'Since mamma is not here to laugh at me.'
'You'll tell her you did it to please the Babie!'
'There, it is you that are doing it now,' as her vigorous little fingers plucked far more effectively at the cord than his thin weak ones.
Out came at last one of the choice dark green books, with a clematis wreath stamped on the cover, and it was put into Barbara's lap.
'How pretty! This is mother's own design for the title-page! And oh-how capital! Dr. Medlicott's sketch of the mud baths, with Jock shrinking into a corner out of the way of the fat Grafin! You have everything. Here is Armine's Easter hymn!'
'I wished to commemorate the whole range of feeling,' said Fordham.
'I see; you have even picked out the least ridiculous chapter of Jotapata. I wish some one had sketched you patiently listening to the nineteen copy-books. It would have been a monument of good nature. And here is actually Sydney's poem about wishing to have been born in the twelfth century:-
'Would that I lived in time of faith, When parable was life, When the red cross in Holy Land Led on the glorious strife. Oh! for the days of golden spurs, Of tournament and tilt, Of pilgrim vow, and prowess high, When minsters fair were built; When holy priest the tonsure wore, The friar had his cord, And honour, truth, and loyalty Edged each bold warrior's sword.'
'The solitary poetical composition of our family,' said Fordham, 'chiefly memorable, I fear, for the continuation it elicited.'
'Would that I lived in days of yore, When outlaws bold were rife, The days of dagger and of bowl, Of dungeon and of strife. Oh! for the days when forks were not, On skewers came the meat; When from one trencher ate three foes: Oh! but those times were sweet! When hooded hawks sat overhead, And underfoot was straw Where hounds and beggars fought for bones Alternately to gnaw.'
'That was Jock's, I believe. How furious it did make us. Good old Sydney, she has lived in her romance ever since.'
'Wisely or unwisely.'
'Can it be unwisely, when it is so pure and bright as hers, and gives such a zest to common things?'
'Glamour sometimes is perplexing.'
'Do you know, Duke, I would sometimes give worlds to think of things as I used in those old times.'
'You a world-wearied veteran!'
'Don't laugh at me. It was when Bobus was at home. His common sense made all we used to care for seem so silly, that I have never been able to get back my old way of looking at things.'
'I am afraid glamour once dispelled does not return. Yet, after all, truth is the greater. And I am sure that poor Bobus never loosened my Infanta's hold on the real truth.'
'I don't know,' she said, looking down; 'he or his books made me afraid to think about it, and like to laugh at some things-no, I never did before you. You hushed me on the very borders of that kind of flippancy, and so you don't guess how horrid I am, or have been, for you have made things true and real to me again.'
''Fancy may die, but Faith is there,'' said Fordham. 'I think you will never shut your eyes to those realities again,' he added, gently. 'It is there that we shall still meet. And my Infanta will make me one promise.'
'I would promise you any thing.'
'Never knowingly to read those sneering books,' he said, laying his hand on hers. 'Current literature is so full of poisoned shafts that it may not be possible entirely to avoid them; and there may sometimes be need to face out a serious argument, but you will promise me never to take up that scoffing style of literature for mere amusement?'
'Never, Duke, I promise,' she said. 'I shall always see your face, and feel your hand forbidding me.'
Then as he leant back, half in thankfulness, half in weariness, she went on looking over the book, and read a preface, new to her.
'I have put these selections together, thinking that to the original 'Travellers' it may be a joy to have a memorial of happy days full of much innocent pleasure and wholesome intercourse. Let me here express my warm gratitude for all the refreshments afforded by the friendships it commemorates, and which makes the name most truly appropriate. As a stranger and pilgrim whose journey may be near its close, let me be allowed thus to weave a parting garland of some of the brightest flowers that have bloomed on the wayside, and in dedicating the collection to my dear companions and fellow-wanderers in the scenes it records, let me wish that on the highway of life that stretches before them, they may meet with many a 'Traveller's Joy,' as true as they have been to the Editor. 'F--'
Babie, with eyes full of tears, was looking up to speak, when the carriage, having completed the round, again stopped, and Mrs. Evelyn came down, escorted by Cecil, with hearty thanks.
'Essie's nice clean, fresh, country notions were scouted by the London housemaid,' she said. 'I am happy to say the child held her own, though the woman presumed outrageously on her gentleness, and neither of the two had any notion how to get rid of her.'
'Arcadia had no housemaids,' said Fordham, rallying.
'If not, it must have been nearly as bad as Jock's twelfth century,' said Babie, in the same tone.
'Ah! I see!' said Mrs. Evelyn, laughing.
And there was a little playful banter as to which had been the impatient one to open the parcel, each pretending to persuade her that it had been a mere yielding to the other. Thus they came to Collingwood Street, where Babie would have taken out her book.
'No, no, wait,' said Fordham. 'I want to write your name in it first. I'll send it this evening. Ali and Armie are coming to me while these good people are at their Duchess's.'
'Our last gaiety, I am thankful to say,' returned his mother, as Barbara felt a fervent squeeze of the hand, which she knew was meant to remind her of the deeper tone of their conversation.
It was a very hot day, and in the cool of the evening the two Johns beguiled Mrs. Brownlow and Babie into a walk. They had only just come home when there was a hurried peal at the bell, and Armine, quite pale, dashed up stairs after them.
'Mother, come directly! I've got a hansom.'
'Fordham?' asked John.
Armine sighed an affirmative.
'Allen sent me for mother. He said one of you had better come. It's a blood-vessel. We have sent for Medlicott, and telegraphed for the others. But oh! they are so far off!'
Mrs. Brownlow gave Barbara one kiss, and put her into Jock's arms, then sprang into the cab, followed by John, and was driven off. The other three walked in the same direction, almost unconsciously, as Armine explained more fully.
Fordham had seemed tired at first, but as it became cooler, had roused himself, seated himself at his writing- table, and made one by one the inscriptions in the volumes, including all their party of travellers, even Janet and Bobus; Reeves, who had been their binder, Mrs. Evelyn's maid, and one or two intimate friends-such as Mr. Ogilvie and his sister-and almost all had some kind little motto or special allusion written below the name, and the date. It had thus taken a long time, and Fordham leant back so weary that Allen wanted him to leave the addressing of the books, when wrapped up, to him and Armine; but he said there were some he wished to direct himself, and he was in the act of asking Bobus' right address, when a cough seized him, and Allen instantly saw cause to ring for Reeves. The last thing that Armine had seen was a wave of the hand to hasten his own departure, as Allen despatched him for his mother, and gave orders for the summoning of others more needed, but who might not be fetched so promptly.
Then Jock had time to question whether Barbara ought to go on with him and Armine to the door, but there was a sound in her 'Let me! I must!' that they could not withstand; and they walked on in absolute silence, except that Jock said Reeves knew exactly what to do.
Dr. Medlicott's carriage was at the door, and on their ringing, they were silently beckoned into the dining-room, where their mother came to them. She could not speak at first, but the way in which she kissed Barbara told them how it was. All had been over before she reached the house. Dr. Medlicott had come, but could do nothing more than direct Allen how to support the sufferer as he sank, with but little struggle, while a sudden beam of joy and gladness lit up his face at the last. There had been no word from the first. By the time the flow of blood ceased, the
