She was very unhappy at the loss of her sister, and had an odd little conversation with Babie, who showed her to her room, while the rest of the world made much of the bride.
'Ellie, the finery and flummery is to be done in Aunt Ellen's dressing-room,' explained Babie; 'but Essie is to sleep here with you to-night.'
Poor Ellie! her lip quivered at the thought that it was for the last time, and she said, bluntly-
'I didn't want to have come! I hate it all!'
'It can't be helped,' said Barbara.
'I can't think how you and Aunt Carey could give in to it!'
'It was the real article, and no mistake,' said Babie.
'Yes; she is as silly about him as possible. A mere fine gentleman! Poor Bobus has more stuff in him than a dozen of him!'
'He is a real, honest, good fellow,' said Babie. 'I'm sorry for Bobus, but I've known Cecil almost all my life, and I can't have him abused. I do really believe that Essie will be happier with a simple-hearted fellow like him, than with a clever man like Bobus, who has places in his mind she could never reach up to, and lucky for her too,' half whispered Babie at the end.
'I thought you would have cared more for your own brother.'
'Remember, they all said it would have been wrong. Besides, Cecil has been always like my brother. You will like him when you know him.'
'I can't bear fine folks.'
'They are anything but fine!' cried Babie indignantly.
'They can't help it. That way of Lord Fordham's, high-breeding I suppose you call it, just makes me wild. I hate it!'
'Poor Ellie. You'll have to get over it, for Essie's sake.'
'No, I shan't. It is really losing her, as much as Jessie-'
'Jessie looks worn.'
'No wonder. Jessie was a goose. Mamma told her to marry that old man, and she just did it because she was told, and now he is always ordering her about, and worries and fidgets about everything in the house. I wish one's sisters would have more sense and not marry.'
Which sentiment poor Ellie uttered just as Sydney was entering by an unexpected open door into the next room, and she observed, 'Exactly! It is the only consolation for not having a sister that she can't go and marry! O Ellie, I am so sorry for you.'
This somewhat softened Ellie, and she was restored to a pitch of endurance by the time Essie was escorted into the room by both the mothers.
That polished courtesy of Fordham's which Ellie so much disliked had quite won the heart of her mother, who, having viewed him from a distance as an obstacle in Esther's way, now underwent a revulsion of feeling, and when he treated her with marked distinction, and her daughter with brotherly kindness, was filled with mingled gratitude, admiration and compunction.
When, after dinner, Fordham had succeeded in rousing his uncle and the other two old soldiers out of a discussion on promotion in the army, and getting them into the drawing-room, the Colonel came and sat down by his 'good little sister' to confide to her, under cover of Sydney's music, that he was very glad his pretty Essie had chosen a younger man than her elder sister's husband.
'Very opinionated is Hood!' he said, shaking his head. 'Stuck out against Sir James and me in a perfectly preposterous way.'
Caroline was not prepossessed in favour of General Hood, either by his conversation with herself at dinner, or by the startled way in which Jessie sat upright and put on her gloves as soon as he came in; but she did not wish to discuss him with the Colonel, and asked whether John had gone to bed.
'Is he not here? I thought he had come in with the young ones? No? then he must have gone to bed. Could Armine or any of them show me the way to his room?-for I should like to know how the boy really is.'
'I doubt if Armine knows which is his room. I had better show you, for he is not unlikely to be lying down in Fordham's sitting-room. Otherwise you must prepare for many stairs. I suppose you know how gallantly he behaved,' she added, as they left the room.
'Yes, Mrs. Evelyn told me. I am glad he has not lost his athletics in his London life. I always tell his mother that John is the flower of the flock.'
'A dear good brave fellow he is.'
'Yes, you have been the making of him, Caroline. If we don't say much about it, we are none the less sensible of all you have been to our children. Most generous and disinterested!'
This was a speech to make Caroline tingle all over, and be glad both that she was a little in advance, and at the door of Fordham's room, where John was not. Indeed, he proved to be lying on his bed, waiting for some one to help him off with his coat, and he was gratified and surprised to the utmost by his father's visit, for in truth John was the one of all the sons who most loved and honoured his father.
If that evening were a whirl, what was the ensuing day, when all who stood in the position of hosts or their assistants were constantly on the stretch, receiving, entertaining, arranging, presiding over toilettes, getting people into their right places, saving one another trouble. If Mrs. Joseph Brownlow was an invaluable aid to Mrs. Evelyn, Allen was an admirable one to Lord Fordham, for his real talent was for society, and he had shaken himself up enough to exert it. There might have been an element of tuft-hunting in it, but there was no doubt that he was doing a useful part. For Robert was of no use at all, Armine was too much of a mere boy to take the same part, and John was feeling his injury a good deal more, could only manage to do his part as bridegroom's man, and then had to go away and lie down, while the wedding-breakfast went on. In consequence he was spared the many repetitions of hearing how he had saved Miss Evelyn from a watery grave, and Allen made a much longer speech than he would have done for himself when undertaking, on Rob's strenuous refusal, to return thanks for the bridesmaids.
That which made this unlike other such banquets, was that no one could help perceiving how much less the bridegroom was the hero of the day to the tenants than was the hectic young man who presided over the feast, and how all the speeches, however they began in honour of Captain Evelyn, always turned into wistful good auguries for the elder brother.
There was no worship of the rising sun there, for when Lord Fordham, in proposing the health of the bride and bridegroom, spoke of them as future possessors, in the tone of a father speaking of his heir apparent, there was a sub-audible 'No, no,' and poor Cecil fairly and flagrantly broke down in returning thanks.
Fordham's own health had been coupled with his mother's, and committed to a gentleman who knew it was to be treated briefly; but this did not satisfy the farmers, and the chief tenant rose, saying he knew it was out of course to second a toast, but he must take the opportunity on this occasion. And there followed some of that genuine native heartfelt eloquence that goes so deep, as the praise of the young landlord was spoken, the strong attachment to him found expression, and there were most earnest wishes for his long life, and happiness like his brother's.
Poor Fordham, it was very trying for him, and he could only command himself with difficulty and speak briefly. He thanked his friends with all his heart for their kindness and good wishes. Whatever might be the will of God concerning himself, they had given him one of the most precious recollections of his life, and he trusted that when sooner or later he should leave them, they would convey the same warm and friendly feelings to his successor.
There were so many tears by that time, and Mrs. Evelyn felt so much shaken, that she made the signal for breaking up. No one was more relieved than Barbara. She must go to her room to compose herself before she could bear a word from any one, and as soon as she could gain the back stair, she gathered up her heavy white silk and dashed up, rushing along the gallery so blinded by tears under her veil that she would have had a collision if a hand had not been put out as some one drew aside to let her fly past if she wished; but as the mechanical 'beg pardon' was exchanged, she knew Fordham's voice and paused. 'I was going to look after the wounded Friar,' he said, and then he saw her tearful eyes, and she exclaimed, 'I could not help it! I could not stay. You would say such things. O, Duke! Duke!'
It was the first time she had used the familiar old name, but she did not know what she said. He put her into a great carved chair, and knelt on one knee by her, saying, 'Poor Rogers, I wish he had let it alone. It was hard for my mother and Cecil.'
