or sleepy, rose reluctantly from her nest of cushions. " We have not quite finished our conversation, have we ? " she said, as Ruth wished her good-night. " Yes ; I shall not let you talk more now, but we shall have the whole morning together, as you have promised not to leave me until after luncheon." And then as she kissed her she said in a low voice : " Oh, Maureen, I had no idea that you would be quite so nice. You have been such a comfort." Ruth said this with such a winning air, and her little face looked so pale and tired, that Maureen felt more drawn to her than ever, and she lay awake a full hour thinking how she could best help her. The weather had changed during the night, and when the girls woke the rain was pattering against the windows. Windy-How and Shady Nook were clearly out of the question, so there was only the option of 186 -The Sunny Side of the Hill the library and the morning-room. When Ruth offered her the choice, Maureen decided in favour of the morn- ing-room, in spite of Ruth's assurances that her brother would not mind. She felt strangely reluctant to take possession of Mr. Chaytor's private apartment in his absence. " You shall do just as you like," returned Ruth, easily. " I only thought the library would be more cheer- ful this wet day, and it is so much lighter with all those windows, and of course I knew that Romney would be pleased for us to sit there; but I daresay we shall be cosy enough in the morning-room. I want to get on with my embroidery ; it is for a cushion for Aunt Sophy's birthday, and I think it will be very effective when it is done." Ruth was doing her best to be cheerful, but the shadow of last night's talk still hung over them. Maureen was the first to refer to it. " Ruth," she said presently, " I felt so touched by your confidence last evening. I do hope I did not dis- appoint you in any way. I have been thinking over things, and I do enter into your feeling so thoroughly." Ruth looked up from her embroidery. Her eyes were a little heavy, as though she had shed some tears, but her expression was very sweet. " Thank you, dear, that is what I wanted to know last night. I was afraid you would think me discontented and ungrateful for all my blessings." " Oh dear, no, such a thought never entered my mind ! Only I was sorry that you were not more satisfied with your environment." " I shall never be that," returned Ruth, taking up her work with a sigh ; " but I mean to be brave and not fret so much after Romney. I daresay it is my own fault that I do not make more of my life. I shall have a good talk with Miss Brydon she is such a help- ful, comfortable person and then I really will try and turn over a new leaf, aqd not mind if the girls laugh You Have Been Such a Comfort 187 at me for ' slumming,' as they call it. Isn't it hard work trying to do one's duty, Maureen? It is like pushing a heavy truck up a hill : if you let go for a moment it runs back ever so far." And Ruth made a funny little face of self-disgust which amused Maureen, and after this they were more cheerful. They did not quite quit the subject, for Maureen was bent on making Ruth look at things in a brighter light, and after a time she succeeded in this. " I think it is your duty to be as happy as possible, and to make other people happy, too," continued Maureen. " A sunshiny person like Aunt Margaret, for example, does so much good ; and you are really fond of your aunt and cousins." Ruth assented to this, but without enthusiasm. " I ought to be fond of them when they show me so much kindness and consideration." " They certainly seem nice, friendly folk," returned Maureen, " though perhaps a little limited in their ideas ; but they ought to allow you plenty of scope. You will have to put your foot down, Ruth it is a pretty little foot, too, dear and insist on taking your own way." But though Ruth agreed to this she was evidently dubious as to results. " But I will do my best," she finished in a brighter tone. Maureen nodded approvingly. " Then there is only one more thing I have to say. I want you not to trouble so much about your brother. Why not leave things to work round naturally. Perhaps one day he may need you and tell you so, and then you would get your wish." Ruth smiled faintly. " I am afraid that day is far distant. But you are right, and I must not be self- willed. I quite see that I owe a duty to Aunt Sophy and Uncle George, for they have always treated me like their own child. Besides, until I am of age which will not be for eighteen months I have no right to take my own course " ; and then Ruth resolutely closed the sub- 188 The Sunny Side of the Hill ject by begging Maureen to tell her a little more about the Homestead. As the afternoon continued wet, Maureen was sent back to the Garden House in the brougham. Ruth ac- companied her, as she had promised to have tea with Mrs. Whitworth. The two girls parted affectionately with much regret, but Ruth consoled herself with the remembrance that Romney would be back that evening. " I shall come and see you both to-morrow or the next day," she observed, waving her hand to Margaret who was just crossing the hall, and who welcomed Maureen as warmly as though she had been away a month. " This is delightful," she remarked, beaming on her niece as she sat opposite to her with the tea-table between them. " I have not been the least dull. I have had a grand garden day and a regular stand-up fight with Giles. The old man lost his temper, but he apologised and begged my pardon, and we shook hands. And after that it was all as smooth as a midsummer night's dream : ' I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove ' you know the kind of thing I mean ? " " Oh yes," laughed Maureen. " And after that you were both as grubby and happy as two slum infants. And I expect you tired yourself so much that you had a nap on the couch after dinner." And Margaret was unable to deny this. She was intensely interested in all Maureen told her, but she seemed a little unwilling to be drawn into a discussion about Ruth. " That will keep," she observed " and we will put it on the shelf for the present. The fact is," as Maureen looked a little disconcerted at this, " I have rather a pleasant piece of news for you, and I think you will like to hear it as soon as possible. Your father intends to come down on Saturday, and if we do not object, he will bring Irene with him, and they will probably stay a week. I told Daniel when I wrote last night, after I had finished my nap, that there was no fear of either of us making any objection. Was I right, You Have Been Such a Comfort 189 Maureen ? " But she need not have asked the question, Maureen's face expressed such intense satisfaction. " Father is really coming," she exclaimed, " and Irene too, bless her ! " Margaret's soft heart smote her a little at the girl's tone of rapture. " Poor little soul, she has been very brave," she said to herself ; " she never lets me know how much she misses them." " I fancy your mother wanted to come," she con- tinued aloud. " Wait a moment and I will read what your father says about it : ' Anna was strongly tempted to come with me, and of course it is only natural that she would like to see Maureen, as the child has never been away from us before. But she could not well leave at such short notice, and she thought Irene needed a little change.'" " Oh dear, how nice if mother could have come too," returned Maureen, with a sudden longing for a sight of the strong, handsome face ; " but she is always so dreadfully busy." " Never mind, you shall go to the Homestead for a good long visit in October," replied Margaret, cheerfully, " while I am staying with Mrs. Macdonald near Edin- burgh. I really must go to them this year. You know Mrs. Macdonald was a dear friend of Mrs. Rayner's, and in the old days I saw a great deal of her. She generally came once a year to the Garden House; but ever since a carriage accident two or three years ago, she has never left home." " And I am to go home while you are in Scotland, Aunt Maggie ? What a very nice arrangement ! " " Yes, it fits in rather well," returned Margaret, con- placently. " I expect I shall be at Red Braes for about a month or five weeks, so you will have quite a nice long time with your belongings. Well, that is settled; and now we must decide if the little blue room, as we call it, can be made presentable for Irene. It has been so little used, and I am afraid it wants doing up dread- 190 The Sunny Side of the Hill fully." But Maureen, who had rather a liking for the room, promptly negatived this. " I always think the little blue room so delightfully old fashioned and cosy," she returned ; " and I know Irene will like it. When the fresh covers are on, it will look as nice as possible." And this seemed to com- fort Margaret's housewifely soul. " Very well, then," she said, kindly, " to-morrow morning we will see what we can do to make it pretty and comfortable. Now I must answer Mrs. Macdonald's letter before dinner " ; and Margaret walked off to her writing-room, leaving Maureen to read her father's letter in peace. XXI "FATHER'S GIRL" It is life's little things that tell: The kindly thought to wish us well ; The loving touch when shines afar The hope of love, like distant star. ESBEE. WHEN Ruth walked over to the Garden House on Thursday afternoon she was soon put in possession of Maureen's delightful piece of news, and her sympathetic interest was quite equal to the occasion. How was it possible to be lukewarm or indifferent when the girl was fairly bubbling over with happy anticipations? " Father is coming on Saturday for a whole week, and he is to bring Irene with him," were her first words. " Mother would have liked to come too, but she was too busy. But though I want her dreadfully, I must be con- tent with my dear old Peace." " Peace, what a quaint name ! but I like it somehow. I did not know you called her that." " Yes, Peace, Pax, or the Peaceful Irene means that. You know she is such a sweet thing, and so pretty, though there is nothing striking about her. Father often tells mother that not one of her daughters can compare with her ; and of course he is right." The two girls were sitting in a shady corner of the tennis lawn. Margaret, who had a gardening fit on that day, had not yet discarded her working pinafore and sun-bonnet, and was weeding the banks just out of earshot. " I should like to see your mother," observed Ruth, in rather a regretful tone. " So you shall some day. You must come to the Homestead in October, when I shall be staying there, 191 192 The Sunny Side of the Hill and then you will see them all. I am sure you will admire mother, she is still so handsome though she looks terribly worn and tired sometimes. Some people are rather in awe of her, because she is so reserved and dignified. She is not a great talker, but somehow a word from mother goes such a long way." " I think Miss Brydon told me once that she was very clever and intellectual." " Oh, yes, Aunt Margaret has a great respect for her ; and I know mother thinks the world of her, and talks more to her than to any other person unless it be father." " And your father, Maureen ? " " Oh, father is quite different. He is rather small and insignificant-looking; but when you know him, there is no fear of your not liking him. To us he is just father." And Maureen's tone expressed such simple trust, and reverence, and love, that Ruth was quite touched. Miss Brydon, too, had spoken of him more than once ; and Ruth had a vivid recollection of how her eyes had softened as she mentioned his name. " My brother Daniel has great force of character," she had said then. " There is a quiet magnetism about him which seems to "draw and influence people. When he sets his heart on a thing he generally gets it. No one who did not know him could understand why a beautiful woman like my sister-in-law married him; but Daniel knows." And Ruth remembered how Margaret's face had lighted up as she said this. Margaret's words and manner had impressed Ruth. They had been discussing some abstract subject on the influence of character and personal beauty, and Mar- garet, who had been indulging in a sort of rambling essay, had drawn an illustration from her home circle by way of elucidating her meaning. Ruth was a little sorry that Maureen's dearly beloved father was small and insignificant-looking. Ruth had rather a weakness for strength and a good appearance "Father's Girl" 193 the men of her family were all tall and well favoured but she was aware this was mere prejudice on her part. She was heartily interested in everything Maureen told her, and was almost sorry when Margaret joined them, and the conversation became general. But she was quite willing to give them a description of her brother's trip. He had enjoyed it thoroughly, and had met with no mishap or accident. " He could talk of nothing else all the evening," she went on ; " and he actually persuaded me to motor over to Chillingford yesterday." " Come, that was brave of you, Ruth," returned Margaret, approvingly. " It was not bad, and Romney was very kind, and went more slowly than usual. I don't think I really enjoyed myself, but I wanted to please him. To-morrow, he and Gale are going for a longer expedition and will not be back until eleven, but I shall be spending the evening with the Brants. By the bye, Maureen, Romney was quite sorry that we did not use the library that wet day. He says the morning-room is so dark and dull in comparison. But I told him we were very happy." Ruth took her leave soon after this. " I shall think of you on Saturday evening," she said, as she kissed Maureen, " and I shall certainly come and call on your sister." " I hope we shall not be out, for I should be sorry to miss you. Aunt Margaret tells me that father will spend every moment he can at St. Quintin. He is very fond of golf, but he rarely gets a chance of playing ; and that nice old Colonel Darcy who lives at St. Quintin's Lodge is always very pleased to play a game with him." " In that case I must take my chance," returned Ruth, cheerfully ; " but we shall be sure to meet somehow. Mrs. Whitworth will ask you to the Rectory, and she will send me an invitation as a matter of course; or Lady Betty and I will find our way to St. Quintin, and disturb you and your Peace by breaking in on your sis- 13 194 The Sunny Side of the Hill terly confab." And Ruth laughed merrily as she tripped away. Ruth's curiosity was destined to be satisfied far earlier than she imagined. Some business had taken her over to Felsham on Saturday afternoon, and having missed the return train she had intended to take, she had been obliged to wait an hour for the next. She was rather annoyed at her own carelessness, for she knew Romney would send the carriage to meet her. Something had evidently gone wrong with her watch, for she had thought she had full ten minutes to spare. She had not even a book to amuse her, and the little country station offered no attraction: a couple of labourers, an old woman with some carrots tied up in a blue handkerchief, and a mongrel dog were appar- ently the only objects to be seen until the train for Branksmere made its appearance, and she saw two people crossing the platform. She was too anxious to secure her seat to take much notice of them, but they followed her into the compartment. One of them, a young lady, seated herself opposite to Ruth, but the gentleman stood by the door waiting to ask the porter a question. " The box and portmanteau are all right, Irene," he said, as he sat down. Ruth started, and her eyes took a rapid survey of her fellow-travellers. " Yes, of course it must be the Brydons," thought she. They certainly answered to Maureen's description. The girl was fair, and her eyes and colouring rather pretty; there was a pleasant, reposeful look about her that exactly suited her name. Then she turned her atten- tion to the quiet-looking little man who had spoken. He had a nice voice and rather a clever face But here a pair of quiet grey eyes met hers, and Ruth blushed a little as though she had been guilty of the rudeness of staring, and looked out of the window. Daniel Brydon's observant glance had made her feel shy, and checked her impulse to speak, and yet how absurd it seemed. She had not a doubt of their identity, "Father's Girl" 195 and Maureen would think it so silly and formal of her not to introduce herself. " Don't you think all these changes tiresome, father? " observed the girl. Her voice was very sedate and gentle, and Ruth remembered that Maureen had said laugh- ingly that Irene was a little mature and precise in her manner. " Harold often says she is rather an Early Victorian young lady," she had continued, and again Ruth felt that this was true. " Oh, it is not much of a journey, really," returned the gentleman, " and we shall be at Branksmere directly. I expect Maureen will be on the lookout for us, bless her little heart. I beg your pardon did you speak ? " But Ruth had not spoken, but there was a half-con- cealed smile on her lips. " No ; only you mentioned Maureen's name, and it is so funny. She was staying with me last Sunday, and I know quite well that I am speaking to her father and sister." And Ruth spoke in such a winsome way, and looked so unfeignedly pleased at the recognition, that Daniel Brydon quite lost his heart to her. " Then you must be Miss Chaytor," he returned, with a pleasant smile, and then he held out his hand in a friendly way. " My son had a long letter from Maureen the day before yesterday, giving him a glowing description of her visit to Marsh Hall." " But it was such a short visit," objected Ruth " only two nights : and we did nothing but talk from morning to evening." " Maureen loves talking," observed Irene, in her gentle way. " We miss her at home do we not, father? Maureen is always so bright and cheery." And after this they became very friendly and sociable, and Ruth quite lost her shyness with Mr. Brydon as she pointed out one landmark after another. " I saw at once how nice he was," she said afterwards to Maureen. " There she is ! " she exclaimed suddenly, as they 196 The Sunny Side of the Hill entered Branksmere Station, and then Ruth quietly held back and let the others precede her, for she was anxious to efface herself until the first greetings were over. But though she kept her seat, her bright eyes saw everything that passed. Maureen's expression when she caught sight of her father, the way she clung to his arm as he kissed her, and then the close embrace between the sis- ters, all spoke volumes to her. But Maureen's astonish- ment when she saw Ruth leave the carriage amused them all. She dropped her father's arm and darted towards her. " You here, Ruth ? Have you travelled together from Felsham ? " Ruth gave one of her quick little nods. " Miss Chaytor kindly introduced herself, my dear," explained her father. " You must be a good hand at description, Maureen, for she told us that she recognised us at once." " That is quite true," returned Ruth ; " but if you had not mentioned Maureen's name, I should hardly have ventured to speak. It was rather an odd coincidence certainly, but if I had not missed my train, I should not have had this pleasure." Then, as they went out of the station, Ruth was surprised to see her brother waiting for her in the motor. She hurried towards him. " I am so sorry, Romney, but I missed my train, and I had no idea that you would come for me yourself." Then in a lower tone : " Miss Bry don's father and sister have come by this train, and we travelled together from Felsham." Romney Chaytor lifted his cap as he bestowed a searching glance at the little group ; but his manner, generally a little stiff and repellant to strangers, thawed perceptibly as it rested on Maureen's illuminated face. " I don't think we have ever met, Mr. Brydon," he observed, quite civilly. " I am so often away from Marsh Hall that I daresay I missed you." " I very rarely pay my sister a visit," returned Daniel Brydon ; " a week-end once or twice a year." Then "Father's Girl" 197 after a few more words, Maureen reminded her father that the omnibus was waiting for them. Then Ruth jumped into the motor, and the next minute she and the motor were out of sight. " Your new friend is a very attractive little person, Maureen," observed her father ; " uncommonly pretty, too." " Yes, indeed/' chimed in Irene, " and so beautifully dressed. So that is the wonderful Mr. Chaytor you and Harold talk about the Viking, as you call him? Dear me, what a pity he is lame ; he seems such a fine, attrac- tive-looking man. But I don't consider him exactly handsome." " I don't think that either of us said that he was," returned Maureen, quickly. " No, perhaps not," observed Irene, placidly. " I suppose I must have drawn my own conclusions. He is certainly an uncommon-looking man. What a con- trast his sister is to him ! But before we discuss your friends, Maureen, I must give you the home messages." And then for the remainder of the short journey, Maureen plied them with eager questions. "When they reached the Garden House, Master and Mistress were at the open door to receive them. " So you have come at last, Daniel," were his sister's first words ; " but better late than never, my dear old boy." And then she led him into the house. When the travellers had been refreshed by tea the sisters went upstairs together, but Daniel Brydon went out in the garden with Margaret. " Well, Peggy," he said, as he lighted his cigarette, " it has not been a mistake, has it? You and my little girl seem to hit it off." Margaret put her hand on his arm. " Dan," she said, with unmistakable sincerity, " she is a perfect darl- ing. I don't know how I have managed to exist without her all these years; but she is an absolute necessity to me now." 198 The Sunny Side of the Hill A smile of amusement came to Daniel Brydon's lips. He knew Peggy so well; this was exactly what he had expected her to say. " I am so glad, dear. And how about the child herself? To me she seems as happy as possible, and certainly there are no complaints in her letters." " I think she is content," returned Margaret, thought- fully. " We do everything together, and she is never restless or out of humour. But now and then she has quiet moods, and then I know she is a little home-sick and missing you all." " Not more than we miss her," returned her brother. " Anna was saying to me only last night how she was longing to see the child again. ' I never realised how much I should feel her absence, Dan. When I go into her little empty room it makes me quite sad; not that I would deprive dear Margaret of her companionship, but I suppose if one had a dozen children, one would still miss the child one has lost.' " " No doubt that is quite true," returned Margaret ; " but Anna has not lost her, so I shall not let you harrow up my feelings, Dan. Maureen is a staunch, loyal little soul, and she is devoted to her mother, though she has always been more father's girl." And Margaret gave her brother a frankly-comprehending look. " I cannot deny that I have petted her a bit," returned Daniel, " and, though I make no distinction between my children, that I have taken a little more notice of her than the others. But it has come about quite naturally. The twins are wrapped up in each other, and Irene has always been her mother's companion; and so Maureen got the name of father's girl." Margaret smiled. There was no need to explain any- thing to her. " How is Anna ? " she asked presently. " Well in health, thank God, but a little fagged and tired-looking. I tell her that she does far too much, that she is the vicar's unpaid drudge ; but she only laughs, "Father's Girl" 199 and says that some one must do the work. When you come to us again, Peggy, you must talk to her." " I am afraid my influence will be nil," she replied, sorrowfully. " Anna is one of those active-minded peo- ple who prefer to wear out rather than rust. Most women need occupation, Dan, and some outlet for their energies. But no one needs it more than Anna," she finished under her breath ; but Daniel heard and assented with a smile. XXII "THE MAN'S A FOOL" Learn to make the most of life ; lose no happy day ; Time will never give thee back chances swept away. Leave no tender word unsaid; love while love shall last; The mill cannot grind with the water that is past. SARAH DOUDNEY. MAUREEN always declared that the week that followed her father's arrival was the happiest she had ever spent. " There was not a single flaw or hitch," she declared triumphantly, " except that the days passed too quickly." " That is one of old Time's favourite tricks," returned Margaret, regretfully, when Maureen made this speech. " When one is happy the hours seem to fly. It is only when one is bored or dull that the chariot wheels drive so heavily." " Yes, but it was so delightful while it lasted," re- turned the girl ; " and Irene and I enjoyed every moment of it, and I certainly think we made the most of our time." And Maureen was right. The weather had been unusually kind. Every day there was sunshine, but the sea breezes tempered the heat. Daniel Brydon spent all his mornings on the golf links, and either Colonel Darcy, the rector, or Henry Torrance joined him. Every day the little omnibus con- veyed them to St. Quintin, and brought them back to a late luncheon. Sometimes Margaret accompanied them, and then they all sat on the links and watched the game. Margaret, who played a little, but was terribly out of practice, could not be induced to join them ; but she followed the players with unabating interest. On other mornings the girls sat on the beach with their work and books ; but neither of them read much, there was so much 200 "The Man's a Fool" 201 to say so many little details which could not be told in letters: the state of the family wardrobe; Ninian's last escapade; Lois's improved health, and the advent of the new curate, all these subjects had to be thoroughly dis- cussed and ventilated. The last item of intelligence in- terested Maureen most. " He has really come, then ! " she exclaimed. " I quite thought that Mr. Reynolds meant to wait until Christmas." " He told mother that the work was too much for him to carry on any longer single-handed," returned Irene. " He has been looking sadly fagged since the warm weather set in. Mr. Walton preached at the evening service last Sunday. I think we shall like him. He has a nice voice, and seemed very much in earnest." "Have any of you spoken to him?" " Yes ; father and mother. They had supper at the Vicarage, and mother seemed much pleased with him. She says that he is unmistakably a gentleman, and very pleasant in his manner. Mrs. Reynolds told her that his mother is very well off, and rather a delightful person. She lives at Crowborough." " Then I suppose he will have to live in lodgings ? " " Yes, he has taken some nice rooms in the Rothbury Road, quite close to the church. That Mrs. Williams, who lost her husband so suddenly last year, lives there. It is her own house, but as her income is very small she will be glad to add to it. She has only one little girl, so Mr. Walton will be quiet and comfortable." " Oh, I am so glad he has come, for mother's sake," observed Maureen ; " for he will relieve her of some of her work." '' That is what we all say ; but mother does not seem to like the idea of giving up anything. Of course it is far too much for her, and I know it worries father when she looks so pale and tired. But, Maureen, I am afraid sometimes that mother would not be happy without it." " Why, Pax, what an odd thing for you to say ; as 202 The Sunny Side of the Hill though mother would not be happy with just father and all of us." " I don't think you quite grasp my meaning," re- turned Irene, gently. " Mother requires more than most people. Housekeeping and the trivial round of small daily duties are far more irksome to her than to me. Why, I love everything; but mother wants wider interests." " Now you are making her out a sort of Mrs. Jellyby " ; and Maureen's tone was a little indignant. But Irene smiled and shook her head. , " How absurd you are, dear ! Such an idea never entered my head. Poor dear mother ! But I think Aunt Margaret would understand what I mean. Don't you remember her telling us one day that mother was too big to fit exactly into her hole, and we both laughed? But really, Maureen, the Homestead is rather a small place foe a woman like mother; and if it were not for her outside work, with all its interests, she would find it rather monotonous." " Oh yes, I quite see that ; and perhaps, after all, it is better to be tired than dull." " Oh, we generally agree about things," returned Irene, brightly. " But there is one thing I want to say before we finish about the new curate. Mother thinks he will be such a nice friend for Harold. He is quite young not more than five-and-twenty. Mother wants father to call upon him." "And he will do so, of course?" " Oh, certainly, if mother wishes it. But he had his little joke first, and called her a designing woman '' ; and Irene seemed very much amused as she said this. " The cap does not fit mother in the least does it, Maureen?" But though Maureen assented to this with all sincerity, the thought would cross her mind that of all people Irene was cut out for a clergyman's wife, and then Lois was so pretty. " The Man's a Fool" 203 "Is Mr. Walton good-looking?" she asked, .rather abruptly. " Oh, I don't know. The church was rather dark, and I scarcely looked at him," returned Irene, innocently. " I daresay father could tell you. Now the tide has been going down for a long time, and I want to look for some shells." But if the mornings were delightful, the afternoons and evenings were equally so. They spent most of the time in the garden ; the tea-table occupied its usual corner of the tennis lawn the rattle of tea-cups rousing Daniel from a nap. " Branksmere air always marks me sleepy," he would say, apologetically, and rubbing his eyes. " I was reading the debates until the print began to joggle before my eyes." Maureen laid her cheek caressingly against her father's head. " You looked so comfy, father dear, that Aunt Margaret hardly liked to rattle the spoons against the cups, but she was afraid our visitors would arrive before you woke up " for that afternoon the Whit worths were expected. Ruth came twice by special invitation, and she and Irene became excellent friends. " I like your Peace so much," she said to Maureen. " She is so gentle, and seems to think so much more of other people than her- self. She is certainly a little older than her age elder sisters often are ; but all the same she is charming." " I am not sure that I think her so very pretty," she said to herself. " There is so much more in Maureen's face, and of course Maureen is a hundred times more interesting." Maureen was secretly disappointed that Ruth had not invited them to pay her a visit. She wanted her father and Irene to see Marsh Hall. " I suppose she did not like to ask her brother to have us again so soon," she thought; and this was probably the truth. Except in church on Sunday, they never even caught sight of Mr. Chaytor. 204 The Sunny Side of the Hill One evening, Margaret asked Mr. Torrance to sup- per. She knew her brother liked him; he had seen a good deal of him at the time of Mrs. Raynor's death, when business had brought them together. " In the summer I never dine late, as you know, Dan," she explained ; " Maureen and I like our evening meal to be a movable feast. But to-night supper will really be at eight, and Mr. Torrance has promised to be punctual. If you like, we will go out in the garden afterwards, and you and Mr. Torrance can smoke." Daniel gave the usual low laugh which always be- tokened extreme satisfaction ; then he stooped to stroke the collie's glossy head, as it rested against his knee. " Tell your mistress, Master, that I quite approve of her arrangements for the evening's entertainment. When I am on a holiday it is a matter of principle with me to spend every moment I can in the open air; so we will have our coffee outside." " Very well, dear." Then Daniel regarded her ap- provingly. " You are looking uncommonly nice this evening, Peg, my dear; somehow you seem to have grown younger this year." " Oh, what nonsense " ; but there was quite a girlish blush of pleasure on Margaret's sallow face. She had always been keenly sensitive to home criticism, though she was remarkably indifferent to the judgment of a mere outsider. " It must be my new frock," she con- tinued, complacently. " Irene and Maureen were admiring it just now, and I think myself that it is very becoming." Daniel shrugged his shoulders; he was the sort of man to whom female dress was and always would be a sealed mystery. Material baffled him; he knew when a woman looked nice, but he never had the faintest idea what she wore. He had a critical eye for beauty, and he admired his wife as much now as he did when he married her ; but with the exception of her wedding dress, "The Man's a Fool" 205 he could not remember one of her gowns. His girls knew this, and had often teased him on the subject. Margaret was certainly looking her best that evening, and her dress exactly suited her. It was a new material which had come into fashion that season a sort of wine- coloured cloth, very soft and light. And she had a hat to match, and the shade harmonised with her dark hair and complexion. She looked not only graceful but dis- tinguished ; and when Henry Torrance came a little later, he looked at her with marked approval. Daniel Brydon and he were very different men, and he recog- nised at once that Margaret was wearing a new gown, and that she was looking years younger. But he never thought of telling her so, though he found some pleasure in watching her. " That colour exactly suits her," he said to himself. In future days Margaret often looked back on that evening as one of the red letter days of her existence. It was not only that she delighted in playing the hostess to her brother and her dear old friend, but she was conscious of a greater softness in Henry Torrance's manner to her. He looked well, and in better spirits, and he evidently enjoyed Daniel Bry don's society. .Never had a meal at the Garden House been more cheerful, and as they sat in the Madeira Walk in the soft obscurity of the summer night, with the moon rising behind the trees, the two men still talked on with undiminished enjoyment, and Margaret sat beside her brother and listened tranquilly. " Why, Peggy, how quiet you are," observed Daniel presently ; " Torrance and I are monopolising all the talk. What has become of the little girls ? " For Maureen and Irene had vanished, like the Snark, " softly and suddenly away." " Shall I go and look for them ? " asked Mr. Torrance. " I don't think they are far away, for I heard their voices just now." "No, thanks; please don't trouble. I have just re- 206 The Sunny Side of the Hill membered something I ought to have asked Irene, and I would rather go myself " ; and Daniel hurried away in pursuit of his girls. A moment later they heard the three voices on the other side of the wall. " What a nice fellow your brother is," observed Mr. Torrance. " I like him better every time I see him. I don't wonder you are so devoted to him." " No; he has been a dear brother to me all my life. I think even you do not know how good he is. I have always been so proud of belonging to him and being his sister. I have told you this before, have I not, Henry ? " " Yes ; but I do not mind hearing it again, you know. I have never had a sister ; if I had, I should have wished her to be like you." Henry Torrance's voice was so kind that Margaret gave a little involuntary sigh of pleasure. She always garnered these speeches in the storehouse of her memory. They meant so much to her. " It is nice of you to say that," she returned, in the calm, sisterly tone that had so often consoled him in dark hours ; " and until Daniel married, I used to long for a sister myself, but Anna is so kind and sympathetic that she makes up for a great deal." Henry Torrance never knew why Margaret's quiet speech seemed to rebuke him ; but something prompted him to say hastily, " I don't think I have any cause for complaint, for you have been more like a sister to me than a friend, Margaret. Forgive me, my dear, if I seemed to ignore that What should I have done with- out you all these years ! " In the darkness Margaret's eyes filled with tears, but in her heart there was exceeding peace. Out of her wrecked hopes she had at least saved one precious certainty, that she was absolutely necessary to the man she held so dear. Well, she was no longer young at least the hot passions of youth and its fierce monopolies had ceased to trouble her. The discipline of life had chastened her, and she no longer made such large "The Man's a Fool" 207 demands on it ; she was content, yes, truly content, to be his sister-friend. " When he wants me, I am always ready to give him what he needs. I have never failed him. I never shall as long as I am a living woman " ; for that night Margaret was in one of her exalted moods, and nothing seemed impossible. Daniel was coming toward them with a girl hanging on either arm; they were all laughing together. Then Henry Torrance put his hand gently on Margaret's. " You are very silent. Have I hurt you in any way, Margaret ? " But he need not have asked that question. " Hurt me ! no, a thousand times. What could have put that in your head? I never misunderstand you, Henry ; we are far too good friends and comrades." And then Margaret drew her hand gently away; and Henry Torrance, reassured by her tone of frank sincerity, soon forgot his momentary uneasiness. Margaret was unusually cheerful the remainder of the evening. She and Daniel told stories of their child- hood, and afterwards Henry Torrance related a thrilling episode in his own business life, connected with a house which was supposed to be haunted. Margaret, who had never heard it, was as much absorbed as the girls, and by the time it was finished, Daniel declared the dews were falling, and that they must all go in. Margaret never slept better than she did that night, or woke more happily to the new day. It was Daniel Brydon whose thoughts kept him wakeful. " It is a bit puzzling," he said to himself. " I must talk to Anna and see what she makes of it; but I have always had my doubts, and they are stronger than ever to-night. Torrance is a nice fellow, upright and manly, and, as far as I can judge, sound to the core; but he is somehow making a mess of his life. " If he cared less for Margaret one would not say so much, but he seems quite wrapped up in her and she in him, and they call it friendship an odd sort of friend- ship ! But old Peggy seems as happy as possible. Why 208 The Sunny Side of the Hill does not Torrance see that he would do far better for himself if he could induce her to marry him? Margaret would not refuse him, I would lay any wager on that. She has been in love with him the last fourteen years, only she calls it friendship. Somehow Peggy, in spite of her forty-seven years, is only a big-hearted child, bless her. What a wife she would make ! My Anna always says so. But the man's a fool," continued Daniel, in an irritated tone. " One day he will find out how he has muddled things, and then it will be too late." For Daniel Brydon, honest man, could only judge according to his lights, and Platonic friendships were not in his line. For in this workaday world of ours, with its green grass and nettles, its dropping roses and its shadows, it is only the children of the kingdom " who dream dreams, and see visions." XXIII SUNNY HOURS Come out, come out, from the dusty city, And roam in the wild wood's shady ways. The sun is mounting (the more's the pity), Not long the freshness or fragrance stays. Midst soft airs blowing, With hearts o'erflowing, Thank God, thank God, for such summer days. HELEN MARION BURNSIDE. " Do you know what a funny idea has just come into my head, Aunt Maggie? I think living with you gives me ideas they must be catching, for I never used to be so clever"; and Maureen looked absurdly proud of herself. Margaret shook her head in a tolerant way. She was busy over her accounts, and her task was irksome to her, and at that moment she was quite ready to endorse the Wise King's statement, " That there was a time to be silent and a time to speak." " I advise you not to stand there chattering or you will be late," she observed, more curtly than usual. But Maureen was irrepressible. " Oh, but you must hear my idea first; it will just suit your philosophical mind. I think life is exactly like a see-saw * Here we go up and here we go down/ as Trotty Veck said; and it is true." Margaret laid down her pen in a resigned fashion; she hated to be interrupted. " I am not sure that that is original," she said severely. " I believe that I have made that remark my- self a score of times. Oh, what a silly little girl you are ! " as Maureen burst out laughing and gave her a hug. " But seriously, Maureen, if you are not quick 14 S09 210 The Sunny Side of the Hill you will miss the omnibus, and then you will have to walk all the way. Besides, I am busy, and you are hindering me." And at this plain statement Maureen gave her a penitent kiss and hurried away. " I was rather hard on her," thought Margaret, remorsefully, as she took up her pen again. " Dear child, how happy she is ; and she was right, too, about the ups and downs of life. Three weeks ago we were feeling as flat as possible after bidding dear Dan and Irene good-bye, and now Maureen is so excited that she hardly knows whether she is standing on her head or her heels because Harold is coming. But there, I must get rid of these horrid accounts by tea-time, or I shall not be ready to welcome him." And then Margaret set to work so energetically that she had cleared away all traces of her labours long before the expected guest arrived. " Harold, you are far too thin," were Margaret's first words as she greeted her nephew affectionately; but privately she thought that he had grown better-looking than ever. " Oh, he is quite well," interrupted Maureen ; " only the last week has been so hot in London, and he has worked so hard and needs his holiday." " And I mean to make the most of it," returned Harold in a tone of deep enjoyment. " Just fancy, Aunt Margaret, three whole weeks and two days of absolute idleness. Now, may I get rid of some of this dust ? " And as Margaret nodded, Maureen volunteered to show him his room ; but she soon came back again. " Harold is so pleased with everything," she exclaimed, breathlessly. "He will not be long, because he says he is as hungry as a hunter. I told him about our invitation to Marsh Hall for to-morrow afternoon." For Ruth had invited Miss Brydon and Maureen to have tea with her, and Margaret had asked her permission to bring her nephew. " I am afraid we could not come without him," she Sunny Hours 211 had added; and Ruth had agreed to it without any hesitation. " I am not quite sure if Romney will be at home," she continued. " But perhaps when he knows your nephew is coming he will stay in." But Margaret begged that no difference should be made on Harold's account. " Perhaps we had better come some other afternoon, Ruth ; for I could not expect Maureen to leave her brother the first day." But Ruth would not hear of this. " No ; you must all three come. What does it matter if Romney is out? But I think, I am sure, he will do his best to stay at home. Remember how little I have seen of you the last fortnight." This was true, and Maureen had grumbled about it a good deal. Ruth had been much engaged. Her cousin Percival had invited himself for a week-end, and his visit had lengthened into ten days. Maureen had been introduced to him one afternoon at Gayton Lodge, and had played a set of tennis against him and Ruth. " He is decidedly handsome," she told Margaret afterwards, " and has pleasant manners ; but he has a very good opinion of himself. I am not sure that I altogether like him. He rather patronises Ruth ; and he ordered her about as though she belonged to him." " Oh, Ruth is just one of themselves." " Well, he wasn't exactly brotherly," returned Maureen. " He seemed determined to monopolise her. Jenny noticed it too, for she asked me if they were engaged ; but of course I told her they were not." Margaret looked a little grave. " I hope Percival Chaytor has no idea of that kind," she returned, quickly. "I have a rooted objection to first cousins marrying; and in any case, Ruth could do much better for herself. From all I hear he is an ordinary society young man, pleasure-loving, and not too fond of work, though unobjectionable in other ways." " Rather lukewarm praise," returned Maureen, 212 The Sunny Side of the Hill smiling. " The Brant girls seem to admire him tremen- dously. Ruth complained to me that they had been invited to dine at Gayton Lodge, and to play tennis on two other afternoons. ' I tried to get out of it,' she went on, ' but Percy seems to like them, though I cannot induce him to go to the Rectory. It is no use Miss Brydon asking us, for we have not a disengaged after- noon. But I will make up for it when Percy has gone.' ' " I hope Harold does not object to the Marsh Hall invitation ? " asked Margaret. " Oh no, I think he is rather pleased ; my descriptions have excited his curiosity. But he wants to have a dip in the sea to-morrow morning, so I expect we shall go over to St. Quintin. I want Harold to do all the things he likes. That is why I hope Mr. Chaytor will be at home to-morrow, and then perhaps he will invite him to go motoring with him." At this moment Harold joined them, looking as trim and fresh as possible, and they went into the garden. Maureen's hopes were destined to be disappointed the next day, for as the three walked up the drive towards Marsh Hall, Ruth came through the rose-cov- ered arch to welcome them. She was the bearer of her brother's excuses. " Romney is so very sorry," she said, addressing Harold, " but he could not break his engagement with Mr. Whitworth. He promised some days ago to drive him to Chillingford. They will not be back until quite late in the evening." " I hope I shall have some other opportunity of making your brother's acquaintance," returned Harold, quietly. Ruth had spoken a little shyly. The good-looking young man with the clear-cut face and pince-nez seemed a little formidable to her at first. But perhaps not one of the little party guessed what a revelation Ruth herself was to Harold Brydon. He had taken his sister's descrip- tions of her new friend in his usual cool fashion. " Girls Sunny Hours 213 always gushed over each other," he thought. Very likely she was a pretty little thing. But during his Oxford days he had seen heaps of pretty girls, and had not lost his heart to any of them. So he was disposed to be rather critical and stand-offish on his first introduction. The graceful figure in the white gown, and the beautiful little face under the poppy hat, rather took his breath away. Maureen was right for once. Miss Chaytor was distinctly pretty ; in fact, he had never seen any one like her. And Harold smiled in quite a nice way as he answered her, and his look somehow put Ruth at her ease at once. " Ruth, dear," exclaimed Maureen, as they all walked towards Shady Nook, " it is quite early, and it will not be tea-time for another half hour. I wonder if you would take Harold to see the library. I have told him so much about it." " Maureen has ' the pen of a ready writer,' " observed Harold. " The amount of paper she uses in a week would last some girls for a month. But her descriptions of Marsh Hall have certainly interested me." " Oh, you shall see anything you like," returned Ruth, in a friendly voice. " Miss Brydon, I hope you intend to come with us." But Margaret shook her head. The young people might go by themselves, she returned. She would rather sit in the shade and read the paper. They would want her to go up on the roof, and she had no yearnings for ladder-like stairs and wide horizons. " I must be get- ting old and lazy," she said, serenely ; " but you have no idea what a nice feeling it is." " Oh, come along, Entre-nous ! " interrupted Maureen. " Aunt Maggie is incorrigible when she is in this mood." But Ruth, who was hanging over her, ar- ranging cushions and footstool, would not be hurried away until her guest was quite comfortable. " I am sure your aunt is tired," she said, confidentially to Harold. " She is never lazy, and as to feeling old, 214 The Sunny Side of the Hill she is the youngest of us all is she not, Maureen? I think," continued Ruth, with one of her charming smiles, " that I admire her more every time I see her." " Oh, she is a good sort," returned Harold, with his customary brevity, but there was a glow of pleasure on his face, for all the household at the Homestead were devoted to Margaret. After this the young people became very sociable together. Ruth showed them not only the library and the dining-room, but her private sanctum, and Harold insisted on trying all the window-seats; but when they went up to the roof he was quite as enraptured as Maureen had been. " What a view ! " he exclaimed. " If I were your brother, Miss Chaytor, I should spend most of my time up here." " Oh no, Romney never comes now. He finds the steps so trying. He is so dreadfully lame, you know," continued Ruth in a lower voice," and it is all owing to me." Maureen had left them for a moment, and Harold was leaning on the parapet. He had taken off his straw hat; as Ruth said this he turned round to her. " Yes ; I remember all about the accident. Aunt Margaret told us. He carried you out of the burning house. It was a fine thing for him to do at his age. One is rather tempted to envy than to pity him " ; and Harold spoke with such evident appreciation of her brother's heroism that Ruth's momentary sadness vanished. Margaret had to wait some time for her tea that afternoon, but she took Ruth's apologies very good- naturedly, and they were all as merry as possible. When they left, Ruth and Maisie walked with them as far as the Rectory, and Margaret arranged that she should come over for tennis the following afternoon. " As you are all going to the Brants on Tuesday, and you have seen so much of them lately, I will not ask Sunny Hours 215 either Hermione or Jenny to make a fourth, but we might as well invite Mary Armytage. You and Maureen both like her, and she plays rather well." "Who is Miss Armytage?" asked Harold, when Ruth had turned in to the Rectory. " I don't think you ever mentioned her in your letters, Maureen." " No ; she has only just seen her," explained Mar- garet. " Mary has been away from Branksmere now since February. She is a nice little unassuming person, not very young, and certainly not very good-looking; but we all have a great respect for her. She lives with her aunt and uncle in the Mill House; they are worthy people, and have known better days. Mary has rather a dull life, poor girl. Mr. Armytage is partially paralysed, and his sight is affected. Mary is very good to him, and a perfect drudge in the house ; so I like to give her as much change as possible." " Aunt Margaret actually told me one day that Mary Armytage was a disguised angel," returned Maureen. " Oh yes, you did, dear," as Margaret frowned at this statement. " ' If one could only see her wings/ you added. And when a sandy-haired, freckled little person, with a ' prunes and prisms ' sort of voice, came into the room, I confess that I was rather disillusioned ; but I liked her better when we called at the Mill House." " I never remember my own speeches," confessed Margaret ; " but I certainly consider Mary Armytage one of the best little women I know. So if you do not mind, Harold, I will send a note to the Mill House after supper." " By all means," acquiesced her nephew. " If the ' angel ' plays tennis decently, we will put up with the sandy hair and the freckles. If you will write the note, Aunt Margaret, I will take it with the greatest pleasure; and if Maureen likes she may come with me." But Entre-nous' eyes twinkled, for he was quite sure of Maureen's answer. " We saw Miss Armytage for a moment," announced 216 The Sunny Side of the Hill Harold, on their return ; " and she seemed uncommonly pleased with the invitation says she will turn up sharp at the time mentioned." " Did you think her so very plain ? " Then Harold shrugged his shoulders. " Well, one could not call her handsome," he returned rather reluctantly, for he never liked to disparage other people's friends. " I don't know about the angel," he had said to Maureen, as they left the Mill House ; " but it is jolly well disguised. She is a Dutch-built, homely little person." But to himself he added, " What a foil to Miss Chaytor." After all, Mary Armytage proved a success. In spite of her square, Dutch-built figure, she showed remarkable agility; and Harold, who had secured Ruth for his partner, had some difficulty in winning his game. Maureen, too, was a better player than Ruth. " Just saved by a fluke ! " observed Harold, tri- umphantly, as he turned to his partner. " But it was a near thing." " Yes, and I played so badly, and missed so many balls," returned Ruth, penitently. But Harold refused to endorse this. " The grand thing is that we won the final round, and now they will expect their revenge." " Yes, and I will try to do better this time " very sweetly. " But Miss Armytage does play so well." " She must have had lots of practice, you see." " I do not know about that. The Brants never seem to invite her to their garden parties. But she told me once that Thora often asked her to come in and practise with her in the morning, and that she would miss her very much when she married and left Branksmere. Thora is the cousin who lives with the Brants." " Yes, I know ; the mannish young lady." And Ruth nodded, and then they took their places. But alas for his modest expectation ! fate was against them, and they were ignominiously beaten. Maureen waved her Sunny Hours 217 racquet, and fairly danced up to the tea-table where Margaret was sitting. " We have won, Aunt Maggie. Mary Armytage is a brick; she scarcely missed a ball. Harold was rather handicapped by his partner. Ruth can play very well, but she loses her nerve at times. Oh, I am so tired ! " sinking into a chair " but I never enjoyed a game more. Doesn't Harold look nice in his clean white flannels ? " A final sett was to be played after tea, and when the girls were rested, but Harold absolutely refused any exchange of partners. And Ruth dimpled and looked pleased. Towards the end of the afternoon Mr. Torrance strolled in, but he would not accept Margaret's invita- tion to stay for supper, though he did not refuse a cup of freshly-made tea. " Why are you not playing ? " he asked, as Margaret placed some cucumber sandwiches beside him. " Oh, I suppose it was my usual laziness," was the answer. " These warm afternoons I prefer to sit and work or read. Look at those two girls, Henry; did you ever see such a contrast? Poor Mary is playing splendidly, but her awkwardness makes one squirm, and Ruth moves as lightly as a fairy." " She is certainly a very attractive little person. That good-looking nephew of yours will have to take care. I fancy, from something Chaytor said to me the other day, that that cousin of his is in love with her." " Oh, I hope not," returned Margaret, hastily. " Well, I did not think much of him myself, but it struck me that Chaytor rather approved than otherwise. ' Percy plays the giddy goat, sometimes,' he observed, ' but he is a good fellow, and will settle down all right ; so it would not be a bad thing.' Remember this is only between you and me, and it must not go farther." " No, of course not ; but all the same I don't believe 218 The Sunny Side of the Hill Ruth cares for her cousin, though I daresay it would be a good thing- for him." But a vague feeling of uneasiness crossed Margaret's mind. It was nonsense, but she almost wished she could give Harold a hint. Young men were so proverbially reckless ; they rushed into danger with their eyes open. Ruth was so very pretty such an engaging little creature. Was it wise for Harold to see too much of her? And yet, how was it to be helped? She and Maureen had become such friends, they could hardly be kept apart. Already she had overheard plans for a beach morning. Idleness and propinquity, pleasant com- panionship, and summer days are powerful factors in the making of circumstances when one is young. " If the poor boy were to take a fancy to her," she thought, " Harold has very deep feelings, and he does nothing by halves. Ruth is quite an heiress in her way. The Chaytors would expect her to marry well." " Why are you knitting your brows, Margaret, in that perplexed way? If you are trying to solve a problem you had better have my help." But Margaret shook her head with her old sunshiny smile. After all, it was not for her to play Providence or to give her imagination such licence. A moment before she had been inclined to regret her kindly-meant hospitality to her nephew for fear of disastrous conse- quences, but now she was disposed to laugh and call herself an anxious-minded old maid. " Just as though the boy has not seen scores of pretty girls during his undergraduate days," she said to herself with comfort- able assurance. ' XXIV "HAROLD SAYS IT IS ALL RIGHT" Finish every day and be done with it ; you have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in ; forget them as soon as you can. To-morrow is a new day; begin it well arid serenely, and with too high a spirit to be cumbered with your old nonsense. To-day all is good and fair. It is too dear, with its hopes and invitations, to waste a moment on the yesterdays. EMERSON. MARGARET'S bright philosophy soon triumphed over fears, and though she wished more than once that Henry Torrance had not put the idea into her head, it certainly had one good effect ; for it roused her to a sense of her duties as a chaperon, and made her less casual. It was clearly impossible to keep Maureen and Ruth apart when, as she observed once, they fitted exactly like a pair of gloves. But she took care to be included in the beach party if Ruth had been asked to join them. She also eased her mind by explaining the situation to Daniel when she wrote her weekly letter. " The young people are enjoying themselves tremendously," she wrote, " and the weather is so fine I really do not remem- ber such a summer at Branksmere that they are out from morning to night. We have all our meals on the little lawn by the house; that was Harold's idea. The old round table that was put away in the lumber-room has been brought out to our acacia dining-room, as we call it. It is so near the ser- vants' quarters that it gives them very little trouble ; but we have our supper so late that we are obliged to have a lamp before we have finished, and then the poor moths come and dash their foolish selves against the light. Last night Harold had to put an end to four scorched sufferers. We see a good deal of our little friend Ruth ; she and Maureen are inseparable. Of couse Harold admires her immensely ; no young man with eyes in his head could help it. But with my usual tact and good sense dear me, what does that ' humph ' mean, Dan ? 219 220 The Sunny Side of the Hill I have hinted that an heiress is not for the like of him. But Harold is a cautious young man ; he is not disposed to follow the example of the moths, and does not mean to disregard the danger-signals. ' Look before you leap, and don't cremate yourself before your time,' he remarked feelingly to the grey fluttering thing in his hand last night. But there we will draw a veil. I never could be in at the death. " I am glad to say that Mr. Chaytor waited to speak to us after Church on Sunday, and was very nice and friendly. The day before yesterday he took Harold for a long motor excursion. They started soon after breakfast, and never turned up until nearly ten at night. I confess I was a bit anxious ; but Ruth, who was spending the day with us, reassured me by saying that her brother expected to be late. You never saw such a dusty object as Harold presented; and when Maureen asked him if he had a good time he returned, ' Tipping ! ' I should just think so. And if 'there is any of that cider handy, Aunt Peg ' And Maureen flew off to act Ganymede. " ' How I wish Mr. Chaytor would take me too ! ' she ob- served in rather a longing voice when Harold related his day's adventures. They had been a hundred miles, and done all kinds of queer out-of-the-way things. " ' The Viking is the best fellow in the world when you come to know him. We got on like a house on fire.' But there, Harold can tell you the rest himself. Dear me, here comes Maureen, like Monsieur Le Beau, ' with her mouth full of news. Now shall we be news-crammed.' Steady and deliver, little girl ! Ta, ta, for the present. I shall probably add a postscript." "Oh, Aunt Margaret, are you busy?" with rather a crest-fallen glance at the blotting-pad. " I don't want to interrupt you, but there is something' I must tell you." " I was only writing to your father, and have just finshed; so, ' prithee, take the cork out of -thy mouth that I may drink thy tidings.' " " Oh, Aunt Maggie, how funny you are. That's Shakespeare, isn't it ? " " Yes, As You Like It. Now, then, let me hear what you have to say?" But Maureen, who* had only just recovered her breath, needed no encouragement. " Oh, isn't it delightful ! " she exclaimed. " Mr. Chaytor has asked me to go with them to Chillingford "Harold Says it is All Right" 221 to-morrow. Ruth says she proposed it, because she knew how much I should like it. But Mr. Chaytor seemed quite pleased, and sent me such a nice message." " I am not to be included, I suppose? " " Why, no, Aunt Margaret ; the motor only holds four." "And Harold approves of the plan?" " Oh yes ; he is delighted. He told me to tell you that he had arranged everything, and that it was all right, and that he would look after us and pick up the pieces." " Shall I put that in the postscript? " " Yes, if you like. It will make father laugh. But just listen to me first, for I have not half finished. We are to start quite early, before the sun gets hot, because Mr. Chaytor has to go first to Braile, which is some miles farther on. He has some house property there, and he wants to see the agent; but he says we shall have plenty of time to see Chillingford Church before luncheon. He will put up his motor and wait for us at the Grey-Hound. There is a regular table d'hote at one. Ruth says that it is such a delightfully quaint old place, and that she will get some one to- take us over it. Then we are to do the town, and go back for tea, and Mr. Chaytor promised to bring us home in good time for supper. Aunt Maggie " rather hesitatingly, " Harold thinks that it would be rather nice if you were to invite them both. Ruth only said yesterday that she was sure her brother would enjoy our al fresco suppers." " Well, I have no objection, Maureen, and I have got some rather good claret in the cellar. Dickson is very clever at supper dishes. Shall I send a note to Ruth ? " " Oh yes, please do, Aunt Margaret ; and if you send it soon, the bearer can wait for a verbal answer, for Mr. Chaytor is not going out before luncheon." " I thought Harold would have taken it." 222 The Sunny Side of the Hill " No; he has gone down to St. Quintin to bathe; lie says the tide is just right." " Never mind ; I daresay one of the maids can take it." And Margaret good-naturedly dashed off her note, while Maureen flew off to find a. messenger. Margaret smiled as she added her postscript : " My young people are going on a motor expedition with the Chaytors to-morrow. They are going to Chillingford for the day, and will have luncheon at the Grey Hound. Do you remember our luncheon there one warm day, and your objection to the hot roast beef and peas, when you wanted cold lamb and salad? The chaperone is to be left behind. But Harold says it is all right, and that he will look after them ; so, if it turns out all wrong, you must not blame me, but the other boy. After all, Dan, it must be rather nice to be young, though I have no special desire to wriggle backward into my discarded youth. But I should have liked you to see Maureen just now; she was a lump of consolidated sunshine. ' Bless her ! ' I hear you say, and bless my dear old Dan, too. Your devoted sister, PEG." Ruth's answer to Margaret's note was perfectly satis- factory. Her brother, she wrote, would have much pleasure in accepting the invitation. He was charmed with the idea of the acacia dining-room, which exactly suited his Bohemian tastes. Harold looked excessively pleased when Margaret showed him the letter. " Miss Chaytor's handwriting is rather nice," he said, critically. " It is small and neat, and yet perfectly legible." " Entre-nous amused me so much about Ruth's frocks, Aunt Maggie. He told me that he liked her style of dress, it was so simple, and asked me why I never wore white ; and he would not believe me when I said mother could not afford it except for evening." " I will get you a white frock if you like, Maureen, but I am not sure that it would suit you as it does Ruth." " Of course not, I am a regular Brownie ; besides, I have plenty of frocks, Aunt Maggie." "Harold Says it is All Right" 223 " Some girls at Commen. had dresses exactly like Miss Chaytor," observed Harold quite gravely, " and I thought they looked rather fetching. They were quite simple, you know." " Bless your innocent heart, dear boy," returned Mar- garet, in a tone of amusement, " I wonder if you have any idea of how much those simple white frocks of Ruth's cost ? " " Oh, not the one I mean, Aunt Peg with little tucks and frills and scrawly things." " My dear Maureen, how perfectly hopeless men are on the subject of dress. He is his father's son, that is quite evident. The frock he means is that soft cambric with the lace frills and embroidery, and must have cost ten guineas at least I should say a good deal more for the lace is real Valenciennes." " I expect it was some of her mother's lace," inter- rupted Maureen, as Harold looked rather shocked. " She was telling me what a quantity she has. Of course it is a lovely frock, only suitable for garden parties, and I scolded Ruth for wearing it as often as she did." " Well, my dear, she knows she can well afford to buy a new one. If Ruth wishes to dress like a fairy princess it is quite her own affair. She has her mother's jewels, too, though she has the good sense not to wear them. She has really excellent taste for her age." " She wears her pearls, Aunt Margaret." " Oh yes, and her diamond star, too, when she goes to balls." Then, as Harold remained silent, she changed the subject by asking Maureen if she meant to wear her grey linen for the Chillingford expedition. " It certainly suits you, and it will not show the dust," she continued. " If you like you shall have my grey dust-cloak, and with a veil tied over your hat you will be quite tidy " ; and Maureen thanked her gratefully. But Margaret, who was very observant, noticed that Harold was unusually grave during the remainder of the 224 The Sunny Side of the HiU evening, and that he made one or two dry and rather scathing remarks when Maureen tried to rouse him. " My arrow hit the bull's eye that time," thought Margaret. " Real Valenciennes and diamond stars, not to forget pearl necklaces, brought it home -to him rather forcibly." Then aloud, " Harold, dear, please rescue the innocent. There is another moth courting destruction, but don't kill it if you can help it; it has only just singed its wings." Then there was rather an odd look on Harold's face as he rose from his place. " Yes, it has only singed its wings," he observed, in a low voice, as he resumed his seat. Maureen was up early the next morning. She was far too excited at the prospect of the day's treat to linger between the lavender-scented sheets. As Margaret dressed herself she could see the grey linen frock appear- ing and disappearing between the shrubs. Maureen was busy gathering flowers for the breakfast-table, a button- hole for Harold, some crimson roses and lemon verbena for Margaret, and some tea roses for herself. Harold joined her presently in his cool summer suit, and Maureen, who was brimming over with good spirits, fairly waltzed him across the lawn. " There is Aunt Margaret pouring out the coffee, but I must have another turn first." " Come, children," exclaimed Margaret, " Time and an omelette wait for no man. Ask a blessing, Harold, and fall to, or Dickson will never forgive us, * For it stands to reason, ma'am/ as she remarked feelingly, ' that an omelette is an uncertain sort of thing, and must be eaten hot, or it is apt to be tough and leathery' and tough and leathery it is not"; and Margaret spoke in a tone of appreciation, for she was apt to boast of Dick- son's capabilities to her friends. Mr. Torrance used to tease her sometimes by declaring that she could not hold a candle to his Joanna. " Joanna, indeed ! " and "Harold Says it is All Right" 225 Margaret would exclaim in deep disdain at such a comparison. Mr. Chaytor was punctual to a moment As he drew up at the Garden House he seemed a little amused at the expectant group in the doorway. " We are going to have a fine day, Miss Brydon," he observed, " though a trifle dusty, I fear. The ladies will need their cloaks." His remark was addressed to Margaret, but Maureen answered it. " Oh, it is perfectly lovely. Thank you so much, Mr. Chaytor, for giving me this treat." " It was Ruth's idea, not mine," he returned, genially, " but I am very glad she thought of it " ; and Romney Chaytor's smile was rather nice. Then Maureen climbed into the tonneau, where Ruth sat, looking prettier than ever in her dainty white cloak, and a veil tied over her hat. " Oh, I do hope I shall not disgrace myself," she whispered, as they glided off. " I mean to be as brave as I can, but you will not mind if I squeeze your arm a little when we go very fast. Romney has promised not to be reckless." " Oh, I love going fast, and I never could feel ner- vous, your brother drives so splendidly." Maureen had no idea that she could be overheard. Romney Chaytor gave Harold an amused glance. " I wish my sister had Miss Brydon's nerve. I never can enjoy taking her about with me, for I know she is in a state of suppressed anxiety all the time." " It is a matter of temperament," remarked Harold. " Maureen is remarkably cool and self-possessed a spice of daring rather adds to the enjoyment but as I tell her she has never been in an accident." " And I hope she never will," returned Mr. Chaytor, hastily. And Harold regretted his thoughtless speech, Ruth behaved very well on the whole. She only pinched Maureen's arm rather hard once when they were gliding down a long hill. " But I did not utter 15 226 The Sunny Side of the Hill a sound," she observed complacently when they reached the bottom. And Maureen, who saw she was rather pale, forbore to mention that her arm would certainly be black and blue on the morrow ; for in spite of her brown complexion, Maureen had very pretty white arms. Maureen was quite sorry when the Braile business was over, and the motor stopped before the Grey-Hound. " What a quaint, picturesque old street," observed Harold, as they went into the old-fashioned, dark little hotel, where the girls prepared to leave their cloaks and get rid of the dust, before they walked to the church. The young waitress who received them, volunteered to show them the house and the haunted room, while Harold waited for them below ; and the girls eagerly assented to this. Ruth knew all the rooms by heart, but she would not deprive Maureen of the pleasure ; so they hurried through narrow passages, and up and down steep little staircases, into large, low-ceilinged rooms with quaint windows. But Maureen did not seem inclined to linger; she drew rather a long breath of relief when she found herself in the open air again. " It was very picturesque, and some of the rooms looked cosy enough," she remarked, " but somehow I felt rather suffocated. They have several artists staying there now, the girl told us, and we saw a couple of portmanteaus and easels in one room. But, Harold, I would not sleep a night there for anything." " Well, they have rather a ghastly story about the haunted room, murders galore, and a cupboard full of bones." " Oh, I was not thinking of ghosts," returned Mau- reen, as they turned the corner by the church. " But oh, Harold, it is all so dreadfully old, and if a fire should break out one night why, it would be a regular death- trap. Some of the windows do not open much just a pane or two and one could never find one's way down those narrow passages and out-of-the-way stair- "Harold Says it is All Right" 227 cases. I felt quite hot at the mere idea, and Ruth owned that she felt the same," " Yes, but I never tell Romney so," returned Ruth gravely. And then they left off talking as they entered the fine old Church of St. Anne's, Chillingford. XXV AMONG THE SAND-DUNES Life is sweet, brother. There's day and night, brother both sweet things; sun, moon, and stars, all sweet things. There is likewise a wind on the heath. BORROW. Unborn To-morrow, and dead Yesterday, Why fret about them if To-day be sweet! OMAR KHAYYAM. HAROLD'S intelligent interest in everything rather surprised Ruth. He was such a marked contrast to her cousin. On their last visit to Chillingford, Percival had walked down St. Anne's aisle with rather a bored expression, as though he were performing an irksome duty, and had seemed relieved when it was over. Harold Brydon was quite different, she thought; not a detail escaped him. In his quiet unassuming way he showed a considerable knowledge of architecture. " You must have read a good deal," she said to him, in rather an awed voice. Maureen had left them to look at a picture, in the little chapel, that had taken her fancy, and for the moment they were alone. " Yes ; I did some reading at Oxford," was his answer. " I was always much interested in architecture. A man who was rather an authority on such matters gave some capital lectures on architecture and archaeo- logy, and I went in for the whole course. But I do very little reading now, unless it is connected with my work. But, thank goodness, I have passed my examinations." "You are a solicitor, are you not?" Ruth spoke a little absently. She was thinking at that moment what a pity it was that Mr. Brydon wore pince-nez he had such nice eyes. But she changed her mind the next minute, and decided that they suited him, and that she 228 Among the Sand-Dunes 229 would not have him look otherwise, " for he is really rather a distinguished-looking young man," she thought. And Romney, who was no mean authority, considered him so very clever and gentlemanly; but here Ruth roused herself from her reverie. " Yes, I am a solicitor," returned Harold, rather abruptly. " My father wanted me, so I had to give up my hope of the Bar. Somebody says life is like an obstacle race don't you think it is rather true, Miss Chaytor?" Ruth considered a moment, then the old wistful sad- ness came into her lovely eyes. " You mean there are so many difficulties in life. Oh yes, I know ; one cannot always carry out one's wishes." " Or satisfy one's ambition," as Ruth hesitated. " No, perhaps not ; but there is something better, surely. Maureen told me that you gave up your own choice of a profession because your father needed you so badly, and I think that was so splendid of you." " Thank you." The brevity of Harold's answer rather disconcerted Ruth. " Please forgive me if I have said too much," she stammered. " I am afraid Maureen ought not to have told me, but I was so much interested." " You could never say too much, and I am very grateful to you for your sympathy." Harold spoke in rather a jerky voice, and then checked himself abruptly. Unlucky chaperone, Margaret, weeding the flower borders with such tranquil enjoyment, what would you have said to that sudden glow in Harold's eyes and the odd break in his voice? Only ten days, and already the mischief had been done, and the desire of the moth for the star had resulted in the singeing of wings. Ruth did not know why Harold's look made her feel suddenly shy. " Maureen seems lost, and it is time for us to go back to the Grey-Hound," she said hurriedly ; and then Harold 230 The Sunny Side of the Hill proposed that they should go in search of her. But as they walked down the aisle they saw her coming towards them. " It is nearly one o'clock, and Mr. Chaytor will think we have lost ourselves," she exclaimed. But as they walked towards the Grey-Hound, Maureen was chat- tering so fast that she did not notice how silent Harold was. As they were about to enter the sitting-room the young waitress told them that Mr. Chaytor was already in the dining-room. He had selected a table rather near the door, with a window overlooking a courtyard. As Maureen sat down she looked approvingly at the quaint old panelled room, with its deep cavernous fireplace and wide window. Another motor party occupied the table next them, and two or three cyclists were at the other end. A lady artist and her sister, who had been staying in the house for a week or two and occupied the haunted room, came in during the course of the meal, and Maureen found plenty of amusement in watching them. The girl's bright looks and evident enjoyment were infectious. Harold's gravity relaxed and Ruth forgot Tier shyness as they chatted merrily on any subject that came on the tapis. " What are you going to do with yourselves during the next two or three hours ? " asked Mr. Chaytor. He addressed Maureen, but she was quite ready with her answer. " We want to show Harold the town. He has not half seen it yet, and then Ruth is going to get some photographs. If there is time we should like to take the steam-tram to the sand-dunes and see if we could get a glimpse of the sea. We should all like that." " Well, there is no need for you to turn up until lialf-past five or six. We shall leave about seven; but I expect you will be tired long before that." " Then I will bring them back for a rest," returned Among the Sand-Dunes 231 Harold. " How shall you amuse yourself in our absence ? " " Oh, you need not consider me," observed Romney carelessly. " I have a man coming over on business at three, and when I get rid of him I shall have a smoke and a read." " I wish you could come too," observed Maureen. She spoke out of the kindness of her heart, and she so evidently meant what she said that Romney Chaytor seemed rather touched. " Thanks ; you are very kind. But my locomotive powers are somewhat limited. You will find the sand- dunes a bit tiring, I fancy. You will have to walk such a long way before you get to the sea." But the girls gaily negatived this as they ran off. When they had explored all the quaint old streets and nooks and corners of the picturesque old town, Ruth had selected photos in her usual lavish manner. All the duplicates were for Maureen, she explained. She refused to listen when Maureen told her that she had no book for her collection. " That can soon be reme- died," returned Ruth primly; and she privately deter- mined to write to her cousin Doris the next day, and commission her to purchase the nicest photograph-album she could find. Of course it was Ruth who flagged first, though she bravely tried to hide her fatigue from her companions; but Harold was not to be deceived. " You are tired," he said suddenly. " Maureen, stop, we won't go a step farther. What does it matter get- ting a view of that mill-pond of a sea." " Oh, no, no ! Please let us go on. I am not so very tired " ; but Ruth was rather near a fib just then. She was dead-beat, and Harold knew it. " You can sit down on that nice little sand-heap," he returned coolly. " Maureen has had about enough of it, too, though she is generally game for anything. But it is rather hot and the sand is tiring." 232 The Sunny Side of the Hill " He is right," observed Maureen, cheerfully, " and we will have a rest." Then Harold stretched himself on the sand at their feet. There were green patches of tussock grass, and little grey flowers springing up here and there. Some sand-pipers were wading in a salt pool near them, and the cloudless blue sky was over their heads. Ruth opened her sunshade. She was like a tired child who had played long enough. " Oh, how nice ! " she gasped, as a little breeze from the sea caressed her. Harold smiled furtively at her tone. It was almost infantine in its simplicity. What a little young thing she looked as she sat there in her white dress, he thought. And then the young man averted his eyes. Maureen was the next to break the silence. " I am afraid the steam-tram will not be up for another half- hour, will it, Harold?" " No ; we shall have to wait five-and-thirty minutes, I am afraid," glancing at Ruth. " We ought not to have attempted it." " Oh, please, don't let your brother say that, Mau- reen," exclaimed Ruth, in a distressed voice. " We are quite comfortable, are we not ? and I shall soon be rested. Let us talk, and forget anything so sublunary as fatigue." But Harold suddenly became masterful. He had no- ticed that, in spite of her sprightly air, Ruth's voice sounded very weary. "No; I will talk and you shall listen. I have just remembered such a good story one of our men told me. Maureen has heard it, but she will not mind hearing it again." " Not if you mean the history of that night at Netherby Farm. Oh no, I love that story too much. Ruth will be charmed." And then Harold, settling himself more comfortably, began his narrative in his quiet, level voice. Ruth listened as though she was magnetised. The Among the Sand-Dunes 233 story was more than interesting, it was entrancing, and Harold told it so well. By the time it had ended Ruth had forgotten her fatigue. She was rested, refreshed, exhilarated. " Oh, did it really happen quite like that ? " she said dreamily, " and will that nice girl marry him after all ? " " They are engaged. Sinclair wrote to tell me so, and I congratulated him with all my heart. Yes; it is rather an odd story, but I have not embellished it in the least." Then Ruth folded her little white hands on her lap, and her dark eyes looked thoughtfully out over the dunes. How well she remembered that scene afterwards: the low range of sand-dunes, with the hazy blue sky overhead ; the young man stretched at her feet, with the clear-cut profile, the firm mouth, and the keen, clever eyes, which seemed to read everything. What a beautiful voice he had, and how different, how utterly dissimilar he was to Percy! And a little fretted line came on Ruth's forehead as she remembered Percy's teasing and monopolising ways. He had never been her favourite like Kenneth, but since his visit to Marsh Hall she had cared for him less. Why had he made her so many pretty speeches? And though she had turned them off with a laugh and a jest, they had made her vaguely uncomfortable. The little tram came up at this moment and they hurried to take their places. Even Maureen owned to being rather tired. They found Mr. Chaytor in the dining-room, awaiting them. He had his book beside him, and looked cool and fresh. He noticed at once that Ruth seemed fatigued. " You have been walking too much in the heat, dear. You must have a good rest to-morrow." Maureen thought his manner very kind, and Ruth brightened up at once. " It was so tiring walking in the sand, Romney ; but we had a lovely time. And Mr. Brvdon told us such 234 The Sunny Side of the Hill an interesting story, quite true, and with a delightful ending." Maureen never quite knew who proposed an exchange of companions for the return journey, but she had an idea that it was Harold. She was certainly not dis- pleased to find herself promoted to a front seat. Mr. Chaytor made himself very agreeable, and the girl chatted away to him as though she had known him for years. Maureen was not naturally shy, and she was always perfectly simple. Perhaps Mr. Chaytor drew her out a little, for she found herself telling him the October plans, and how her Aunt Margaret was going to stay with an old friend near Edinburgh, and she was going home for a whole month or five weeks. " And how I shall love to be with them all again ! " she finished. " Not that I am not happy at Branksmere, but there are times when one wants one's own people." Romney Chaytor smiled as though he understood. " Ruth is to join her aunt and cousins at Scarborough about the middle of September," he returned. " They want her for the last three weeks. They are to go back to Westcombe Lodge the end of the first week in October." " Oh, yes, Ruth told me ; and she has made me promise to go over and see them they are always at home on Saturdays. I shall make Harold take me, as mother never likes us to go about alone. I shall get Ruth to spend a long day with me." Mr. Chaytor listened as though he were interested. There was a freshness about the girl, a cheerful opti- mism, a gaiete de cceur, that somehow attracted him. Maureen was not handsome, but she was as sweet and wholesome as a moorland breeze. She did not tire or pall upon a man as some girls did. " Ruth could not have a better friend," he said to himself. " By the bye," he said, presently, as they glided down a gentle slope, " I wonder if you will forgive me if I deprive you of your brother for a night ? " Among the Sand-Dunes 235 " A night ? " rather dubiously, for little more than a week remained of Harold's visit, and the beautiful days were passing so quickly, so quickly. " Well, you see, we have planned a trip which will land us at Branksmere about midnight, or later perhaps, and it would hardly do to knock Miss Brydon up at that hour; so I have proposed to your brother to put him up at Marsh Hall. I promise you that he shall be with you by luncheon the next day. Am I asking too great a sacrifice ? " " Well, it is a sacrifice," returned Maureen, frankly, " but I would not deprive Harold of such a pleasure for the world. He does so enjoy these motor excursions, and it is so good of you to give him the treat. Oh, there is Marsh Hall. I had no idea we were so near." Meanwhile Harold was saying in a low voice, " Only a week more, and I shall be on the treadmill again. I don't think I have ever had such a holiday in my life. I have never enjoyed one more." " Oh, I am so glad," and Ruth dimpled with pleasure. Mr. Brydon had been such a delightful companion; he had interested and amused her so much, that she had quite forgotten to be nervous, and was even a little sorry that the drive had come to an end. They were so punctual that Margaret had not begun to look out for them, but she welcomed them gladly. The girls ran upstairs to get rid of their dust and to smooth their hair, and the gentlemen went out into the garden, where they found Mr. Torrance, whom Romney Chaytor greeted with marked pleasure. Margaret had certainly not wasted her time. The supper-table was charmingly embellished with flowers and crimson-shaded lamps. Margaret wore a white dress for coolness, and Maureen's crimson roses tucked in her lace fichu, and in the soft light she looked as slim and graceful as a girl. Romney Chaytor seemed quite at his ease. He and Mr. Torrance and Margaret kept the ball of conversa- 236 The Sunny Side of the Hill tion rolling. Harold was a little quiet now and then he spoke in a low voice to Ruth, and she answered him, but no one could hear what they were saying. If Ruth's eyes were brighter than usual, and there was a flush on her face, only Harold noticed the fact. The rest of the party were too much engaged to be observant of trifles. " Mr. Chaytor," observed Margaret, " are you aware that this is the first time you have broken bread at the Garden House ? " " I trust it will not be the last time, my dear lady." And then Romney filled his glass with claret. " I drink to your good health, Miss Brydon, and to our noble selves, and to our next merry meeting. Now, Ruth, it is half-past ten, and it is time I took you back." And then the whole party went to the door to see them off. " You have scored one there, Margaret," observed Mr. Torrance. " Thanks to you, Chaytor is coming out of his shell a little." " Oh, I like him so much, and I want to do him good ! " returned Margaret, in her earnest, warm-hearted way. " He was very pleased to find you here, Henry, and I think it made him feel more at home." " Oh, Harold, hasn't it been a perfectly lovely day ! " exclaimed Maureen. The moon had sailed behind a cloud, and they could not see each other's faces. " Yes, tipping. Good-night, Maureen ; I am a bit tired " ; and Entre-nous marched off. Maureen felt rather disappointed she wanted to talk over the day. How could Harold be tired when she was as wide awake and frisky as possible? Neither would Aunt Margaret be coaxed into a gossip. " Oh, go to bed, little girl," she said firmly. " It is nearly eleven, and it is time for country-folk to be asleep. I will talk as much as you like at breakfast." And she drew Maureen in, and locked and bolted the front door. XXVI "ENTRE-NOUS" Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce* Or a trouble is what you make it, And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts, But only how did you take it? ANON. What is past is prologue. SHAKESPEARE. MAUREEN was in a brown study; she was thinking, thinking deeply. It was not that she was exactly low- spirited, though, of course, she was a little dull, which was only natural, as Harold had left them about three hours ago; but as they would probably meet before five weeks were over, she did not mean to behave like a little goose. Here Maureen winked away something that seemed to blur her sight for a moment; but, of course, she did miss her dear boy sadly ! Well, then, what was the trouble? What caused the tiny cloud on the blue of her horizon? This was the problem that Maureen was trying to solve for her own satisfaction, for to be perfectly happy with one's belongings she thought one ought to be able to read them as legibly as children read ABC. Well, the gist of* the matter was that Harold had not seemed quite himself during the last week. He had been decidedly Entre-nous and rather uncommuni- cative. And yet what a splendid week it had been literally packed with engagements and pleasures. Every day had its programme. First, there was that delightful motor excursion, when HaroM slept at Marsh Hall, and which he had enjoyed so tremendously; and though he was a little late for luncheon the next day, and they were obliged to begin 287 238 The Sunny Side of the Hill without him, he was so penitent and full of apologies to Aunt Margaret that they forgave him on the spot. The morning had gone so quickly. Mr. Chaytor had been singing to them; he had a fine voice, and had evi- dently been well taught. Oh yes in answer to a ques- tion from Maureen Miss Chaytor had sung too. She and her brother had tried over some duets, and their voices had blended admirably. " It was really quite a treat," he finished. " Oh, I wish I had been there, Harold." " So do I, for I am sure you would have enjoyed it.'* Then Harold turned his attention to his cutlet, though he honestly confessed that he had breakfasted so late that he had small appetite for luncheon. As he had not been in bed before two that morning, it was quite natural that he should be drowsy and indisposed for talk until tea-time ; and Maureen had been too much interested in her book to notice the very wide-awake pair of eyes under the straw hat. The next day there had been a tennis party at Gayton Lodge one of the Brants' big affairs ; lots of smart people from a distance; and Ruth had worn her prettiest dress and looked lovely. Maureen remembered that she and Harold had played several games together, and Ruth had been full of innocent glee when they won. " Your brother says I have improved so much in my play," Ruth had said, proudly. " I am so glad, so very glad I helped him to win." Perhaps it was as well that she did not overhear Harold's version of the game. " Oh yes, we smashed them easily. But that was a foregone conclusion. The fellow was such a duffer, Miss Jenny had not a chance. He would take her balls, and missed most of them." "And Ruth played nicely?" " Oh yes, but we could not help winning." Then Harold's manner grew absent, and the next moment Maureen saw that he had joined the little group round Ruth. "Entre-Nous" 239 It really had been a delightful afternoon, and then the Brants had insisted on their remaining to an informal supper. Ruth had stayed too, and several of their intimate friends ; and then came one of the Brants' sur- prises, for when they came out of the lighted supper- room they found some Chinese lanterns had been lighted, and the piano had been wheeled on to the gravel path. There was to be dancing on the lawn. Maureen, who loved dancing, was very ready to take her place with the others. She had only time to notice that Harold had secured Ruth for the first valse before her own partner carried her off. Maureen felt a little dizzy. The uncertain light, the swinging lanterns, the moving forms gliding over the grass, gave her a feeling as though she were assisting at some solemn and mys- tical rite. The weird, creaking notes of a night- jar every now and then made itself heard, and as the music died away there were faint twitters from the tree-tops, of disturbed and waking birds. Maureen was rather glad when her partner, a boy-officer, proposed a turn in the shrubberies. In a secluded nook she came upon Ruth resting herself, with Harold standing like a sentinel beside her chair. The next morning they had gone down to St. Quin- tin with Aunt Margaret, and Ruth and Mary Armytage had joined them, and they had all been as happy as pos- sible; only once or twice the thought had crossed Maureen's mind that Harold looked very tired and as though he had not slept well, though he scouted the idea with much indignation when she ventured to question him. " Whatever put such an absurd notion in your head ? " he had said, rather querulously ; and Maureen felt a little crushed. But it was very odd, she thought, that the same idea had occurred to Aunt Margaret. The next day they had all been invited to Marsh Hall, and that had been very pleasant indeed ; for Mr. Chaytor had been really delightful, and so kind and 240 The Sunny Side of the HiU here Maureen blushed at the pleasant remembrance. Aunt Margaret had said something about his singing at her house, and how much she and Maureen would enjoy hearing those duets. Margaret never beat about the bush when she wanted a thing, and he had responded quite amiably. " If you are sure you and your niece would like it " but he had looked at Maureen as he spoke " Ruth and I will be pleased to do our best for your entertain- ment." And then he had told Ruth to take the ladies up into the library, and he and Brydon would join them. And Maureen knew that he had sent them on on purpose, for stairs always tried him; and even when he entered on Harold's arm, she and Aunt Margaret were too much engaged with the view to think of turning round until he was at the piano. And then what a delightful hour ensued, when one song followed another. First Mr. Chaytor sang alone, and then he and Ruth joined in some favourite duet. Ruth's sweet bird-like notes blended charmingly with her brother's rich, deep tones. It was delicious, soul- satisfying; but how quiet Harold had been. Maureen could not remember that he had opened his lips once; and that evening he made some excuse, and went out for a long solitary prowl. Maureen would have loved to accompany him but she could not invite herself. But it was the next afternoon, when they went to the Rectory for croquet, that Maureen thought Harold so unlike himself. He was so strange, too. in his behaviour to Ruth, for he scarcely went near her, and allowed Jenny Brant to monopolise him all the afternoon. Maureen saw Ruth glance timidly at him once or twice as though she missed his attentions. What could have gone amiss? Had Ruth offended him in any way? But no, that was impossible! At that moment she saw that Harold had intercepted the girl's anxious glance; that he hesitated, and finally crossed the lawn towards her, and Ruth had brightened up at once. But he had not "Entre-Nous" 241 stayed long; and that evening he had gone again for a solitary prowl. And at breakfast the next morning Aunt Margaret had remarked aloud that Harold looked as though he had burnt the midnight oil. And then he had confessed that he had been a bit wakeful. " I shall have a dip in the sea, and that will set me to rights, Aunt Peggy." And then he had suggested that Maureen should put on her hat, and they had sallied out as usual. But though the sea bath had fresh- ened him up, it had not put him to rights or made him more disposed for conversation. " Only three days more, Harold dear," she had said, by way of beginning. But Harold had only grunted out " Yes, I know," and opened his book. But when Maureen peeped over his shoulder half an hour later he had not turned the page. Maureen felt her uneasiness dated from that moment. Harold tried to be nice to her in fact, he was nice; he took no more solitary prowls, but did his duty man- fully. On Saturday afternoon Mr. Chaytor took them for a long motor drive. They had tea at a little rustic inn overlooking a village green. But this time there was no exchange of companions, and Maureen took her place beside Ruth in the tonneau. Maureen felt a little disappointed, and she fancied Ruth was too. She cer- tainly looked a little out of spirits, and was unusually nervous when a chicken ran in front of the car cackling with terror. " All right, Ruth ; we have not gone over it," exclaimed her brother in a reassuring voice; "the youngster is all right." But Ruth had hardly answered ; she looked tired and dispirited. But as Harold helped her to descend there was a little look of reproach in her sweet eyes which made him wince. " Why are you behaving so strangely to me?" they seemed to ask him. "What have I done? I thought we were such good friends." The young man bowed his head almost humbly at this rebuke, but only a sad look answered her. Harold was stricken dumb. 16 242 The Sunny Side of the HiU No one had been very cheerful on Sunday. Mar- garet, who had over-exerted herself in the garden, paid the penalty in the shape of a severe headache, which prevented her from going to church, and made her a dull companion. In the afternoon Harold walked over to Marsh Hall to bid his friends good-bye. Maureen did not like to leave Margaret ; besides, she had an idea that Harold would rather go alone. He was away some time indeed they had finished tea before he appeared. Mr. Torrance had come in to ask why Margaret had been absent from church, and the little attention had given her much pleasure. " Oh, I am so much better," she said, with her old cheerfulness. " The pain has quite gone, and I am only a little washed-out and contrite." " So you ought to be," he said, rather severely. " A woman of your sense ought to know better than to dig in the kitchen garden like a day labourer. Really, Mar- garet, if you do not value your health and splendid constitution more highly " for the signs of past suffering on her unusually pale face quite angered him. " Hush, Henry ! Margaret has evidently been mis- behaving herself, running amuck in that fashion among the cabbages, but she has her punishment " ; then she folded her hands languidly. " Maureen, tell him I am sorry, and that I will never do it again." Mr. Torrance smiled. " Not until the next time. Oh, I know you, Margaret; you are incorrigible." " I am afraid I don't get wiser as I get older, Henry. I wonder if I ever shall. Headaches are depressing things; they make one take gloomy views of life. This afternoon I was grumbling to myself about the necessity of growing old oh, don't listen, Maureen, it is not for your ears, little girl but it just seemed all so stupid and tiresome. One's bones would ache, and one's joints grow stiff, and the delightful, indescribable elasticity of youth would be gone. Oh, I was getting quite hipped and mazy, and then all at once those beautiful lines of "Entre-Nous" 243 Browning came into my head, and I said them over and over again, till I could have shouted them in my intense appreciation. Do you know them, Henry?" "No, I think not." " Then I will repeat them and feast your ear : " Grow old along with me ! The best is yet to be, The last of life, for which the first was made: Our times are in His hand Who saith ' A whole I planned, Youth shows but half; trust God: See all nor be afraid ! ' ' " That's not so bad," returned Mr. Torrance. " But I am not so sure I agree with Browning. I think the first half is the best. It is awfully jolly to be young and have one's life before one." " But how about the people who are growing old ? " " Oh, I don't know ; I have not thought much about that; it does not seem to appeal to me, somehow." " Why not ? " a little abruptly. " I should have thought it was a matter that concerns us all." " Well, you see, the Torrances have never been a long-lived family. My father, uncles, and grandfather were comparatively in their prime when they died, and so I have got into the habit of thinking that old age and I would never shake hands." Mr. Torrance's manner was a little detached, as though the subject did not interest him. Then for a moment Margaret's lips were pressed together as though with sudden pain, but the next minute the cloud vanished, and she looked at him with her old beautiful smile. " Yes, I see what you mean ; but there is no need to be superstitious. You may make an old man yet, Henry ; and if not," and her voice was steady and sweet, " we know that all will be for the best." And then rather quickly she changed the subject, and Harold had joined them. 244 The Sunny Side of the Hill Maureen had just arrived at this point of her reflec- tions, when she caught sight of a gleam of white through the trees, and the next moment Ruth tipped across the grass. Maureen shook herself mentally, and hurried towards her. " Oh, Ruth, what an unexpected pleasure. You so seldom come in the morning. Aunt Margaret has gone to her district, and I am all by my little self until luncheon." Maureen was trying to be cheerful, but for once Ruth did not respond with her usual brightness. " I am to have luncheon at the Rectory. Mrs. Whit- worth sent a note this morning. She wants me to show her that new stitch ; it is rather a bore this warm after- noon, but I could not refuse the poor old thing." Ruth spoke listlessly, and as though she were think- ing of something else. " Poor Ruth, and you do look so tired ! " " No, not tired, only worried. Just fancy, Aunt Sophy wants me to go to them a week earlier, because they will be going back to Westcombe Lodge sooner than they expected. Romney is so tiresome. I told him that a fortnight at Scarborough would be quite long enough, but he would not listen to me. He said I must consider Aunt Sophy's wishes, so I am to go up to town on Friday, and travel down to Scarborough on Saturday with Uncle George and Percy." This was quite a shock to Maureen. " Oh dear, oh dear," she lamented, " and I have only just parted with Harold." Then a faint rosebud flush came to Ruth's face. " Oh, by the bye, I have never asked after your brother," she returned, as she fingered the little em- broidered kerchief she wore ; " he went quite early, did he not?" " Oh yes, he is at his desk by this time, poor dear boy! Isn't it hard for him, after three weeks' freedom? But he went off as bravely as possible. Harold never fusses when a thing has to be done." "Entre-Nous" 245 " So I should imagine ; but, of course, I know how you must miss him.'' " Yes, but I do not mean Aunt Maggie to see it ; she has given us both such a splendid treat. By the bye, Ruth, I meant to pick a quarrel with you this morning, but on second thoughts I won't. But you were a bad little person to deprive me of my dear boy's company that last afternoon; tea was over long before he turned up." " Oh, Maureen, I am so sorry ; but, indeed, it was not my fault. I reminded him more than once of the time, and Romney told me that I was most inhospitable, but your brother would not move." Ruth looked conscious and a tiny bit nervous. " He said he was lazy, and that the chair was so comfortable, and then he and Romney went on talking." " That sounds as though you were all very cheerful." " Yes, indeed," returned Ruth, innocently nibbling at Maureen's bait. " They both seemed in good spirits, and talked over all kinds of impossible plans for next summer. But I am sorry he stayed away from you so long on his last afternoon." " Oh, never mind that," replied Maureen, good- humouredly ; " and we had a nice little walk together after evening service. Oh, must you go, Ruth?" as the girl got up a little quickly from her chair. " Oh yes, I remember, Mrs. \Yhit\vorth has luncheon so early." And then she accompanied her friend to the door ; but there was a little pucker on Maureen's smooth forehead as she went back to the tennis-lawn. Harold had been in good spirits and talked, and had evidently enjoyed himself at Marsh Hall, and yet how grave he had been all the remainder of the evening. When Maureen had alluded to her home-coming, and had dwelt with a girl's joyous anticipations on seeing 1 them all again, his answers had been slightly absent. Even when Maureen lamented that she would only have dive's company for a few days, as a holiday engagement would keep him 246 The Sunny Side of the Hill in the North until a week before he went back to Oxford, Harold hardly responded. It was only as they were retracing their steps, and were crossing the Rectory meadow, that he said a little abruptly: " Miss Chaytor tells me that she will be back in town about the fourth of October. I suppose you will go over and see her the first Saturday." " Yes, if you will take me," had been Maureen's reply. But the gathering dusk hid Harold's smile of satisfaction, XXVII TOBIAS JOINS THE SUPPER-PARTY So long as we love, we serve; so long as we are loved by others I would say that we are indispensable ; and no man is useless while he has a friend. ROBERT Louis STEVENSON. All one's life is a music if one touches the notes rightly and in time. RUSKIN. MAUREEN did not long perplex herself with problems which she could not well answer. She was a very healthy-minded young- person, and quite agreed with the old saint's opinion, that cheerfulness was one of the first of Christian duties. And the better to achieve this highly-coveted virtue, she began to explain away, very comfortably, any special cause for Harold's baffling reserve. He was tired, and it was only natural that he should feel a little flattened out at the idea of going back to the daily grind she would have felt the same in his place. If there had been any little misunderstanding with Ruth, they must certainly have set it right that Sunday afternoon, or Harold would not have stayed so long, and have been in such good spirits; and if, as Maureen was indeed, however, obliged to confess, the good spirits had been conspicuous by their absence that evening, still, no doubt, he was a little low at bidding his Marsh Hall friends good-bye. They had been so kind and hospitable. And here Maureen became exceed- ingly cheerful again. She and Margaret each had a letter from Harold the following afternoon. Maureen thought hers nicer than usual. He missed them very much, he wrote, but his visit to the Garden House would always be a delight- ful memory. But he was already hard at work, and it was evident that his father had needed him. Just 247 248 The Sunny Side of the Hill at the last there was a message to Ruth " Will you tell Miss Chaytor that I have ordered that song I mentioned, and the people will send it down to Marsh Hall? I know it will exactly suit her voice. My kindest regards to her and Chaytor, if you see him." Maureen saw a good deal of Ruth during the next day or two. But she did not come across Mr. Chaytor until Saturday afternoon. Ruth had left Branksmere the previous day. She was walking down High Street when she saw the motor standing before the saddler's and as Mr. Chaytor greeted her she stopped to speak to him, and to ask if he had heard of Ruth's arrival. " To be sure I have," he answered ; " I sent Gale to town with her, and he saw her safe to Westcombe Lodge. She is on her way to Scarborough now." " I am afraid you must miss her very much." " Well, hardly as much as you think. Gale and I are exceedingly busy. We are going off quite early on Monday, and I do not expect to return to Marsh Hall until the beginning of 'November." " Ruth told me that you were going to Westmorland." " Yes, Westmorland and Cumberland, and probably Yorkshire, too. If the weather holds up we shall have a famous time. You look as though you rather envy me, Miss Brydon." " Well, it must be rather nice," confessed Maureen, " to see something fresh every day ; to stop when one likes, and to go on when one is inclined. You ought to write a diary." " Well, I always do, in a rough and ready sort of way, just to keep things fresh in my mind. By the bye, I wonder if Miss Brydon would think me a very intrusive sort of person if I invited myself to supper to-morrow evening? Do you happen to know if she objects to Sunday visitors ? " " I have not an idea," returned Maureen, frankly ; " for no one ever comes except Mr. Torrance occasion- ally, and we never treat him as a visitor. Oh, I remem- Tobias Joins the Supper-Party 249 her, Aunt Margaret told me she had asked him to come in to-morrow, as Joanna would be out." " Then perhaps I shall be de trap." But Maureen disclaimed this with great energy. " Aunt Margaret never finds any of her friends in the way. I am quite sure she will be very pleased to see you, Mr. Chaytor, so I hope you will come. Aunt Margaret will make no difference," she continued. " The servants will have their walk after church as usual, and we shall just wait on ourselves. Aunt Margaret will light the lamps, and Mr. Torrance will help her mix the salad ; and I shall bring in the supper dishes ; and the moths will come fluttering out of the bushes, and there is no Harold to prevent their committing suicide. And if they fall into your glass of claret " Then Mr. Chaytor laughed. " I do not think I can resist anything so delightfully Bohemian. Will you tell your aunt, Miss Brydon, that I mean to trespass on her hospitality? " Maureen nodded, and her white teeth gleamed with pleasure. " How very very nice and friendly of Mr. Chaytor," she thought, as she walked up the street. " Aunt Maggie will be so pleased." But she had no idea of the quiet intent look that followed her. Romney Chaytor sighed, as though the sight of that girlish figure, so full of life and activity, stirred him to some vague regret. " She is not the least beautiful," he said to himself ; " but she has a certain charm about her the charm of sincerity and a good heart. I should not wonder if she turn out the same kind of woman as her aunt when she is older, and life has given her some experience." This was certainly a high compliment on Romney Charter's part, for he had always admired Margaret Brydon, and had secretly marvelled at his friend's blindness. " How could Torrance let such a woman slip between his fingers ? " he often thought. " His wife was a graceful person, I remember ; but some- how she never interested me. To be sure I was very 250 The Sunny Side of the Hill young. Margaret Brydon was a cut above her, and perhaps above him too." Maureen was right. Margaret was very much pleased by Mr. Chaytor's friendliness. " I will send a little note, and tell him that he deserves a good mark," she said, smilingly. " Will there be enough for supper, Aunt Maggie ? " " Bless the child, yes ! I hope a cold chicken and that knuckle of ham, and salad, will feed two men." " I told him you would make no difference " ; but Margaret evidently did not consider this remark needed an answer. What was good enough for Henry Tor- ranee was certainly good enough for Mr. Chaytor. It would not have entered her head to order another sweet. " How I wish you could be with us this evening, Harold dear ! " Maureen wrote that afternoon. But for once Harold did not echo the wish. Perhaps he thought that Branksmere without a certain little lady in white, was rather like the play of Hamlet without the Prince of Denmark; and that he was equally well off in the Homestead garden. Everything happened as Maureen had prophesied. Margaret lighted the lamps, and she herself went to and fro with the dishes. Henry Torrance mixed the salad, because Margaret never would put in enough oil. It was a long-standing grievance neither of them would give way so it was tacitly understood that Mr. Torrance should take the responsibility on himself. Margaret always shut her eyes when she saw the flask in his hand, in the same way as she did when she was digging. But as she always had a second help of the salad, Henry Torrance secretly triumphed. Maureen forgot to miss Harold after a time a quartette was certainly very agreeable, she thought. When Mr. Tor- rance rose rather suddenly from the table because the mournful and protesting voice of a luckless Tobias, left like the Peri outside the gate of Paradise, had reached his ear, Margaret went with him to the door. "That creature is more like a dog than a cat/* Tobias Joins the Supper-Party 251 remarked Maureen ; " he is absolutely devoted to his master. And then they both smilingly awaited the return of the search party. And lo and behold, Tobias, with uplifted tail and purring voice, led the procession, until the sight of the collie made him spring with one bound to his master's shoulder, where he spent the re- mainder of the evening washing himself with great energy, and now and then gently patting his master's ear, as a reminder that chicken would be acceptable. " This will be good-bye for some time," observed Mr. Chaytor to Maureen when supper was over. " Ruth is a very constant correspondent, and I daresay there will be some mention of you in her letters. In November, I hope we shall meet and tell all our adventures." " Oh, yes, I hope so." But as Maureen turned away, she thought how very kindly Mr. Chaytor had looked at her. " I think he is beginning to like me a little," thought the girl humbly, with a strange glow of pleasure. But she had no idea that the same thought had suddenly occurred to Margaret. " Maureen really looked quite pretty to-night," she said to herself. " But I don't want Romney Chaytor to turn my little girl's head ; because, as Henry says, he is not a marrying man, and he is already a sort of glorified hero in her eyes the Viking as they call him. " One of these days, please God, I hope some sensible man will fall in love with the child, and make her a good husband. How pleased Dan and Anna would be! Anna does so want her girls to marry and have homes of their own. ' It would be too sad,' she said to me once, ' if my poor old Dan has to work for them all his life, or for them to be obliged to work for themselves.' But I never will let Anna say these things ; for, of course, in this best of worlds, as I tell her, everything must be right, and if girls are trained properly, they can work as well as their brothers. Not that I would not be pleased to see Irene and Maureen in nice little homes of their own, with good husbands to look after them and 252 The Sunny Side of the HiU keep things smooth, and little prattling voices to call them mother. But there, it is not in my hands or Anna's either; and it is not for us to play Providence. And what will be, must be; and we must just put up with it." For Margaret's bright philosophy seldom deserted her. Long ago Margaret had accepted her fate, and now she was reaping her reward in quiet content. For in this life there are many fierce battles fought and blood- less victories gained. There is no noisy blare of drum and trumpet, no spectators; in darkness and secrecy, in pain and with failing courage, those deathless laurels are won. But if no human applause greet the weary victor, the invisible hands of his guardian angel crown him and speed him on his way. The next few weeks passed very quietly. Margaret went up to town one day for a shopping expedition, and left Maureen to keep house for a night. She re- turned laden with parcels and her purse considerably lightened. She had not forgotten Maureen. She had chosen for her a coat and skirt suitable for autumn wear, which could easily be altered to fit her, and two charming blouses. " I am afraid I have been rather extravagant over my own clothes," she observed ; " but I must have decent things for Red Brae. Mrs. Macdonald always dresses so beautifully, and she would not like me to be shabby; and that dark red velveteen will make me a lovely dinner- dress, and suit me exactly. It really looks like velvet, Maureen " ; and Margaret fingered the material lovingly. The preparations for their visits, and long interviews with their respective dressmakers, kept them brisk and busy. Maureen wrote shorter letters than usual because she was going home so soon, but she heard from Ruth constantly. There seemed a great deal going on at Scar- borough walking and riding parties, and expeditions of all sorts. But Ruth did not write as though she were happy. She complained of the endless doings: Tobias Joins the Supper-Party 253 "I am as tired as possible," she wrote. "At night I per- fectly ache with fatigue, and Olivia and Gwendoline call this pleasure ; but they are all so strong. And since Mr. Le Marchant came down, Olivia is always contriving things for his amuse- ment, but Doris and I grumble dreadfully. " I wish Aunt Sophy would let me stay at home sometimes. There is such a delightful balcony at the hotel where one can sit and look at the sea, but she never seems willing to leave me behind. The only time she did so Percy stayed too, and he was so tiresome that we nearly quarrelled, and I went to my bedroom to get rid of him. " I don't know what has come to Percy lately, but he makes me so uncomfortable. And if I try to keep him in order Aunt Sophy looks hurt, and wonders how I can behave so to the poor fellow. But somehow I don't seem to care for him as I used." " I do believe he is making love to her," thought Maureen, indignantly. " Poor dear Ruth ! what a shame that she should be worried like this ! " But she prudently kept this part of Ruth's letter to herself. " I am afraid poor Ruth is not enjoying herself a bit," she wrote to Harold. " They seem tiring her out. They are a perfect colony for the married sons are there with their wives and families, and Olivia has her fiance, and Gwendoline has a girl friend; and they are doing things from morning to night. I never saw such people ! They seem as strong as horses, and quite impervious to fatigue. Ruth tells me her brother is having a splendid time in Westmorland. When he last wrote he was at a place called Shap, in a queer old house on the moor." But this was no news to Harold, who had just received a long chatty letter from Shap. A day or two later Margaret received a beautifully packed hamper of Westmorland ferns for her rock- garden, with minute directions for planting and treatment. " Well, if the Viking is not a good fellow ! " ex- claimed Margaret. " It is only a note, Maureen, but he sends his kindest regards to my niece, and hopes that both the ladies will have pleasant visits." And then Margaret bustled off to put on her gardening pinafore, 254 The Sunny Side of the Hill and for the rest of the morning she and Maureen were busy planting the ferns. Margaret had arranged that she and Maureen should travel up to town together. She would sleep at an hotel that night, and start for Scotland the next morning; and Daniel Brydon had promised to meet them at the station and take Maureen home. They would have tea with Margaret at her hotel, and get down to the Home- stead in time for dinner. Maureen thought this arrange- ment lovely, and her delight at seeing her father made her almost forget that she was parting from Margaret. " But you are to- come to the Homestead for a whole week," she observed cheerfully, as she bid her good- bye ; " and I mean to write you such long letters." And Margaret smiled and nodded, and then stood at the window waving to them as long as the cab was in sight. Margaret was not quite as cheerful as she appeared. Every year she disliked leaving home more, unless she was going to the Homestead. She had found it hard work to bid good-bye to Master and her garden, and she feared her old friend, Henry Torrance, would miss her. He was not going away for another month or five weeks, and would prob- ably only start for his holiday a day or two before they returned. And Margaret was very sorry for this. Mr. Torrance had worked hard all the summer, and she was convinced he needed a long change. A fort- night at Paris in November would hardly set him up for the winter, but she could not induce him to see this. " The long and short of it is, I cannot take a good holiday this year," he had said to her in so decided a voice and manner that Margaret said no more. What was the use of wasting words, she thought, when a man had made up his mind. For Margaret was a wise woman and recognised the extent of her influence. " Henry is not managing well this year," she said to herself. And it made her a little sad to remember that the Garden House would be empty so long. XXVIII "THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME" Put love into the world, and heaven with all its beatitudes and glories becomes a reality. . . . Love is everything; it is the key to life, and its influences are those that move the world. R. WALDO TRINE. There is no music like the voice of those we love. SHAKESPEARE. WHAT that home-coming meant to Maureen was only known to herself; but for once reality exceeded anticipation. " It was worth while going away to have such a welcome," she wrote the next morning to Margaret. "When the door opened there was mother and all the girls behind her. Fancy mother being the first ! Was it not sweet of her ? " Then a dreamy look came into Margaret's eyes, and she put down the letter for a moment. " I wonder if we shall feel like that when we go Home ? " she said to herself. " That nothing matters the loneliness, the pain, or the long weariness of life; that it was all ' worth while/ as the chihd said. We shall not remember, surely, the heaviness of our cross when the door opens and we see the Father's smile." Maureen was inexpressibly touched by the unusual warmth of her mother's greeting kiss. Anna's daughters, dearly as they loved her, did not always recognise the intensity of the maternal passion hidden under her calm self-restraint. They trusted her implicitly; she was always good and kind to them, but her lack of demon- strative tenderness, and a certain severity of judgment, rather veiled her inward softness, and made them sometimes turn to their father for sympathy. " Mother will think me so silly," Lois said once. " I 255 256 The Sunny Side of the Hill dare not tell her. She would only advise me not to give way and think of my feelings; and she does not know how wretched these headaches make one that I am not really shirking things." " Then I shall tell her," returned Sybil, who was always brave for her twin, and who was not too thin- skinned to take a snub with tolerable equanimity. Unfortunately Sybil, with girlish want of tact, chose a wrong moment for detailing Lois's grievances. Anna was tired and busy with parish accounts, and a worried frown attended Sybil's story. " I am afraid you spoil Lois dreadfully," she said, rather coldly. " I know she is not strong, but you ought not give way to her as you do, Sybil; it is not real kindness. But I will see about it presently; I am too busy now." And then poor Sybil left the room feeling that she had failed in her mission. " I am afraid I have muddled things dreadfully," she said to herself. " But mother is in one of her uncom- fortable moods, and I am sure she will be sharp with Lois." Sybil need not have feared. Anna was a woman who could only do one thing at a time. Lois's headache had to give way to parish accounts, but she was only biding her time. A little observation during luncheon soon proved to her that Sybil had not overstated facts. There was no comment on Lois's untouched plate, but when the meal was over her mother, in the kindest voice, bade her lie down on her bed and try and get some sleep. " Sybil will tuck you up and darken the room, and I will send you up some tea later on. Do not attempt to get up until I see you." And in spite of the pain poor Lois felt comforted. No one was kinder than Anna when one of her girls was really ill, and all that evening and the next day Lois was watched and tended by her mother. " Poor little soul, I wish she were stronger ! " she 'There's No Place Like Home" 257 .said that night to Dan. " She is such a pretty creature, too; I should have liked you to see her with her hair streaming over her shoulders. It gave me rather a qualm to see how like a little angel she looked." But Dan only smiled all his girls were beautiful in his eyes. " My dear child, how delightful to have you at home again ! " were Anna's first words as she greeted Maureen ; and then the sisters crowded round her, and a perfect bunch of girls carried her off to the drawing-room. Maureen looked around it in a silent ecstasy. The dear old room, how cosy and homelike it looked ! Its very shabbiness the old faded carpet which was still too good to replace, the old-fashioned cretonnes appealed to her strongly. " After all, there's no place like home," she said to herself. Ah, there was her mother's work-table, with her old battered thimble on it. Maureen flew across the room and captured it. " I shall carry it off as a keepsake," she said. " Look, mother, I have brought you a new one such a beauty and you shall not use that old thing any longer. And Aunt Margaret has sent you this lovely case of scissors, because she is sure you must need them for your cutting out." " That was very kmd of her, and you, too, dear " ; and the worn, handsome face had a very soft expression. It touched her to think that Maureen would treasure up her old thimble as a keepsake. Aunt Margaret had sent many pretty little gifts to her nieces, which Maureen distributed as soon as she reached her room. How small it looked after her room at the Garden House, and yet how glad she was to be in it again. Mrs. Brydon had ordered dinner half an hour later, so there was no hurry. There were plenty of willing helpers. Irene and the Tweenies unpacked, and they all got into each other's way, and Maureen sat and 17 258 The Sunny Side of the HiU laughed at them; for there was really no room for them to move, and Ivy's long legs seemed always tripping some one up. It became necessary at last to throw up the window to give them air, but nothing prevented them from all taking at once. Maureen vainly tried to make herself heard ; but as soon as the big box had been emp- tied and dragged away, there was a momentary lull, and she repeated her question. " She was sure that she had heard the door-bell. Was it Harold who had come in?" " No ; it was Ninian ! Had no one told her that Harold had had to go rather a distance on business, and father thought he would be very late. Some dinner would be saved for him " ; all this delivered in Ivy's shrill tones. Then Irene's soft voice intervened. " Oh, what lovely blouses, Maureen ! I suppose Aunt Margaret gave them to you? Yes, and this must be the coat and skirt she got at Gorring's. What a lucky girl you are ! " And Irene breathed a scarcely audible sigh. Her coat and skirt had seen two seasons, and was by no means fresh. Just then the dinner-bell rang and there was a gen- eral exclamation they had so nearly finished; but never mind, the Tweenies would clear up after dinner. Sybil seized one arm and Lois the other, and Irene and Ivy followed them. Anna smiled as she caught sight of the little procession. How she had missed that dear brown face, she thought, and the smile which was like sunshine to her ! Maureen was sorry to miss Harold on her first evening, but she could give her attention more fully to the others. She had time to notice how grown Ninian seemed, and what a nice-looking fellow he was. And then there was Clive's last letter to discuss; he was having such a good time at Beechcroft. " The Bagots seem such nice people," observed Mrs. Brydon in a satisfied voice. " Clive seems quite to have taken to them. The only girl is a child of twelve, and ' There's Xo Place Like Home " 259 he says his pupil is a nice bright fellow; only very deli- cate. I think they seem to like Clive, for they take him about with them everywhere." " Mother," exclaimed Sybil, " you must show Mau- reen the new photo that Clive sent you ! " and Mrs. Brydon nodded assent. And then the photograph was produced for Maureen's inspection, and studied carefully. " He looks rather like Harold," were her first words. But she was wrong; there was really very little resem- blance between the brothers beyond a mere family likeness. Clive was fair, and looked very young for his age. His features were less clearly cut than Harold's, and he was not nearly so good-looking. His eyes were nice, and his forehead showed intellectual power, and altogether it was a pleasing, earnest young face; and Maureen looked long and lovingly at it. " And I shall only have him for a few days," she said, sorrowfully. But her mother reminded her that this holiday en- gagement had been such a good thing for Clive. It had not only given him the change he needed, and put money in his pocket, but it had widened his connections. " The Bagots are county people," she continued, " and their friends are very nice ; it must be for Clive's interest to be with them." " I am afraid your mother is a designing woman, Maureen," observed Daniel, in an amused tone. " The Bagots have a family living at their disposal " ; but Anna shook her head at him. " That is too bad of you, my dear." But there was a conscious look on her face as though the arrow had gone home. If she had failed in her own ambitions, she could still be solicitous for her children's interests, and perhaps the thought of that family living had not been absent from her mind when she had represented the advantage of the Bagot connection. When they went back to the drawing-room Daniel Brydon rubbed his hands with an air of enjoyment at 260 The Sunny Side of the Hill the sight of a bright little fire. The October evenings were chilly, and Anna, who studied her husband's com- fort on all occasions, loved to give him these little sur- prises. She would not have lighted a fire for herself, if she had felt ever so cold, but nothing was too good for the master. The easy-chair which Daniel generally used was in its accustomed corner, and the low-cushioned seat, which was always called " mother's chair," was beside it. Daniel would have been restless if his wife had not been near him. " Capital ! capital ! " he murmured, approvingly. " Jackson was only saying an hour ago that there was a nip of frost in the air, and mat the oak leaves were turning. Sit down, dear, and warm yourself, and one of you girls bring your mother her knitting-basket " ; for there was nothing Dan liked better than to see his active wife resting and her daughters waiting on her. And Anna submitted to this arrangement with tolerable grace. Maureen squeezed herself into her old corner be- tween the fender stool and her father's chair, where the banner screen shielded her. As she did so she heard him say in a low voice : " What a pity it is, love, that you cannot follow Margaret's example. She is the most industrious and the most idle woman I know. I never saw any one do nothing as gracefully as Peggy." " Margaret and I have very different temperaments," returned Anna, smiling. " I am never comfortable un- less my fingers or eyes are employed. Ivy, there is some wool to wind, and Lois and Sybil are upstairs." Then Ivy, who was intent on a thrilling story-book which Ninian had lent her, came forward with laggard step and a resigned countenance, and proceeded to do her duty in a jerky and unsatisfactory manner. But Anna took no notice, neither would she allow Maureen to leave her snug corner. ' There's No Place Like Home " 261 " No, no, you must talk to your father and amuse him, and Ivy and I will listen. My dear," in her quiet, even voice, " if you will only hold the wool more steadily, I should be able to wind it more quickly." But Ivy only muttered that the fire was so hot, and that it was scorch- ing her face. Then Maureen good-naturedly moved the screen. " You are all right now, Creeper, aren't you? " And Ivy nodded. Perhaps she was a little ashamed of her- self, or her mother's silence was eloquent, but there was outward peace in the ingle nook. Maureen chattered away to her heart's content, only interrupting herself now and then to wonder at the lateness of the hour. The Tweenies had long ago tidied their sister's room and joined the circle, and Ninian had gone off to bed yawning before they heard Harold come in, and the next moment he entered the room. Maureen was so hidden in her corner that he did not at once per- ceive her. " Why, where on earth has she gone ? " he asked. " Surely not to bed ? " Then Maureen jumped up with a merry laugh. " Why, it is only half-past nine ; what an idea, you silly boy! You are going to have your supper now, and if father will spare me I should like to sit and talk to you while you have it." " Come along, then," was the answer. Harold spoke in rather a tired voice, but his manner was affectionate. " Glad to be home ? " was his first question. " Glad? I should think so! It has been just lovely, and mother has been so dear and kind. Somehow I had no idea that she would miss me so much, but Irene says there is no doubt of it. Really, Harold, it is worth while going through a little home-sickness to have such a welcome." Harold nodded and went on with his supper. He evidently needed it; he looked very jaded from his long day's work. Maureen put her elbows on the table and inspected 262 The Sunny Side of the Hill him critically. She had never seen him look so tired. He had got ink-stains under his eyes they always called them ink-stains ; for the Brydons used odd ex- pressions for their little ailments. She fancied, too, that he looked thinner. " Are you sure you are all right, Harold ? " she said so abruptly that her brother laid down his knife and fork and gazed at her in astonishment. " What has the child got in her head now ? " But his manner was a trifle irritable. " All right ? Well, I am as tired as a dog, but a good night's sleep will set me to rights. Look here, Maureen, I sha'n't be able to talk to you after supper. I shall have to go over some busi- ness with father, and then I shall be thankful to turn in." " Oh yes, dear, and of course I would not keep you. We will have a nice talk to-morrow evening." " All right. By the bye, I heard from Chaytor again the other day. You shall see the letter if you like." Maureen's eyes sparkled. " Oh, did you really ? How nice of him to write." " Well, I never expected it. But he said he was rather glad to find a correspondent for a rainy day, and that I took so much interest that he would like to narrate his adventures. It is an awfully clever letter, and worth reading. Oh, he sent you kind regards or something of the sort." Maureen looked pleased. " How kind of him to re- member me," she thought, quite gratefully. Then aloud : " All the George Chaytors return to Westcombe Lodge to-morrow, and of course Ruth with them." " Did you hear from her ? " Harold was examining his cigarette case as he spoke. " Yes, I had a letter yesterday. She seemed in much better spirits, and said how thankful she was to leave Scarborough. She wants us both to go over on Saturday afternoon." " Both ! Are you sure of that ? " And Harold struck ' There's No Place Like Home " 263 a match which immediately went out, and he walked to the fireplace and flung it away. " Ruth said ' you and your brother ' ; and she cer- tainly did not mean Ninian. You won't fail me, will you, Harold? for I could not face all those Chaytors alone." " Oh, I daresay I shall be able to get off all right," he returned. " But I don't believe we shall enjoy the visit. I hate a crowd, and I believe there is always a rabble on those Saturdays." Harold's manner made Maureen uneasy. She had been so looking to the pleasure of seeing Ruth again, but Harold was taking the gilt off the gingerbread ; but she remembered that he was too tired to take a cheerful view. " Oh, I am sure we shall both like Doris," she said, brightly. " And I want to fix a day for Ruth to come over here." But to this Harold made no answer. " I cannot keep my father waiting any longer," he said, a minute later. " It is late, and you ought to go to bed, Maureen." But she lingered a moment. " You have not told me that you are pleased to have me home." Maureen's voice was a little plaintive. " Did you ever know me to make speeches, you absurd child ? " But Harold's gravity relaxed, and he gave her a hearty kiss. Then he summoned Brat, who was sleeping peacefully on the rug, and left the room. Maureen followed to bid her father and mother good- night; the girls had already gone to their rooms. Lois and Sybil were awaiting her, and it was some time before she could get rid of them. " I wonder what Aunt Margaret would say to such late hours ? " she observed, inwardly. But her last waking thoughts were occupied with Harold. " Could a little hard work have made him look so different? He cannot be unwell, or mother would have mentioned it," she said to herself. " And no one else seems to have noticed anything. It must be my fancy." And then Maureen set herself resolutely to go to sleep. XXIX HAROLD REFUSES TO BE CROSS-EXAMINED 'Tis but brother's speech we need, Speech where an accent's change gives each The other's soul. BROWNING. Be pitiful, for every man is fighting a hard battle. IAN MACLAREN. If your face wants to smile, let it; if it doesn't, make it. ANON. THE next few days would have been simply perfect except for an ever-deepening conviction on Maureen's part that all was not well with Harold. The weary look had never left his eyes, and he seemed always too busy for that special talk to which she had been looking forward. A more suspicious nature would have at once sur- mised that Harold was trying to avoid it. Certainly she never once found herself alone with him until that Saturday afternoon when Lois and Sybil had left them at the station gate, and they were on the platform waiting for the Kensington train. Maureen had not ventured to ask her mother's opinion. One morning she had said a word or two to Irene, but it was quite evident from her sister's answer that she had noticed nothing amiss. " Harold often had these quiet moods. It was Entre- nous' way " here Irene smiled placidly at her little joke ; " she did not think him more silent than usual, and as he had been rather hard-worked the last week or two, it was quite natural that he should be tired." " But he does not seem in good spirits, Pax," returned Maureen. "Are you sure he likes his work ? " " Oh, yes." Irene was quite certain about that. 264 Harold Refuses to be Cross-Examined 265 " Harold was working splendidly, and her father seemed perfectly satisfied with him." " I heard father tell mother the other day," continued Irene, as she darned the heel of >Ninian's sock, " that Harold was uncommonly clever. ' The fellow has a head on his shoulders,' he went on, ' and he does not mind hard work. I don't feel as though his expensive educa- tion has been thrown away. He will be a better solicitor than his father one of these days.' " " And what did mother say to that ? " Then Irene gave a soft little laugh. " ' You must not expect me to endorse that, my dear ' ; and fether looked so pleased. By the bye, Maureen " dismissing the subject abruptly " has any one told you that Mr. Walton is to dine with us to-morrow evening? Mother asked him after the committee meeting. She says that he and Harold are becoming such fast friends that she thinks it her duty to encourage his visits." This was grand news, and Maureen was at once interested. She was rather eager to make Mr. Walton's acquaintance. If he were as nice as her mother thought, he would be a delightful acquisition to their small circle of friends. The Brydons did not entertain much; their large family and very moderate means prevented any lavish hospitality. Sometimes some girl friends came in for the afternoon or the evening, and occasionally Harold or Clive had a friend to dinner, but there was very little difference made in the menu. Anna had no very close friends, and though she had always a kindly welcome and a cup of tea for any chance acquaintance, she never put herself out to do more. Once in a blue moon, as Daniel phrased it, her hus- band had two or three business friends and their wives to dinner, and on these occasions Anna was wont to exert herself to such purpose that these functions were always a success. Only Irene and Harold took their places at the dinner-table : the rest of the family were only visible when the ladies returned to the drawing- 266 The Sunny Side of the Hill room. When the guests had left, Daniel always made his wife one or two pretty speeches in praise of the menu and her excellent management, and Anna's grave face always brightened at once. " They were your friends, Dan, and of course I wanted to please them and you. Irene, dear, I must tell you that Mrs. Howard Blake did so admire the table decorations; she asked at once which of my daughters had superintended it." " Well, mother, you know Lois helped me, so I must not take all the praise." And then Lois received her little compliment. When the Rev. Alban Walton made his appearance the next evening, Maureen inspected him rather criti- cally, but she was quite favourably impressed. He was a slim, dark young man, with rather a good face, though he was by no means handsome and he had a very pleasant voice and manner, and seemed quite at home in the family circle. He was very friendly in his manner to Maureen, but she could not help noticing that he took more notice of Irene than of any one. It was evident, too, that he and Harold were the best of friends. That evening, Harold certainly seemed more cheerful and like himself, and Maureen would have been entirely satisfied about him if she had not once seen the haggard look cloud his face. Perhaps he thought himself unper- ceived, or was off his guard for the moment, but the sadness in his eyes had been clearly visible to her. " Something is making him unhappy," thought the faithful little sister, " but he does not want any one to know he is making efforts from morning to night. But he cannot deceive me, poor boy ! Oh, I must speak to him. I must, I must." And then the opportunity came, and Maureen, with her usual energy, seized it. The train would not be due for another ten minutes, and they were alone, pacing up and down a quiet end of the platform. Harold Refuses to be Cross-Examined 267 \ " Harold, dear," she began, a little breathlessly, " I do so want to ask you something." " Ask away ; is it a riddle ? " Harold was in a brown study; he seemed only half awake. " No, no, I am quite serious " rather impatiently. " You must not mind my speaking, dear, but I cannot help seeing that something is troubling you very much." Here Harold started visibly; he was wide awake now. " No one else seems to notice it," went on Maureen, " but I know you so well. You are not a bit like yourself you are so tired and depressed and it makes me miserable." But here Harold looked so displeased that her courage collapsed, and instead of going on with her sentence she asked a little lamely, " Do you dislike your work ; is that the trouble ? " Harold drew himself up rather stiffly. He evidently resented the question and was in no mood for cross- examination. Maureen had not chosen her time well. Harold was occupied with other thoughts, but he tried hard to control his irritability. " I don't dislike my work in the least, thank you. On the contrary, I like it much better than I ever thought I should, and I believe my father is quite satisfied." " Oh yes, dear ! Irene says that he was only telling mother the other day how clever you were, and that " But here Entre-nous made a lordly little gesture for silence : he never would listen to what he called " back- stair compliments." " Oh, it is easy to work with the governor," was all he said. " Then what is it ? " asked Maureen, in a bewildered tone. The poor child was too much in earnest, too dis- turbed in her mind, to see that she was only exasperating Harold. " Now look here, Maureen," he said, in an annoyed voice, " I daresay you mean well, but you are not show- ing your usual good sense by asking these absurd questions. Does it not strike you that a man " here 268 The Sunny Side of the Hill Entre-nous assumed a very dignified air " that a man of my age " he was not five-and-twenty " may have his own troubles and business worries which he may not care to tell his sister ? I am not owning up to any special trouble, please remember that " ; and Harold's eyes gleamed rather ominously through his pince-nez. " But I thought we were such chums," faltered Maureen, " and that I might ask you." But again he silenced her. " Chums should not take liberties, then," was on the tip of his tongue, but he kept the words back. He was far too fond of Maureen to hurt her if he could help it, but he must really put a stop to these intolerable questions. " You may ask, but I may refuse to answer," was his amended form of speech. " A fellow cannot be always chattering confidences like a girl. I am not that sort at all, and I thought you knew me better than that." " I know well enough not to make such a mistake again," returned Maureen, in a hurt voice. She, too, was trying to be dignified and failed, poor little soul ! " Oh shut up, you little goose ! " returned Harold, but he spoke in his old tolerant way. " Here we are, trying to get up a quarrel, and hitting out at each other just because you choose to ask awkward questions, and cut up rough when a fellow won't answer them. Why on earth did you call me Entre-nous if I were the sort of chap who wore my feelings outside, instead of decently covering them? Now here comes the train, and we won't say another word about it. " Harold evidently thought he was making a handsome apology, but Maureen's heart was too full to respond. The compartment was crowded, and Maureen with difficulty found a seat. Harold, who was not equally fortunate, had to content himself by holding on to a strap at the other end. Maureen looked out vacantly and tried to arrange her troubled thoughts. " He did not mean to be unkind," she said to herself. Harold Refuses to be Cross-Examined 269 " Harold is never unkind. I daresay I was gauche and abrupt, but he need not have have said that." For the speech that rankled in Maureen's mind were those words spoken in a slightly sarcastic tone, " You may ask, but I may refuse to answer." " He might have known that I did not ask them from inquisitiveness or a wish to in- terfere," she went on, and then she finished with the sisterly refrain, " But he did not mean to be unkind." At that moment something made her glance in Harold's direction, and he nodded to her with a smile. Of course it was impossible not to smile back. One may feel dignified, but it is strange how soon affection gets the upper hand. Entre-nous was all right, and she must be all right too. As she alighted, Harold linked his arm through hers in a friendly manner and piloted her through the crowd, and he was quite pleasant and talkative as they walked on. He asked Maureen which day she thought Clive would come, and what they could arrange for his entertainment. " Look here, Maureen," he said, suddenly, " I don't see why you and I and Clive should not have a little spree together. Thanks to Aunt Peg I spent very little during my holiday, and I am rather flush of money just now. You and Clive might meet me in town, and we could have dinner at the Florence, and go afterwards to David Garrick it is on now, and Clive has always missed it." "David Garrick! Oh, Harold, the very play I have so longed to see " ; and every cloud vanished from Mau- reen's face. " How delightful ! Are you sure you can afford it ? " But Harold seemed perfectly sure on this point. " I will tell you what I will do," he went on. " I shall write to old Clive and inform him that I have taken tickets for a certain night, and then he will turn up all right, you bet ! " Harold felt he was doing the thing quite handsomely, but Maureen's pleasure fully 270 The Sunny Side of the Hill repaid him. Then as they came in sight of Westcombe Lodge he became a little grave. " What a big, handsome house ! " observed Maureen, rather impressed by the size of the mansion. Then a motor whirled up to the door, and two very smartly- dressed ladies went up the steps. " I told you so," muttered Harold, in a discontented voice ; " there will be a regular rabble, but we had bet- ter follow them." Then he gave their names to the grey-haired butler, and a footman in livery conducted them through the handsome entrance hall, and up a flight of stairs with rather a pretty conservatory built out on the landing. Ruth had told Maureen that the two drawing-rooms occupied the entire first floor. The smaller one, through which they passed first, was called the music-room, and was quite empty; but a perfect Babel of voices came from the inner drawing-room, though the room was so large that the eighteen or twenty people present only occupied the corner by the tea-table, where Olivia and Gwendoline were busy. Ruth and two other girls, evi- dently Doris and Jessie, were waiting on their guests, with a page-boy to assist them. Ruth put down her basket of cakes and came quickly towards them ; the wild rose flush on her cheeks had deepened considerably. " I was looking out for you," she whispered to Maureen as she kissed her, and then she glanced at Harold rather shyly. " I will take you to Aunt Sophy ; she is talking to old Lady Falconer in that corner, "Aunt Sophy, dear, my friends have come; this is Maureen and her brother, Mr. Harold Brydon." Then a stout lady in a handsome plum-coloured brocade, with a plain, good-humoured face and rather prominent teeth, shook hands with them cordially. " Ruth has tailked of you so much that we seem to know you already," she said pleasantly. " Now, dearest, you must introduce your friends to your cousins, and giye them some tea." And then after a few more Harold Refuses to be Cross -Examined 271 introductions Maureen found herself placed under Olivia's wing, with pretty dark-eyed Doris waiting on her- Maureen glanced across the room at Harold. He had declined to sit down unless Ruth were seated also, and she had just yielded gracefully, and had delegated her duties to Jessie. The Chaytors did this sort of thing very well; they had a pleasant knack of making their friends comfort- able. The multitude of little tables in the immense room rather reminded Maureen of an A B C shop. There were tiny tables or stands even for the gentle- men no one was neglected or left out in the cold. The hot cakes came up in relays ; there was always a fresh brew of tea for late-comers. If the Chaytor girls talked and laughed a little too loudly, they waited on their guests in the nicest way. When Mr. Le Marchant made his appearance Olivia beckoned to him at once. " I want to introduce you to Ruth's friends, Clement," she said ; " this is Miss Brydon, and her brother is talking to Ruth. You might as well go over and introduce yourself " ; which was good-natured and self- sacrificing on Olivia's part- Maureen wished that Ruth would come and talk to her, but the two gentlemen evidently intended to monopolise her; for Mr. Le Marchant stood there for some time. Harold was certainly having his innings. Olivia looked across at them, but she would not desert her post. New arrivals were streaming in, and all the girls were busy. Then Mr. Le Marchant remembered his fiancee, and Ruth said something to Harold, and they both joined Maureen. " I could not come to you before," observed Ruth, " Clement Le Marchant and your brother were having such an interesting discussion ; but I saw Olivia and Doris were taking care of you." " Yes, but I wanted you all the same," returned Maureen, smiling ; " for I feel that I have not seen you for ages-" 272 The Sunny Side of the Hill " Yes, I know ; but one cannot get nice talks on Saturdays." Ruth spoke quite guilelessly, though it had certainly seemed to Maureen that she and Harold had been having rather a good time. " Then we will have our talk at the Homestead," she returned, promptly. " >Now I want you to fix a day next week let me see, Wednesday; will that suit you, Ruth? You must come to luncheon, and spend the whole afternoon; and Harold and I want you to stay to dinner." A sudden flush crossed Harold's face. " I shall have no chance of seeing you unless you do stay," he said, rather pointedly. Then Ruth hesitated and looked down. " I suppose Aunt Sophy would not mind for once," she returned- " I don't think the girls are going out that evening, and she could easily send for me." " They must not send for you too early, for I want father to hear you sing. He and mother are so fond of music." Maureen spoke with great determination. Harold said nothing in words. " Are you quite sure that your mother will not find me in the way. " But Maureen treated this remark with great disdain. " Mother will be delighted, and the girls, Lois and Sybil, are dying to make your acquaintance." Then Ruth smiled and yielded. " I will talk to Aunt Sophy," she said, with a little queenly air which rather amused Maureen- Ruth evidently held her own at Westcombe Lodge. Her cousins not only petted, but they seemed to defer to her. " She is different somehow here to what she is at Marsh Hall," thought Maureen. " She asserts herself more, and they all give way to her." Ruth did not seem inclined to part with her friends. She accompanied them to the head of the staircase. Harold Refuses to be Cross-Examined 273 " It has been so nice seeing you," she said affection- ately, as Maureen kissed her. " And it was good of you to bring her," she added shyly, as she shook hands with Harold. " Oh, Harold, I have enjoyed it ever so much better than I expected," exclaimed Maureen, as they hurried to the station. " The Chaytor girls are really very nice, if only they did not talk and laugh quite so loudly. Doris has the nicest voice, and I like her much the best, and she does seem so devoted to Ruth. ' She is a perfect darling,' she said to me in such an enthusiastic way." Harold listened in an interested manner, but he volunteered no remarks, except that he was afraid they had stayed rather long. " I am sure we shall not turn up at the Homestead until they are half through dinner," he observed. But Maureen refused to be daunted by this prospect. She was too pleased and excited by her visit to notice that Harold's gravity and reticence had returned. " He certainly did enjoy himself," she thought. " And I never saw him look so nice and animated as he did when he and Ruth and Mr. Le Marchant were talking. I really did feel rather proud of my dear boy then." And Maureen smiled happily. " Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise," says the poet, and certainly if Maureen could have read her brother's thoughts at that moment she would hardly have been so content. XXX RED AND GOLD CHRYSANTHEMUMS My soul, sit thou a patient looker-on, Judge not the play before the play is done; The plot has many changes ; every day Speaks a new scene; the last act crowns the play. EPIGRAM OF FRANCIS QUARLES. Music hath charms sometimes. CONGREVE CAMPBELL. MAUREEN busied herself with all sorts of preparations for Ruth's visit. The Homestead was to look its very best that day. She had just made up her mind to invest in some flowers for the luncheon table and the drawing- room vases, when Harold called to her as he was brushing his hat in the hall. " Look here," he said, hastily, " tell Irene I will bring down some flowers from town this evening. The last she got was a wretched lot. I know a place where they are good and fresh." And Maureen carried this message very readily to the young housekeeper. But Irene's frugal soul was sorely troubled when Harold, with an air of modest triumph, produced his floral offerings. " Oh, Harold, how could you be so extravagant ! " were her first words, and even Maureen's eyes widened with surprise at the sheaves of crimson and golden- brown chrysanthemums that lay heaped on the dining- room table. " They are just splendid, but you must have spent so much money." But Harold disclaimed this most emphatically. " They were only just cut, and they will last fresh for a week," he said. " You girls had better put them in water as soon as possible." 274 Red and Gold Chrysanthemums 275 "Whatever will mother say?" observed Irene, when Harold had left them. " She does so hate the boys to be extravagant. She was quite vexed with Clive when he bought that palm for the drawing-room ; and it is such a beauty too, and makes that corner by the window so pretty. And now Harold has bought that cart-load of flowers." " We could certainly have done with half," returned Maureen, truthfully. " But we won't tell him so, Pax ; the dear fellow would be so hurt. We will put them in water for to-night, and hide them in the pantry; and when mother has gone across to the school to- morrow morning we will all set to work. You and Lois shall do the dinner-table, and Sybil and I will fill the drawing-room vases. We shall have plenty of time before Ruth comes." And Irene, with a little sigh, acquiesced in this arrangement, but she shook her head as she helped to gather up the flowers. " He must have spent eight or nine shillings, or even more," she said to herself. " But it is no use scolding him now " ; for Irene was always very tactful with her brothers, and never could see the wisdom of crying over spilt milk. Everything was in order before Ruth's arrival, and Maureen was delighted to hear Irene say, in an approving voice, that she had never seen the drawing- room look so nice. " It is surprising what a difference flowers make in a room," she observed. But she and Maureen exchanged an amused look when Ruth appeared with a basket of hothouse flowers. " I brought these for your mother, Maureen," she said, in her pretty way. "You told me once that she was so fond of flowers." " Oh, how nice of you, dear ! " with a grateful kiss. " Mother has just come in from the school ; she always takes a class on Monday. We shall find her in the drawing-room." 276 The Sunny Side of the Hill Mrs. Brydon received her visitor very kindly, but she was rather taken aback by the beautiful basket of hothouse flowers which Ruth proffered with shy grace. "Will you please accept them?" she said, and there was a soft, appealing look in the lovely eyes that went straight to Anna's motherly heart. " I never saw mother so taken with any girl," Irene told Maureen that evening. " ' What a pretty creature ! ' were her first words when you had taken Ruth upstairs. And I could see how pleased she was with the flower- basket. Mother has so few presents, and Miss Chaytor's thoughtfulness quite touched her." " Oh, dont' be so formal, Pax- Why don't you call her Ruth?" " Well, Ruth then," returned Irene, mildly. " Mother said she was a perfect little gentlewoman, and that her manner was charming. I don't think I ever saw Ruth look to more advantage; that dark red velveteen exactly suits her dark hair. Don't you admire her little sleek head, Maureen? It is like a glossy bird's. And those thick coils are so becoming." And for once Irene seemed quite enthusiastic. Ruth, on her side, was equally complimentary. " Oh, I do so admire your mother! " she said, as she and Maureen went upstairs arm-in-arm. " What a beautiful face she has ; and her eyes are so kind, though they are tired-looking too." " Oh, mother is always tired. But she will do things, and not even father can stop her." " I was a little afraid to give her my flowers at first," continued Ruth, smiling. " She looked so dignified, and Oh, I hardly know the right word, but I felt so dreadfully shy until she smiled, and then I got on all right." " Oh, yes," returned Maureen, encouragingly. " And I feel sure from mother's manner that she likes you. Well, what do you think of the girls, Ruth? " " Oh, I am delighted with them all. Lois is a sweet Red and Gold Chrysanthemums 277 creature, and Sybil looks so bright and merry, and Ivy is such a handsome child she has your mother's eyes. Oh, Maureen, I do feel you are to be envied all those sisters and brothers, and your dear mother and father, and I have only Romney." And Ruth sighed, but she soon cheered up again. " What a dear little back-water of a place ! " she continued, as she looked out of the bedroom window; " that little green with the trees, and the seats under them, and those nice cosy-looking houses opposite." " Rather different to Marsh Hall and Westcombe Lodge, eh, Ruth?" " Comparisons are odious," returned Ruth, patting the glossy coils that were Irene's admiration. " I think the Homestead is just delightful. I like that homely, liveable sort of drawing-room, just big enough, but not too big. Ours is too large for comfort. We shut ourselves in with screens and pretend to be cosy; but Doris and I prefer the morning-room for comfort. Then you have such a nice garden, Maureen. It is far better than ours at Marsh Hall, though, I allow, it is not quite as delightful as Miss Brydon's." All this was music in Maureen's ears. Ruth was evidently prepossessed with the Homestead and all pertaining to it, and her friendliness and naivete won all their hearts. Irene looked on approvingly when Ruth produced a fairy-like piece of embroidery, with a tiny gold thimble and pair of scissors. " I thought I ought not to be idle for a whole day," she said, smilingly. And then Lois and Sybil fetched theirs, and when Mrs. Brydon returned to the drawing-room she found quite a huddle of girlish heads at one window. Ruth had been presented at Court during the last season, and she was narrating her experiences, while Lois and Sybil listened with breathless attention. " Go on, my dear ; do not let me interrupt you," Anna had said kindly; and Ruth had at once proceeded with her story. 278 The Sunny Side of the Hill After luncheon Maureen carried off her visitor for a walk on the common. " I must have you all to myself," she explained, " and this is the only way. You shall not be tired, Ruth; it is not really cold, and there are sheltered seats where we can sit clown and rest " ; and Ruth acquiesced very willingly. She was delighted with the common. She thought Romney would have been pleased with it; the great expanse, covered with bracken and gorse and whin, the wide skyline by the wind-mill, the golf-links dotted here and there with red coats, the fresh breezy air, with the softness of October in it, would all have been to his taste. The trees were thinning fast, but there were still plenty of yellow and brown leaves pattering with pleasant rustling to the ground. By and by they turned into a little glade or dingle, planted with young larches, and here they sat down to rest. It was astonishing how much they had to talk about. Ruth was anxious to know if Maureen and her brother had been pleased with their visit to West- combe Lodge, and how they liked Aunt Sophy and the cousins. " Aunt Sophy was very much struck with your brother," observed Ruth, shyly. " She said he was so very good-looking, and Olivia and Doris seemed to like him too." And of course Maureen had plenty to say in answer to this. " But we must be going back now," she said, regret- fully ; " for mother never likes us to be out in the dark, and of course there are tramps about sometimes." And this hint was quite sufficient for Ruth, who was certainly not remarkable for her courage, and she walked so fast that Maureen could hardly keep up with her, and had to beg her to slacken her pace. The bright fire and tea-table looked very inviting, and the Tweenies, who had been watching eagerly for their return, now seemed determined to have their innings, for they placed themselves on either side of Ruth, while Ivy Red and Gold Chrysanthemums 279 waited upon her. When their mother wanted the lamps to be lighted there was a general outcry. " Oh, mother, dear, do let us enjoy this lovely fire- light a little longer " this from Maureen. " Sybil has made such a blaze that I am sure you can go on with your knitting." Then the knitting-bag was produced, and for once Irene consented to be idle. And so it was that a very happy fireside circle met Harold's eyes as he opened the door. Perhaps his eyes were a little dazed by the half-light, for he stumbled over a stool on his way to his mother. For the moment Ruth was hidden from his view ; as he walked towards her Lois slipped out of her chair. " Come and warm yourself, Harry," she said, good- humouredly the Tweenies often called him Harry and she almost pushed him into the seat. But no one would have thought Harold needed any heat, his face was so flushed and his eyes so bright. Ruth gave him a quick little look, and then drew back into her corner to shield her glowing face from the flame. Harold evidently felt he must explain his unusually early arrival. His father w r as detained, and there was nothing doing, so he thought he might as well take an earlier train. Here he looked hard at some dark-red chrysanthemums that Ruth wore ; he would take his oath they were some of his. He had walked fast from the station, and now, how had they all been amusing themselves ? Evidently Ruth felt the question was addressed to her, for she answered without waiting a moment. She and Maureen had had such a lovely walk all across the common and the golf-links, and the bit by the wind-mill reminded her of Branksmere, that part before one comes in sight of Marsh Hall. Yes, Harold knew the part she meant; it was where he and Maureen had stopped to listen to the larks. Maureen had taken her a long way, and he feared she 280 The Sunny Side of the Hill must be tired. Another side-glance accompanied his speech. Oh no, Ruth was not tired, not in the least tired; it had been so delightful. They had sat down in a sort of glade for quite a long time, and so on. And then the others chimed in, and the hubbub of girlish voices reached Daniel Brydon's ears as he let himself in with the latch- key, but only Anna recognised the sound. " There is your father, girls," she said, as her stately form passed the group. " I expect he will go upstairs first, but don't forget the time, young people." And then after a little more talk they dispersed. Irene stopped at Maureen's door a moment. " Oh, I quite forgot to tell you that mother has asked Mr. Walton to come in this evening for coffee and music. I hope you don't mind, dear; mother seemed to think it would be pleasant for him." Irene's manner was so apologetic that the brief cloud on Maureen's face cleared a little. " Oh, it can't be helped. Of course we wanted Ruth to ourselves, but I daresay Mr. Walton will not be in the way, and I don't think Harold will mind." Then Irene withdrew, feeling that for once her mother had made a mistake. " Though all the same it was very kind of mother to remember how fond he is of music," she said to herself. " Is Mr. Walton the new curate ? " asked Ruth, who had overheard this. " Don't you like him ? " " Oh, yes, he is very nice ; but I am not sure that either Harold or I want him this evening." Then for some occult reason known only to herself, Ruth blushed violently- Maureen felt rather ashamed of her selfishness when she saw the young clergyman's evident pleasure, and she was obliged to confess to herself that, far from being in the way, Mr. Walton rather added to the general enter- tainment. He seemed to enjoy Ruth's singing, but he Red and Gold Chrysanthemums 281 certainly gave most of his attention to Irene, who looked unusually sweet that evening, Maureen thought. " After all, I am glad mother thought of Mr. Walton," she said, as she bade her sister good-night. " Ruth liked him so much, and she said he had such a nice voice." " Yes, and he liked Ruth's singing," returned Irene pleasantly ; " but I was a little surprised that he did not seem to admire her as much as we all do." " Not admire her ! " in an incredulous voice. " Oh, he said she was a very nice-looking girl, and had charming manners. I hope it was not wrong of me to ask him, Maureen; but we were talking about her singing, and it just came out." Maureen nodded, as though she understood, but she was plainly dissatisfied. " He could not have said much less of any one a nice-looking girl when every one thinks her such a beauty." " Oh, he admired her I am sure he admired her." But Irene hesitated as though she were loath to repeat the young clergyman's words. " He said most people would consider her very pretty, but that he preferred a different type." Then there was a sudden gleam of white teeth, and Maureen's eyes sparkled mischievously. " Mr. Walton is so dark himself that I daresay he prefers fair people," she said, very demurely. But Irene made no answer; she was brushing her hair, and the light-brown masses hung over her face like a veil. " Oh ho, my fine gentleman," thought Maureen, " so the wind sits in that quarter ! " And then she ran off to intercept Harold on his way upstairs, as she had not bidden him good-night. Harold put down his shaded candlestick. " Were you waiting for me ? " he asked, in some surprise. " Yes ; I had not said good-night, and I was wonder- ing what was keeping you so long. Hasn't it been a 282 The Sunny Side of the Hill delightful evening? Ruth says she does not know when she has spent a happier day." " I am glad of that ; but I thought she looked a little pale. She had had a long walk, and you all made her sing so much." " Oh, Harold, but Ruth does so love singing, and she always says she can go on for hours; and I don't think the walk really tired her." No answer Harold evidently maintained his opinion. Then Maureen veered off in another direction. " Are you not glad mother liked her so much ? Mother is so dreadfully critical; but Irene tells me that she has taken quite a fancy to Ruth." " I am not surprised," returned Entre-nous, cooly. " My mother has very good taste." Then he took up his candlestick and wished her good-night; clearly Entre-nous was not in a conversational mood. XXXI "OH DEAR! OH DEAR!" For every evil under the sun There is a remedy, or there's none; If there's a remedy, try to find it ; If there's none, try not to mind it. AN OLD AUTHOR. Whoso is heroic, will always find crises to try his edge. EMERSON. RUTH had several engagements during the next few days, but she promised to write and appoint some time for Maureen to come over to Westcombe Lodge with one of her sisters. But it was quite a week before the expected letter came. Harold, who was just finishing his breakfast, glanced at it as Maureen eagerly opened it; but it took so long to read, though it was evidently shorter than usual, that he could not wait until she had finished it. As he took down his coat from the peg, for it was a cold, damp morning, Maureen came hastily after him. " Oh, Harold, do wait a moment. I cannot make out Ruth's letter. She seems in some trouble, but it is all so vague." Then Harold took the note from her hand and walked off into the empty drawing-room, and Maureen, after a moment's hesitation, followed him. Harold looked rather pale, but his manner was as decided as ever. " Yes," he said. " something has certainly happened. I wish she had told us what it is. But she seems very unhappy. It must be some trouble with her people. Have you no idea, Maureen ? " But as Maureen shook her head, he read the letter over again. This was what Ruth wrote, and it was evidently written in a hurry: " DEAR MAUREEN I do so want to see you. I am in such trouble and perplexity that I hardly know what to do, and 283 284 The Sunny Side of the Hill perhaps you might be able to help me, for you are so sensible and see things so clearly. You are like your dear aunt in that " I cannot ask you here, for Percy is laid up with a sprained ankle, and things would be so uncomfortable. Do you think your mother would let you meet me at the Kensington Museum on Thursday morning? Doris wants to copy a frieze that has taken her fancy, and she says she can easily finish all she wants in about an hour. If you bring Lois or Sybil we could meet you at the South Kensington Station, that is, if you will let me know your train, and I know a place where we can have luncheon afterwards, and then Doris and I will put you in the train for Sipthorpe. " Oh, do beg your mother to let you come, for I feel so miserable. And please, please, will you ask your brother if he knows where Romney is just now, for he has not written for nearly a week, and I must get a letter to him. I am afraid he will be so vexed with me, too, but all the same it is his duty to help me." " Do you think mother will let me go, Harold ? " "Of course she will. What a question? But you had better tell her things very plainly. Mother hates mysteries. Take Lois with you, she is the easiest to manage. And when you write, will you tell Miss Chaytor that I am almost certain that a letter directed to the Lowood Hotel, Windermere, would find him? In his last letter to me he said he meant to put up there for about a week, as he had not half seen it in his previous visit. Yes, I think he will be about due now. She might telegraph to the manager, answer prepaid, and the letter could follow." "Oh, thank you, Harold. I will tell her all that most carefully." " You had better speak to mother at once, and then catch the first post," went on Harold, in a business-like way ; but how grave and careworn he looked. " Now I must be off or I shall lose my train." And Maureen did not venture to detain him. " How helpful he is," she said to herself, as she followed her mother to the morning-room, and then very hurriedly made known her business. "Oh Dear! Oh Dear!" 285 Anna, who was mending her husband's glove, listened in silence. " I wonder what is wrong with the child," she observed, half to herself. " Of course you must go, Maureen. You could hardly refuse such a request. And either Lois or Sybil will be pleased to accompany you." " I think I will take Lois." " Very well. I am afraid I cannot stay any longer. Besides, there is nothing more to say. You must respect your friend's confidence, unless you are sure that she would wish me to know things." For Anna always told her girls that though she had a right to expect them to be perfectly frank and open with her, she had certainly no right to their friends' little secrets. Maureen wrote off a long letter to Ruth, and posted it herself. But the day's pleasure was spoiled for her. She could not forget Harold's paleness and worried look. " What a pity," she thought, " for Give was coming home on Friday, and on Saturday they were to have their little spree." Clive had to leave for Oxford on the following Tuesday, and she must devote herself to him during those three days. " It would be such a pity," she repeated, " if Entre-nous, who had seemed so much more cheerful the last few days, should become grave and taciturn again. Clive would notice it and chaff him, and then Harold would shrink still more into his shell." Perhaps it was as well for both the young people that Harold had promised to spend the evening with Mr. Walton. But just before bedtime Maureen was surprised to receive a little note from Ruth : " How good of you to write so soon, dear Maureen, and to say that you and Lois will come," she wrote. " It will be such a relief to talk to you. Will you thank your brother for his kind message, and tell him that I am just going to send a telegram to the Lowood Hotel before I post my letter to Romney? Your loving and grateful RUTH." 286 The Sunny Side of the HiU Maureen laid this note on Harold's toilet-table, but he evidently forgot to give it back to her the next morn- ing. She had overslept herself, and had no opportunity of exchanging a word with him alone ; and as her father and Irene were present she thought it better to say nothing. Harold looked very tired. He had evidently slept badly. And Irene grumbled because he did not do justice to the excellent breakfast she had provided. Maureen and Lois set off in good time. They found Ruth and Doris waiting for them at the head of the staircase. Ruth, who looked dejected and heavy-eyed, tried to summon up a smile when she saw her friend. Doris, who had been evidently coached in her part, walked off briskly with Lois, and the other two girls followed more slowly. " Oh, what is it, Ruth ? " asked Maureen, anxiously ; but Ruth refused to talk until she could find a quiet corner. " Doris will set to work at once," she explained. " She wants the pattern for her embroidery, and she says it will not take her very long. I know a place where we shall be quite by ourselves." So Maureen had to exercise her patience until Doris was settled with her drawing block and pencils, with Lois beside her. Then Ruth led the way to a quiet nook behind a group of statuary, where they could not be overheard. "Well, Ruth?" " Yes ; now I can talk. Oh, Maureen, dear, you have no idea how dreadful it has been these last few days. They are all against me except Doris, and she is such a dear. She says it is an awful shame, and that Percy has no right to treat me so." " Percy ! Your cousin Percival ? " " Yes ; didn't you guess what the trouble was ? " Ruth's cheeks were flaming. " I could not write about it, and I thought you would know." "Oh Dear! Oh Dear!" 287 " No ; Harold asked me, and I said I had no idea." Then Ruth looked extremely disconcerted. " How strange ! " she returned, in a low voice. " I thought your brother would have guessed. I know he does not like Percy that he does not quite approve of him ; and of course he is quite right. How dare he tell me that I gave him encouragement, and that I ought to have been prepared for his proposal ! " " When when did it happen ? " Maureen spoke in an awe-stricken voice. The young creature beside her, pretty, childish Ruth, had already rejected three offers of marriage. Yes, her cousin Percival was the third. Maureen wondered how it felt to refuse an offer. What a terrible experience it must be to make any human being unhappy! But though Ruth was plainly miserable, she was also extremely indignant. '' To-day is Wednesday," she returned. " Oh, how happy we were last Wednesday at the dear Homestead. It was on Monday afternoon he spoke. It was that sprained ankle that was the cause of it. I had offered to play chess with him because all the others were out, and he played so badly that I put his king in check at once; and then he said suddenly that he was not quite in the mood for games, and that he wanted to talk to me very seriously. I thought his manner odd, and I was rather frightened and wanted to leave him, but he caught my wrist so that I could not get away, and then it all came out." " Oh dear, how extremely awkward ! " " It was more than awkward," replied Ruth, indig- nantly. " He was using force to make me listen to him. There was quite a red mark on my wrist when he let me go. He said he loved me that he had loved me for years and that they all knew it ; that if I did not promise to marry him I should ruin all his chances of happiness ; that his mother and father had always wished it, and that he knew Romney was on his side. ' It is no use your coquetting with me like this, Ruthie,' he went on, ' for 288 The Sunny Side of the Hill you have given me plenty of encouragement. I never minded a few flirtations. " Young things will have their frisks," I said to mother, " but Ruth belongs to me, and I mean to claim her." ' Oh, did you ever hear anything so untrue, Maureen ? " "Oh dear! oh dear!" For Maureen had no experience to enable her to deal with such a case. A modern novel might provide her with similar situations, but she could not recall one. Poor little innocent Ruth! She was certainly in a sad predicament. " Of course you are not in love with him? " she asked suddenly ; and Ruth crimsoned to the tips of her pretty shell-like ears. " In love with Percy ! I should think not ! In a way I am fond of all my cousins, but Kenneth is my favourite; he is a dear boy, and we are certainly not in love with each other. Cousins are like brothers, as I told Aunt Sophy. But she seemed quite annoyed when I said that. She thinks I am treating him very badly, and so do Uncle George and Olivia. He has talked them all over to his side, and they are all against me." " Oh, never mind about that now. I want to know how you got rid of your cousin." " Oh, I did not get rid of him for a long time," returned Ruth, dejectedly. " I had to make him quite angry before he would let me go. I told him that he was mistaken; that I could not love him in the way he wished, and that I never should. ' You are wrong to say I belong to you, Percy, for nothing on earth would induce me to marry you.' " " ' Do you mean that you care for some other fellow ? ' turning quite white with rage. But I plucked up a little spirit then, and told him if he could insult me with such questions he need not expect me to answer them. " ' I have had enough of this,' for I was growing exceedingly angry ; ' and if you do not let me go instantly, " Oh Dear! Oh Dear! " 289 I will not speak to you again.' And then he loosened his grasp and flung himself back on his pillow, and I could see he was in an awful temper. " ' Go if you like,' he said quite rudely. You have no idea how ungentlemanly Percy can be when he is in his tantrums. And you may be sure I soon took advantage of my liberty. I was quite hysterical when I reached my room." " And they were all against you ? " " Yes, every one except Doris, and she was so good to me. Aunt Sophy cried, and said that I had made them all so unhappy ; that Percy had set his heart on me, and that it was so bad for him to be disappointed. ' And we thought you cared for the poor boy, too.' And then Olivia chimed in. I am afraid," continued Ruth sorrow- fully, " from what Olivia said, that Romney and Uncle George have already talked things over, and that they both think it would be a good thing for me to marry Percy ; but I shall soon undeceive Romney on that point." " Have you sent your letter ? " " Yes. Oh, it was so good of your brother to help me. I had an answer from the manager. Romney is expected this evening, so he will find my letter awaiting him." " And you have told him all ? " " Yes, as well as I could ; but I have made him under- stand one thing, Maureen, and that is that my home can no longer be at Westcombe Lodge." " Oh, I never thought of that ! " " It was the first thing that occurred to me, and I am sure that Aunt Sophy realises it too. Romney must let me come to Marsh Hall." " He could not refuse under the circumstances." " I should think not, but it will put him out dread- fully. Already I am spoiling his trip, for I know he will come to me at once. If only Miss Brydon had been at the Garden House, I would have asked her to take me in." 19 290 The Sunny Side of the Hill " Aunt Margaret will not leave Edinburgh for another fortnight, and she will spend a week at the Homestead." " So you told me ; but I could not remain at West- combe Lodge for three weeks. You have no idea what I have to go through. Percy will not speak to me, and he looks so ill, and Aunt Sophy scarcely leaves him. He is her favourite, and she does think so much of him. And Olivia and Gwendoline are always finding fault with me. I tell Doris that but for her I should run away." Then Maureen tried to comfort her. " It would all come right in time," she observed sensibly. " Ruth must not make herself too unhappy, for she was not the least to blame, and her cousins would soon discover this for themselves. Mr. Chaytor would be very kind and smooth things out for her, and, of course, he would take her back with him to Marsh Hall. How nice it will be to find you there on our return," she finished, in her cheery way. Ruth's sad little face brightened under this judicious treatment. By the time Doris had drawn her pattern she was quite able to turn her attention to luncheon ; and in spite of the gravity of the situation Maureen and Doris managed to enjoy themselves. As for Lois, she was enchanted with her morning's entertainment. Mrs. Brydon had expressed a wish that the girls should be back by afternoon tea ; so after a little farther walk and a peep at the Natural History Museum to please Lois, they set out for the station. " May I tell mother, Ruth ? " asked Maureen, at the last moment ; and Ruth had said " Yes, she did not mind, if Maureen wished it." But there was no message for Harold. Just before dinner Maureen found an opportunity for speaking to her mother. Mrs. Brydon listened with much interest. " Now, child," she said, when Maureen had finished her brief narrative, " I think that young man behaved very badly. Of course Ruth cannot remain there. Her " Oh Dear! Oh Dear! " 291 brother will see that at once." And then the sound of the latchkey took them both into the hall. It was impossible to speak to Harold until later in the evening, although she knew that he was longing to talk to her. But he made a pretext of going to the smoking-room earlier than usual, and she followed him just in time to see him bundling Ninian and his lesson- books out of the room. " You can finish them in the dining-room, Ninny ; I want to talk to Maureen." And Ninian shrugged his shoulders, but did not venture to disobey. " Well ! " was Entre-nous' curt observation ; but his hand shook a little as he lighted his cigarette. Then Maureen, nothing loath, told her story. " Ruth thought we should have guessed that the trouble was owing to her cousin," she observed, when she had made things pretty clear to her listener. " How could we guess that the fellow would be such an unmitigated cad ? " returned Howard, savagely. " He deserves to be kicked." " I think he took a mean advantage of her." " Her brother must take her home ; there is no other course open. She must be protected from such insults in future. Oh, if we only had the power! But no, it would not be right." Now what was there in these few vague words that made the veil drop suddenly from Maureen's eyes ? And what was that look on Harold's face which brought a little sob to her throat ? But the next moment her arms were round his neck, and she was whispering in his ears, " Oh, my poor dear boy, has it gone as deeply as that, and I never knew ? " And Maureen's eyes were full of tears. XXXII "HE DOES NOT SEEM QUITE FIT" Did you tackle the trouble that came your way With a resolute heart and cheerful? Or hide your face from the light of day With a craven soul and fearful ? You are beaten to earth! Well, what of that? ' Come up with a smiling face; It's nothing against you to fall down flat, But to lie there that's disgrace. ANON. THAT settled the business. The assault was so unexpected, the beleaguered garri- son so disorganised and off their guard, that an honour- able capitulation was the only possible result, and a flag of truce was at once unfurled. Maureen's impulsiveness had won the day; Entre-nous' secret was no longer a secret. Maureen's tearful sympathy unloosened his tongue, and he no longer refused his confidence. "When did you first find it out, dear?" she almost whispered. Maureen was sitting quite close to him, and two little soft brown hands were locked on his arm; perhaps Harold hardly noticed them. "When did I first care for her?" he returned, in a voice that Maureen scarcely recognised, and which thrilled her with unaccustomed pain. " I hardly know ; I think it was that first day when we went to Marsh Hall, and she came through the rose arch to meet us." " Dear Harold, surely not as long ago as that ! " " I think so ; I am sure of it. We went up on the roof after tea. I remember every word she said to me " here his eyes grew dark and dreamy. " I had never seen any one like her never." " Ruth is so very very pretty," murmured Maureen. 292 " He Does Not Seem Quite Fit ; 293 " It is not her beauty I mean," he returned, a little impatiently. " I have seen scores of pretty girls at Oxford, but I never gave one of them a second thought ; but she " he seemed reluctant to say her name " is so different. There is a friendliness, a kindness and charm about her, that I cannot describe." But to himself he added : " It is her sweetness and childish innocence and goodness which seem to bowl me over." " I know she is a darling, Harold." Then as he turned to her there was again that strange glow in his eyes. " I am glad you appreciate her, Maureen, but I could never bring myself to speak of her. I dared not betray myself. She is not happy ; her environment does not suit her, and Chaytor does not understand her." " No, I am afraid not ; and yet he is very fond of her. Harold, I want to say something, but I hardly know how you will take it; you have seemed so depressed lately, as though you had no heart for anything." " That is true," he muttered, under his breath, but Maureen heard him. " But why should it be true ? There can be no harm, surely, in your loving Ruth ; other men have done so. You are a gentleman, and have been to the university, and you are clever and likely to get on, and sometimes I fancy " here Maureen reddened, for she was not sure she was speaking wisely or well " that Ruth thinks more highly of you than of most people ; she has such a respect for your opinion." " Hush ! don't tempt me," he returned, a little hoarsely. " I was fool enough to tell myself the same thing until that afternoon we went to Westcombe Lodge." " But Ruth was so nice to you," exclaimed Maureen, in a puzzled voice. "She was talking to you most of the time, and you both looked so happy." " I paid dearly for my enjoyment afterwards," he replied grimly. " That visit put me in my proper place. Good heavens ! the house and the whole atmosphere 294 The Sunny Side of the Hill reeked of money : every room, every carpet, every picture, even Mrs. Chaytor's gown and her diamond and emerald rings, all spoke of wealth. Think of the contrast between the Homestead and Westcombe Lodge or even Marsh Hall." " Of course I know what you mean, Harold," she returned sorrowfully, " and I wish Ruth were not so rich for your sake not that she cares," brightening up at the thought of Ruth's unworldliness. " She does not even know the amount of her fortune, for she told me so herself." " That is because her uncle and brother manage her business, and she knows nothing about investments. I may be a fool to have run my head into this thorn- bush, but I am not such an utter ass as to believe that an unfledged solicitor, with about a hundred and fifty pounds a year, would be a fit mate for the beautiful Miss Chaytor. That is what I have heard her called, Maureen." " Wait a moment. I have not quite finished all I wanted to say, dear. Olivia Chaytor has money all the girls have and she is going to marry a barrister. Ruth told me that he was only just holding his second brief, so he cannot be rich." " No, but he is the presumptive heir to a baronetcy, and all his connections are influential people. Chaytor told me himself that his cousin was making a very good match, and that his uncle was extremely pleased about it. I like the fellow uncommonly." " Oh, but, Harold " " No, I am not going to drug myself with any such false comfort. It would only make the awakening more bitter. Her cousin behaved like a cad ; it is a put-up job, and they are all aiding and abetting him. They want Miss Chaytor's money to remain in the family, and so the fellow pretends to be fond of her." " But, Harold, I am afraid he really is in love with Ruth." " He Does Not Seem Quite Fit " 295 " A pretty sort of love," he returned, contemptuously. " But it is one comfort he has certainly opened her eyes. Look here, Maureen," and Harold's manner had changed again, " you mean to be kind, and I am ever so much obliged to you for your sympathy, but I don't want you to say this sort of thing again, or even to think it if you can help it. I have got to face my trouble as well as I can, and to do my work, and it won't help me in the least to think there is a chance for me." " But surely you have not given up hope, dear ? " " One cannot give up what one has never possessed " in a sad voice. " But I suppose as long as she is unmarried I shall not be utterly miserable." " But if she cares for you " Maureen whispered the words. Then a dark flush crossed the young man's face. " But she does not, except in a childish, innocent way. She is so young. Do- you suppose I would take advantage of her inexperience? That would be a poor return for her brother's friendship. What are you doing, Maureen ? " for the girl had laid her cheek first and then her lips against his hand. " It is only that you are so good, so good," she said in a broken voice ; " and and I am so proud of you." It was at this minute that Daniel Brydon, with his hand on the door-handle, heard voices, and noiselessly with- drew to the drawing-room. " I must let the children finish their talk," he said to ' himself. " It was Maureen's voice, I fancy. By and by I will give her a hint that it is getting late, and that her mother has gone upstairs." But when in half an hour he returned, Maureen had disappeared, and Harold was knocking out the ashes of the pipe he had forgotten to smoke. Before Maureen had left she had said a word about Clive. " I do wish he were not coming to-morrow," she said. " Clive will expect us to be in such good spirits." " Then we must do our best not to disappoint him," 296 The Sunny Side of the Hill was the cool rejoinder. " If one is worried one need not take the world into confidence. Clive will be very welcome." But Harold had with difficulty repressed a sigh as he made this magnanimous speech. " Oh, if Ruth knew him as I do," Maureen said to herself, as she crept upstairs, " she could not help loving him, if she does not already " ; and there was a furtive little smile on Maureen's lips. " Ruth may be young and rather childish in some things, but at nineteen a girl ought to know her own mind," she thought. The next day Ruth sent her a few hurried words : " Romney has my letter. He has telegraphed that he will be here to-night, but he evidently does not wish me to stay up to receive him. There, I will enclose the telegram you will see I have read between the lines : " ' Coming to-night. Do not wait up ; probably late. Gale follows with motor.' " Is he not a dear fellow to come so quickly ! " Maureen slipped this note into Harold's tie and hand- kerchief drawer, and was reprimanded afterwards for her carelessness and want of thought. " Clive always makes free with my things," observed Harold, severely, " and if he had opened that drawer he would have seen it " ; and Maureen expressed her contrition. Somehow Maureen could not think of Ruth's troubles that evening, with dive's boyish laugh ringing in her ears. She had forgotten how nice-looking he was; but then even the girls said he was wonderfully improved. From the moment she heard his " Holloa, Brownie," his usual name for her, her heart seemed to go out to him ; and even her mother smoothed his fair hair in rather a caressing manner, as she told him how glad she was to have him back again. It was an object lesson to Maureen to see Harold's noble efforts to be cheerful, so that dive's brief visit home should not be damped; the two brothers were deeply attached to each other. But no one would have " He Does Not Seem Quite Fit " 297 found anything amiss with the three young people who were eating their dinner with evident enjoyment that Saturday evening ; indeed more than one stranger glanced round with a smile as Clive's cheery laugh rang out in answer to -some dry remark on Harold's part. " Is he really enjoying it all," Maureen asked herself anxiously, as they prepared to set off for the theatre, " or is he only pretending for our sakes ? " But Entre- nous kept his own counsel, and Maureen was baffled. She was rather surprised then at a remark Clive made the following day. It was a lovely October afternoon, and the whole Brydon family, with the exception of Anna, had sallied forth for a lengthy stroll over the Common. Presently Maureen found herself alone with Clive. He had lingered for a moment to admire the silvery boles of a group of young birches, and the rest of the party had gone on. " How awfully jolly this is ! " exclaimed Clive ; " you girls ought to come here every day. By the bye, Brownie, are you sure Harold is all right ? " For Clive had almost the perception of a woman, and always noticed at once if any one was not up to the mark. "All right! What do you mean, Givey?" Maureen was disentangling her dress from a troublesome bramble, and Clive went to her help. " Gently, gently, my dear child, or you will tear your frock there, you are free now. What do I mean? Well, old Harold seems a little off his food, and looks as solemn as though he has the affairs of the nation on his shoulders." " Why, what nonsense ! " returned Maureen. " Harold was as cheerful as the rest of us; and he certainly enjoyed his dinner last night." " All the same he does not seem quite fit," replied Give, obstinately. " I hope he and the governor hit it off!" " You need not fear about that," was Maureen's reply. She was immensely relieved that Give's thoughts had 298 The Sunny Side of the HiU turned in this direction. " I am glad to say that Harold likes his work better than he expected, and father is more than satisfied." " You are quite sure of that, Miss Brown ? " another of the Brydon names. " Oh, yes," and then Clive seemed content. And as Harold did not relax his efforts to maintain outward cheerfulness, Clive merely thought he was a bit over- worked. On Clive's last morning Maureen received a letter from Ruth with the Branksmere postmark, but she put it into her pocket unread. Clive was to leave early and she had to help him pack, and she did not wish to be engrossed or to excite his curiosity. The letter would keep, and she would retire into her own room after luncheon and read it undisturbed. " Miss Brown is awfully improved," Clive informed Irene. " She is not a bad-looking girl by any means, and there is something rather fetching about her." And Irene good-naturedly repeated this speech to Maureen. Ruth had not written a cheerful letter; she was evi- dently much depressed. She had left Westcombe Lodge, she wrote, and it was not likely that she would go back there for a long time ; and certainly it could never be her home again even Romney realised that. But it was very hard to leave it in this way, as though she had somehow disgraced herself. " Romney is very kind, and I am sure he is sorry for me," she went on, " but Aunt Sophy and Olivia have been talking to him ; and though he does not say so, I am sure that he thinks I am in some way to blame. His manner gives me that im- pression, and he looks rather worried. I am quite sure now that he would have liked me to marry Percy. He said the other evening that he was a good-hearted fellow, and that he was very deeply attached to me. ' I daresay the girls have spoilt him a bit, because he is a fine-looking chap ; and so he puts on side, but there is no vice in him.' So you see, Maureen, even Rom- ney is on his side. But I don't care; if they talked for a year I vrould never consent to marry him. As I tell Romney, there " He Does Not Seem Quite Fit " 299 is no hurry ; I am young enough to wait ; and if he can put up with me at Marsh Hall, I shall be happier there with him than ever I was at Westcombe Lodge. But he only shakes his head incredulously when I say this. I am afraid, Maureen, that I really shall be in his way. I have brought him back some weeks before he meant to come. Oh, that money, what an incubus it is ! It seems to be always in my way. I do wish Romney would marry some nice sensible girl who could go about with him and make him happy, and leave me to keep house in their absence. What walks and talks we would have, Maureen! But I don't want one of the Brants for my sister-in- law." Ruth was evidently trying to keep up her spirits by writing nonsense. But this portion of the letter rather jarred on Maureen, and this time she did not offer it for Harold's perusal ; but he did not seem to expect it. " It is for your eyes, not mine," he said rather pointedly, as she half-apologised for not showing it to him. " It would not be fair for me to read it. I know you will tell me anything of real importance. I am glad she is safe at Marsh Hall. One cannot expect her to be quite happy after such an upset." But after this Harold said no more. Entre-nous had relapsed into his old reserved manner, and Maureen was sure that her mother noticed it. But it was not her way to solicit her children's confidence unless it was given voluntarily ; her sons especially must not feel a tight rein. But when Margaret arrived, and a fitting opportunity came, Anna said a word or two to her sister-in-law. " I am not quite satisfied about Harold," she said. " He is working splendidly, and is the greatest help and comfort to his father. And he is well there is nothing amiss with his health ; but he seems so depressed." " Have you questioned Maureen ? She and Harold are chums." " No ; I do not like to do that. The young people have their little confidences, and brothers often tell their 300 The Sunny Side of the Hill sisters things ; but Dan and I never think it well to watch young men too closely." " I see what you mean," returned Margaret, smiling. " You think Harold may be in love. Well, at his age it is not impossible " ; and then she looked at Anna rather steadily. " I confess I had a suspicion once or twice at the Garden House that he rather admired Ruth Chaytor. Did you notice anything when she was here ? " But Anna shook her head. " He seemed very happy and animated, and so did she. She is a sweet girl, Margaret, and I confess I almost fell in love with her myself. If only she were not so rich," with a sigh. " But Maureen must not encourage her visits. I cannot have the poor boy upset." But it was not until afterwards that Irene told her aunt about the red and gold chrysanthemums. " I never saw the drawing-room look as it did that day when Ruth came, did you, Maureen ? " she asked, innocently. " Harold brought the flowers down from town with him, and I scolded him well for his extrava- gance. But happily mother never noticed." Then Maureen gave her aunt a quick, appealing look, which Margaret understood. " Irene has let the cat out of the bag," she said to herself. But she was very loyal to Maureen's unspoken request, and nothing more passed between her and Anna on that subject. xxxin THE SON OF JEZEBEL But what if I fail of my purpose here? It is but to keep the nerves at strain, To dry one's eyes and laugh at a fall, And, baffled, get up and begin again. R. BROWNING. Difficulties exist only to be overcome. ANON. MARGARET could not be induced to stay more than ten days at the Homestead. She said frankly that she was homesick, and that the garden and Master were calling for her so loudly that it was no use trying to stop her ears. " I have a vivid impression of Master lying on the hall-mat with his nose between his paws, and his eyes fixed on the front door. Every morning the dear fellow says to himself, ' Mistress is coming back to-day,' and every night he slinks to my door with drooping tail and tucks himself up to dream of a blissful morrow." " Humph ! " observed Daniel to himself, for these pathetic words had been addressed to him. " I wonder if any one else is calling beside Master and the garden ? " But on this point sister Peg was silent. It was natural that Maureen's feelings should be a little mixed. The last five or six weeks had been simply delightful. Every one had been so kind and made so much of her. But even her gratitude for past enjoyment could not make the good-bye pleasant. It was especially hard to leave Harold. She knew that he would miss her, and that no other could take her place. She was a little disappointed to see that he made no effort to seek her company on the last evening, and it was quite by accident that she found him alone in the morning-room. Daniel had remained behind for a final chat with Margaret. 301 302 The Sunny Side of the Hill She thought he seemed pleased to see her, however, for he drew a chair closer to the fire. " So you are off to-morrow," he remarked. " Well, I need not say that we shall miss you. But I don't suppose it is quite such a wrench for you this time." " Well, perhaps not," returned Maureen, honestly ; " but I feel as though I were cut in halves. When I get back I shall want you all dreadfully. I always do. But, on the other hand, I am happy with Aunt Margaret, and I love the Garden House. And there is Ruth, and by-the-bye " checking herself abruptly " have you any message for Marsh Hall ? " Then Harold took up the poker and tried to demolish the bright little fire. " You can give my kind regards to Miss Chaytor ; I expect I shall be writing to her brother in a day or two, about a question he asked me. You can tell her, if you like, that I am very glad that she is at Marsh Hall." "And that is all?"' " Why, of course," his lip curling a little at this obtuseness. " It is not likely that I should send any other message. I know," prodding the coals aimlessly, " that you will tell me how things go on, but you need not bother to write often." " But it is such a pleasure, Harold." " All right then ; in that case I shall be very pleased to hear anything you like to tell me." " Then you may be sure that I shall write," nodding her head at him. " But, Harold, you have not forgotten that Aunt Margaret has invited you to come for a week-end whenever you like ? " " No, I have not forgotten ; but I am not sure that it will be wise to come." And to himself Harold said drearily, " A burnt child dreads the fire." Then he con- tinued rather moodily, " One has quite enough to bear ; and unless there is some reason for it I shall not let myself be tempted." Then Maureen very wisely held her peace, and after this he bade her good-night very affectionately. The Son of Jezebel 303 " He is hard hit," she said sorrowfully to herself, as she went upstairs. " He cannot say her name without an effort, and there is such a melancholy look in his eyes when he speaks of her. I wonder what Aunt Margaret thinks ? I am sure she guesses ; but I don't believe she will speak about it." And she was right. Margaret's eyes were open, she was watchful but silent. The shaping of human destinies was not in her hands, and she knew better than to play games of hazard with youthful hearts. ' The thoughts of youth are long long thoughts,' " she said once to Anna. " Young growing things must have plenty of room ; and with good soil and skilled training they will do the rest themselves." And Anna had assented to this, for she was not one to pluck up promising plants by the roots to see if they were growing. Maureen could not quite rise to Margaret's level of childlike rapture when she drove up to the Garden House, and yet she was pleased to find herself there again. And as she watched the meeting between Mistress and Master, and saw the dusty marks of paws on Margaret's jacket, she could not refuse her tribute of sympathy. " Poor Master, how dull he must have been," she observed, as the huge creature, transformed for the time into a puppy, tore madly round the hall and dining- room, and then in sheer love and joy nearly knocked his mistress down. Margaret took him out into the garden to calm his exuberant spirits; but she stopped out so long that it was quite dusk, and Maureen was tired of waiting for her tea, when Margaret returned with glowing cheeks and her faithful satellite beside her. " Oh, Maureen, you naughty girl, you have surely not waited all this time ! " she exclaimed, in a penitent voice. " But Master and I were enjoying ourselves so much." " I can't think how you could stop there so long," returned Maureen. " Gardens in November are so dis- mal; nothing but bare bushes, dead leaves, and just a few chrysanthemums here and there." 304 The Sunny Side of the Hill " My garden is never dismal," replied Margaret, pouring out a cup of tea for herself. " I wanted to kiss every flower, and to tell the poor dear plants not to be ashamed of their brown stalks and shabby appearance, for they would be all right in the spring. And though it was dusk, and there was a dank sea-wind blowing in my face, I felt so uplifted with the joy of it all, that I was obliged to repeat my favourite morning poem." " I did not know you had a favourite morning poem, Aunt Maggie." " Yes ; and I always repeat a stanza or two as I brush my hair, it seems to brace me up and do me good. Would you like me to repeat a verse or two ? I do not remember all." And as Maureen nodded delightedly, Margaret began in her rich deep voice : " ' Every day is a fresh beginning, Every morn is a world made new, You are weary of sorrow and sinning, Here is a beautiful Hope for you, A Hope for me, and a Hope for you.' " Oh, please don't stop," as Margaret paused a moment "'Here are the skies all burnished brightly, Here is the spent earth all reborn; Here are the tired limbs springing lightly, To face the sun and to share with the morn In the chrism of dew and the cool of the dawn. " Every day is a fresh beginning, Listen, my soul, to its glad refrain, And spite of old sorrows and older sinning, And puzzles forecasted, and possible pain, Take heart with the day and begin again.'" " Oh, Aunt Margaret, how beautiful ! Who wrote them?" " Susan Coolidge, I believe. They haunt me some- The Son of Jezebel 305 times from morning to night. And so I told the poor wallflowers and pansies " ' Here's a beautiful Hope for you, A Hope for me, and a Hope for you.' " " I should like some one to set those words to music," returned Maureen. " Now, if you will excuse me, I think I will do my unpacking." " So will not I," observed Margaret, settling herself more comfortably in her easy-chair. She had flung her hat down on the couch, and smoothed her dishevelled hair with her hands. As Maureen entered her own room and set to work busily, she was fully made aware by Master's bark that some visitor had made his appearance. " Of course it is only Mr. Torrance," she said to her- self. " I felt, somehow, that Aunt Margaret was expect- ing some one. Now I can be as long as I like, and leave them to have a good chat." And it was over an hour before Maureen was ready to go downstairs. Mr. Torrance was still there, but he took his departure almost directly. " I was only waiting to see you," he said to Maureen. " It is my dinner-hour already, and Joanna will be out of temper if the fish is spoiled." " You should not give in to her," returned Margaret, lazily. " Even punctuality can deteriorate into a vice if carried too far. We can say that of all virtues, eh, Henry?" And he laughed and said "Yes." Maureen let him out. " I do not think Mr. Torrance looks as well as usual," she observed, when she returned to the dining-room. Margaret, who was looking thoughtfully into the fire, turned round slowly. " I was thinking so myself. He has been working too hard all this year, and he looks quite thin ; but he is going away for a few days' rest. He says he has never 306 The Sunny Side of the Hill been so busy and worried, and I am afraid he has been very dull, for even the Rectory has been empty." " Oh, what a pity ! " " Yes ; Joanna, excellent as she is, and Tobias, consti- tute a very limited society. I asked him to come in to dinner to-morrow evening, as he goes away on Saturday." But there was a slight cloud on Margaret's face as she collected her things. Margaret was exceedingly busy the next morning, so Maureen sat down to write to her mother; and she had scarcely finished before Ruth ran into the room unannounced, and hugged her. " Oh, you dear thing, to come so early ! " exclaimed Maureen ; " but of course I was expecting you. Aunt Margaret is unlocking all the cupboards and presses, and taking stock of the storeroom, and Master and the kitchen cat won't leave her. The kitchen cat her name is Jezebel, but we call her Jeb for short has had kittens during our absence, and Dickson says Mrs. Jeb has done it especially to spite her, and that they must all be drownded dead immediate or she couldn't answer for the consequences; and Jeb, whose previous family disappeared mysteriously, is mewing a protest in Aunt Margaret's ears. ' Jeb must have one baby/ she says, in her kind-hearted way, ' let me go and choose/ And when I left the harrowing scene, there was Jeb licking all her infants by turns in preparation for the inspection." " Oh, I am so glad Jeb will have one/' returned Ruth. " What is the use of bringing children into the world if an ogre is to drown them dead ? " " Well, they are ugly little things," remarked Maureen, " and no one wants them ; but I am all for fair play and humanity even where kittens are concerned. Tobias will love to play with it. He is partial to kittens, and treats them with the familiarity of a bachelor uncle." Maureen was in a lively mood, but all the time she was observing Ruth narrowly. Ruth was not looking The Son of Jezebel 307 specially well or happy. She had not lost her worried expression. " Well, Ruthie, dear, have you anything fresh to tell me?" Then Ruth coloured and shook her head. " Nothing has happened, except that all my things have been sent from Westcombe Lodge, books, pictures, and all my treasures, that speaks for itself." " That you are not to go back ? " " No ; only for visits, but I am never to live there again. Aunt Sophy told Romney that she and Uncle George consider me too great a responsibility. ' It is enough to have one son's prospect of happiness destroyed,' she went on ; ' but we dare not run any further risk.' I don't think Romney ought to have repeated Aunt Sophy's words. It was too unkind of her to say that." " I do not think I quite understand what she means, Ruth." " Oh, she was hinting at Kenneth. You know what friends we are and how we correspond. And now Percy has been insinuating things, and making out that I am a flirt." And here Ruth struggled to restrain her tears. " What a shame ! but surely your brother does not believe him." " I don't think he quite knows what to believe," replied Ruth, mournfully. " He is very kind and con- siderate, but he sometimes says things which make me uncomfortable. Last evening he said that he considered Aunt Sophy and Olivia were a little too hard on me. That it was only natural that a girl liked life and bright- ness and admiration, and that if I were not always wise and prudent it was because I was so young. He spoke in such a kind, fatherly voice, and seemed so sorry for me." " That was nice of him." " Yes ; but he spoilt it later on, for he said presently that nothing would please him better than to see me married to some good fellow who knew how to appreciate me, and with whom I could be happy." 308 The Sunny Side of the Hill Maureen changed colour as Ruth said this. " Well, I see no harm in your brother saying that," she returned, hurriedly. " Oh, he meant it kindly enough ; only, don't you read between the lines? Romney wants to get rid of the responsibility. He does not quite know what he is going to do with me. He does not think Marsh Hall is a right sort of home for me ; and he is very perplexed about the future. The fact is," went on Ruth, with a sigh, " it is the same old story. I am a white elephant ; no one really wants me, and I am in everybody's way. Romney would be far happier without me," and here poor Ruth brushed away a tear. " Oh, if Romney only cared to have me I should be perfectly content." Maureen expressed her sympathy in her usual warm- hearted fashion, and then she counselled patience. " It is no use fretting, Ruth," she said, very sensibly. " You had far better be cheerful and make the best of things. If your brother sees for himself that you v are happy and not moping, he may change his mind about Marsh Hall." But it was evident that Ruth was not sanguine. . " I will do my best," she returned ; " but it will be very hard to be cheerful when I am so sore and unhappy about all this trouble. I must get some occupation. I shall talk to Mrs. Whitworth and Miss Brydon, for I don't intend to spend half my time at Gayton Lodge." And after this they talked more comfortably, making plans in their girlish fashion. Ruth brightened up when Maureen gave her Harold's message. " I am glad he said that," she returned, in a low voice ; " that he understood how I longed to be at home." " Oh, Harold always understands," remarked Mau- reen. " He does not always say much, but he is wonderfully observant, and he very seldom makes mistakes." But just as the conversation had reached this interest- The Son of Jezebel 309 ing point Margaret returned, looking flushed and a little excited. " It has been a harassing business," she said rather solemnly, after she had greeted Ruth ; " but if there is a disagreeable duty to perform, it is better to do it at once." " Do you mean that the kittens are drownded dead ? " asked Maureen, in rather a horrified tone. " All but the little black one with the white patch under his chin. We got Jeb into the larder and feasted her royally, while old Giles did the melancholy work. I don't think Jeb is particularly unhappy, Maureen. She was washing her black infant with great care when I left. I think I shall call the newcomer Beelzebub, it seems a peculiarly appropriate name for the son of Jezebel." And Margaret sat down with a fatigued and virtuous air, as though she had earned her rest. Then Ruth, glancing at the tiny watch at her wrist, declared that it was late and that she must hurry home. XXXIV "MY LADY OF DREAMS" From this close inspection of pure hearts we have learned to think nobly of human nature and hopefully of the Providence of God. ROBERTSON. Your gentleness shall force more than your force move us to gentleness. SHAKESPEARE. MARGARET was too much absorbed with what she called the Cataline conspiracy to talk over Ruth's affairs ; but she had greeted her very kindly, and had invited her to spend a long day at the Garden House; so Ruth had gladly consented to fix Monday. As soon as luncheon was over Margaret and Maureen set off for the Work- house, attended by Master, who seemed decidedly unwilling to trust his mistress out of his sight. " Master is never quite sure of me for about a week after my return," observed Margaret. " He will be satisfied when he sees me with his own eyes go into the Workhouse, and will sit on the doorstep contentedly, wagging his tail affably when a pauper passes. Cheer up, sonny, we will have tea at the Rectory ! There, you see Maureen, he understands me," as Master gave a short bark of satisfaction. " He loves going to the Rectory, because Mrs. Whitworth always gives him sponge-cakes." They spent their afternoon very pleasantly, and only returned in time to dress for dinner. It was rather a chilly November evening, and Margaret's dark-red velveteen looked very appropriate. " What a wonderfully graceful woman Aunt Maggie is," thought Maureen more than once that evening. " There is something so harmonious about her." And strange to say the same thought occurred to Mr. Torrance. 310 "My Lady of Dreams" 311 " You are looking remarkably well to-night, Margaret ! " he said, when Maureen had gone out of the room to fetch something. " I do not think that I ever saw you look better." " I wish I could return the compliment," in rather a reproachful tone. " You have not kept your promise to me, Henry, to take care of yourself. Do you know, even Maureen thinks you look thin and overworked, and she is right." " Oh, I shall take it easily at Oxford," he replied lightly; for he was going to spend a week with an old friend, the Provost of Queen's. " You need not abuse me for sticking to my work. I can tell you I found it precious dull with the Rectory and the Garden House and Marsh Hall all empty ; but Tobias and I had to make the best of it. Well, you are back now ; and though my lady does not sit in her cane-bottomed chair, eh, Margaret, it is good to look at her in her old corner." And Henry Torrance's glance was so full of frank admiration and affection that Margaret's colour deepened a little, but she looked at him with her usual quiet friendliness. " You have missed your old friend, and I cannot say that I am altogether sorry to hear it, but you will see that I have not forgotten you," and Margaret pro- duced some fine handkerchiefs with his initials beautifully embroidered. Henry Torrance kept the kind hand in his as he thanked her. " You are too good to me, my dear. How can I help missing you when you make yourself so necessary to me ? I shall bring you something from Oxford. What shall it be ? a picture, books, some knicknacks, or ? " but Margaret shook her head. " Anything that you like to choose for me," she returned with a smile, and there was something almost childlike in its open-hearted simplicity. " But I love to be surprised, and not to know beforehand." Then Mr. Torrance laughed, and told Maureen who had just re- 312 The Sunny Side of the Hill entered that she was an older woman than her aunt. And Maureen quite agreed to this. "Aunt Margaret is still so very young that she often surprises me, but all the same it is very nice," patting Margaret's arm affectionately. Long afterwards Maureen recalled that evening and thought how pleasant it had been. She had never liked Mr. Torrance so much ; or been so sorry for him. When Margaret played to them he seemed to listen in a sort of melancholy dream, not wholly painful, from which he roused with difficulty. And by and by, as she played on, he rose from his chair and paced softly up and down the room. Presently he checked her. " That will do," he said, rather abruptly. " As usual you are tiring yourself in trying to give other people pleasure." " But I love to play; you know it, Henry," and there was a dream, too, in Margaret's hazel eyes. " So you say. But there are no evil spirits to exorcise to-night. They dare not cross your threshold, Margaret. Now, I must go; and as I leave for town rather early in the afternoon I shall not see you again. Good-bye, and thank you." Then Margaret accompanied him to the door, and there were a few more parting words. " Good- night, my Lady of Dreams," he said, taking her two hands. " Do you know Esther seemed very near me to-night. As you played I had a fancy that she glided between us, holding out her hand to each. Do you remember that pretty way she had ? Oh, it was a fancy, of course. I was not asleep, but it was your playing, my dear. There, God bless you ! " And as he walked down the road there was a strangely peaceful feeling in his heart, as though he saw vaguely the beginnings of a larger and better life. The following afternoon Margaret was busy in her district. She had a great deal to do, and strictly charged Maureen not to wait tea for her. " If I find myself near the Mill House about half-past " My Lady of Dreams " 313 four Mrs. Armytage will give me a cup of tea, and I want to get through all my work before I make tracks for home." " But it is such a horrid afternoon," objected Maureen. " The damp seems to creep into one's bones. There is quite a mist over the meadows. I think you ought to stay at home and keep me company, Aunt Peg." " What airs spoilt children give themselves ! " returned Margaret, in a laughing voice. " Did any one hear the like of that. No, my dear young friend, I prefer to do my ' dooty/ as old Giles says. Keep up a good fire, and toast yourself into a nice frame of mind." And Margaret tied a grey veil over her hat with a determined expression. " Ta-ta, little woman, until our next merry meeting " ; but as Margaret walked briskly past the window a swirl of dead leaves attended her, and the dank sea-fog followed in her wake. Maureen shivered as she went back to her cosy corner. It was almost too dark to read, and to sit alone in the firelight was rather a dreary thing to do, and any attempt at meditation would certainly result in drowsiness. If only Ruth could be with her, but she was probably keep- ing her brother company in the library. Here the tooting of a motor attracted her attention, but a hasty glance assured her that it was Mr. Chaytor, and that no one was with him. " He has come to see Aunt Margaret," she said to herself. " I wonder what I ought to do. Rhoda will tell him she is out, and then he will not like to come in. Ought I go to out and speak to him ? " Maureen was in a fever of suppressed anxiety and shyness. She could not endure the thought of his leaving the house, and yet the idea of entertaining him all by herself seemed extremely formidable. " Oh, I wish I knew what Aunt Margaret would have me do," she thought, helplessly. But the next moment the matter was settled for her. Rhoda opened the door, and Mr. Chaytor limped in, and Maureen hurried across the room to meet him. 314 The Sunny Side of the Hill " Aunt Margaret is out. She has gone to her district. Did Rhoda tell you that? But I am very glad to see you." This was an afterthought, added in gratitude foe the very pleasant look that Mr. Chaytor gave her. Perhaps Maureen's hot cheeks and evident nervousness were not lost on him. " Yes, the maid told me. But I hoped you would allow me to wait for your aunt's return that is, if you are not busy, and will not find me in the way." " Oh dear, no," returned Maureen, frankly. " I was just longing for a visitor to come; somehow I was not in the mood for my own society. I was thinking of Ruth, and then I heard the motor." " Shall I go back and fetch her ? Oh, I forgot, she has a little cold, and it would not be prudent for her to come out in this fog. I am afraid you must put up with my company." " Oh, what nonsense ! Of course I am very pleased." But Maureen had no idea that the pleasure was sufficiently evident to the Viking's keen blue eyes. " I shall ring for tea. Aunt Margaret told me not to wait; she likes to be quite free on her district afternoons." " But it is too early for tea, my dear Miss Brydon. Do you know it is not half-past three yet ? Why should we not sit down by this delightful fire and have a little talk? I have not known you seven years barely seven months but if you will allow me to adjust that log " taking up the poker, while Maureen, struggling to appear dignified and at her ease, seated herself in Margaret's favourite chair opposite him. Of course it was absurd to be so shy and flurried indeed it was hardly ladylike. Maureen was taking herself severely in hand now. This was not the first time she had found herself alone with the Viking, and really he was not so formidable after all when one knew him. How often Aunt Margaret had said to her that she got on better with Mr. Chaytor than with most people. At this moment, Mr. Chaytor flashed a sudden look at her. " My Lady of Dreams " 315 " Well," he said, quietly, " have you got over your disappointment about Ruth ? " But his manner was a little teasing. " I was not in the last disappointed," she returned, quickly. " Besides, I saw her yesterday." " Young ladies are not always reasonable in their friendships. To judge by appearances, Ruth seems to find an absence of twenty-four hours from the Garden House quite long enough. We were boring each other dreadfully before I made up my mind to go out. Now you look disapproving, Miss Brydon. I suppose you will tell me next that Ruth never bores you." " I should think not," in an indignant tone. " Ruth is the dearest little companion possible." He looked at her thoughtfully, as though something puzzled him. " I knew you would say that, and yet you are not in the least alike." " And you think that matters ? " " Not in your case apparently ; but in ours there are temperamental difficulties. Our natures, our tastes are utterly dissimilar. Very likely I am older than my age; but Ruth always seems so young to me almost a child, as though she were hardly grown up." " You are quite wrong," returned Maureen. She had forgotten her nervousness, and was speaking with her usual animation. " Ruth is no child. She thinks far more deeply than you suppose; she has such a beautiful nature ; she is so good and gentle and self-sacrificing, and she is so devoted to you." He seemed a little touched by this, though he remained silent. Probably he wanted her to say more. " Ruth's great trouble is that you do not need her, that she feels herself in your way. She does so long to be your companion and to brighten your home. I think if you could only realise this " ; but he shook his head. " I quite understand what you mean, but somehow 316 The Sunny Side of the Hill the thing does not work. I am very fond of Ruth she is a dear child, and I would do all in my power to make her happy but I shall never think Marsh Hall is the right home for her. If I keep her with me I shall have to change my manner of life, and I confess " and here he frowned slightly " that the prospect does not please me." " I do not think Ruth would like that," she began, " or that it would be necessary." But he checked her with a gesture. " Pardon me if I say that it will be absolutely neces- sary. If I am to enjoy any sort of freedom, I shall have to engage some nice motherly woman to chaperon Ruth. I mean to consult Miss Brydon on the subject. I am quite sure that she will agree with me that it is the only thing to do." Maureen looked at him dubiously. He was evidently in earnest. She wondered if he were right. " I suppose it would be easier for you to get away," she observed. " Oh, I was not thinking of myself " rather im- patiently. " You must not credit me with such selfish- ness. I want to do the best I can for Ruth. Westcombe Lodge is closed to her, and for the present she must remain with me. If I can find some lady of mature age who would act as her chaperon, Ruth would be able to see her friends and entertain them properly, and I should not find my responsibility so heavy." And Maureen, much as she disliked the idea for Ruth's sake, was obliged to admit to herself that it was not a bad plan. " I think Aunt Margaret will be able to help you," she returned. " She always sees things so clearly. I expect it will not be easy to find the sort of person you want." " No, I daresay not," he returned, with a sigh. And then Rhoda brought in the tea-tray and a plate of freshly- baked scones, and Maureen made the tea. "My Lady of Dreams" 317 Mr. Chaytor sat in his warm corner and watched the active girlish figure moving so busily about the room. Maureen was so engrossed with hospitable cares that she forgot her previous shyness. When she placed the little table beside him, and handed him his tea, he red- dened a little at the thought that his infirmity made it necessary for her to wait on him. " Do let me do it," she half-whispered ; " it is such a pleasure." Maureen's good heart prompted her to say this, but the words were absolutely true. Perhaps Mr. Chaytor knew it, for his " thank you " was said very quietly. The next moment he asked after Harold. " I hope he is coming down for a week-end soon," he observed. " I think not ; no, I am sure he will not come just yet." Maureen spoke rather decidedly. " Oh, that's nonsense," he returned. " Brydon told me that his aunt had given him a general invitation to run down for the week-end whenever he felt inclined." " I don't think Harold can get away just now, Mr. Chaytor." Maureen's manner was so grave and embar- rassed that he looked at her rather suspiciously. " Why not ? I don't believe they are so very busy ; at least your brother's last letter did not say so. Do you know, I have a famous idea. I am going to motor up to town on Friday, and I shall probably stay the night. I will drop a line to Brydon and ask him to come back with me on Saturday, and if your aunt's spare room is engaged I can put him up, and he can go back by the early train on Monday." " It sounds very tempting," returned Maureen, trying to smile, " but I don't believe Harold will come " ; and Maureen, who never could conceal her feelings, seemed so constrained and uneasy that Mr. Chaytor felt con- vinced in his own mind that there was more than met the eye, but he was not to be so easily baffled. " You are in a pessimistic mood this afternoon, Miss Brydon. I mean to write to him all the same." But 318 The Sunny Side of the Hill Maureen had no answer ready. She felt convinced that Harold would refuse to be tempted, but she thought it best to say no more; and Mr. Chaytor, who was a little puzzled by her unusual reserve, changed the subject by asking her if her aunt was not unusually late. " It is nearly half-past five," he observed. " Is it ? " returned Maureen, innocently. " The time must have passed rather quickly, for I had no idea it was five. I expect Aunt Margaret is having tea at the Mill House, and as they are seldom punctual, she will not be back just yet." " Then in that case I had better not wait," he re- turned. " Tell Miss Brydon that I will come and talk to her another afternoon." Maureen nodded with one of her bright smiles, but the next moment there was a slight contretemps. Mr. Chaytor had risen with some difficulty, and his sudden lurch forward made Maureen think Aunt Margaret's favourite Worcester china was in jeopardy. " Oh, do let me help you ! " she said, involuntarily, and her hand gripped his arm. For an instant there was a flash of blue fire from the Viking's eyes, and he drew himself up a little haughtily. But Maureen's perfect uncon- sciousness disarmed him. He glanced at her anxious face and at the little brown ringless hand on his wrist; then with unusual docility he suffered her to lead him to the door. If he thanked her it was silently, for he merely said good-night. But as Maureen went back to the pleasant firelight she had no idea that she had done anything unusual by that kind, womanly action. XXXV "A LAME DOG AND A STILE" But as we meet and touch each day The many travellers on our way, Let every such brief contact be A glorious, helpful ministry! The contact of the soil and seed Each giving to the other's need, Each helping on the other's best, And blessing each as well as blest. S. COOLIDGE. MR. CHAYTOR did not pay his proposed visit to Mar- garet for some days. Maureen, who had promised to go to the Rectory one afternoon to help Mrs. Whitworth with some work she was finishing for a bazaar, did not return until he had left the house. She had walked part of the way back with Ruth, who had also been invited. " How late you are, Maureen ! " exclaimed Margaret, as the girl entered the room. The lamps were unlighted, and only the red glow of the firelight shone on Margaret's face as she lay back in her easy-chair, meditating in the twilight. " I have had a visitor all the afternoon, so I have not been dull ; he only left a quarter of an hour ago." " I suppose you mean Mr. Chaytor," returned Mau- reen quietly, as she drew off her gloves and seated herself on the fender-stool. " It is horribly cold and damp out- side, and so dark that Ruth was afraid to go back alone, so I walked nearly all the way with her." Maureen spoke in her usual cheerful manner, but inwardly she was saying to herself, but for Ruth's timidity she would not have missed him. " What a pity you did not bring Ruth back with you, and she could have gone home in the motor ; but it cannot be helped now. 319 320 The Sunny Side of the Hill " Well, Maureen, we had a nice talk. Mr. Chaytor was very agreeable and sensible, and I found him quite reasonable. I think all this worry and responsibility about Ruth has been rather good for him that otherwise. Who was the old divine who said that difficulties properly met were crutches or chariots, or some sort of locomotive, to help us on the upward way? Dear me, I am afraid I am a little mixed, Anno Domin-e, my dear," and Margaret tapped her forehead. " I don't think you have got it quite right, Aunt Maggie. I only remember Faber said, ' Difficulties are the stones out of which all God's houses are built.' " " Well, that is beautiful, and there is plenty of com- fort to be found in that. No one can deny that the poor man is in rather an awkward position. He wants to be free to lead the life which he thinks suits him best, and now Ruth is on his hands, and he feels his first duty is to her. I think his idea of finding some nice, ladylike woman who will chaperon the girl, and be pleasant and companionable, will solve the problem effectually. Why are you shaking your head, Maureen ? " " Because I know how Ruth will hate it, and how it will spoil her home life. Just think, Aunt Maggie, always to have a third person between her and her brother no privacy, no confidential intercourse and she does so long to be his companion and do things for him." " I see what you mean," returned Margaret, thought- fully. " Indeed I said much the same to Mr. Chaytor, but I am afraid it is the only possible solution to the difficulty. One of them will have to make a sacrifice. If Mr. Chaytor is to have any freedom or peace of mind he must leave Ruth in safe hands." " I was afraid you would take his part," sighed Maureen. " My dear child, when Mr. Chaytor is so obviously in the right, I ought surely to side with him. Ruth is a charming little person, but her ideas are extremely limited, and she is also impracticable. She does not in " A Lame Dog and a Stile " 321 the least understand the Viking nature, and I doubt if she ever will." " I am afraid you are right, Aunt Maggie, but it does seem such a grievous pity." " Ah, there I agree with you. I wish with all my heart that there were not all these temperamental diffi- culties ; but we must take things as we find them. Now, as Mr. Chaytor explained to me, if he consents to let Ruth stay at Marsh Hall, and to make it her home, she must submit to this condition, and I intend to -tell her so very plainly ; in fact, I have promised him that I would do so. The advantage of having a chaperon will be this Ruth will be able to see her friends as often as she likes, and to entertain them without reference to him. He can go away for weeks at a time without any anxiety on her behalf. His only trouble is that the morning-room is so small, and that there is no drawing-room. I think he has an idea of building some new rooms. I believe it will be possible to do that, but I advised him to decide nothing in a hurry. I reminded him that it was very unlikely that Ruth would be long on his hands a winsome little creature like that." " Oh, I don't know, Aunt Maggie. I am sure Ruth will not marry any one with whom she is not deeply in love." " I hope not, indeed. Well, we settled all that, and Mrs. Whitworth, Mrs. George Chaytor, and I are all to do our best to find this miracle of chaperons. Let me <;ee " here Margaret ticked off particulars on her ringers " she must be forty at least, a widow without encumbrance; pleasing manners, agreeable society, good- tempered, and, if possible, accomplished; motherly dis- position, fond of young people, and able to adapt herself to them ; good principles strictly necessary ; poverty no obstacle. There, I think I have got it all right." " I wish you and Mrs. Whitworth joy of your search for ' the perfect woman, nobly planned,' " observed Maureen, rather ironically. 322 The Sunny Side of the Hill " I am afraid we have not an easy task before us," replied Margaret with a rueful smile. " But we must do our best for the poor Viking. By the bye, he sent you a message, Maureen. He wrote to Harold, offering to motor him down here on Saturday, but it seems he cannot get away just now." " So I told Mr. Chaytor." " Well, it seems rather odd, for your father told me in his last letter that business was slack just now ; so Harold could easily have come for the week-end." As Maureen did not know what to say in reply to this, she remained silent; but she looked rather em- barrassed. Margaret gave her a quick glance, but she did not pursue the subject. " Young men know their own business," she said, cheerfully. " By the bye, Maureen, Mr. Chaytor tells me that Mr. Torrance is having such a good time at Oxford that he does not mean to leave until Monday; and as he has some business in town for Tuesday, he will probably not return until Wednesday evening. I am so glad he is going to take a few more days." " So am I ; he did look so fagged and tired." " Mr. Chaytor is going to wire to him that he will take him back in the motor, as Harold has not accepted his invitation. He is going up on Saturday, and will put up at the Great Western ; and Mr. Torrance will join him there on Monday. I think that will be rather a nice arrangement for both of them. I told him that Ruth could come to us, if he liked. He seemed quite sorry to refuse this; but he said Mrs. Whitworth had invited her for the four days." " Oh dear, how tiresome ! " in a vexed voice. " Ruth would so much rather have come to us, and it would have been so delightful to have her." " Never mind ; we shall have plenty of opportunities of asking her later on; so don't grumble. Mrs. Whit- worth is sure to ask you one evening, and very likely Ruth will come to us on Sunday afternoon. Now, I " A Lame Dog and a Stile " 323 really must rouse myself and go upstairs; but this firelit twilight is so beguiling." Margaret had given Maureen the substance of her long conversation with Mr. Chaytor; but there was one portion which she kept to herself. Romney Chaytor had never been so friendly and con- fidential as he had been that afternoon, and she had been much struck with his good sense, kind heart, and his strong self-repression. " I am afraid I have been a coward," he said to her. " I have made too much of my limitations, and have allowed my lameness and infirmities to take too strong a hold of me. There is no absolute need for me to lead the life of a hermit. It is sheer selfishness on my part." " I think you are beginning to come out of your shell a little," returned Margaret, smiling at him. " Henry Torrance said so the other day. I suppose," thought- fully, " we ought not to shut ourselves up from our fellow-creatures, however heavily we may be burdened. We have so many opportunities of doing good." " That is true," he returned, briefly. Then Margaret, emboldened by his confidence, determined to strike while the iron was hot. But she wondered afterwards at her own audacity. " I think if you knew how welcome you are to your friends, you would not deprive them of the pleasure of your company. Now, I wonder if you will forgive me for making an odd suggestion. But I am an extremely unconventional woman. This chaperon business is likely to be a grave affair; the right person will not easily be found. Has it never struck you, Mr. Chaytor, how much happier Ruth would be with a real sister ? I mean oh ! you know what I mean." And Margaret had the grace to blush for her impertinence. She did not easily forget his start. " You cannot surely mean that I should marry ; that any one would be likely to care for such an awkward hulk, my dear Miss Brydon ? " But Margaret had gone 324 The Sunny Side of the Hill too far, and she could not take her words back; his pained, wistful expression touched her heart. " I don't believe any woman has ever said a kind word to him since his mother died," she said to Anna after- wards. " Oh, I am not thinking of Ruth ; she is only a child to him. I mean he has never had a woman's sympathy. I felt so sorry for him at that moment that the tears came into my eyes ; and he saw them. ' It is your goodness of heart,' he said, in an odd, choked voice. ' But I do not think you really meant that/ " ' But I do ; I do mean it,' I returned, quite vehe- mently. ' Do you think any woman worth the name would let that be an obstacle? Mr. Chaytor, you are simply morbid ; the difficulty is in your imagination. Ask Henry Torrance if I am not speaking the truth ; ask Mr. Whitworth any one you like, and they will tell you as I do, that it is your own fault if you are lonely.' ' : " It was true, no doubt," replied Anna ; " but, old married woman as I am, I could not have spoken to him in that way." " Perhaps not, with all your daughters. But you see I had forgotten Maureen's existence, and I was only thinking of the poor fellow himself. When I see any one unhappy, or in the Slough of Despond, I must try and give him or her a helping hand; and when I saw that hurt look in his eyes, and knew how proud and sore he felt, I could not have kept silence, if it cost me ever so much to speak." " No ; you are a noble woman, Margaret, and a brave one, too." But Margaret gently waived this aside. But she had no idea of the gratitude that filled Romney Chaytor's heart as he took leave of her that evening. "You have been very good to me, and I thank you with all my heart," he said, as he took her hand. And one of Margaret's beautiful smiles answered him. " Will you be good to yourself? " she said, very softly. But to this there was no reply. " A Lame Dog and a Stile " 325 Margaret was full of plans that evening. She was not one to let the grass grow under her feet. She would walk over to Marsh Hall the next morning and have a long talk with Ruth, and in the afternoon she would consult Mrs. Whitworth as to the best way of obtaining the required chaperon. " Perhaps I shall have to go up to town, and in that case your mother would help me, Maureen," she went on. " A personal interview and references would be absolutely necessary, and Mr. Chaytor could see any one we considered eligible for the post." " Should you call on Mrs. George Chaytor, Aunt Maggie ? " " Well, I hardly know. I fancy from Mr. Chay tor's manner that he relies more on my opinion. He thinks his aunt a very kind, warm-hearted woman, but he owned that she and the girls were rather worldly-minded, and he evidently distrusts their choice. But my first task will be to bring Ruth to reason." Margaret carried out her programme, and returned to luncheon the next day tired but jubilant. " I have talked myself hoarse," she said, as she flung off her wraps. " I had no idea that I could be so elo- quent. I put it all so forcibly and clearly before Ruth dear me, what has become of that trumpeter! that she had not an inch of ground to stand on. She cried about it, poor little thing, and was very sweet and pathetic; but she gave in." " Really and truly, Aunt Maggie ? " " Yes dear. ' One of you must make a sacrifice/ I said to her, ' and I do not think it should fall on your brother.' And that did the business. I went into the library and told Mr. Chaytor that Ruth had consented, ard he was very much pleased. He went to her at once and thanked her, and I must own that Ruth behaved very well. She just put her arms round his neck in such a loving way, and said that if he would only keep her 326 The Sunny Side of the Hill with him, she would do all he wished, and try not to be a trouble to him. I could see he was quite touched. " He is bent on building those new rooms, Maureen. When I left he and Ruth were discussing it quite eagerly ; and it really would be a great improvement. Mr. Chaytor would have his library entirely to himself, and there would be a small inner room opening into the new draw- ing-room for Ruth's use; the morning-room would do for the chaperon. I believe Mr. Chaytor will have plans of the rooms made at once, and though it will be a great expense, he is determined to carry it out. There are to be four new rooms altogether two of them bedrooms. The servants' quarters are spacious enough." Maureen listened to this in silence. She was not quite sure that she approved of the innovations; but Margaret was too full of her subject to heed her. She had kept to herself a remark Ruth had made. " Oh dear, how I hate the idea of a chaperon ! " she had said petulantly before Margaret's eloquence had taken effect. " If only Romney could fall in love with someone and marry her, there would be no more trouble." And Margaret had smiled acquiescence to this. " Shall you go to the Rectory this afternoon ? " " Oh yes ; it all comes in the day's work. But you need not wait tea for me time flies when one is talking." Then Maureen made up her mind to beguile her solitude by writing a long letter to Harold. When Margaret returned her plans were quite settled. " I am going to write to your mother to-night," she observed. " Mrs. Whitworth agrees with me that I had better be on the spot to answer advertisements, and to have personal interviews with the ladies. I shall prob- ably go up to town towards the end of next week, and the Tweenies had better keep you company in my absence, for I shall very likely be away for a week or ten days. Shall you like that, Maureen ? " " Oh, Aunt Maggie, what a delightful plan, and you are a dear to think of it ! " Then Margaret beamed. " A Lame Dog and a Stile " 327 " I feel my wings growing " flapping her arms with an absurd gesture. " It was rather clever of me, but I thought you and the Tweenies would be very happy keeping house together, and Ruth can come to you every day if you like." But owing to unforeseen circumstances this delightful plan was postponed a little, though Margaret faithfully carried it out later. XXXVI THE GOLD CROSS I shall know by the gleam and glitter Of the golden chain you wear, By your heart's calm strength in loving, Of the fire they have had to bear. Beat on, true heart, for ever; Shine bright, strong golden chain; And bless the cleansing fire, And the furnace of living pain ! A. A. PROCTER. THE following Tuesday afternoon Maureen was sit- ting alone trying to finish a little frock she was making for one of Margaret's numerous protegees before the day- light faded. It was a bleak sunless day, with a nipping east wind, but Margaret had been obliged to forego the comfort of her warm ingle nook. A message had reached her during luncheon from the Matron of the Workhouse, that an old man in whom she was much interested had suddenly become worse, and they feared he was dying. And Margaret with an inward shiver or two wrapped herself up warmly and started out. " You will not be long, Aunt Maggie ? " Maureen had pleaded. " Please do not stay longer than you can help." " There will be probably nothing that I can do," re- turned Margaret, rather sadly ; " but of course one can never tell in such cases. Poor old Cheadle, how I shall miss his dear rugged face ! " And then she hurried off. Maureen was afraid that it was almost unfeeling of her to be in such a cheerful mood while poor old Cheadle, the patriarch of the Workhouse, lay dying. But youthful nature is averse to gloom, so she dismissed the painful subject from her mind, and read over again the home letter which had reached her at midday, in which Lois 328 The Gold Cross 329 and Sybil had expressed their rapture at receiving Aunt Margaret's invitation. '' Dear little souls, they are pleased ! " she said to herself as she took up her work again ; and time passed quickly as she made pleasant plans for their entertain- ment. " Ruth would be sure to come to them frequently, and very likely she would invite them to have tea with her at Marsh Hall. Then there was the Rectory and the Mill House, and probably the Brants would ask them one evening, and as there were always people staying at Gayton Lodge, there was sure to be plenty of amuse- ment. The Brant girls loved to get up impromptu charades or tableaux vivants they \tere great on games. Oh, there was no fear of the Tweenies being dull ; and how cosy, how deliciously cosy, they would be together ! " The light was certainly failing now, so Maureen laid by her unfinished work and stirred the fire into a blaze. As she threw on another log she started at the sound of a motor. " It cannot possibly be Mr. Chaytor," she thought ; " for he told Aunt Margaret that he and Mr. Torrance would certainly not be back until Wed- nesday evening." But Maureen was wrong, for Rhoda announced him the next moment. " The maid tells me that Miss Brydon is out," he said, rather abruptly, as he shook hands with Maureen. Something in his manner vaguely troubled her; he seemed nervous and ill at ease. " Did you want Aunt Margaret? Oh, I am so sorry, but I do not think she will be long now. She had a message from Miss Milne to say that Thomas Cheadle, the oldest pauper in the Workhouse, is very ill, and they sent for Aunt Margaret because the poor old man was so attached to her." But Mr. Chaytor seemed too pre- occupied to listen to this. He looked pale and fagged. " And you think she wrll not be long ? " " No ; at least I cannot tell ; something may have detained her. Will you not sit down, Mr. Chaytor ? " But he did not seem to hear her. 330 The Sunny Side of the Hill " I suppose I had better wait ? " dubiously. " In fact, there is nothing else to do, as Gale will not be back for the next half-hour. I wanted to speak to Miss Brydon particularly. Mr. Whitworth was out by the bye, they said he was at the Workhouse, too so I just spoke to Mrs. Whitworth and came on here. I thought Miss Brydon would wish to know at once that poor Torrance has had an accident." As Mr. Chaytor said this, they both heard Margaret's latchkey in the door. " I will tell her you are here " Maureen spoke rather breathlessly. " I hope I hope it was not a bad accident." But his look told her that it was. Margaret was freeing herself from her fur-lined cloak. " I was in time," she said hurriedly, when she saw Maureen ; " the dear old man knew me though he could not speak, and there was quite a smile on his face. Mr. Whitworth was there, and we had some beautiful prayers, and I think he liked them, until he became un- conscious. I waited to the end, and Mr. Whitworth and I walked back together. Don't you think dear old Cheadle will find Paradise a nicer place than the Work- house ? " Margaret was warming her hands at the hall fire as she spoke. " Aunt Maggie," interrupted Maureen, " Mr. Chaytor is in the dining-room. I think he wants to speak to you rather particularly." Then Margaret looked extremely surprised. " Why, he was not to return until to-morrow," she observed ; and then she took off her hat and went quickly into the room. " What does this change of plan mean ? " she asked, briskly. " Has Mr. Torrance come back with you, or have you left him behind ? " Then Mr. Chaytor looked at her rather strangely. " No," he replied, after a moment's hesitation ; " I have brought him home. Miss Brydon, I regret to say poor Torrance has had an accident a bad accident The Gold Cross 331 and we greatly fear " Then a curious grey tinge came to Margaret's face. " He is dead ! " she said, and her voice sounded dull and toneless. " You are trying to break it to me because we were such friends ; but you cannot deceive me. Henry Torrance is dead ? " Romney Chaytor bowed his head. Much as he mar- velled at her quickness of perception, he was very grate- ful to her for making his painful task comparatively easy. But neither of them seemed to notice Maureen's shocked exclamation. For one moment Margaret's hands were locked tightly together, but she spoke calmly. " When did it happen ? how ? and where ? " " If you will sit down," returned Romney, very gently, " I will tell you all I know myself." But Margaret remained standing. " You will promise not to keep anything back ? I have a right to know as much as though I were his sister." Her lips trembled slightly. " He has said more than once that I was like a sister to him and Esther." " I will promise that you shall know all that is to tell," returned Mr. Chaytor. Then she sat down a little stiffly, and he took a chair beside her. Maureen crept to the fender-stool. It was evident to her that they were hardly conscious of her presence ; but she felt she must be near at hand if either of them needed her. " It was yesterday evening," he began in a low voice. " I was at the Great Western Hotel, and was expecting him to join me about eight, but he did not come. I thought he had missed his train and would take the next one ; but about half-past nine I had a message from the station-master he wanted to see me. A letter ad- dressed to me at the hotel had been found a mere note which the poor fellow had forgotten to post; but they thought I might be a relative, and they wished me to see him. He had been dead some hours. But my dear 332 The Sunny Side of the Hill Miss Brydon," as a look of horror came into Margaret's eyes, " do not distress yourself ; he did not suffer. Thank God ! from all accounts death must have been instantaneous." " But how ? " Margaret's rigid lips could hardly form the words. " I will tell you as well as I can, but the account is rather vague. There were only two ladies and a little boy with poor Torrance in the compartment ; one was the mother of the child. He was a restless little fellow and would not keep quiet. They think that the door had not been securely fastened at the previous station. It was dark, and they were drawing near their journey's end when the accident happened. The child had sud- denly run to that end of the compartment. Torrance must have seen the door fly open, for one of the ladies saw him spring up and try to catch the boy. Either his foot slipped, or he overbalanced himself in his efforts to save the child, but they were both flung out on the line. The mother's screams were heard, and the alarm was given, and it was not long before they were found. Strange to say, the boy was almost uninjured, for he had fallen on a little heap of gravel. Poor Torrance's head had come in contact with some iron; but they say and I think there can be no doubt of the fact that he must have been killed at once." " Oh, thank God for that ! " and Margaret's strange rigidity relaxed; she even looked at Maureen, who had covered her face with her hands, with something like pity. " Poor child ! " Romney heard her say under her breath, " we ought to have spared her this." For even in this crucial moment Margaret could think of others. " There was a workman's shelter close by, and they took them there until they could be sent on to Padding- ton ; but there was nothing to be done for the poor dear fellow. " There is no need to go into particulars," he went on hurriedly. " A friend of mine, Dr. Davie, who lived just The Gold Cross 333 by, helped me to make all necessary arrangements. I had my motor, and it was he who suggested a motor ambulance. We have just brought him home. I had wired twice to his housekeeper poor soul, she is sadly upset ! " Then Margaret shivered as though she were suddenly cold. " Shall I be able to see him? " she almost whispered. But he shook his head. " It will not be possible now. I saw him early this morning he looked as though he were sleeping, and there was quite a smile on his lips. I said to Gale, he seemed to me like a wounded soldier who had fallen in the battle." And as he said this a little colour came back into Margaret's lips. He had touched the right chord. " It is the truth ! " and her voice was more natural. " His life was not a happy one, but he died nobly in trying to save a child. Mr. Chaytor, he was your friend as well as mine, and both our lives will be poorer without him; but for him I believe all is well." " My dear lady, I believe it too ! " And then there was silence for a few minutes. Maureen, who was crying quietly, had an opportunity to notice how worn and weary Mr. Chaytor looked. He had evidently been up all night and he was jaded and dishevelled from his journey. " I am afraid I must go now," he said, presently. " I have to see Whitworth. But there is something I must give you first, Miss Brydon. We found this little parcel in poor Torrance's pocket; you will see it is addressed to you." " Thank you " ; and Margaret's hand closed over the packet. " By and by I will go round to Joanna perhaps I may be able to help her " ; and Romney Chaytor under- stood, for he said nothing to dissuade her. But as Maureen followed him into the hall, she asked him a little piteously if it would not be possible to prevent her Aunt Margaret from going out again that evening. 334 The Sunny Side of the Hill " It has been such a shock," she said, sensibly. " And she has been by a death-bed all the afternoon, and I am so afraid for her." " You need not be," he said, kindly. " You have no idea how strong Miss Brydon is physically and mentally. It is not far to the Old Grey House; and she will be a great comfort to poor Joanna, and possibly it will be a sort of relief to realise things for herself. Leave her to be quiet and to do as she thinks best. Believe me, it will be the kindest thing under the circumstances." And Maureen wisely followed this advice. Rhoda, who had an inkling that her mistress was not to be disturbed for a report of the accident had already reached the servants' ears had placed the tea-tray on a little table by the hall fire. Maureen pointed to it mutely, but Mr. Chaytor shook his head. " Not now ; I cannot wait. Whitworth will be ex- pecting me. Take Miss Brydon a cup of tea, and make her drink it, but don't force her to talk." And then he bade her good-night. When Maureen went back to the room she found that Margaret had changed her attitude. She was kneel- ing on the fender-stool, and perhaps it was the fire that had brought that strange flush to her face. " Mr. Chaytor says you are to drink this, Aunt Margaret, before you go out in the cold." "Did he? But I am not going just yet." Then she took the cup, leaving the saucer to Maureen, and drank it a little feverishly, and all the time her left hand was grasping the sealed packet. It was not here, or in any one's presence, that the precious last gift should be opened. " Thank you, dear, that was very nice. Now I can- not talk, and I am going to my own room for a little. Rhoda has lighted a fire there, so I shall not be cold. Do not wait for me. Let everything go on as usual." And then with a slow, languid step she left the room. An hour later she re-entered it in her walking-dress, The Gold Cross 335 and without taking any notice of Maureen, who was sit- ting rather dejectedly by the fire, she went up to a beau- tiful plant of white chrysanthemums which Ruth had brought her the previous day, and quietly stript it of its choicest blossoms, until it was almost bare. " I am going now," she said, hurriedly, when she had loosely tied the flowers together. " Don't worry about me, dear child, I shall be all right." And then the door closed, and Maureen was left to her weary thoughts. " I never knew any one like her," thought the girl. " She feels it terribly, I can see that ; but she has not shed a tear, and she speaks almost in her usual manner." But if she could have read Margaret's thoughts as she hurried through the wintry darkness she might have marvelled more. Joanna received her with sobs and tears. " I knew you would come, Miss Brydon ! " cried the poor woman, hysterically, as Margaret kissed her. '' To think I have lived -to see this day, and he the best of masters, bless him! I'd have sent Lizzie to the Garden House, but the girl was so scared and helpless-like, that I was forced to leave her by the kitchen fire." " Never mind," returned Margaret, gently. " Perhaps it was better for Mr. Chaytor to tell me." " I was fearing you might blame me ; for the master he thought such a deal of you, and I would not have been wanting in respect for worlds." " Where have they put him, Joanna ? You see I have brought these flowers." Then the poor woman sobbed afresh. " Mr. Chaytor wired that the dining-room was to be got ready and I was bound to do what he said. There was that Tobias we could do nothing for him. He just followed the coffin, as though he knew all about it, and it was terrible how he cried. We were forced to drive him away at last. We have shut him up in the master's room, and he is a bit quieter. But, oh dear! oh dear ; " and Joanna's apron went to her eyes again. 336 The Sunny Side of the Hill Margaret was very patient with her, and when she was quieter they went into the room where the dead man lay. " I will just light the candles and leave you for a bit, Miss Brydon, for Lizzie needs me, I know. But do not stay over long, for the room is chill." " I shall not be long," returned Margaret, quietly ; but as the door closed on Joanna she laid down her flowers and kissed the coffin-lid very gently. " Henry," she said, " you were very good to think of me, and I am going to open the packet now." Then as she broke the seal she saw there was a little inscription written : " For Margaret, my most faithful friend and good comrade, in remembrance of our long friendship. "HENRY TORRANCE." It was a gold cross with a small diamond in the centre, and the workmanship was very fine and delicate; in the dim light the sunken diamond glistened like a tear-drop. Then as she gazed at it a sudden sob came to Margaret's lips, and for a few minutes she could only weep silently. XXXVII TOBIAS SEEKS FOR HIS MASTER When the song's gone out of your life, you can't start another while it is ringing in your ears ; it's best to have a bit o' silence, and out o' that maybe a psalm will come later. EDWARD GARRETT. The heart has reasons that reason does not understand. BOSSUET. IT was evident to Maureen the next morning that Margaret had had an unrestful night. The sallowness of her skin was accentuated, and her eyes were heavy; but when Maureen questioned her rather anxiously she did not deny the fact. " No, I have not slept well," she said, simply. " One can hardly be surprised at that, and my head certainly aches a little." " And yet you are going out ! " For Margaret had just announced her intention of going round to the Old Grey House. " Yes, I promised Joanna that I would go round as early as I could ; but I have one or two business notes to write first. Poor Joanna! she is a dear, faithful creature, but extremely limited in her ideas. Things are not as I like to see them, and we could do nothing last night." " I wish you would let me help you, Aunt Maggie." But Margaret shook her head with a faint smile. " Could I not write those notes for you ? " " I think not, my dear. I want to give Harrison instructions about the cross myself. But there is one thing you can do. Will you write to your mother and let her know what has happened? Tell her that I cannot leave home just now, but that I will come a little later on." 8* 337 338 The Sunny Side of the Hill " I thought you would put it off until after Christ- mas," returned Maureen, rather surprised at this. Mar- garet, who was feeling ill and overstrained from her sleepless night, had to keep herself well in hand before she could answer quietly : "Why should I put it off? It is no question of .enjoyment. I am only going on Mr. Chaytor's business. In a week or ten days I shall probably be ready. Why do you look at me in that way, Maureen? If I am un- happy, that is surely no reason why other people should suffer. Why should those poor children be disappointed of their visit? But we will settle all that later on." Then .as Maureen had finished her breakfast, Margaret went quickly out of the room to prevent any further discussion. It was only natural that Margaret's nerves should have suffered from the sudden shock. During the long dark hours of her wakeful night her imagination had conjured up all manner of ghastly images. In vain she had tried to compose herself by quoting comforting texts and favourite verses of hymns ; again and again the swinging door, the fatal fall in the darkness, the agonised screams of the mother, passed through her brain and before her eyes with feverish rapidity. " Human nature is weak," she said not long after- wards to Anna, " and that night my faith failed a little." " Not your faith ; but your nerves played you false, Margaret," returned her sister-in-law, tenderly, for on this occasion they had spoken quite openly about Mar- garet's trouble. " I know you so well, dear. It was only that you had not recovered from the shock." " You are very comforting, Anna," returned Mar- garet, gently; " but I am afraid I thought more of myself than of him. I ought to have remembered that a sudden death would have been his choice, and, terrible as it seems to us, they all tell me he could not have suffered. It was a leap through the darkness, a crash, and then eternal life." " Yes, yes." Tobias Seeks for His Master 339 " I think," continued Margaret, solemnly, " that he had some sort of presentiment that he would not live long. You know that new will was only made about six weeks before his death. He had such a horror of illness. I know he told me once, a year or two after Esther's death, that the idea of lying in bed and waiting for the end to draw nearer each clay was a perfect night- mare to him. ' If one could only be shot down in battle ' those were his words. And he often told me that he thought a soldier's death enviable." Margaret never dared to recall that night, but with the grey wintry dawn calmer thoughts had come to her. She no longer craved so intensely to look at his dead face. After all, it was better to remember him as he was that last night. He had never been more gentle and affectionate. She remembered his expression when he called her his Lady of Dreams. And then that strange half-waking vision of his his idea that Esther was gliding through the room holding out her hands to each of them. " I was not asleep, but it was your playing, my dear," he had said to her. And then he had bade God bless her. Never before had he parted from her so solemnly. Well, he was with his Esther now. And then Margaret had turned on her pillow and had shed a few more tears at the thought of her own loneliness. " Not that I would have you back, Henry," she whis- pered ; " only life is sometimes a little hard." And then she breathed a prayer that she might have courage to bear her cross well and patiently; and as it is not often that such prayers are left long unanswered, Margaret found that daily strength was given to bear the day's burden. Margaret went every day to the Old Grey House. She could not have kept from it as long as her dear friend lay there. Once she took Maureen with her. It was the day before the funeral, and she wished her to see 340 The Sunny Side of the Hill the beautiful flowers that had been sent. Margaret's cross and Mr. Chaytor's wreath lay on the coffin. Maureen's attention was a little distracted by seeing Tobias sitting under the table, and she called Margaret's attention to him; but she took it very quietly. " He always comes in here with me," she said, in a low voice, " he does no harm, poor fellow. I believe he spends most of his time outside the door, hoping that some one will let him in." And when Margaret had put her last finishing touches she took the great creature in her arms and carried him out. But Maureen saw her lay her cheek against the sleek head very tenderly. " Poor Tobias, you have lost your best friend ! " she said, softly. It was in the mild greyness of a November after- noon when they laid the earthly remains of Henry Tor- ranee beside the young wife he had mourned so long and faithfully. As they came out of the church a watery gleam of sunshine gave a transient brightness, and a robin sang sweetly from the acacia tree. The church- yard seemed full of people, for Henry Torrance had been much respected in the neighbourhood. All the shops in High Street were closed, and the children from the schools and many of the inhabitants of the Workhouse were there, but only one relation a distant and wealthy cousin followed the coffin with Mr. Chaytor. Mar- garet was behind them with Joanna. Margaret's eyes were fixed on the " great breadth of evening sky " ; the robin's song of hope was thrilling her heart with sweet- ness. Her ministering work was over now; her friend was at rest. It was well with him ; then surely it should be well with her when time and patience had done their work. " They will not forget me even in Paradise," she said to herself as she went back to the empty church. Romney Chaytor came later on to the Garden House, and he and Margaret had a long talk alone. Maureen, who was trying to fix her attention on a book she was Tobias Seeks for His Master 341 reading by the drawing-room fire, wondered more than once what he could have to say to her. But presently she heard Mr. Chaytor's limping step cross the hall, and to her surprise he entered the room. " I thought Miss Brydon would like to be alone a little," he observed, quietly, " so 1 have come to talk to you until the motor comes round ; it will not be long now. I knew you would like to know about poor Torrance's will ; perhaps you have not heard that he appointed me his executor." " Oh no, I had not heard that." " It was strange he should have made a new will so recently. I knew he intended to do so, for he told me at Marsh Hall one evening that he wished to make some alteration. ' I have no relation but Willoughby,' I re- member he said, ' and he is a wealthy manufacturer, and needs nothing from me.' " " How lonely that sounds," sighed Maureen. " Yes, he was lonely enough, poor fellow, except for his friends; but I should like to tell you a little about his will. Torrance was not a rich man, and he had only a lease of his house, but he had a fair practice and managed to save money. " He has left Joanna some of the furniture and five hundred pounds; and as she has a small income of her own she will be able to retire from service, and he has also remembered the other servant and the young clerk in his office. " The books, some of which are rather valuable, are to be divided between Mr. Whitworth and myself, and he has also left a sum of five hundred pounds to be devoted to parochial charities or to the church as the rec- tor thinks best. The rest of his money, amounting to about six or seven thousand pounds, is left absolutely and unconditionally to Miss Brydon." "To Aunt Margaret?" "Yes; are you surprised at that? I do not think he could have done better. Your aunt was a little over- 342 The Sunny Side of the Hill come when I told her; she had not expected it. She is also to take her choice of anything in the Old Grey House." " And Tobias ? " " I think he would have left her Tobias too if it had not been for Master. But he will probably make his own choice of a home, for Joanna would gladly keep him if he would only consent to go with her. Miss Brydon was speaking about him just now; she seemed rather anxious on the subject of his future." " Perhaps he and Master would learn to put up with each other," returned Maureen. And then they heard the motor, and Mr. Chaytor bade her good-bye, and she went back to the dining-room. Margaret, who was very flushed, and looked as though she had been shedding tears, smiled at her in rather a touching way. " Has he told you, Maureen ? I asked him to do so, for I wanted you to know, and yet somehow I did not care to talk of it." " Yes, he told me. I am very glad, dear Aunt Maggie." " Perhaps I am glad too. But it is not the money I care about, only the thoughtf ulness, the kindness " ; here her eyes filled again with tears, " but we will not talk about it this evening." And Margaret leant back a little wearily in her chair, for the day had been a trying one for her, and Master instinctively seemed to know this, for he kept very close to his mistress, as though in his fond foolish way he longed to comfort her. Maureen fetched her book and curled herself up in her corner, and Margaret, who was in no mood for talk, kept company with her own thoughts, but presently she started up. " Oh, Maureen," she said, excitedly, " I am sure that is Tobias's voice; he has come in search of his master." " Don't move, I will let him in," and Maureen rushed to the door. The next moment Tobias trotted into the room and jumped on Margaret's lap with a plaintive Tobias Seeks for His Master 343 mew, taking no notice of Master, who had uttered a low growl. " Hush, Master, you must be good to Tobias," and Margaret looked into the dog's eyes. But Tobias continued to mew. " He is not here," Margaret returned sadly, as she stroked his fur. Then, as though the animal understood her sorrowful words, he jumped down and searched the room. Finally, he went to the door and announced his intention of going home. " There is no use trying to keep him. You had bet- ter let him out, Maureen, or Joanna will be shutting up the house. Perhaps he will come to us again." Margaret was right. Every evening Tobias demanded admittance. Sometimes he sat contentedly on the rug washing himself, and making himself quite at home ; but he always went back to the Old Grey House for the night. When Joanna took possession of her new cottage, not far from the church, she tried hard to coax him to go with her; but Tobias, who had a will of his own, refused to accompany her. For one or two evenings he went back to the empty house, and Margaret could hardly sleep for thinking of him. Finally he made up his mind that his master was not coming back, and took up his quarters for good and all at the Garden House. There was armed neutrality between him and Master ; but though they consented, after a time, to share the hearthrug, there was never any friendship between them. Tobias lost his sprightly ways; he became grave and dignified, but he manifested an increasing affection for Margaret, and would often curl himself up on her lap when she was reading. About a week after Henry Torrance's funeral, Mar- garet quietly told Maureen that she intended going to the Homestead in a few days, and that she had written to her mother. " I have settled it all," she said, in a decided tone. " I shall go up on Thursday morning, and the Tweenies 344 The Sunny Side of the Hill will come down in the afternoon, and I shall probably be away ten days. Lois and Sybil can stay here another week, and then you can go back with them for Christmas." " Are you coming too, Aunt Margaret ? " " No, my dear ; not this year. I prefer staying quietly at the Garden House. Why, how shocked you look, Maureen. But I am quite serious." " And you think you can believe for one moment that I would leave you alone " ; and the girl spoke in a hurt voice. But Margaret only smiled at her. " I believe you will do so if you know I really wish it. Listen to me for a moment, darling. I cannot bear to think that your father should miss one of his children on Christmas Day. I have set my heart on your all being together." " But father and mother would not wish me to leave you alone, Aunt Maggie." " My dear, they will understand when I tell them. My Christmas Days have always been spent very quietly at the Garden House. This year I prefer I greatly prefer to be alone." " Then in that case I can say no more." But Maureen spoke in a constrained tone. She was deeply hurt. " Of course if you do not want me " ; but Margaret gave her a quick, loving kiss. " Don't be silly, little girl, and get fancies in your head. I wonder if you have any idea " her voice soft- ening perceptibly " what a comfort you are to me ? " " I wanted I tried to be." " Then you have succeeded, dearest. If you knew how grateful I have often felt for your tact and thought- fulness. All this week, while my nerves have been troubling me, I could not have borne to have any one else near me." "Oh, Aunt Margaret, are you sure of that?" But Maureen could say no more, her heart was too full. " Have you ever heard me say anything I did not Tobias Seeks for His Master 345 really mean? Oh, don't cry, Maureen, or you will make me feel that I am wrong and selfish. If I could only make you understand how I feel. I want to spend my Christmas week alone to do as I like, look as I like, and make no efforts. It will be such rest, just to take counsel with myself, and to think over things, and then begin the New Year bravely. It will be best for me and best for you, too, my dear." Then Maureen, with sudden contrition, threw her arms round Margaret's neck. " Oh, please forgive me," she sobbed. " I have not been good. I felt sore and hurt, but indeed I do under- stand, and I will never behave in this way again. I will go home with the girls, and I know how glad they will all be to have me." " Thank you, darling," and Margaret's kind arm pressed her closer. " You will come back to me on New Year's day, and we will begin it together, and try to be very happy." And as the girl's brown head rested against her, she whispered : "'Here is a beautiful Hope for you, A Hope for me and a Hope for you.' We will both say Amen to that, Maureen." XXXVIII "A HAPPY NEW YEAR, DEAREST!" Yes, it is well ! The evening shadows lengthen ; Home's golden gates shine on our ravished sight, And though the tender ties we strove to strengthen Break one by one, at evening-time 'tis light. 'Tis well, O friends ! We would not turn, retracing The long vain years, nor call our lost youth back. Gladly, with spirits braced, the future facing, We leave behind the dusty, footworn track. ANON. MAUREEN'S pleasurable anticipations of her sisters' visit had been sadly damped. " I don't believe that I shall enjoy things a bit now," she said to herself as she walked to the station that Thursday ; but she was wrong. The sight of the two bright young faces smiling at her from the train window drove all gravity away. The world was full of trouble, no doubt. There were freshly made graves and sad hearts everywhere, but Maureen and the Tweenies were young, and youth is youth. And so in the old Garden House, which Margaret loved so dearly, three happy girls ran up and downstairs, and the old walls rang with their merriment. Everything took place as Maureen had planned. They had tea at the Rectory and the Mill House, and they spent an even- ing at Gayton Lodge, and the Brants got up an im- promptu charade and wonderful groups of statuary, with only sheets and burning spirits-of-wine for their stage properties. Lois made a lovely Andromache, and Ruth looked a perfect vision as the Sleeping Beauty. One afternoon was spent at Marsh Hall, when Mr. Chaytor made himself very pleasant to the twins, who were at first inclined to be rather shy with him. Before they left he found an opportunity of speaking a few words alone with Maureen. 846 "A Happy New Year, Dearest!" 347 " I have had a letter from Miss Brydon this morning," he said. " I am afraid she finds her task rather difficult." " Yes, I know," returned Maureen. " I have had two notes from her, and she had seen six or seven ladies, none of whom would be likely to suit Ruth. One was a Romanist, another a fashionable woman in temporary difficulties, and so on." " Well, she seems to have found rather a decent per- son at last. Stop, I have her letter in my pocket. I will read what she says about her. Let me see. Yes, here it is: " ' I have been working hard all the week, but every fresh interview has only brought me disappointment. Such im- possible women ! some of them not even gentlewomen. But this morning I have seen some one I really do like a Mrs. Holden, the widow of an officer, who was killed in one of these costly little frontier wars. She is a sweet-looking, lady- like person. A little quiet and subdued by her troubles, poor soul, and no wonder ! for she ha$ lost her child as well as her husband. But I really think she is just the sort of person that Ruth would like. The chief difficulty is that the arrange- ment is likely to be only temporary, as she may possibly have to join a brother in Madras. This is by no means certain, but Mrs. Holden wishes us to know this. In any case she would be free for six or eight months, or even longer. If it were not troubling you, I should much like you to see her. I forgot to say that she is only eight-and-thirty.' " " It sounds promising," observed Maureen, as Mr. Chaytor paused here. " It does, indeed. So I shall motor over to-morrow, and probably come back the same night. It is hardly fair to leave all the responsibility to Miss Brydon." " It seems rather a pity, though, if the arrangement is to be only a temporary one. If you and Ruth like Mrs. Holden, you will be sorry to lose her after a few months." " Oh, I don't know. Something else may turn up," and Mr. Chaytor's smile was a little inscrutable. " We shall be able to judge how the thing works." And then 348 The Sunny Side of the Hill he put the letter back in the envelope, and begged Ruth to give them a song. Mr. Chaytor went up to town the next morning, and Ruth spent the day at the Garden House. She came again the next morning to tell Maureen that it was quite settled, and Mrs. Holden was to come to Marsh Hall directly after Christmas. " Romney was very much impressed by her," she went on. " He says her manners are so very pleasing. She is not handsome, but she has a nice expression, and she is well read and intelligent, and very musical." " It certainly sounds very satisfactory, Ruth." " Yes. And of course I know I can trust Miss Bry- don's and Romney's judgment. So I will try to like her and make her happy. After all," here Ruth bright- ened up, " Mrs. Holden will probably only remain with us a few months, so, as Romney says, I am to consider it a visit." And this view of the case seemed to give her a certain amount of consolation. Margaret had asked Maureen not to meet her at the station on the day of her return. " I want to walk into the Garden House in ordinary everyday fashion," she wrote. And Maureen quite understood what she meant. So when Margaret crossed the threshold of the Gar- den House she only found Maureen and Master waiting for her. " Why, where are the little girls ? " she asked, in surprise. Then Maureen explained that Mr. Chaytor had gone up to town on business, and that Ruth had carried them off to spend the day with her. " I thought you would not mind, Aunt Maggie," she continued. " She is going to send them home by nine o'clock." But Maureen coloured a little, for she saw from Margaret's expression that she quite understood why the invitation had been given. Maureen felt she had done the right thing when she saw how tired and worn Margaret looked. And she "A Happy New Year, Dearest!" 349 had her reward when she heard her say, in her old affectionate way, "After all, it is nice and cosy to be together, just by our two selves." Margaret gave her all the home news as they took their tea. They were all well and cheerful, and delighted to think that Maureen would be with them at Christmas. " And Harold ? " asked Maureen, anxiously. " Oh, perhaps I ought not to have included Harold," returned her aunt. " He is not looking so well and fit as usual. He is thin, and rather grave and silent." "Did you talk to him, Aunt Maggie?" " Do you mean in a confidential way ? No, my dear ; he would not have liked it; he certainly gave me no opportunity for doing so." " I thought you might have cheered him up." Maureen spoke in rather a distressed tone, for Harold's trouble was never absent from her mind. " I would willingly have done my best if the dear boy had given me the least opening, but you cannot force a man's confidence. Harold knows quite well that I am not blind, and that I would do anything to help him. He was very nice to me very affectionate and thought- ful, and very much averse to anything like a tete-a-tete." And this was so like Entre-nous that Maureen sighed afresh. When all Maureen's questions had been answered, Margaret gave her further particulars of Mrs. Holden. " She really is a most interesting person," she went on. " I may as well confess, Maureen, that I have taken a great fancy to her. I mean to tell Ruth that, for the future, my visits will be as much to Mrs. Holden as to her little self. Can't you imagine Ruth's reproachful look when she hears this speech ? " " Is she really so very nice, Aunt Margaret ? " " My dear, she is genuine ; and there is no pretension about her, and she bears her troubles like a brave and Christian woman. Her manner, too, is very sweet and 350 The Sunny Side of the Hill restful, and I shall not be the least surprised if Ruth learns to love her before many weeks are out. Just fancy, Maureen, her name is Dolores ; is that not appropriate for a widow? Poor thing, she was devoted to her husband." If Margaret were talking for Maureen's benefit, no one would have guessed it, her manner was so natural. And when the Tweenies returned and knelt at each side of her, as they described their day's pleasure and dis- played some little gifts that Ruth had made them, it was pleasant to see her loving interest in the young creatures. " Dear Aunt Peggy has been so sweet to-night," Lois said as the three girls went upstairs together. And yet all the evening the thought of that Old Grey House in its emptiness and that grave in the churchyard had lain heavily on Margaret's heart. After all, in spite of one or two drawbacks, Maureen's Christmas was a very happy one; and the sight of the breakfast-table, loaded with gifts and cards when they returned from the early service, gave her the old childlike pleasure. No one had forgotten her. Margaret's case of ebony brushes, with her initial in silver, made her exclaim with pleasure. But she was rather embarrassed when she opened Ruth's. " Oh, it is far, far too good," she murmured, " and I have only given her such a trifle." Then Harold looked at it silently. It was a gold necklet, evidently of foreign workmanship, with a little pendant set in pearls, -and was wonderfully light and dainty. A note was folded in the case. " Don't think me extravagant, dear Maureen," Ruth had written. " I have had the necklet for some time. I thought you would not value it less because I have worn it once or twice. I thought it very pretty when it was given to me, but I have more jewellery than I know how to use. So take it, dear, as my Christmas gift; I shall love you to have it." "A Happy New Year, Dearest!" 351 " It was her own ; she has not bought it," explained Maureen, when she found herself alone with Harold. " It is the loveliest thing I ever saw in my life, and far too good for the like of me. But even mother says I must keep it." " Of course you must keep it," rather indignantly. " How could you hurt her feelings by returning it? She does not care for jewellery, she told me so one day. I believe," touching the pendant abstractedly, " that Chaytor gave it to her, and that he bought it at Florence." " Oh, Harold, impossible ! " and Maureen flushed at the mere idea. " Ruth would never part with her brother's gift." " You will find out I am right," he returned. " Very likely she consulted him, and he suggested the necklet himself." And Maureen afterwards discovered that Harold's intuition had been correct. Romney Chaytor had found Ruth looking over her treasures. " I do so want to find something really nice for Maureen," she had said to him. " I have so much more than I want, and the Brydon girls have hardly any ornaments. Why, Sybil and Lois were simply over- joyed when I gave them those Venetian beads. They are pretty enough, but you know how little we gave for them." Then, after a moment's consideration, Romney had pointed to the necklet. " I think that will suit Miss Brydon," he said, curtly. And though Ruth had demurred a little at parting with it, because it was his gift, he soon brought her round to his way of thinking. It was evident to Maureen that Harold was much pleased with Ruth's generosity, and he owned that he had sent her a book he knew she wanted to read. " At Christmas one generally remembers one's friends, and I thought there could be no harm in my doing that," he observed, in an offhand manner. But Maureen never saw the pretty note Ruth wrote to thank 352 The Sunny Side of the Hill him; it was far too precious a possession to be shared with any one. Maureen had very little talk with him during the week. " Aunt Margaret was right," she said to herself. " Harold certainly looked tired and worn, and his gravity made him older than his age. Oh, if I could only see him happy and like himself ! " she sighed. On New Year's Day Maureen went back to Branks- mere. When the omnibus put her down at the Garden House Margaret was at the open door to receive her, and a pleasant glow from the hall fire met the girl's eyes. How warm and homelike it looked. " A Happy New Year to you, dearest ! " observed Margaret's cheerful voice. " I wished it you directly I woke this morning. How cold it is! Giles says the air is full of snow. Come into the dining-room. It is warmer there, and Rhoda shall bring us some tea." But before Maureen took her accustomed seat she knelt down to caress Tobias, who was sleeping on the hearthrug. " I think he means to take up his quarters here," observed Margaret, in a low voice ; " and Master intends to behave like a gentleman. Poor Joanna's feelings will be sadly hurt, I am afraid. But we shall have to find her another companion." " I shall be glad for you to have him," returned Maureen. Tobias was purring a grateful response, as she stroked his fur; but all the time her eyes were fixed on Margaret. "What had she done to herself?" she wondered. She seemed different, somehow. A little older, and perhaps a trifle thinner, and more subdued ; but she had never seen her look so nice. The severity of the long black dress that she had worn ever since the funeral was softened by a white muslin fichu, and just above it, suspended from a thin gold chain which had belonged to her mother, there hung the gold cross that had been Henry Torrance's last gift to his Lady of Dreams. Margaret, who made her own laws, had hit "A Happy New Year, Dearest!" 353 on a style that suited her exactly. It was quaint and picturesque, and she had never looked more graceful. But it was not her dress that struck Maureen most. For in the soft brown eyes there was a new depth and meaning, as though her seven days' solitary tryst had taught her much. The counsel of perfection is not easy to master, and, doubtless, Margaret's thoughts had been sad enough at times, before she could bring herself to face her future life. But as she stood there, looking down at Maureen and the sleepy cat, there was a quiet cheerfulness in her manner that would have rejoiced Anna if she could have seen her that moment. Later in the evening she said to Maureen, " I have been thinking, the last day or two, a good deal about that money, Maureen. I have plenty for myself and you, and I do not need it, so I mean to help your father with the boys." And as Maureen laid down her work, Margaret went on. " Qive's expenses at Oxford are a great pull on my poor Daniel's pocket. He confessed to me, not long ago, that he never intended Clive to go to the university, and that it crippled him sadly. I know Henry would wish me to do what I thought best with the legacy, so I am going to tell your father that I will be responsible for dive's expenses." " Oh, Aunt Margaret, how good you are ! " " Do you call that goodness," returned Margaret, with a low laugh, " to help those we love best? Oh, the joy of giving. Why, it is one of life's greatest blessings. I do feel so grateful to Henry Torrance for giving me this pleasure." " I see what you mean," returned Maureen, gently ; " and father is so much to you." " He is my dearest on the earth ; why should I not try to smooth the rough places for him? He works so hard, Maureen, and he is so patient and uncomplain- 23 354 The Sunny Side of the Hill ing. You are very fond of your father, dear; but even you do not know how good he is." " No, Aunt Maggie ; I daresay you are right. You have known him so many years longer." " Yes," returned Margaret ; and her eyes were shining with a happy look of remembrance. " When I was a young thing, in my earliest teens, I once told my mother that she and my father ought to have called him Nathaniel ; ' for if any one is without guile it is Dan.' Dear me, I can hear myself say that now." A moment later, Margaret returned to the subject. " Then there is Ninian. What do you suppose they are going to do with that big, overgrown, fairhaired baby? Put him in some city office, when he has con- fessed to his mother and me that he hated the very idea ! ' Poor Ninny/ I said to her, ' it seems hard that he cannot have a voice in the matter, for he has only one life, and if that is spoiled for him.' But she only shook her head." " I know mother is troubled about Ninian," replied Maureen. " He is not clever like Harold and Clive, and he does so want to learn farming. Any out-of-door employment would satisfy him tea or coffee-planting, or fruit-growing. Oh, Harold and I have often talked about it." " Then, why not send him to an agricultural college, and see how he gets on? He will be seventeen in April, and he has been at St. Paul's long enough. I think," continued Margaret, thoughtfully, " that I shall ask your father to come down for a week-end, and have a talk with me. I want to begin the new year well." And she looked at Maureen with a smile. XXXIX *I AM TRYING TO LEARN IT" The happy look at things on their own level ; the sorrow- ful look up; our thoughts settle where our hope is fixed. ANON. If our hearts do but keep fresh we may still love those who are gone, and may still find happiness in loving them. JULIUS HARE. A lantern in the hand is worth a dozen stars. Be a lantern, then, with all your might. E. M. BAKER. MARGARET had told Maureen that Mrs. Holden had been three or four days at Marsh Hall. " Ruth followed me out of church on Sunday," she observed, " and walked a few steps with me. She seems very much prepossessed with her new chaperon. ' She could not be nicer. She is so kind and thoughtful for our comfort, and so anxious not to be in our way. Oh, I am sure I shall get on with her.' You may imagine how glad I was to hear Ruth say this." The next morning, as they sat at breakfast, Margaret proposed, if the snow kept off, that they should walk over to Marsh Hall in the afternoon, and Maureen, who was very curious to see the newcomer, joyfully agreed to this. It was certainly not a pleasant afternoon, and the marsh looked bleak and desolate with its black dykes and gaping ditches, and the wind hustled them most unmercifully as they crossed the drawbridge and made their way up the drive ; but the morning-room looked warm and cosy. Ruth threw down her book with a pleased exclamation when she saw them. " Oh, you two dears ! " she cried. " Who would have expected you to come on such an afternoon? Romney has been obliged to go over to Felsham, but even he owns it was pretty cold." And then Maureen was introduced to Mrs. Holden, and a pleasant fireside circle was formed. 955 356 The Sunny Side of the Hill Mrs. Holden was rather an interesting-looking woman, who looked younger than her actual age. She was pale, with reddish-brown hair, and though not in conventional widow's mourning, was dressed very simply in black. Maureen liked her manner, it was so extremely gentle, and she was evidently tactful and amiable. When she asked how she liked the Marsh, she smiled pleasantly and replied that it was hardly possible to judge of a place in such inclement weather; but that, no doubt, in summer the wide outlook would have its attractions. " Perhaps the Devonshire lanes of my young days are more to my taste," she added, frankly. " It is hardly fair to ask her such a question," inter- posed Ruth. " Mrs. Holden has lived so long in India, that this wind-blown old marsh must seem terribly dreary to her." But though Mrs. Holden could not truthfully deny this, she hastened to amend the statement by saying that the walls of Marsh Hall were so thick, and the rooms so warm and cosy, that she had hardly felt the cold at all. By and by Ruth took Maureen into the library to see a new picture that Romney had picked up. Mar- garet, who was talking to Mrs. Holden, did not seem inclined to break off her conversation. " Aunt Margaret and Mrs. Holden seem to have taken a fancy to each other," observed Maureen, in an amused voice. " But she is certainly very nice." " Oh yes ; and we both like her so much. Romney seems quite to enjoy talking to her. It is not so bad as I expected, Maureen; and though I am still of my old way of thinking, and would rather be without a chaperon at all, still I think we shall be very comfortable with Mrs. Holden." They looked at the picture after this, and then Ruth asked after her friends at the Homestead especially after Irene and the Tweenies. " I suppose your brother is not coming down for a week-end, soon? Romney was asking the other day, and I could not tell him." Ruth spoke in a would-be careless tone. " I am Trying to Learn It " 357 " No, I am afraid not," returned Maureen, a little Sadly. " I tried to persuade him, but he said he thought it better to stick to his work." " Romney will be sorry." Something in Ruth's tone struck Maureen, and she glanced at her a little sus- piciously. Ruth was stooping over the table as though to examine the picture. Her face was half-hidden under her falling hair, but one cheek was crimson, and the hand resting on the frame trembled slightly. Then like a flash the truth came to Maureen. " Harold is wrong. She does care for him," she said to herself. " I thought so before, and now I am sure of it. Oh dear, what is one to do for them both! But for this horrid money they might both be so happy." There was an awkward silence; then Ruth said abruptly that they must go back to Miss Brydon. She was a little pale and quiet during the remainder of their visit, and Maureen knew that her answer had inflicted disappointment, but she thought it better to say nothing. Margaret had been too much engrossed with Mrs. Holden to notice anything different in them. She was evidently deeply interested in the young widow. " I never knew a name fit a person more perfectly," she observed, as they walked back in the windy darkness. " Dolores it exactly suits her." And Maureen assented to this. Margaret had written to her brother without loss of time; but Daniel told her, with much regret, that he would be obliged to defer his visit for the present, as a troublesome piece of business was likely to detain him for a week or two. When he came three weeks later, he brought his wife with him. Anna was very anxious to know how Margaret really was; and Margaret, who guessed the real purpose of her visit, was much touched by her sister-in-law's solicitude. " I would not let Dan come without me this time," observed Anna, as she and Margaret sat by the bed- room fire. " Maureen's accounts were very cheery, but 358 The Sunny Side of the Hill I wanted to see with my own eyes that she was writing the truth." " It was very kind of you, Anna ! and, as you know, I am delighted to have you. But there is no need for you to be anxious about me; I am well and strong and busier than I have ever been in my idle life." " Dear Margaret, you have never been idle." Then, looking at her wistfully, " You have not been sad and lonely?" " No, I have not been lonely," returned Margaret, simply. Then she put her hand on Anna's ; " Dear, you must not let me be on your mind, unless " with a smile " you let me lie there as lightly as a roseleaf." " And as fragrant, Margaret ? Rose leaves are very sweet/' " Yes, if you will ; one's memory should always be fragrant to one's friends. Do you know, I amuse myself with such strange fancies sometimes? You remember, Henry Torrance used to call me a dreamer of dreams? It does no one harm," she continued, in her low, thrilling voice ; " they seem to embellish one's life as pictures adorn the empty walls of one's room and they keep one young and happy." "Happy, dearest?" "Yes; why not? Are we not told to rejoice with those that rejoice ought we not to be glad with our dear ones in Paradise? And, after all, life is sweet, and I have so many blessings. One has to learn one's lesson, and then there is the reward." "And you are learning yours, Margaret?" " I am trying to learn it, and you are all helping me. And I think that in time I shall be as happy as even you can wish. Why, I am happy this moment at the thought of helping my dear Dan." And then she refused to talk any more about herself. Margaret had some difficulty in inducing Daniel to accede to her generous offers on behalf of Clive and Ninian; but she had won over Anna first, and she came nobly to her assistance. " I am Trying to Learn It " 359 " You must not refuse, Dan," she said to him ; " it will make our dear Margaret so happy to feel she is helping us with our boys." Then Daniel had given in his wife's influence was very strong. If Anna thought it right, he would no longer hold out. He was deeply grateful too much so for words but he and Margaret understood each other. Daniel Brydon went back to town with a lighter heart. Anna went with him. He had offered to leave her behind, but she had been anxious to get back to her work. " I will come again later," she said, when Maureen tried to shake her resolution. Maureen had enjoyed her parents' visit intensely, but she was a little disappointed that her mother had only seen Mr. Chaytor in church, and that there was no oppor- tunity for an introduction. Anna owned to Margaret that she was much struck with his appearance. " I don't wonder Harold and Maureen call him the Viking," she said. " He certainly resembles one with his strong rugged face, and sea-blue-eyes they are as keen as a hawk's " ; which proved that Anna had observed him rather closely. The new year was a month old when the Brydons had paid their little visit to the Garden House, and February had set in with unusual mildness. One afternoon when Margaret was going to the Workhouse, Maureen announced her intention of walk- ing over to Bradley, a village about two miles from Branksmere, to see a crippled child who was one of Margaret's protegees. Maureen had been dressing a baby doll for her, and as it was now complete equipped from head to foot she was anxious to carry it to the invalid. Margaret made no objection. The afternoon was rather unseasonably mild, though sunless, and the country lanes were fairly dry. " You had better not stay long with Rosie," she observed ; " for it is quite dark soon after four o'clock." 360 The Sunny Side of the Hill " Oh, I shall have plenty of time," returned Maureen ; " it is not two yet, and I don't believe myself that Bradley is more than a mile and a half from here, though Thora and the Brant girls declare it is two miles; and I walk so fast. No, I will not stay long at the cottage, Aunt Peggy. I must just undress baby to show Rosie how the things fasten, and then I will make haste back." Maureen honestly meant to do what she said, for she never liked Margaret to have a moment's uneasiness on her account. But time passed quicker than she thought, and when Rosie's fumbling little fingers had been initiated into all the fastenings, and the waxen baby lay dressed on Rosie's lap, with her blue eyes closed in sleep, Maureen woke to the fact that it was a quarter to four, and that already the light was fading. She bade Rosie good-bye and set off almost at a run. She was not in the least afraid of being alone in the lanes after dark. The few tramps who wished to make their way to the Workhouse were generally to be met on the main roads. Her only fear was that Margaret would be anxious if she did not turn up by tea-time. " Well, it is no good worrying," she thought, philosophically. " I certainly cannot walk two miles, or even a mile and a half, in less than half an hour, so it is no use getting breathless over it. Even if it is dark I know I can find my way; if only it does not begin to rain Giles said it would before night. Well, well, what can't be cured must be endured." And Maureen trudged on. At that moment a whizzing sound just behind her, and the tooting of a motor, startled her in earnest. She sprang back, but either a stone tripped her up in the darkness, or else and this was probably the case the motor caught her as it passed and threw her down. But for the time she was too much stunned to know what had happened. A sudden flashing in her eyes seemed to rouse her, but she was too much dazed to recover her full con- " I am Trying to Learn It " 361 seriousness. She was aware that some one was holding her very firmly, and that a voice that somehow seemed familiar was speaking to her. " Good heavens ! Maureen, do try and answer me. Tell me where you are hurt, dear child. I don't believe die car went over you." Mr. Chaytor spoke in a tone of such intense anxiety that Maureen instinctively tried to collect her scattered facul- ties. She opened her eyes and found the blinding light was from the motor lamps. As she endeavoured to move, Mr. Chaytor's arm restrained her. " No ; keep still a moment until you are better ; only try and answer my question, dear." Then Maureen strove to obey. " I think," she returned, rather faintly, " that it only knocked me down ; but my head hurts me, and makes me so confused. Oh " moving restlessly, as though resenting her weakness " please do not trouble so ; it was not your fault, but my own stupidity. Indeed, I am better now ; I think I can stand if you would let me." " No ; be quiet," he returned, rather peremptorily. " There is no hurry ; the rug is under you, and you will not take cold ; and your voice tells me you are still faint. I wish I had some brandy with me ; but you will be better soon." Then with a touch that was almost as light and tender as a woman's, he put her head upon his shoulder. Her hat had fallen off, and her hair was her sole covering. Maureen's head was aching sorely, but she felt strangely content and composed. She had been near death, she knew that, and it was a miracle that she had escaped ; but she could not collect her thoughts. Her " Thank God ! " was unconsciously uttered above her breath. " Thank God, indeed ! " returned Mr. Chaytor, solemnly. " Now, Maureen, if you really think you can stand, I will help you up." Then as he lifted her to her feet, she still clung to him. " It is my head that hurts so, and makes me giddy." 362 The Sunny Side of the Hill But his only answer was to help her into the motor ; then he wrapped the rug round her, and placed himself beside her. " You will be home in less than ten minutes," he said, trying to speak cheerfully. " The hat is done for, I am afraid ; but I am going to tie this silk handkerchief over your poor head." But he noticed that though he scarcely touched her, she winced as though he hurt her. To Maureen those few minutes seemed endless. As they started, Mr. Chaytor had told her rather abruptly that she had better take his arm. " I want my hands free for steering," he observed ; " but you need support." And Maureen needed it so badly that she was obliged to do as he told her. Margaret, who was dreaming by the dining-room fire, had not heard the motor stop, and she started up aghast as Mr. Chaytor limped into the room with the dishevelled little figure on his arm. Maureen's strange head-gear, her pallid face, and pained expression, filled Margaret with alarm. " Oh, darling, what have you been doing to yourself ! " she exclaimed, as she took the girl in her arms. Then Mr. Chaytor gave an odd little laugh. " Let her sit down, Miss Brydon. And you had better give her something, for she is a little faint, and I will tell you about it by and by. A cup of tea" with a glance at the table " perhaps that may warm her." And then without a single question Margaret quietly made the girl comfortable, pillows were fetched, and the heavy braids of hair loosened. "How did it happen?" she asked at last, when she had done all she could for Maureen. " She has had some knock, for there is a lump at the back of her head, and she cannot bear it touched." " I will tell you as well as I can," returned Mr. Chaytor ; " and then I think I had better ask Dr. Carter to have a look at her head. I don't think there is any other damage." And then he briefly explained the matter. " I am Trying to Learn It " 363 He was motoring from Bradley at a moderate speed, and had just turned into that narrow lane not far from Leven's Corner, when some dark object suddenly seemed to fall underneath the car. " I stopped instantly of course I knew I had not run over anything; but just there the road is so narrow that there is only room to pass. As I got down I saw it was a woman ! her dress had evidently been caught on the wheel, and she had been knocked down ; she had probably not heard the horn. I need not say how shocked I was when I found it was your niece." Margaret had turned very pale. " Mr. Chaytor," she said, almost under her breath, " the child might have been killed." " I know it," he answered, in a low tone, for neither of them wished Maureen to hear. " Another inch or two, and only a miracle could have saved her." He spoke in a voice so full of suppressed emotion that Margaret did not venture to ask more. She only held out her hand to him. " You must not blame yourself," she said gently ; and then Maureen's voice chimed in unexpectedly. " It was my fault, Aunt Maggie, not Mr. Chaytor's ; I stayed too long with Rosie, and it was so dark in the lanes. I was thinking about something, and never heard anything until the motor was nearly on me, and then I tried to jump back. He is right the car must have caught me and thrown me down " ; and Maureen pointed to the jagged tear in her skirt. Margaret knelt down beside her and laid her cheek against the girl's hair. "Hushl dearest," she whisp- ered ; " you had better not talk, or your poor head will suffer. Thank God, my little Maureen, that He has spared you to me that I have not lost you, too." And Margaret's eyes were full of tears. The next minute the sound of the closing door told her that Mr. Chaytor had gone in search of the doctor. Love does not spring up and grow great and become perfect all at once, but requires time and the nourishment of thoughts. DANTE. Silence is the perfectest herald of joy; I were but little happy, if I could say how much. SHAKESPEARE. MR. CHAYTOR brought the doctor, and then went on to Marsh Hall; but he came again later in the evening. To Margaret's surprise, Ruth was with him; in her furs and little scarlet hood she looked prettier than ever. " I made Romney bring me," she said, breathlessly. " I wanted so badly to hear how dear Maureen is." Then Margaret, who looked a little pale and tired from the excitement, gave them a cheery report. " Dr. Carter says there are no other injuries. He thinks there must have been slight concussion, though it soon passed off. Her head is badly contused, and one of her arms, poor dear, is black and blue. But he says she will be all right in a few days." " Oh, I am so glad ! " exclaimed Ruth. " May I just run in and see her, dear Miss Brydon?" " If you will promise not to stay a minute ; but there must be no talking, mind. Dr. Carter wishes her to be kept quiet. He is sending a composing draught, so that she may get some sleep. I am afraid her head pains her a good deal." Mr. Chaytor said little in reply to this, and Margaret went on: " It is such a blessing that Maureen is so strong. I do not believe that she has spent a day in bed for years, and, as it is, Dr. Carter has been obliged to promise her that she shall get up as soon as possible. 364 " A Hope for Me and a Hope for You " 365 The child takes after me. We have that rare blessing good health and a sound constitution." Ruth kept her promise loyally, for she re-entered soon after Margaret said this. " I would not let her say a word," she observed. " I just kissed her and crept away. But, oh dear! I never saw Maureen look pale before. I am so glad you let me see her, for there is no chance of my coming to- morrow. Mrs. Holden and I are going over to Felsham for the day." " Miss Brydon is tired, Ruth," observed Romney, rather abruptly, and he insisted on carrying her off. Margaret was not sorry that the visit was a brief one, for she wanted to return to Maureen. Mr. Chaytor had not seemed like himself. " I am afraid he is very much upset about the whole thing," she said to herself, as she went upstairs slowly. Margaret was learning her lesson of patience, but the old springy step had not yet returned. Maureen had been quite indignant at the idea of spending a few hours in bed, but she changed her mind when the morning came. Her head was better for the night's rest, but her arm and shoulder were painful. It was pleasant, after all, to lie there in the February sun- shine, with Margaret to wait on her. In quiet intervals, when she was left alone, she pondered over her merciful escape with intense grati- tude. " I might have been hurried into eternity like poor Mr. Torrance," she thought; "or, worse still, injured in some terrible way." Then when these reflections proved too agitating, she dwelt on Mr. Chaytor's kindness. " Aunt Maggie," she said once, " do you think I look younger than my age? You know I shall be one-and- twenty in April." Margaret thought for a moment before she answered this question. " I think that people who did not know your exact 366 The Sunny Side of the Hill age might take you to be only eighteen or nineteen," she returned, wondering a little what was in the girl's mind. But Maureen seemed quite satisfied. " That must be it," she said to herself. " Eighteen or nineteen would seem very young to a man of his age. I should be almost a child in his eyes, and that is why he called me dear. Besides, he was so sorry to think that I was hurt, and that he might have killed me. No, I won't think of it any more." But in spite of this sensible resolution she thought of little else. The next time Ruth came to see her, she brought some lovely flowers. " Romney has sent you these with his kindest regards," she said. But she certainly could not com- plain of Maureen's paleness at that moment, for the girl had flushed to the roots of her hair with surprise and pleasure. " They are very beautiful," she murmured, as she inhaled their sweetness. " Romney wired to town for them," returned Ruth, composedly. " Don't you love lilies of the valley, Mau- reen, and those lovely Neapolitan violets? Will you let me arrange them for you? The bowl and that high vase will just do." Then Maureen nodded, and lay back on her pillows watching Ruth's skilful manipulation as she filled the bowl, keeping back two or three sprays of the lilies for Maureen to wear when she dressed for the day. The flowers sweetened the hours for Maureen, and she forgot her bruises as she looked at them. She knew Margaret would share her pleasure. " I suppose the flowers of Paradise will be far more beautiful than these," observed Margaret, as she looked at the bowl of lilies and violets with worshipping eyes; "but it is a little difficult to believe it. Only they are fadeless, and these dear lilies will not last." Margaret had given an account of Maureen's acci- dent to her brother, but she had carefully softened the " A Hope for Me and a Hope for You " 367 details. Maureen had added a little note, though she wrote it with some difficulty. But a perfect shoal of congratulatory notes greeted Maureen's waking eyes the next morning. Daniel had written to his little girl, and enclosed a loving note from Anna. Irene and Harold and the Tweenies had all contributed to the budget even Ninian and Ivy had sent copious messages. Maureen laughed, but there was a suspicious moisture in her eyes as Margaret showered the white-winged messages over the eider-down. " Such a fuss over a certain little girl ! " she said teasingly, as she left her to peruse her letters in peace. That afternoon Maureen was so much better that she came downstairs earlier than usual. Margaret was obliged to leave her for an hour; but she knew Maureen had an interesting book. " I shall come home the moment the meeting is over," Margaret said, as she adjusted the cushions in her own special chair. " Now you look nice and cosy, and there is no fear of your being dull." " No fear at all," returned Maureen, smiling. Dull ! with her book and letters, and all those flowers, and pleasant thoughts for company! Maureen could have laughed aloud at the idea. She had never felt happier in her life. People were so good and kind to her. As for Aunt Margaret but here a well-known sound made her start and change colour. She had not expected any one from Marsh Hall to-day; but the next moment the halting step that had grown so familiar to her ears entered the room. " Don't move," as Maureen attempted to rise. " If you disturb yourself I will go away again." Mr. Chaytor's tone was a little authoritative as he took her hand. '"' Tell me how you are. Are the bruises better? " " My right arm is still a little painful, but my head has quite left off aching." Then as he drew a chair close to her, she continued shyly : " I am so glad you have come, for I wanted to thank you for your lovely 368 The Sunny Side of the Hill flowers." She saw him glance at the spray of lilies fastened in her bodice, and went on hurriedly, " It was so kind of you to send them." " Kind! " his lip curling; " a little attention like that deserves no thanks." Then in a curiously abrupt tone, " What have you been doing to yourself; you look different somehow ? " For a moment Maureen seemed bewildered, then she smiled in an amused way. " It must be my hair," she said, naively. " I cannot bear hairpins yet, and I am afraid the loose plait makes me look like a little girl again. But Aunt Margaret would do it." " She was quite right, and I never saw you look nicer." Mr. Chaytor said this in such a quiet, friendly tone that Maureen never even blushed at the compliment. Certainly the long, thick plait of brown hair, which hung below her waist, exactly suited her, though it gave her an extremely youthful look. " If you always wore it like that," he observed, " one would forget you were grown up." Then dropping his light tone suddenly " Maureen, did I take too much on myself that afternoon? I think I hardly knew what I was saying when I lifted you up and you could not move or speak. That horrible moment taught me one thing." " What do you mean ? " she stammered, raising her eyes to his. But the look that met hers made her avert them again. " I mean that it taught me that you were absolutely necessary to me that I loved you so much that I wanted you in my life and home. Maureen, if I could only feel that I were equally necessary to your happi- ness, I should be a joyful man to-day." He had taken both her hands as he spoke, and held them firmly. But Maureen was too much dazed to answer. She could not believe the reality of the words which had reached her ears. It was impossible. He " A Hope for Me and a Hope for You " 369 was making some great mistake. She must set him right, if she only knew how. " Oh," she gasped, " you are very kind, but you do not really mean that ? " " What do I not mean, dear ? " "That I am necessary to you; how can I be? I am not even clever. Oh, please, please do not say such things unless they are true." Then Romney Chaytor gave a low laugh as he took her in his arms. If Mau- reen winced a little with the pain of his touch, he did not know it, and she was too bewildered with happiness to mind. " Maureen," he said, kissing her, " it is true abso- lutely true, and it is you I want only you. But there is something you must tell me for my comfort. Can you care for a cripple, dear?" Then Maureen, utterly overwhelmed, laid her face on his shoulder. How was she to speak, or even to realise the wonderful thing that had come to her? That he, who had been the hero of her imagination ever since she had heard his story, whose infirmities she had regarded with the worship- ping pity a woman often gives to a strong man who is heavily handicapped that he, Romney Chaytor, should tell her in a tone of unmistakable sincerity and tender- ness that she was necessary to him, and that he wanted her in his life and home. " Oh, how am I to believe it all ? " she whispered. But he would not spare her. " Maureen, this is not fair. You have not answered my question," he said, gravely. " I want to hear from your own lips, dear child, that you are willing to marry a big, hulking cripple." Then Maureen raised her glowing face and looked at him very sweetly and shyly. " Oh, please do not call yourself names. What does a little lameness matter? I think I care all the more for that. If I could only help you to forget it." Mau- reen stammered out the words with difficulty, but the innocent girlish secret was evident to Romney's keen eyes. Her heart belonged to him, and he knew it. 24 870 The Sunny Side of the Hill " Thanks, darling," was all he said, and for a minute there was silence. Then he replaced her gently on the pillow again, and drew his chair a little closer. " Don't you think Ruth will be pleased when she knows this ? " he said presently. " Maureen, there is something I must tell you. I really owe this happi- ness to your Aunt Margaret." And as she looked at him inquiringly he went on. " I was very morbid about my lameness, and I put away all thoughts of marrying. I will never ask any woman to tie herself to such a lumbering unwieldy cripple that is what I used to tell myself. And then Miss Brydon talked to me and reasoned with me so sweetly and sensibly assuring me that the obstacle was only in my own imagination that at last I was convinced. All the more that I was learning to love you even then, though not as I do now." " If I could only understand it," sighed Maureen. But she was far too shy to speak out her inmost thought. " What can have made him care ? " that was what she was saying to herself. "A little brown thing like me, not pretty or clever." But Romney, who could read her thought, only smiled at her. "Does one ever understand these things, sweetheart? You are you, and I have found my mate; that is the whole matter." For even Romney Chaytor could not have explained the influences that had drawn him so strongly to the girl. He loved beauty, had always loved it ; and Maureen was not even pretty, though she had the charms of youth and brightness and perfect health. But the little brown face with the sunshiny smile and white teeth had grown dearer to him that any other. He loved, too, her frankness and sincerity, her uncon- sciousness and lack of vanity, her warm heart and devotion to the objects of her affection. She was not perfect by any means, but she had plenty of sweetness and sound commonsense. Slowly he had grown to recognise this, and the more he knew her the more he " A Hope for Me and a Hope for You " 371 learned to appreciate her. But he had not really realised the strength of his own feelings until he had lifted her up as she lay unconscious on the road. The hour had passed far more rapidly than they knew, and the sound of Margaret's latch-key startled them both; and Romney pushed back his chair a little guiltily. Margaret shook her head at him as she entered the room. " You have stolen a march on me, naughty man," she said, playfully. " I never meant Maureen to see visitors to-day " then she stopped suddenly, as though petrified. Why was Maureen's face so flushed and her eyes so bright? Why, the child looked prettier than she ever looked in her lifel Then she glanced at Mr. Chaytor, but he only reddened and laughed. " You are not to be hoodwinked, Miss Brydon. My dear lady, you cannot blame me for acting on yotir advice. What were your words to me? 'That it was my own fault if I were lonely.' " Then Margaret's arms dropped to her side. " But I was not thinking of Maureen," she said, a little plaintively. " No ; but I was thinking of her," he returned, simply. Then he took Margaret's hand and kissed it. " It is to you I owe my happiness." But Margaret only gave him a lovely smile and knelt down by Maureen. "Is this true, little girl?" she whispered. Then Maureen flung her arms round her neck. " Yes, but I can hardly believe even now. Oh, dear Aunt Maggie, do you mind? Is it wrong of me to be so happy when I shall be leaving you alone ? " She said this in such a low voice that Romney could not hear. " Wrong ! when your heart tells you the truth. Why, darling, how can you ask me such a question? It is a good and a wise thing you are doing, and I am glad, glad, glad." She took a hand of each as she spoke, 372 The Sunny Side of the Hill and her eyes were soft with some beautiful thought. " Dear Mr. Chaytor, how thankful I am that I said that, though I had forgotten my little Maureen's exist- ence when I spoke. But I did so long to help you out of the Slough of Despond. But there is no one to whom I would so willingly spare her." " I shall not be taking her away," he returned. " Marsh Hall is not far off." Then Maureen blushed, and Margaret gave a low laugh of satisfaction. " No, I shall not be lonely. Oh, if you only knew how glad how truly glad I am about this ! " And Margaret's happy face endorsed her words. To her unselfishness it was glorious news that Maureen should enter into her woman's heritage, and that Romney Chaytor's loneliness was over. " We must rejoice with those who do rejoice," she had said to Anna; and she was carrying out her beloved precept. " What will Daniel and Anna say ? " was her next thought as she moved to the tea-table. Romney followed her. " Maureen and I have been talking over things," he observed, " and we both agree that I had better go up to town to-morrow and speak to her father. I could send a telegram to the office I believe that would be the best plan. If necessary, I could remain for the night." And as Margaret highly approved of this, the matter was arranged. Margaret would not let him stay long after this, for she saw that Maureen was growing weary with excitement. She left them alone for a few moments, but Romney did not keep her long waiting. " She is very tired," he said, " and I would not talk any more." " Good man," returned Margaret, approvingly. And then she watched him get into the motor. An hour or two later, as she was wishing Maureen good-night, the girl held her tightly for a moment. " You are sure that I am not selfish, Aunt Maggie ? " " A Hope for Me and a Hope for You " 373 " Quite sure, dearest." " And that you will not be lonely ? " " No, of course not ; you and Romney will be near me. I must call him Romney now he is going to be my nephew ; besides, I shall see you every day. There, we will talk of all this another time; you must go to sleep now." Then Maureen said a strange thing. " I don't think I want to go to sleep to-night. I am so afraid of waking up to-morrow and finding it all a dream." But Margaret did not laugh at her. " It is a dream that will last you your life, little girl," she said, tenderly. And then she left her to her happy thoughts. XLI "I CANNOT FACE THE MUSIC" Each day that still you love me seems to me A little fairer than the day before; For, daily given, Love's least must daily be A little more. LYTTON. The only love, worthy of the name, ever and always uplifts. MACDONALB. IN spite of Margaret's injunctions and her own good resolutions k was many hours before Maureen slept that night, and it was so late before she woke that her room was quite flooded with the pale February sunshine. Some one, too, had crept to her bedside unheard and placed a note on the little table beside her. She had only once seen that handwriting, and as she looked at it, behold yesterday's dream had merged into reality. The first love-letter that she had ever received was the sign and token that the new life had begun for her in earnest. Not " I " but " we." Oh, the magic, the bliss of that thought! The letter was brief but entirely satisfactory, and it was necessary to read and reread it so often that she had not half finished her breakfast when Margaret came for her morning's inspection, but the bright face gave no clue to the wakeful night. " Oh, I am so well, and all the pain seems gone, this morning, Aunt Maggie; I am only just a little stiff. I mean to dress myself and come downstairs as soon as possible." " That's right," encouragingly. " So you have heard from your Viking, Maureen." Then tlie girl's face was suffused with colour. " Yes " ; she stammered, " it was so kind of him to 374 " I Cannot Face the Music " 375 write. He wanted me to know that he had made up his mind to remain in town for the night He said there were one or two things he wanted to get, and that we must not expect to see him until to-morrow evening." " Well, I can survive/' returned Margaret, com- posedly, " and I suppose you can, too." " Oh, Aunt Peggy, how can you say such things ? And there is something else I meant to tell you; Ruth is coming round quite early." " So I expected. I shall leave you two young women to talk to each other, and go out and do my business. Don't let her tire you too much." " I don't think anything will tire me to-day ; I am as fit as possible, as Harold often says. Oh, the dear fellow, how I long to see him! There, I have finished, Aunt Margaret, and Rhoda can take the tray away, and then I will get up." But she was only just dressed when Ruth arrived. If ever a human face sparkled and beamed Ruth's did that morning. Margaret declared that the coal- heaver's compliments ought to be reproduced for her benefit, for she was perfectly radiant. " Oh, you darling, what am I to say to you ? " she exclaimed when the two girls were left alone together. " When Romney told me last night what had happened I could hardly believe my ears. ' You will have a real sister of your own, Ruthie.' Oh, if you could only have seen his face when he said that." Maureen was silent. Ruth's joy was so touching, that it almost moved her to tears. " If you could only imagine my surprise, Maureen ; for I had never dreamt of such a thing for a moment. One has thoughts and fancies and wishes, bwt one does not really believe in them. I knew Romney liked you, and that he took a great deal of notice of you, but I thought he would never marry." " Dear Ruth, it makes me so happy to think that one day we shall be sisters." 376 The Sunny Side of the Hill " Yes, but not happier than it makes me." And Ruth hugged her again. " Think how delightful it will be for us three to be together! My dear old Romney will be a different man. You are just the sort of girl he wants; you will suit him down to the ground. He said, one day, that he was sure you had a strain of gipsy blood in your veins, you were so strong and active and hardy, and so fond of open-air life. You have the same tastes, and love freedom and roaming about, and motoring expeditions." Then Maureen's white teeth gleamed as she smiled. " Oh yes, I shall dearly like that." " I am so different." Here Ruth sighed. " I never could care for the things that Romney liked; and somehow our temperaments jarred. He would persist in putting me into a glass case, as though I were some- thing precious and brittle, and he was responsible for my safe keeping. He never could think Marsh Hall a fit home for me. Even last night he said so again, but that he knew the environment would suit you. He is going to hurry on those new rooms, Maureen, and they will be just lovely; I can tell you that." But Maureen refused to discuss the subject. " I don't want to talk about that, dear," she said, gently. " All these sublunary things don't seem to matter. The great thing is that he cares for me, and that I must try to be worthy of his choice. Oh, it is all so new and fresh that one can hardly speak of it." And the brown eyes were a little wet as Maureen said this. She was too young and inexperienced to express her need for thought and silence; but she could have said with Elizabeth Barrett Browning, only in simpler language : " The whole earth and skies Are illumed by altar candles, Lit for blessed mysteries." For though she was no longer in a dream it seemed as " I Cannot Face the Music " 377 though some miracle of bud and blossom was making her life beautiful. When Margaret returned Ruth reluctantly took her leave, and the remainder of the day was spent very restfully and quietly. Maureen wrote to her mother, and added a note for Harold. Margaret wrote also and in the evening they had a little talk, which was very comforting to both of them. Maureen's stiffness was so much better the next day, that she was able to go out with Margaret. They met Ruth and Mrs. Holden, and walked a little way with them. Ruth pleaded to be allowed to come in the afternoon, but Margaret would not hear of it. She wanted Maureen to rest, and to look her best for the evening. And though Ruth was disappointed, she said no more. Margaret had ordered dinner a little later that night that Mr. Chaytor's visit might not be hurried. But he came earlier than they expected. Margaret went out into the hall to receive him, and so her surprised exclamation escaped Maureen's ears. She had risen quickly from her seat, and was standing by the fire when Romney entered, and she did not turn until he was close to her. " Darling, are you half as glad to see me as I am to see you again ? " he said, as he greeted her. " Why," looking at her shy, rosy face, " the little girl has grown up to-day, I see ; " for Maureen had been able to coil her hair in her usual fashion. " But you look so well, dear ; and Miss Brvdon tells me you had a nice walk." " Yes, and it was delicious to be out in the fresh air again. We met Ruth and Mrs. Holden." But he only stroked her soft hair a little absently. " Maureen, do you know I have brought some one down with me from town ! " " Oh, is it Harold ? " she asked eagerly. " No, not Harold ; but you shall see for yourself directly." Then he kissed her again, and let her go. 378 The Sunny Side of the Hill And as Maureen opened the door she saw her mother sitting by the hall fire, with Margaret kneeling on the rug beside her. " Mother ! " burst from her lips in astonishment, then Anna held out her arms to the girl with a loving gesture. " Did you think I could stay away," she said re- proachfully, " when we might have lost you ? And now Maureen " but Anna's voice was not quite clear " dear child, your father and I are so happy about this ; we like your Viking so much. He wanted to come himself to give you his blessing ; but he could not leave." " It was so dear and good of you to come, mother." " Good to myself, you mean. Do you really think I could have stayed away? She does not understand a mother's feelings, does she, Margaret? How well and happy the child looks," she went on. " It makes one forget the awful peril she was in, though it made me quite ill when I first heard of it, and I don't believe Dan closed his eyes that night for hours." " Please do not speak of it, mother." " No ; we have far happier things to think about ; but we will talk more to-morrow. Margaret is going to take me up to her room, as mine is not ready for me, and you must go to Mr. Chaytor." Then Maureen went slowly back to the drawing-room. Romney was evi- dently looking for her return rather impatiently. "Well, were you pleased to see your mother?" he said, smiling at her. "Oh, why is every one so good to me?" she said, humbly. " Mother has come all this way to see me, and father wanted to come too." "Yes, I know. Did your mother tell you, dearest, that he took me down to the Homestead with him last night?" " Oh no ; mother never told me that," and Maureen listened with delight as Romney gave her an account of his visit. Daniel Brydon had taken him straight to his wife, and had announced his business in his curt, dry way: " I Cannot Face the Music " 879 " Anna, this is Mr. Chaytor. He has asked our per- mission to propose to Maureen, but it seems they settled it for themselves yesterday." " Poor, dear mother ; how astonished she must have been ! " " Well, she was a little upset at first, but I soon made it all dear to her, and we became the best of friends. Darling, do you know I have fallen in love with your mother, and a certain little person will be dearer to me for being her daughter." " Oh, I am so glad ! " she whispered. " And then you saw them all." " Yes, I saw them all. No wonder you loved your home, Maureen." And then he told her all the little details he knew she would like to hear, and time passed blissfully until Margaret and her sister-in-law returned. Anna stayed for about a week at the Garden House, and Daniel came down for a couple of days and took her home a little later. Irene also paid them a short visit, for Margaret was determined that Maureen should not miss her belongings at this momentous period of her existence, and she knew how dearly the two sisters would love to be together. But Harold never came. He had written the moment the news had reached him, and his letter was as affectionate as possible. " I wonder if even you know how glad I am about this," he wrote. " It is the grandest piece of news I have ever heard. All happiness to you and your Viking. He is a splendid fellow, and you cannot fail to be happy with him. " I am so glad, too, for Miss Chaytor's sake. I know how good you will be to her, Maureen. I will run down and see you one of these days, but just now, forgive me, dear. I cannot face the music. Your loving brother, HAROLD." When Maureen laid down the letter her eyes were a little sad. " Oh, poor fellow," she sighed. For this was " the little rift within the lute " of her happiness, which jarred on its perfect music. 380 The Sunny Side of the Hill In spite of this one drawback she was very happy; and the diamonds on the little brown hand that had once been ringless did not gleam more brightly than the smile that lit up her face. Day by day she grew to under- stand her lover better, and to trust and depend on him more entirely. And day by day she realised how neces- sary she was to his happiness. Maureen, in her deep content, would have wished for no further change. But Romney Chaytor was not one of those who cared to wait for his good things. He wanted Maureen in his life and home, and he swept away with a strong hand all feminine and flimsy excuses for delay. When Ruth pointed out to him that the new rooms would not be ready for habitation by August, he gave a short laugh. " What does that matter ? " he returned. " Maureen and I have settled about that. We shall not be back from Scotland until the middle of September, and they will be ready then. And we shall put up at Bailey's Hotel for a few days while we get the furniture. Mau- reen will be glad to see something of her people." For Romney Chaytor had decreed that the honeymoon should be spent in a motor trip through Scotland. As the date of the wedding was fixed for the twenty-fifth of July, Margaret, who intended to give Maureen her trousseau, had arranged that they should go to the Homestead in May for two or three weeks to do their shopping. Mrs. Holden would be obliged to leave Marsh Hall in July, as her brother wished her to join him as soon as possible. And while Romney and Maureen were away Margaret had begged that Ruth would keep her company at the Garden House, and Ruth had joyfully accepted the invitation. As it turned out afterwards Margaret had another visitor at the same time. Romney Chaytor had more than once expressed his surprise to Maureen that Harold had not yet paid his promised visit, but she had always some excuse to give " I Cannot Face the Music " 381 him. But one day at the beginning of April, when Romney paid an unexpected visit to the Garden House, he found her looking a little depressed over a letter she had just received from Harold. But she put it away hastily, and spoke to him with forced cheerfulness. He took no notice for some minutes, for he wanted to consult her about some drawings of mantelpieces, but when they had finished looking at them he said quietly: " Well, is Harold coming down to see you at last? " " He has not fixed the day," she returned, a little dejectedly. " I don't think he is quite well. He does not write very brightly. He says it is the east wind." "May I see the letter, dear?" but Maureen shook her head with rather a. troubled expression. " Harold never likes me to show his letters to other people. He is Entre-nous, you see." " Well, then, supposing you tell me all about it," returned Romney, coolly. Then, as Maureen looked up in sudden surprise, he went on in the same matter- of-fact way : " I am not quite so dense as you think, and I have long been aware that something is amiss with your brother. He is well, Irene told us so, and he is tolerably reconciled to his work. So it must be some- thing else. Shall I guess, Maureen, why Harold never comes down to Branksmere ? " Maureen's cheeks were flaming. She tried to hide them with her hands. Romney's eyes were as keen as a hawk, and if he had any suspicion of poor Harold's secret what should she do? " Oh, don't, please don't try to guess, Romney. I will write to-morrow and beg him to come down, and I know he will come if I really want him." But he simply brushed all this aside. " You are a bad actor, I am glad to say," he ob- served, calmly. " I have long known that you have been troubled about Harold. Did you think you could hide anything from me, darling? But I have only just discovered your brother's secret; he has fallen in love with Ruth."' 382 The Sunny Side of the Hill " Oh, Romney ! " and Maureen looked at him help- lessly; how was she to contradict the truth? "Well, am I right, dear?" " You must not ask me that. But what what made you think of such a thing? I have said nothing." " No, you have been as discreet as possible. Don't look so frightened my dear one; you have not betrayed your brother's confidence. I have guessed the truth from quite another source." "Are you sure of that, Romney?" and Maureen looked immensely relieved. " Quite sure, dear. And as you have behaved so well I will try to follow your example and ask you no trou- blesome questions. If there is anything that you can tell me without betraying his confidence I think I ought to know, as I am Ruth's guardian." " I am afraid he does care very much," she replied, " and that he is very unhappy. That is why he does not come. He says himself that he cannot face the music." Then a strange expression crossed Romney's face. " But suppose I have a strong suspicion that Ruth cares, too ; what then, little girl ? " Then Maureen gazed at him doubtfully. " What do you mean ? what can you mean ? " she asked, but he looked at her with a reassuring smile. " I will wait to explain my meaning until I know more about it. Now will you write a letter to Harold? I will tell you what to say, but you can put it in your own words." And as Maureen obediently fetched her writing-materials, the upshot was that Harold received a letter which determined him to pack up his valise and go down the very next day. Business was slack, and he could easily get away. This is what Maureen wrote : " DEAREST HAROLD You said if I ever wanted you very badly that you would come down at once however much h might cost you, and now I am going to hold you to your word. " I want you so badly that I shall not know a moment's peace until you come. Romney has discovered your secret, " I Cannot Face the Music " 388 but not through me. He will not tell me how he has guessed it, but he has suspected it vaguely for some" time. " He does not seem the least angry, only surprised and interested, but he says he will not ask me any questions as I ought not to betray your confidence. " Dear Harold, do you not think it would be only honest and honourable to tell him the truth yourself? It can do you no harm for you have never hoped to win Ruth, and one day he will be your brother. " For my sake do trust him. He has such a noble heart, I am sure you would never repent it. Your loving and anxious " MAUMBEN." This was the letter which brought Harold to the Garden. House the very next evening. XLII GOLDEN SHEAVES Our youth went by in recklessness and haste, And precious things were lost as soon as gained ; Yet patiently our Father saw the waste And gathered up the fragments that remained. Taught by His love, we learnt to love aright; Led by His hand we passed through dreary ways ; And now how lovely is the mellow light That shines so calmly on our latter days. SARAH DOUDNEY. IF Maureen's conscience had been less clear and free from blame she would have felt some misgiving when she saw Harold's pale set face that evening. He had arrived just before dinner, and there had been no time for any explanation ; but Margaret, who soon perceived that the young people were not at their ease, and that something was evidently amiss with Harold, soon found an opportunity of leaving them together. Maureen had not ventured to confide in her, but Margaret, who was very clear-sighted, had guessed the purport of this sudden visit. " Romney Chaytor has somehow found things out," she thought. " I hope he will not make a Star-chamber matter of it." So, as they rose from the table, she said quietly, " Master and Tobias and I mean to stay here for the present, and you two can make yourselves cosy in the drawing- room, and talk over the affairs of the nation." " But we ought not to banish you, Aunt Margaret," returned Harold, with a forced smile. But Margaret only kissed her hand to him, and settled herself in her favourite chair. And after a moment's hesitation Harold had followed Maureen. " And now, what does this mean ? " he asked, as soon as the door had closed behind them. He was standing 384 Golden Sheaves 385 before her, his head very erect, and his face unusually stern. But though Maureen looked at him rather anxiously, she was not embarrassed. " How is it that Chaytor knows about this ? " " It was not my fault, Harold," she said, gently. " Shall I tell you all that passed between us " and, as he nodded, she repeated her conversation with Romney. " That is all I know about it," she finished. " I have no more idea than you how he found it out unless but I think I had better not say that." Then he gave her a quick, searching look, and then suddenly averted his eyes. " But why did he tell you to write ? " " Ah, that is for him to say. But it is certain that for some reason he wishes to speak to you ' You might tell him that I am not angry/ that was one of the things he said; and then he asked me to write so that you would not refuse to come down." " He has forced my hand," returned Harold, gloomily. Poor boy, how white and careworn he looked ! He was hungering for a sight of the fair, bewitching face, which, in spite of all his efforts, haunted him day and night ; and though he had fought well and honestly against it all these months, the ravag- ing marks of that consuming passion was stamped legibly on his features. He looked years older. " I do not quite understand you, dear." " Do you not ? It is as plain as A B C. You are gcing to marry Chaytor, and it stands to reason that I do not wish to be shut out of my sister's home." " No, of course not ! " " But I will not enter any man's house on false pre- tences. Romney Chaytor must know the truth. That is why I say he is forcing my hand. To-morrow I shall go to Marsh Hall and tell him the truth, and if we quarrel " but here his face softened a little " it will not be my fault, Maureen." But she only smiled at that. M 386 The Sunny Side of the Hill " I am not afraid, Harold, dear. Oh, you do not know Romney. In spite of his abrupt manners he has the kindest and noblest heart in the world. Oh," she continued, in a moved voice, " it is such peace to know that I shall be able to trust and look up to him all my life. Sometimes it seems too much happiness it almost frightens me." Then Harold's moody look relaxed, and he kissed her cheek with real brotherly affection. " I am so glad. But you deserve to be happy, Maureen, for you have been a thorough little brick all your life." And after this they sat down and talked more comfortably together, and Harold listened greedily to all that Maureen told him about Ruth, and how happy she was at the prospect of her brother's marriage. How Maureen longed to repeat to him Romney's speech, in which he had conveyed to her his strong suspicion that Ruth cared for Harold. But a sense of delicacy forbade her; no woman likes to give another woman away. " I had better leave it all to Romney," she thought, with a delicious sense that all her life, please God, she would have his clear judgment to aid her in her difficulties. " The best part of loving is the trusting," she said once to Margaret. " If Romney were not such a good man I mean as highly principled as he is I should not have this feeling of intense rest." And Margaret understood her. It was evident to both ladies that Harold had slept badly, for he looked worn and jaded when he appeared at the breakfast-table; but neither of them ventured to ask him the question. Margaret talked on indifferent subjects. When Harold announced his intention of going over to Marsh Hall quite early, Margaret took it as a matter of course. " You have not seen Romney Chaytor since his engagement," she remarked quietly. " Are you going with him, Maureen?" But as the girl hesitated a moment, Harold answered for her. "I think not this morning, Aunt Peggy. I shall Golden Sheaves 387 probably not be long," and there was again the drawn, constrained look on Harold's face, and he quitted the room a little abruptly. " Poor boy," sighed Margaret, as she took up her key-basket. " Maureen, if you want me for anything you will find me in the garden. Giles is very busy this morning, and I intend to help him." But it was long past noon before Maureen went in search of her. " Hasn't Harold come back ? " exclaimed Margaret, in some surprise. " No. I have just had a note from Romney. He is keeping him to luncheon, and he wants me to go too. He has sent Gale and the motor to fetch me." Then an odd expression crossed Margaret's face. " Then you had better get ready as quickly as pos- sible. There is no need for you to change your frock, Maureen, you look as nice as possible " ; and Maureen nodded and ran off, and Margaret returned to her labours with renewed cheerfulness. " The world went very well with some people," she thought. " Yes, for some it went very well indeed." Maureen was saying much the same thing to herself as the motor sped through the village. Romney must have been nice to Harold or he would not have consented to remain to luncheon. As they went up the drive Maureen saw the front door was open, and Gale told her his master was about the place. So, as there was no servant in sight, she ran up to the morning-room, and, knocking lightly at the door and meeting with no response, she entered. There were only two people in the room Ruth and Harold and they were seated on a couch very close together, and Maureen was almost sure that they were hand in hand. " Oh dear ! " she exclaimed, flushing with embarrass- ment. " I knocked, but you did not hear me." Then a transfigured Harold leapt from the couch. "No, we heard nothing; but what does that matter? 388 The Sunny Side of the Hill You have come just at the right time to wish us joy. Maureen, .can you believe it? Ruth has consented to marry me; and Chaytor, like the trump he is, gave me leave to ask her." Then Maureen's arms went round his neck, and he could say no more. " Oh Harold, my dear, dear brother ! " And then Ruth, dimpling and shy with her new happiness, stole to her lover's side. Harold put his arm round her proudly how well he played his part, this quiet, self- respecting Entre-nous. " Can you believe it, Maureen is it not utterly incredible ? " But Maureen refused to endorse this. " Ruth, darling," she said, kissing her, " I love you more than ever for being so good to him ; but I know he deserves all you can give him." " Yes, of course," returned Ruth, looking so inex- pressibly lovely as she spoke that Harold could almost have worshipped her. " But he was so silly. Could you believe it, Maureen, that he did not like to speak because I had all that stupid money, as though it mat- tered when he knew quite well ? " But here Ruth just glanced at him and did not finish her sentence. " Shall I finish it for you? " whispered Harold. Bat she shook her head. " Maureen knows all about it," she returned. Oh, how happy they were! Ruth and Maureen sat down on the couch, and Harold drew up a chair beside them, while they told her how this marvellous thing had come to pass. " I told Chaytor the truth, Maureen," began Harold. " I kept nothing back. But you were right ; he seemed to know all about it beforehand. He is a terribly observant fellow, and he has noticed things for a long time. But he took my breath away when he asked me if I did not wish to speak to Ruth. "'What am I to say to her?' I returned, staring at him, for the room seemed going round with me that moment, I felt so stupid and dizzy. ' How can I ask Golden Sheaves 389 her to marry a solicitor's clerk with not two hundred a year ? ' " Then he shrugged his shoulders you know his way, Maureen. ' Oh, if I were you,' he remarked, coolly, ' I would not let that stand in my way. Ruth has her own opinions. She has already refused three offers ; and if you do not mind running the risk, you might see what she says about it.' So I took his advice." And then he and Ruth looked at each other. 'Neither of them ever owned the truth that, when the poor boy stood before her unable to speak for the emotion that nearly choked him true-hearted, brave little Ruth, who had read the truth in his face, stretched out her hands to him " Oh, do not look like that ; do not be so afraid, Harold," she said so sweetly. And then without a word he had taken her in his arms. Harold's proposal, his long-drawn explanations of his limitations, his poverty, his lack of position, all came when everything was comfortably settled. It was the cart before the horse, but it answered splendidly, and there was no real awkwardness for a moment. " And then," went on Harold, " Chaytor came in when Ruth and I had had our talk to give us his blessing, and to tell us that he meant to send the motor for you." " There he is ! " interrupted Ruth, as the limping footsteps came up the corridor. " Do go and meet him, Maureen. I know he wants to speak to you alone." And Maureen did as she was asked. Romney looked very pleased when he saw her. " Come into the library, darling," he said. " I want to know what you think of our morning's work." " Oh, Romney, I do so want to thank you ! " she returned, earnestly. " I know how you encouraged the poor boy to speak ; and that it's all owing to your goodness that things have come right. If you and Ruth had not been so unworldly and generous " But he would not let her go on. " Why, what nonsense, dear ! Your brother is a 390 The Sunny Side of the Hill gentleman an honest, upright, manly fellow, and he perfectly adores our little Ruth; and she has money enough for both. Do you think I did not know that they cared for each other? When I advised him to speak I was pretty sure in my own mind what Ruth's answer would be." " And you are really satisfied, Romney ? " " Yes, love ; more than satisfied, for I feel Ruth will be in safe hands. I have a very high opinion of your Entre-nous. Now we shall have no more grave looks when you read his letters." Then Maureen's bright smile was a convincing answer. " I wonder what Aunt Margaret will say ? " she observed by and by, as they sat at luncheon. " Shall we go in a body and find out for ourselves? " returned Romney, coolly. " Shall I tell Gale to bring the car round in an hour ? " And this suggestion was highly approved. But it was nearly tea-time before the car stopped at the door of the Garden House; and Margaret, who needed no explanation, went out with a beaming face to welcome " the last pair of love-birds," as she phrased it. But when she had kissed her nephew and Ruth, she put her hand on Romney Chaytor's arm. " Romney," she said, " you have behaved like a fine- hearted English gentleman, and you never did a better day's work in your life. You may take my word for that." " Except that day when I asked Maureen to marry me," he said, in a low voice ; " and I had to thank you for that, dear lady." And he took Margaret's hand and kissed it. One cold January afternoon Margaret sat by her fireside in the twilight. But she was not alone. Anna was in the easy-chair opposite to her. Six months had passed since Maureen had become Romney Chaytor's wife, and Daniel and Anna had come for a flying visit to the Garden House to solace Mar- Golden Sheaves 391 garet's loneliness, and to feast their eyes with a sight of their child's happiness. " So you have left Daniel behind you." It was Margaret who was speaking. " Yes ; Maureen begged so hard that he would stay. And then Ruth put in her word ; so I told them that I would come back and keep you company; and as Dan has promised not to be late, I thought you would not mind." " No, indeed ; I am very glad. Well, dear ! " tenta- tively. Then a proud, maternal smile crossed Anna's beautiful face. " The child is very happy, Margaret, and I have never seen her look so well. Romney is all that we could wish." "I knew you would say that; and it is the truth. It is wonderful how Maureen seems to adapt herself to all his ways. If she had been his wife for six years instead of six months, she could not understand him better. He would be utterly lost without her." And Anna assented to this. " Please God they will be happier still before many months are over," she said, softly. And then they looked at each other with a meaning smile. " By the bye," she continued, after a moment's silence, " Ruth begged me to tell you that they have decided to take that house at Kensington that they liked so much. Romney has seen it, and he says they will not find another so suitable in every way. He means to buy it. It is to be his wedding present to Ruth. Dear child, she is so excited about it." " And they are to be married in April ? " " Yes ; towards the end. The day is not yet fixed. And all our girls are to be bridesmaids." "And Irene?" " Well, Mr. Walton has not spoken yet ; but, of course, Dan and I know how it will end. He and Irene evidently understand each other. But there is some- 392 The Sunny Side of the Hill thing I forgot to tell you, Margaret, which will interest you greatly. Harold is to have chambers of his own after his marriage. Ruth and Romney have talked Daniel over." Margaret clapped her hands. " Bravo, my dear old Dan ! Anna, are" you not delighted ? We shall see Harold in a silk gown one of these days." Then Anna looked at her a little strangely. " Margaret, I feel as though I do not deserve it. All these years I have been so rebellious and chafing against my limitations, and now all these good gifts have been poured into my lap." Margaret looked at her with silent sympathy. " I was ambitious for my chil- dren, and I did not want Harold to go into his father's office. But I knew Dan wanted him, and so I never said a word." " I am afraid Dan will miss him sorely." " Yes ; but it is no longer of such vital necessity. You have helped him so much, Margaret. Clive and Ninian are off his hands, and Maureen has married a rich man. By and by he will only have to work for me and the Tweenies and Ivy. Think of the difference ! " "Yes, I see. And you are happier, Anna?" " Far happier, dear. You have taught me so much, Margaret, especially during this last year. I think I am trying to learn the lesson, too." " That is good hearing." But Margaret's voice was a little dreamy. " And you, dearest " and Anna's tone was very soft and loving " can you still assure me that you are not lonely ? " Then Margaret turned her serene face to her sister-in-law. " How strange that you should ask me that question. I dreamt last night that Henry Torrance was saying the same thing to me. ' You are not lonely now, Mar- garet ? ' and I answered so vehemently, ' No, certainly not,' that I woke myself." Golden Sheaves 393 " Ah, you still dream your dreams. But I hope that answer of yours was a true one." " Absolutely true. I think I feel less lonely every day. Think of all my blessings, Anna. I have this dear home, ' the garden that I love,' and plenty of money to help Dan ; then I have Maureen and Romney, and a village full of loving human hearts to keep my sym- pathies warm. Ah, dear friend for you have been my sister-friend ever since Daniel brought you home you need never be anxious about me. In spite of shadows and losses and pain, life is such a beautiful thing " and here Margaret paused " and, thank God, I can say with truth that I am happy." Anna looked at her wistfully. She was learning the same lesson, but it seemed to her that Margaret had passed into a higher class and was far above her. " I wish I knew your secret," she said, humbly. Then a wonderful smile lighted up Margaret's face. " Oh, it is so perfectly simple," she returned. " Listen, Anna. Many years ago I had a dear old friend whom I greatly loved. You have forgotten her name, I daresay, but then you never knew her. She had led such a beautiful, ministering life, but she was drawing near the end of her pilgrimage when I asked her one day I was much younger then, you know how one was to meet cheerfully and bravely the limitations and the loneliness of advancing age. Shall I tell you her answer? It was this: 'Trust in the Lord and do good.' Just that little text, but it covers everything. I took it for my New Year's motto. I shall need no other as long as I live." And as Anna softly repeated the words to herself there was a long silence that neither of them cared to break. THE END Popular Copyright Boob AT MODERATE PRICES Ask your dealer for a complete list of A. L. Burt Company a Popular Copyright Fiction. Abner Daniel. By Will N. Harben. Adventures of A Modest Man. By Robert W. Chambers. Adventures of Gerard. By A. Conan Doyle. Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. By A. Conan Doyle. Ailsa Page. By Robert W. Chambers. Alternative, The. 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