Mrs. Robert Brownlow did not like it at all, either as an anomaly or as a disappointment to the Kenminster world, but her husband was won over, and she was obliged to consent. Mother Carey, with her brood, were of course to be guests, but her difficulty was the leaving Dr. and Mrs. Lucas. The good old physician was failing fast, and they had no kindred near at hand, or capable of being of much comfort to them, and she was considering how to steer between the two calls, when Jock settled it for her, by saying that he did not mean to go to Fordham, and if Mrs. Lucas liked, would sleep in the house. There was much amazement and vexation. He had of course been the first best man thought of, but he fought off, declaring that he could not afford to miss a single lecture or demonstration. Friar John's University studies had given him such a start that he had to work less hard than his cousin, and could afford himself the week for which he was invited; but Jock declared that he could not even lose the thirty-six hours that Armine was to take for the journey to Fordham and back. Every one declared this nonsense, and even Mrs. Lucas could not bear that he should remain, as she thought, on her account; but his mother did not join in the public outcry, and therefore was admitted to fuller insight, as he was walking back with her, after listening to the old lady's persuasions.
'I think she would really be better pleased to spare you for that one day,' said Caroline.
'May be, good old soul,' said Jock; 'but as you know, mother, that's not all.'
'I guessed not. It may be wiser.'
'Well! There's no use in stirring it all up again, after having settled down after a fashion,' said Jock. 'I see clearer than ever how hopeless it is to have anything fit to offer a girl in her position for the next ten years, and I must not get myself betrayed into drawing her in to wait for me. I am such an impulsive fool, I don't know what I might be saying to her, and it would not be a right return for all they have been to me.'
'You will have to meet her in town?'
'Perhaps; but not as if I were in the house and at the wedding. It would just bring back the time when she bade me never give up my sword.'
'Perhaps she is wiser now.'
'That would make it even more likely that I should say what would be better left alone. No, mother! Ten years hence, if-'
She thought of Magnum Bonum, and said, 'Sooner, perhaps!'
'No,' he said, laughing. 'It is only in the 'Traveller's Joy' that all the bigwigs are out of sight, and the apothecary's boy saved the Lord Mayor's life.'
With that laugh, rather a sad one, he inserted the latch-key and ended the discussion.
Whether Barbara were really unwilling to go was not clear, for she had no such excuse as her brother; but she grumbled almost as much as her aunt at the solecism of a wedding in the gentleman's home; and for the only time in her life showed ill-humour. She was vexed with Esther for her taste in bridesmaid's attire (hers was given by her uncle); sarcastic to Cecil for his choice of gifts; cross to her mother about every little arrangement as to dress; satirical on Allen's revival of spirits in prospect of a visit to a great house; annoyed at whatever was done or not done; and so much less tolerant of having little Lina left on her hands, that Aunt Carey became the child's best reliance.
Some of this temper might be put to the score of that pity for Bobus, which Babie in her caprice had begun to dwell on, most inconsistently with her former gaiety; but her mother attributed it to an unconfessed reluctance to meet Lord Fordham again, and a sense that the light thoughtlessness to which she had clung so long might perforce be at an end.
So sharp-edged was her tongue, even to the moment of embarkation in the train, that her mother began to fear how she might behave, and dreaded lest she should wound Fordham; but she grew more silent all the way down, and when the carriage came to the station, and they drove past banks starred by primroses, and with the blue eyes of periwinkles looking out among the evergreen trailers, she spoke no word. Even Allen brightened to enjoy that lamb-like March day; and John, with his little sister on his knee, was most joyously felicitous. Indeed, the tall, athletic, handsome fellow looked as if it were indeed spring with him, all the more from the contrast with Allen's languid, sallow looks, savouring of the fumes in which he lived.
Out on the steps were Fordham, wrapped up to the ears; Sydney ready to devour Babie, who passively submitted; and Mrs. Evelyn, as usual, giving her friend a sense of rest and reliance.
The last visit, though only five years previous to this one, had seemed in past ages, till the familiar polished oak floor was under foot, and the low tea-table in the wainscoted hall, before the great wood fire, looked so homelike and natural, that the newcomers felt as if they had only left it yesterday. Fordham, having thrown off his wraps, waited on his guests, looking exceedingly happy in his quiet way, but more fragile than ever. He had a good deal of fair beard, but it could not conceal the hollowness of his cheeks, and there were great caves round his eyes, which were very bright and blue. Yet he was called well, waited assiduously on little Lina, and talked with animation.
'We have nailed the weathercock,' he said, 'and telegraphed to the clerk of the weather-office not to let the wind change for a week.'
'Meantime we have three delicious days to ourselves,' said Sydney, 'before any of the nonsense and preparation begins.'
'Indeed! As if Sydney were not continually drilling her unfortunate children!'
'If you call the Psalms and hymns nonsense, Duke-'
'No! no! But isn't there a course of instruction going on, how to strew the flowers gracefully before the bride?'
'Well, I don't want them thrown at her head, as the children did at the last wedding, when a great cowslip ball hit the bride in the eye. So I told the mistress to show them how, and the other day we found them in two lines, singing-
''This is the way the flowers we strew!''
'I suppose Cecil is keeping his residence?'
'No. Did you not know that this little Church of ours is not licensed for weddings? The parish Church is three miles off and a temple of the winds. This is only a chapelry, there is a special licence, and Cecil is hunting with the Hamptons, and comes with them on Monday.'
'Special licence! Happy Mrs. Coffinkey!' ejaculated Babie.
'Everybody comes then,' said Sydney; 'not that it is a very large everybody after all, and we have not asked more neighbours than we can help, because it is to be a feast for all the chief tenants-here in this hall-then the poor people dine in the great barn, and the children drink tea later in the school. Come, little Caroline, you've done tea, and I have my old baby-house to show you. Come, Babie! Oh! isn't it delicious to have you?'
When Sydney had carried off Babie, and the two mothers stood over the fire in the bedroom, Mrs. Evelyn said-
'So Lucas stays with his good old godfather. I honour him more than I can show.'
'We did not like to leave the old people alone. They were my kindest friends in my day of trouble.'
'You will not let me press him to run down for the one day, if he cannot leave them for more? Would he, do you think?'
'I believe he would, if you did it,' said Caroline, slowly; 'but I ought not let you do so, without knowing his full reason for staying away.'
They both coloured as if they had been their own daughters, and Mrs. Evelyn smiled as she said-
'We have outgrown some of our folly about choice of profession.'
'But does that make it safer? My poor boy has talked it over with me. He says he is afraid of his own impulses, leading him to say what would not be an honourable requital for all your kindness to him.'
'He is very good. I think he is right-quite right,' said Mrs. Evelyn. 'I am afraid I must say so. For anything to begin afresh between them might lead to suspense that my child's constitution might not stand, and I am very grateful to him for sparing her.'
'Afresh? Do you think there ever was anything?'
'Never anything avowed, but a good deal of sympathy. Indeed, so far as I can guess, my foolish girl was first much offended and disquieted with Jock for not listening to her persuasions, and then equally so with herself for having made them, and now I confess I think shame and confusion are predominant with her when she hears of him.'
'So that she is relieved at his absence.'
'Just so, and it is better so to leave it; I should be only too happy to keep her with me waiting for him, only I
