CHAPTER II. Nor for a week after our blackberry expedition did I see Valentine Druce, or any trace of him. During that week I extracted from my nurse all that she knew about him, the sum total of which was that he was a very rich young gentleman, and supposed, by the domestic portion of our establishment, to be courting, as nurse termed it, my sister. This gave me a new and profound interest in him and his affairs. I longed for Maude to make me her confidant, and hinted darkly sometimes about my future should she marry; upon all of which occasions Maude quietly said she had no intention of ever getting married. Besides Valentine Druce, there was another who favored Maude with his attentions-a certain Sir Frederick Lewis, a young man of about twenty-eight, who lived close by. From the first I hated him. A stout, thick-set figure, a thick, heavy, square face, with a very dark complexion, horrid, sleepy black eyes, that always had a disagreeable, odd leer in them. In short, Sir Frederick was as great a contrast to Mr. Druce as could be found anywhere. I was never tired of telling Maude how I disliked Sir Frederick, more especially as I guessed the reason of his frequent visits to us; but I need have entertained no fear as to Maude's feelings on the subject, as she cordially agreed with me in detesting the very sight of him. One day my sister and I were walking in the lanes before breakfast, but not alone this time. We were accompanied by Valentine Druce, who looked quite as handsome and princely on foot as he did driving. He and Maude were chatting gayly, his merry laugh and his full manly tones blending most harmoniously. A thick mist had risen from the river, sometimes completely enveloping the two figures on before me as I lingered behind, gathering an Autumn nosegay, diving into the woods and long, damp grass in search of treasures; for, with a child's quick, intuitive perception, I felt I was in the way. I liked Valentine, and was desirous that Maude should like him as well. Soon, I think, they forgot my existence, so taken up were they with each other, conversing in low tones, Maude's cheeks flushed with youth and health, and he such a splendid young fellow, tall and stalwart. But I must not digress. heightened color, and, if I am not much mistaken, he saw those two start asunder at his approach. "Good-morning, Miss Dacres. D'ye de, Druce? I wonder you are not afraid of catching a cold on your chest such a morning as this; the fog is as thick as pea-soup. I didn't know you were given to this sort of healthy exercise, Miss Dacres, walking before the sun is up! I'm sure I wouldn't be out now, if I could help it; but I have to get to Chepstow about some business, and be back by lunch-time. Don't you pity me ?" and he looked sentimentally at Maude, with his head on one side, with an expression that was intended at once to be interesting and captivating. It was, however, wasted, as Maude, looking away from him, said: "Indeed, I do not, Sir Frederick. I think nothing could be nicer than a good long ride this lovely morning." "Lovely morning !-ha! ha! I like that. Well, tastes differ; any way, I don't fancy you'd care for the ride or the lovely climate alone"; and he looked at Maude, who was looking away over the river to the picturesque little village of Brockweir, where some fishing-boats lay in the mud waiting for the tide. Some children were playing about-fat, fair children, with chubby red cheeks and yellow curling hair-their shouts came over the water to us, to Valentine and me, who were waiting, perched on a a stile at some distance from the other two, Valentine all the time helping himself plentifully to the nuts and blackberries in my basket. Sir Frederick noticed Maude's inattention with a little pique. He had not usually to repeat his remarks twice for the benefit of his friends. "You seem preoccupied this morning, Miss Dacres, so I will say good-morning !" he remarked, somewhat testily; and Maude, awakening to the position, answered, quietly: 'Well, if you have so far to go, and so little time to do it in, perhaps you had better." 66 'You did give him a capital snub," remarked Valentine, as Sir Frederick put spurs to his horse and cantered away. Valentine then took Maude's arm within his own, and marched on with an air of proud possession; neither of them thought of me, with damp shoes and wet frock from my contact with the long damp grass and dripping trees. For their every moment was golden; they were in a world of their own, supremely happy.. But all things have an end. Valentine left us at our Once I heard Maude say, in answer to something he gate, and we found a nice hot breakfast awaiting us. said: "I will think about it, Valentine." My eyes glistened. Here was a romance! She had called him Valentine! Would that blessed privilege ever be mine? Then he seemed to monopolize the rest of the conversation as well as Maude's hand, while she listened; and so our walk continued. I was just beginning to realize that, with the best intentions to the contrary, playing gooseberry did become an insufferably dull task after a time, and that flowers, blackberries and even nuts, were not a "joy for ever," when a diversion appeared on the scene in the shape of Sir Frederick Lewis on his gray horse. Maude and Valentine started a distance of several yards apart, and appeared deeply interested in the hedges, while the latter exclaimed, angrily : That evening Maude told me of her engagement to Valentine, and I think my joy almost equaled hers. It was such a novelty, too, to think of having a brother-inlaw in prospect. We wept a little, too. What women do not in such cases? There is always a gentle touch of melancholy attached to one side of the question, and I am sure we made the most of it. After that Valentine was a good deal with us, and the more I saw of him the more I loved him; and Maudewell, I think she would have died for him, her devotion was such. Often Miss Druce came to see us, and the flowers she left behind her were the wonder and astonishment of the neighborhood. Sometimes we went to see her. Maude liked that better than visiting Mrs. Walker, Valentine's "Here comes Lewis; what a tailor he looks on horse- married sister, who lived some miles off, and whose house back; he has a nice animal, though." "Horrid man; I quite detest him," answered Maude. Meanwhile the innocent subject of their remarks was approaching, his usually scowling face looking blacker than ever at the sight of those two; he saw Maude's was always full of visitors. She-Mrs. Walker-was a kind woman all the same, but I am sure she was disappointed at Val not choosing some one richer than Maude for his wife, Valentine being what she termed her "young brother." CHAPTER III. ONE day, as I was returning home from a walk with my old governess, we met Sir Frederick Lewis coming out of our gate. He was walking fast, with an angry scowl on his face, and took no notice of us, only when Muff, our dear Skye terrier, accidentally ran across his path, he kicked him out of the way with muttered curses. I ran quickly indoors and found Maude in the drawing-room, standing like a statue in the middle of the room. Maude, what is Sir Frederick angry about? We met him at the gate, and he looked in such a rage, and kicked poor Muff." Maude's lips curled with disdain. "Did he? How like him! Yes, he is a wicked man," she repeated to herself. "Maude," said I, suddenly approaching her and speaking in a whisper, "I am sure he wants you to marry him, and he's angry because you like Val best." "Hush, child! What makes you think of such nonsense? Come and help me move these plants into the We must make it look pretty, as Val is coming to tea to-night." room. And a bright, joyous light came to Maude's face as she stepped through the lace curtains into our pretty conservatory. Maude's face among the flowers, stooping every now and then to smell their perfume; the neat, small head, with the wealth of yellow hair, gleaming from among the palms and ferns-this is a sweet picture that has never faded from my mind. Suddenly a head was put in at the door-Val's. He saw the pretty figure in the conservatory, not a motion of which missed his observant eye. He ran to Maude's assistance with the flowers, and we were all busy together, when our parlor-maid entered. "Mr. Beeching is in the dining-room, ma'am, and wishes to speak to you." "All right, Jane. I'll come in a moment. Val, show the child how to play chopsticks while I am gone. What can the man want, I wonder?" And Maude danced out of the room to interview our landlord. A NIGHT ON THE BERGLI." ON THE FOLLOWING DAY THE difficulties of chopsticks under Maude's tuition, vainly tried to impart his knowledge to me. Perhaps he had not the gift of teaching-it is a gift, I believe-or perhaps he missed the stimulating influence of Maude's presence anyhow, my progress was slow, and I had scarcely mastered the first variation, when the door opened to admit Maude, with a long, horrified face. "Val, we must leave this house. He wants to sell it." We both started to our feet. 66 "The deuce he does! What! do you mean to say Beeching has given you notice to quit ?" exclaimed Val. 'Well, he didn't say so at first," answered Maude, looking very frightened and speaking in a strange voice; "but he said he wanted money, and had had a good offer for it, and would I prefer to buy it or leave ?" "Confound him! The scoundrel !" from Val. "So I said I was sure I could not buy, as we had only a small income; and so I-I supposed we should In the meanwhile Val, who had mastered the treble have to go." A NIGHT ON THE BERGLI.-"ALL NIGHT LONG THE TWO MEN LAY ON THE SNOW, EGGER SLOWLY BLEEDING TO DEATH." SEE PAGE 411. And Maude finished her sentence with something that sounded suspiciously like a sob. "The villain!" And Val, clinching his teeth, strode about the room, while I sat scared and horrified, but still confident that nothing so dreadful could possibly happen to us; while Maude continued: "He suggested writing to Mr. Hill, our lawyer, but I told him it would be no use; we had no spare money. Oh, Val! I know it is cowardly, but I feel too miserable when I think of having to leave this dear house." "You sha'n't, either, rest assurred! There must be some mistake. I'll go and see Beeching myself, and find out what he's about, the old idiot!" said Val. "He "Well, after all, if the house is his, and he wants money, we mustn't blame him," replied Maude. can't be supposed to consider our feelings in the matter so much as his own. Take care what you say to him, Val." And my sister, with a miserable pucker on her pretty brow, followed Valentine into the hall. Val snatched up his hat and stick. "Don't worry yourself, darling; it will be all right. The house sha'n't be sold, if I can help it," I heard him say; and in a few moments the hall-door shut with a bang, and he was gone, and Maud came back into the warm, pretty room. It was quite dark then, and the fire threw out a comfortable glow of light into the room, falling like a golden halo round Maude's figure as she sat on the rug, her head bent down upon her hands. She was crying softly to herself. I seated myself beside her, mingling my tears with hers, and rubbing my little smeared countenance against her hand as a token of silent consolation. "Don't cry, Maudie. Val will make it all right." Val did not return that night, but next morning came a note saying all was right, and he would explain all to us that afternoon. He was going then on horseback to Chepstow on business. About three o'clock Valentine rode up, splashed from head to foot, for it was a damp day and the roads were muddy. He looked radiantly happy. I like to think of him as I saw him then, in his strong health, his flushed young face, with the happy, conscious, almost bashful, look upon it as we ran out to meet him. He gave his horse to the gardener, and ran up the steps to us. He drew from his pocket some thick parchments, and hold them up to Maude. 66 From that day forth Valentine was placed-in my estimation-on a pedestal miles above any other person on earth. 66 Now, Maude, when we are married, you can have your choice of coming over the river to me at Kilmorey or remaining here." "We will take it turn about," answered Maude, laughing. "By-the-by," said Val, drawing a letter from his pocket. "I have just had a note from Kittie. She wants me to go over there to-morrow morning. She says they are getting up some surprise for the evening of her ball -she doesn't say what. I hope she does not want me to black my face and do a nigger with a banjo. I don't want to go. I want you to ride with me, Maude." 'Wouldn't you like to look inside? What do you you don't." think it is-eh ?" "Oh, Val, tell me !" from Maude. Val looked delighted, and held the papers high above his head to elude my hand, as I was making furtive springs at them. "Oh, Val, tell me !" begged Maude. Down came the papers into her hand. Val could no more have resisted that voice than he could have flown. Maude opened it, with a gentle fluttering at her heart and a bright color in her cheeks as she gazed at two or three sheets of closely-written paper in a copper-plate hand; then she looked at the end, where some names were signed. Maude smiled. She had a pretty good idea of how much Mrs. Walker would be offended, and also of that lady's indifference to her; but she answered, gayly enough: "Very well; I'll come." And then, as Val rose to go, she said, smiling: "But don't flirt too much with Miss Banks.' Val gave her a delighted look, and then answered: "I'll do my best to withstand the fascinations of that charming damsel; but I am but mortal.” Here a scuffle took place. Maude was threatening to box her boy's ears; her victim, feigning the most abject terror, was calling to me for protection in the most Meanwhile, Val watched her face with dancing, joyous piteous and heartrending accents; then the hall-door eyes. "Well, can you make it out ?" Maude raised her eyes, full of astonishment. banged, and then both passed the window arm-in-arm. I watched them disappear; Maude was evidently seeing him safe off the premises. How pretty she looked, "Why, Val, does it mean that you have bought this clinging to his arm and laughing brightly up in his face, place ?" the sun streaming on her yellow hair! "Just so; or, in other words, I am your landlord." A long silence. "Well, don't you like me? Sha'n't I be strict if you don't pay your rent to the day! Won't you catch it, just!" At this I was fairly too overjoyed to do anything but half smother Val with embraces, and had to get on a chair for the purpose. Maude's eyes were overflowing with tears; she could scarcely speak. "Oh, Val, you are the best and kindest boy in the world! There is no one like you! Come in and tell us all about it!" I cried. And, together, we dragged him on to the sofa in the drawing-room. "Well," began Val, when we were seated, "I settled it all last night with Beeching. It seems some man from Leicestershire has had his eye on this place for some time, and offered Beeching a good price for it. Beeching, being only of human nature, could not withstand anything so tempting, especially as he wanted money; so he came away straight to you. Well, I found him rather hard work at first, but he came round after a time; and when I bid a trifle higher for the house than the gentleman from Leicestershire, he quite snapped at it, and we arranged to meet at a lawyer's this morning to sign the deeds, and here they are; that's all." CHAPTER IV. THE next day was a bright warm one-a day we often meet with in September, and so much appreciated because so unexpected. Maude, in her pretty hat and plume, looked radiant as we drove away from the house along the weary, up-hill road toward Chepstow. "Punch was a lazy pony, fat and well-cared for, and that afternoon he felt no inclination to hurry himself as usual; I administered the whip at intervals. Passing first Tintern Abbey, nestling down in the pretty village, and so on up-hill till the Wyndcliff was reached-the beautiful, majestic rocks-we stopped to look back and admire the glorious view, the winding, graceful river twining like a silver thread among the meadows, and in the faint, hazy distance a bright streak of water-the Severn. Maude's friend was from home, so we drove straight on to Mrs. Walker's in quest of Valentine. We soon reached the park paling, and then swept into the drive. A lovely old Elizabethan pile of red brick; a smooth, sloping lawn; tall brown copper beech-trees against the blue sky; croquet-hoops everywhere, and peacocks strutting about. This is my remembrance of "The Elms." We were shown into a long drawing-room, handsomely furnished and hung with gorgeous drapery; the room was pervaded with the smell of fresh lavender-a scent that, if I smell at any time now, brings back vividly to my mind that day. The room was empty; but at the end hung thick velvet curtains, which partially concealed a room beyond. From this room came voices which, as we drew nearer into the room, we heard distinctly. The voices were without doubt Miss Banks's and Valentine's, speaking not in low tones, but in distinct, audible utterances. Miss Banks was speaking, and, from where we stood, we could see part of her long silver drapery within the curtain. "Do you dare to address me thus, sir, when I know it is evident to every one that your affections are given to another?" Then Valentine's voice, clear and distinct : "Do not speak so. You would judge me less harshly did you know the truth. I am indeed promised to another; but how bitterly I regret that one rash act no words can tell. I love you and you only-and you know it!" Here the curtains opened to admit Sir Frederick Lewis; he looked surprised to see us, and advanced eagerly to Maude. "Miss Dacres! You here? I am glad." Then, receiving no greeting from Maude, who was staring at him with a white, agitated face, he said: “What is the matter? Are you ill ?" Maude steadied herself with an effort in the interval before she spoke. We could hear those two voices still talking behind the velvet hangings from which Sir Frederick had emerged. My sister's voice sounded strange. Tell me, please, was that Valentine I heard speaking to Miss Banks ?" "Of course it was," answered he, staring at her in astonishment. Suddenly he started as if a sudden thought had struck him, and into his eyes came a quick, eager look. "You heard what he said, did you?" he said, lowering his voice, and his eyes glittering and bright like a serpent's "You heard him tell her he loved her, did you not? You should have heard him just now; he asked her to elope with him. I always told you he was not the model young man you thought him. Ha ha!" How I hated him as he stood there, and how I longed to take up the cudgel for Valentine; and yet how could I, when with my own ears I had heard that treachery to my sweet sister? Poor Maude! how I pitied her! She sat staring at the curtains, scarcely seeing Sir Frederick, though each word sank deep into her heart. Suddenly the curtains opened, and Miss Banks stepped into the room, followed by Valentine. He had a book in his hand, which he threw on a chair as he came forward to greet us. "Maude, when did you come ?" Fortunately for us, just at that moment Mrs. Walker entered from another door, so my poor Maude advanced to meet her, and talked with her on all subjects, as if in a dream. Not once did she raise her eyes to Valentine, who was standing near her. Then a move was made by Miss Banks, who suggested that we should all stroll out into the garden, which we accordingly did. Maude kept behind, between Sir Frederick-who attached himself to her-and Mrs. Walker, and Val and Miss Banks walked on ahead; we walked slower than the couple in front, as we stopped continually to admire some plant or shrub. Coming to a turn in the avenue, Mrs. Walker said: "Will you excuse me for a minute, Maude? I have forgotten something," and she walked back to the house. Maude turned to Sir Frederick. "I do not think I will go further to-day, thank you, Sir Frederick. Perhaps you would kindly call my ponycarriage round; it is getting late." Sir Frederick was off in a minute. The tears came into my eyes. What a miserable visit this was! However, we had no time to talk. The carriage was waiting, and Sir Frederick ready to help us in. He pressed Maude's hand, and whispered smilingly to her, but she took no notice, and bowed coldly as we drove away down the avenue. We did not talk much; each was occupied with the same thoughts-the words heard behind those velvet hangings. Oh, how my idol had turned to clay ! Maude had given the reins to our little tiger in the back seat, who made Punch fly at a rate hitherto unexperienced before by him. Maude sat with her hands folded, deep in thought. So we flew over the ground. It was getting dusk, and there was a frosty smell in the air which penetrated my bones. I had brought no cloak, neither had Maude; it had been so warm when we started. Are you, dear? Never mind, we shall be home soon. By-the-by, dear, what do you think if we went to X— to-morrow to stay with Dr. and Mrs. Burton ?" This was startling. I could only gasp, "To-morrow?" "Yes; why not? We have promised them so often, and I think we must go to-morrow." "Oh, Maude! they are such stupid old people; must we go?" "Yes; and I should like to start to-morrow. I've made up my mind, so don't ask me any more questions. I am very unhappy." I sat wondering at this sudden move, but immediately guessed the cause of our sudden flight. Maude wished to avoid Valentine, and no wonder. So we flew along, the hedgerows being the only objects that met our gaze. What a miserable drive it was ! but nothing compared to the misery that came after. That night we packed till midnight-Maude having telegraphed to Mrs. Burton our intention of visiting her. When the morning came I ran up to my sister's room. I met her at the door with a note she had just written in her hand. She called a servant to take it over to Kilmorey, to Mr. Druce, and then we both went down to a hasty breakfast. THE journey to X CHAPTER V. was a short one-two hours at the most; but we were, nevertheless, glad to reach our destination, and to find Mrs. Burton, a little fat, fair woman, with a smiling, pleasant countenance, at the station awaiting us. She had been a great friend of our mother's, for whose sake she was willing to love us a great deal. She made us at home at once, and assured us the dear doctor was dying to see us. The doctor was fond of ladies, young ones particularly. This we found by experience a few hours later. That same evening, as Maude and I were sitting by the open window, gazing out at the black river with the black barges at anchor, their masts and rigging showing |