on any account. The very presence of his brother seemed to increase the uneasiness; and in the deepest humiliation and despair, Clement allowed himself to be invited away by Captain Harewood to see the process of ice-making, and be so far comforted that the Bishop's visit was probably far more likely to have done the mischief than his own rash suggestion, and that there was no reason to fear it would last many hours. In fact, Lance was recovering favourably, and had had few drawbacks. 'So I tell everybody,' said John Harewood, 'especially poor Bill, who is still ready to break his heart every time Lance has a headache, and would chatter him to death when he is better. And that's the way with them all! There seems no one that can be tender and reasonable both at once, except your sister.'
Clement did full justice to that tenderness, when, out of sight himself, he had watched Wilmet's soothing firmness and patient reassuring softness, at last calming the feverish agitation into a sleep, which he was allowed to see for himself was gentle and wholesome. Only then-towards four o'clock-could Captain Harewood persuade her to let him keep guard, while she went to take the food that had been long waiting for her, and over which she could hear Clement's penitent explanation of his own unlucky proposal.
'I thought he seemed so well-able to get up and all; and they do think me a good nurse at St. Matthew's. I nursed Fred Somers almost entirely when he had the scarlet fever.' (Wilmet looked as if she pitied St. Matthew's.) 'But of course I see now that it is out of the question.'
'Entirely so,' said Wilmet, too kind to remind him of the qualifications he had evinced.
'And you cannot guess when he can come home?'
'Not in the least. Even if he could be moved, think of the noisiness of our house!'
Clement groaned. 'It was very wrong in me to speak to him before you, Wilmet,' he said; 'but I should be thankful if you could tell me what is to be done! Cherry was thoroughly chilled that evening of the thunderstorm, and has been very poorly ever since.'
'She always feels changes of weather.'
'That's what Alda tells you. She won't believe there is anything the matter; but poor Cherry has had rheumatic pain all over her, and her bad ankle seems to have a bit of bone coming out. Sibby thinks so. Now, ought she not to have her doctor?'
'Well! if-I wish I could be quite sure! It is such an unlucky thing that she has that dislike to Mr. Rugg.'
'Wilmet! You are as bad as Alda!'
'Clement,' she answered gently, 'you do not know what it is to have to reckon the expense. There is Felix's journey; and what this illness may cost, I cannot guess; and now Cherry! It is not that I grudge it; but I don't see what is to become of any of us if we spend unnecessarily-or necessarily either, for that matter.'
'I thought her doctor didn't charge.'
'He did not when she was at St. Faith's, but at home it is a different thing; but, of course, if it be really needful it cannot be helped.'
'And you couldn't come home and see-even for one hour?'
'Not yet, most certainly.'
'I think I had better write to Sister Constance!'
'If you really do find it impossible to get on, and Cherry is more than just ailing, and-and fractious' (the word came out at last); 'I don't like always calling for help, it seems presuming on kindness, and Robina will be helpful when she comes home; but no doubt Alda does not know what to do,' she added, in a deliberating tone.
'Then you authorise me?'
'I don't know what you mean by authorising.'
'Only that Alda will neither do anything herself, nor let any one else do it.'
'Poor Alda! It is a hard time for her, and she is not used to it. I am afraid she is out of her element among you all. Don't be vexed, Clem; you all ought to make allowances for her.'
'I make allowances from morning to night,' said Clement. 'I wonder how many Travis will have to make!'
Wilmet had finished her hasty meal, and wanted to get back to her patient, so she only protested by a reproving look and shake of the head; while Clement stood disconcerted, but less surprised than if he had not been familiar with the part of the family Cassandra.
CHAPTER XVIII. BY THE RIVER
'And Lancelot look'd, and was perplext in mind;
And being weak in body, said no more.'
TENNYSON.
It was a lovely afternoon, and the sun shone outside the green tracery of a hornbeam alley in the Deanery garden, leading from the cloister to the river. Here lay Lancelot, on the long cushion of a sofa, while Wilmet sat stitching at the last of the set of collars that would always bring so many recollections. For this was a Saturday afternoon, and on the Monday Lance was to go to Ewmouth to join Felix, who was to have his holiday extended another month on that account. Alda, who had had a quarter's allowance from her uncle, had made this possible; and Wilmet was doubly gratified by its having been her twin's gift and thought.
Wilmet would of course go home, and she found herself almost regretting the close of a time that had of late been very pleasant. She had not felt, as Geraldine would have done, the romance of living in the old monastic buildings, in the calm shadow of the grand old minster; yet something of the soothing of the great solemn quiet rested upon the spirit that had-since six years old-never known freedom from responsibility, and-since fifteen-had borne the burthen of household economies and of school teaching. It was a strange novelty to have meals provided without care of her own, no shortcomings of servants to make up, no claimant for her attention save a solitary patient, and that one with Lance's temper. Wilmet had undergone a good deal from Alda's clashes with the rest, even Felix's was only a temper well in hand, and alternate fretfulness and penitence were regarded by her as part and parcel of Geraldine's ailments; so that it was almost a surprise that her present convalescent never visited his discomforts upon her, but was always patient and good-humoured, smiling whenever he could, like his father before him, as if, according to the pretty Spanish saying, the sun had shone on his cradle at his birth. His unselfish nature had made him a little uneasy when with cooler senses he remembered Clement's hint, while love and instinct alike made him feel utterly unable to dispense with his motherly sister, but when she had assured him that nothing could make him leave him as yet, and when Sister Constance was known to be at Bexley, he threw it from his mind, and was perfectly happy and contented.
He could still exert no attention, could neither read nor be read to, nor occupy himself in any way; but he was amused by talk around him, and companionship was never lacking. Wilmet, whose forte had never been conversation, found herself in a stream of small talk with inquiring friends of all degrees in the hierarchy; but was most at her ease when the female Harewoods were prattling good-humoured inconsequent chatter. Willie lying on the grass murmuring with Lance, or John lured into stories of Indian surveying adventures in the cause of the Ordnance Map. And when she was carried off to have her meals with the family, she had put herself so entirely at the mercy of circumstances, that she never seemed scandalised by their crazy unpunctuality, their wonderful free and easy ways, and customs of putting things to every use but the right, did not censure Grace or Lucy for dawdling and gossiping whole mornings away, and took it naturally when their mother inquired after her eldest brother by the alternate names of Festus and Frank, and when she mentioned Lance's disaster as his coup d'etat. And here was the last of these pleasant afternoons, full of still sweet sounds, midsummer hum above, the soft ripple of the water close by, the cawing of the rooks in the Close- all such peace, that her heart quailed as she looked forward to the din of the High Street at Bexley, and she strangled a sigh half way up her throat.
The click of the cloister door was heard, and Lance awoke from a doze, saying, 'Is that Bill?-You've not been here since morning, you vagabone.'
'See what I've got for you,' said Bill. 'What do you say for that, now?'
For Lance, with sparkling eyes, was rising to his feet. 'Hurrah! Robin herself! O Robin a Bobbin, isn't this jolly?' and Robina was entangled in that wonderful embrace peculiar to their own two selves, too ecstatic for a word between them, though as she received her sister's kiss, she spoke rather pleadingly-'Cherry and Sister Constance said I might, Wilmet; and Mrs. Harewood was so very kind as to send Willie to fetch me to spend Sunday. Do you mind, Wilmet?'
'Mind! Of course she doesn't,' said Lance. 'I was hungry to see you, Bob.'
'It was very kind in Mrs. Harewood,' said Wilmet. 'I must go and thank her. Only, first, how is Cherry?'
