The next morning he rose in time to join his father in the survey which he usually took of his fields before breakfast, and immediately beginning on the subject on which he was anxious, he gave a full account of his sister's proceedings. 'In short,' said he, 'Emily and Ada torment poor Lily every hour of her life; she bears it all as a sort of penance, and how it is to end I cannot tell.'
'Unless,' said Mr. Mohun, smiling, 'as Rotherwood would say, Jupiter will interfere. Well, Jupiter has begun to take measures, and has asked Mrs. Weston to look out for a governess. Eh! Claude?' he continued, after a pause, 'you set up your eyebrows, do you? You think it will be a bore. Very likely, but there is nothing else to be done. Jane is under no control, Phyllis running wild, Ada worse managed than any child of my acquaintance-'
'And poor Lily wearing herself to a shadow, in vain attempts to mend matters,' said Claude.
'If Lily was the eldest, things would be very different,' said Mr. Mohun.
'Or even if she had been as wise last year as she is now,' said Claude, 'she would have kept Emily in order then, but now it is too late.'
'This year is, on many accounts, much to be regretted,' said Mr. Mohun, 'but I think it has brought out Lily's character.'
'And a very fine character it is,' said Claude.
'Very. She has been, and is, more childish than Eleanor ever was, but she is her superior in most points. She has been your pupil, Claude, and she does you credit.'
'Thereby hangs a tale which does me no credit,' muttered Claude, as he remembered how foolishly he had roused her spirit of contradiction, besides the original mischief of naming Eleanor the duenna; 'but we will not enter into that now. I see this governess is their best chance. Have you heard of one?'
'Of several; but the only one who seems likely to suit us is out of reach for the present, and I do not regret it, for I shall not decide till Eleanor comes.'
'Emily will not be much pleased,' said Claude. 'It has long been her great dread that Aunt Rotherwood should recommend one.'
'Ay, Emily's objections and your aunt's recommendations are what I would gladly avoid,' said Mr. Mohun.
'But Lily!' said Claude, returning to the subject on which he was most anxious. 'She is already what Ada calls a monotony, and there will be nothing left of her by the time Eleanor comes, if matters go on in their present fashion.'
'I have a plan for her. A little change will set her to rights, and we will take her to London when we go next week to meet Eleanor. She deserves a little extra pleasure; you must take her under your protection, and lionise her well.'
'Trust me for that,' said Claude. 'It is the best news I have heard for a long time.'
'Well, I am glad that one of my remedies meets with your approbation,' said his father, smiling. 'For the other, you are much inclined to pronounce the cure as bad as the disease.'
'Not for Lily,' said Claude, laughing.
'And,' said Mr. Mohun, 'I think I can promise you that a remedy will be found for all the other grievances by Michaelmas.'
Claude looked surprised, but as Mr. Mohun explained no further, only observing upon the potatoes, through which they were walking, he only said, 'Then it is next week that you go to London.'
'There is much to do, both for Rotherwood and for Eleanor; I shall go as soon as I can, but I do not think it will be while this fever is so prevalent. I had rather not be from home-I do not like Robert's looks.'
CHAPTER XIX: THE RECTOR'S ILLNESS
'Thou drooping sick man, bless the guide
That checked, or turned thy headstrong youth.'
The thought of her brother's kindness, and the effect of his consolation, made Lilias awake that morning in more cheerful spirits; but it was not long before grief and anxiety again took possession of her.
The first sound that she heard on opening the schoolroom window was the tolling of the church bell, giving notice of the death of another of those to whom she felt bound by the ties of neighbourhood.
At church she saw that Mr. Devereux was looking more ill than he yet had done, and it was plainly with very great exertion that he succeeded in finishing the service. The Mohun party waited, as usual, to speak to him afterwards, for since his attendance upon Naylor had begun he had not thought it safe to come to the New Court as usual, lest he should bring the infection to them. He was very pale, and walked wearily, but he spoke cheerfully, as he told them that Naylor was now quite out of danger.
'Then I hope you did not stay there all last night,' said Mr. Mohun.
'No, I did not, I was so tired when I came back from poor John Ray's funeral, that I thought I would take a holiday, and sleep at home.'
'I am afraid you have not profited by your night's rest,' said Emily, 'you look as if you had a horrible headache.'
'Now,' said Mr. Mohun, 'I prescribe for you that you go home and lie down. I am going to Raynham, and I will tell your friend there that you want help for the evening service. Do not think of moving again to-day. I shall send Claude home with you to see that you obey my prescription.'
Claude went home with his cousin, and his sisters saw him no more till late in the day, when he came to tell them that Mr. Mohun had brought back Dr. Leslie from Raynham with him, that Dr. Leslie had seen Mr. Devereux, and had pronounced that he had certainly caught the fever.
Lily had made up her mind to this for some time, but still it seemed almost as great a blow as if it had come without any preparation. The next day was the first Sunday that Mr. Devereux had not read the service since he had been Rector of Beechcroft. The villagers looked sadly at the stranger who appeared in his place, and many tears were shed when the prayers of the congregation were desired for Robert Devereux, and Thomas and Martha Naylor. It was announced that the daily service would be discontinued for the present, and Lily felt as if all the blessings which she had misused were to be taken from her.
For some time Mr. Devereux continued very ill, and Dr. Leslie gave little hope of his improvement. Mr. Mohun and Claude were his constant attendants-an additional cause of anxiety to the Miss Mohuns. Emily was listless and melancholy, talking in a maundering, dismal way, not calculated to brace her spirits or those of her sisters. Jane was not without serious thoughts, but whether they would benefit her depended on herself; for, as we have seen by the events of the autumn, sorrow and suffering do not necessarily produce good effects, though some effects they always produce.
Thus it was with Lilias. Grief and anxiety aided her in subduing her will and learning resignation. She did not neglect her daily duties, but was more exact in their fulfilment; and low as her spirits had been before, she now had an inward spring which enabled her to be the support of the rest. She was useful to her father, always ready to talk to Claude, or walk with him in the intervals when he was sent out of the sickroom to rest and breathe the fresh air. She was cheerful and patient with Emily, and devoid of petulance when annoyed by the spirits of the younger ones rising higher than accorded with the sad and anxious hearts of their elders. Her most painful feeling was, that it was possible that she might be punished through her cousin, as she had already been through Agnes; that her follies might have brought this distress upon every one, and that this was the price at which the child's baptism was to be bought. Yet Lily would not have changed her present thoughts for any of her varying frames of mind since that fatal Whitsuntide. Better feelings were springing up within her than she had then known; the church service and Sunday were infinitely more to her, and she was beginning to obtain peace of mind independent of external things.
She could not help rejoicing to see how many evidences of affection to the Rector were called forth by this illness; presents of fruit poured in from all quarters, from Lord Rotherwood's choice hothouse grapes, to poor little Kezia Grey's wood-strawberries; inquiries were continual, and the stillness of the village was wonderful. There was no cricket on the hill, no talking in the street, no hallooing in the hay-field, and no burst of noise when the children were let out of school. Many of the people were themselves in grief for the loss of their own relations; and when on Sunday the Miss Mohuns saw how many were dressed in black, they thought with a pang how soon they themselves might be mourning for one whose influence they had crippled, and whose plans they had thwarted during the three short years of his ministry.
During this time it was hard to say whether Lord Rotherwood was more of a comfort or a torment. He was
