"I may not send her to school, then?" she said; and a shade of annoyance passed over the lady's face.
"Certainly not," was the prompt reply. "She will require the most constant and kindly home-care. She should have a kind and cheerful companion. I should not advise you entirely to forget her education, but it must not be forced."
"That is tantamount to saying that I must have a governess at home – and I do not see my way clear to that at all. Servants are bad enough; but the real plague of life are governesses. I have no idea where to find a suitable one. One's troubles seem to have no end."
To which remark the doctor wisely made no reply. Lady Dartelle looked up at him.
"You must see a great deal of the world, Dr. Chalmers. Can you tell me where I can find a trustworthy governess? I must have a gentlewoman, of course; yet she must not be one likely to thrust herself forward. That I could not endure. What is the matter, doctor?" she asked; for Dr. Chalmers' face had suddenly flushed scarlet, and his eyes intimated something which my Lady Dartelle did not quite understand.
"I was thinking," he replied, "that I do know a young lady who would be all that you require."
"I am very glad," said Lady Dartelle, looking much relieved. "Who is she? What is her name?"
"She is a protégée of my mother's – her name is Millicent Holte. She is highly educated, and most sweet-tempered – in fact, I do not think, if all England were searched, that any one so exactly suited for the position could be found. She is of gentle birth, and has a quiet, graceful manner that is very charming. There is only one objection."
"What is that?" asked Lady Dartelle, anxiously.
"She has never been a governess, and might not, perhaps, like the position – I cannot tell."
"She has never taught – of course that would make some difference in the stipend. I do not know that the deficiency need cause concern in respect of anything else. Where is the young lady now?"
"She is staying with my mother," said the doctor, his honest face flushing at the need of concealment.
"That is recommendation sufficient," vouchsafed Lady Dartelle, graciously. "I shall require no other. When will it be convenient for me to see her?"
"I dare say mother could call upon you to-morrow and bring Miss Holte with her."
"That would be very nice. Three o'clock would be a convenient time for me. Suppose Miss Holte should accept the engagement, would she be able, do you think, to return to Hulme Abbey with me at the end of the week?"
"I should imagine so. I do not know of anything to prevent it."
Yet as he spoke, that fair, sweet, sad face seemed to rise before him, and he wondered how he should bear his home when she was there no longer.
Still, he had done what she wanted. She had asked him to find her some work to do, and he had complied with her request. Yet his heart smote him as he thought of her – so fair, so fragile, so sensitive. How would she like to be among strangers? Fortunately he had no conception of the true life of a governess in a fashionable family; if he had had, it would have been the last work of the kind he would have chosen for her in whom he was interested.
"The work will brace her nerves; it will do her good," he said to himself; "and if by chance she does not like it, she need not stay – there will always be a home for her with us."
When he reached home he told her. She appeared neither pleased nor regretful; it seemed to him that the common events of every-day life no longer possessed the least interest for her. She asked no questions about either Lady Dartelle or her place of residence, or how many children she would have to teach. The young girl agreed with him that she would do well to accept the offer.
"Are you pleased?" he asked. "Do you think you will like the duties?"
"I am very thankful to have some work to do," she replied; "and I am deeply grateful to you, Dr. Chalmers."
"You may well be that. I have never made such a sacrifice in my life as that of letting you go, Millicent. I should not have done so but that I think it will be for your good. Your home is still here, and if you do not like Hulme Abbey, I will fetch you away at once."
That night when the unhappy girl was alone in her room, she threw up her arms with a despairing cry. "How many years have I to live? How many years can I bear this, and live? Oh! Adrian, Adrian, if I could only look once upon your face and die! Oh, my love, my love, how am I to live and never see your face again?"
CHAPTER XXVII
"There is one thing we are quite forgetting," said Dr. Chalmers, "although we call ourselves such clever people."
He pointed as he spoke to the little rings of golden hair, soft, fine as silk, light as gold in color, like the small tendrils of a vine in shape. She raised her beautiful, blushing face to his.
"You did it," she said, half-reproachfully. "I look just like a boy. What shall I do?"
The doctor touched one of the soft golden rings with his finger. "This is anything but the conventional governess style; Millicent should have plain, Madonna-like braids of a dull gray tint – should she not, mother?"
"I do not like your plan at all, Robert," said Mrs. Chalmers, looking at her sweet, sad face. "I do not see why Millicent cannot be happy with us, nor why she can not recover her strength here. I suppose you know best. One thing is certain; she cannot leave us thus. Should you like, my dear, to wear hair that was not your own?"
"No, I should not like it at all," she replied, her face flushing.
The doctor laughed aloud.
"You will never make a woman of fashion, Millicent, as far as I understand such beings. A lady with a magnificent head of hair of her own carefully puts it out of sight and covers it with some one else's hair. I think the fashion most hateful, but my opinion of course matters little. Seriously speaking, Millicent, my mother must take you to a hair-dresser's, as something must be done; this beautiful, graceful, infantile head would never suit her ladyship."
Much against Millicent's will a hair-dresser was taken into their confidence.
"Could I not wear a cap?" asked Millicent, looking shyly at the magnificent coiffures of all colors.
"It would be very unbecoming," said the hair-dresser.
"A governess in a cap!" spoke Mrs. Chalmers. "No, that will not do at all."
"What does it matter?" thought the girl. "After all, my appearance will really interest no one."
And she submitted passively while a plain band of hair was chosen for her by the hair-dresser and Mrs. Chalmers. When it had been arranged, and she looked in the glass, she hardly recognized her face, the wavy golden hair had always given such a graceful, fairy-like character to her beauty. She looked many years older than she was – sad and subdued. The plain band of hair seemed quite to alter her face. Mrs. Chalmers kissed her.
"Never mind, my dear," she said; "you will soon be your own pretty self again," and the kindly words smote the young girl with deadliest pain. Her own self? Ah, no! – that self was dead, never to live again. It was but fitting that the old, graceful beauty – the girlish beauty Adrian had loved so dearly – should die with it.
"A very proper person indeed," thought Lady Dartelle, when the interview was nearly at an end; "evidently knows her place and mine; and I may own to myself that the outlay is very little."
For Lady Dartelle had, during the course of the interview, been delighted with the brilliant accomplishments of the young girl. Her playing was magnificent, her singing most exquisite – the pure, sweet contralto voice had been highly cultivated. Then she spoke French and German with such a pure, perfect accent, that Lady Dartelle began to think that the terms expected would be high. She managed the matter skilfully. She carefully concealed her admiration, and dwelt principally on the fact that the young lady had never before been engaged in teaching.
"That makes an immense difference," said her ladyship, diplomatically. "Still, as Miss Holte's appearance pleases me, I will not think of the deficiencies. In addition, Miss Holte, to your teaching my youngest daughter, I should wish you to speak French and Italian with my eldest girls."
Miss Holte bowed acquiescence, and her ladyship, finding that she offered no objection to any amount of work, then mentioned a few other "little duties" she wished to be attended to – "duties" she would not have dared to exact from any one else.
All arrangements were concluded greatly to her satisfaction, and then Lady Dartelle asked Millicent if she would not like to see her new pupil. The young girl said "Yes," and in answer to a summons from her ladyship, the child came into the room.
Then, for the first time, Millicent's heart was touched; the large, earnest eyes looked into her own with an appealing expression, the little burning hand trembled as it lay in her own. Millicent bent down and kissed the sweet face. Something stirred in her heart that had long seemed dead – something that brought with it exquisite pleasure and exquisite pain.
"In cases of this kind," said Lady Dartelle, "I find there is nothing like a clear and straightforward understanding. I should like to tell you, Miss Holte, that when we are quite alone you will sometimes dine with us, and occasionally spend the evening in the drawing-room; but when we have visitors such an arrangement will be impossible. My reasons for saying this," continued her ladyship, blandly, turning to Mrs. Chalmers, "are these. My son Aubrey is a frequent visitor at Hulme Abbey; he often brings friends with him; and then I think precautions with young people are necessary. I have seen sad results among my friends where the precautions I think so necessary have not been taken."
"I shall never wish for any society but that of my little pupil, Lady Dartelle," said Millicent.
And her ladyship was graciously pleased to observe that Miss Holte seemed to be very sensible.
It was all arranged; but as they drove home a sudden doubt came to Hyacinth. Lady Dartelle spoke of her son's bringing visitors with him. Suppose among them there should be any one she knew – any one who would recognize her? The very thought of it made her sick and faint. No, it was not likely; she had seen so few people, she had known so few – besides, when visitors came, it was Lady Dartelle's wish that she should not appear.