“It is Mr. Cavendish,” said Minnie. “How curious! It is true sometimes, no doubt, as everybody says, that talk of an angel and you see its wings; but generally it is just the person whom one least thinks of who appears.”
“That is very hard upon me,” said Dick. “My mind has been so full of you for twenty-four hours that you ought to have thought a little upon me, if only on the theory of brain waves.”
“I hope you don’t believe in anything of that sort. How should you think of people when there is nothing to put you in mind of them? If we had been in Oxford, indeed—Come into the drawing-room; we shall find mamma there. And how is dear Mrs. Wilberforce?”
“She wants you all,” said the rector, in a low voice aside, “to come over this afternoon to tea.”
“To tea, when you have company! Oh, she could not—she never could expect such a thing!”
“Do you call one of your brother’s friends company—one? I should say it took three at least to constitute company. And I want Theo to come. Mind what I say. If you don’t amuse him, Theo will think of nothing but going to Markland. He goes to Markland more than I like already.”
“Mr. Wilberforce, I am not one that believes in love being blind, and I know all Theo’s faults; but to think that he is courting amusement—amusement, and papa only dead six weeks!”
“I did not say amusement,” said the rector crossly. “I said to be amused, which is quite different; not to be left forever in the same state of mind, not to lie vacant.”
“You must have a very poor opinion of him and of all of us,” said Miss Warrender, leading the way into the drawing-room, where the others had gone before them. Chatty remained behind, being still busy with her flowers. The rector and Minnie were supposed to be talking parish talk, and to have lingered with that purpose. Chatty thought it sounded too animated to be all about the clothing club and the mothers’ meetings, but she supposed that someone must have gone wrong, which was generally the exciting element in parish talk. She was not herself excited by it, being greatly occupied how to make the big white Canterbury bells stand up as they ought in the midst of a large bouquet, in a noble white and blue Nankin vase, which was meant for the table in the hall.
Mrs. Warrender was very glad to see young Cavendish. She asked at once if they were going to take him to Hurst Hill and the old castle at Pierrepoint, and entered almost eagerly into a description of what could be done for a stranger. “For we have scarcely anything, except the country itself, to show a stranger,” she said. “There is nothing that is exciting, not much society, and unfortunately, at this moment, the little that there was—”
“I know,” said Dick, “it is my misfortune. I was deeply sorry to hear—” He had never seen Mr. Warrender, and naturally could have no profound regret on the subject, but his eyes expressed so much tender sympathy that her heart was touched, and tears came to her own.
“You are very kind to take a part in our sorrows,” she said. “If all had been well with us, there would have been no one more pleased than he to make our country pleasant to you. He was always so much interested in Theo’s friends. But even as things are, if you do not find it too sad, we shall always be glad to see you. Not that we have anything to tempt you,” she added, with a smile.
“Then, Mrs. Warrender,” said the rector, “may I tell my wife that you are not going away?”
Mrs. Warrender cast a wistful look round her—at her son, at the remorseless enclosure of those dull walls, which were like those of a prison. “It appears not, for the present,” she said.
“No,” said Minnie; “for where can we be so well as at home? For my part, I don’t believe in change. What do you change? Only the things about you. You can’t change yourself nor your circumstances.”
“The skies, but not the soul,” said Dick.
“That is just what I mean, Mr. Cavendish. I see you understand. Mamma thinks it would be more cheerful to go away. But we don’t really want to be cheerful. Why should we be cheerful?—at least for six months, or I should say a year. We can’t be supposed to be equal to anything, after our great loss, in less than a year.”
At this they were all silent, a little overawed; and then Mrs. Warrender returned to her original discourse upon Pierrepoint Castle and the Hurst at Cleveland: “They are both excellent places for picnics. You should take Mr. Cavendish there.”
“That was all very well,” said the rector, “when there was all of you to fall back upon; but he must be content with the domestic croquet and the mild gratification of walks, in present circumstances. Has Theo come to any decision about the improvements? I suppose
