My New Home

'Do you dislike London so very much, then, Miss Helena?'

'Oh no,' I replied. 'I was very happy alone with grandmamma, except for always thinking they were coming, and fancying she didn't – that she was beginning not to care for me. But – I am sorry now, Kezia, for not having trusted her.'

'That's right, my dear; and you'll show it by giving in cheerfully to whatever your dear grandmamma thinks best for you?'

I was still crying – but quite quietly.

'I'll – I'll try,' I whispered.

When I was dressed I went downstairs, not sorry to feel I should find the boys there. And in spite of the fears as to the future that were hanging over me I managed to spend a happy day with them. They did everything they could to cheer me up, and the more I saw of Harry the more I began to realise how very, very much brighter a life mine had been than his – how ungrateful I had been and how selfish. It was worse for him than for Lindsay, who was quite a child, and who looked to Harry for everything. And yet Harry made no complaints – he only said once or twice, when we were talking about grandmamma, that he did wish she was their grandmother, too.

'Wasn't that old lady you lived with before like a grandmother?' I asked.

Harry shook his head.

'We scarcely ever saw her,' he said. 'She was very old and ill, and even when we did go to her for the holidays we only saw her to say good-morning and good-night. On the whole we were glad to stay on at school.'

Poor fellows – they had indeed been orphans.

We wandered about the little garden, and all my old haunts. But for my terrible anxiety, I should have enjoyed it thoroughly.

'Harry,' I said, when we had had our dinner – a very nice dinner, by the bye. I began to think grandmamma must have got rich, for there was a feeling of prosperity about the cottage – fires in several rooms, and everything so comfortable. 'Harry, what do you think I should do? Should I write to grandmamma and tell her – that I am very sorry, and that – that I'll be good about going to school, if she fixes to send me?'

The tears came back again, but still I said it firmly.

'I think,' said Harry, 'you had better wait till to-morrow.'

He did not tell me of Mr. Vandeleur's telegram – for he had been desired not to do so. I should have been still more uneasy and nervous if I had known my formidable cousin was actually on his way to Middlemoor!

CHAPTER XV

'HAPPY EVER SINCE'

Later in the afternoon – about three o'clock or so – Harry looked at his watch and started up. We were sitting in the drawing-room talking quietly – Harry had been asking me about my lessons and finding out how far on I was, for I was a little tired still, and we had been running about a good deal in the morning.

'Oh,' I said, in a disappointed tone, 'where are you going? If you would wait a little while, I could come out with you again, I am sure.' For I felt as if I did not want to lose any of the time we were together, and of course I did not know how soon grandmamma might not send some one to take me away to school.

And never since Sharley and the others had gone away had I had the pleasure of companions of my own age. There was something about Harry which reminded me of Sharley, though he was a boy – something so strong and straightforward and big, no other word seems to say it so well.

Harry looked at me with a little smile. Dear Harry, I know now that he was feeling even more anxious about me than I was for myself, and that brave as he was, it took all his courage to do as he had determined – I mean to plead my cause with his stern guardian. For Mr. Vandeleur was almost as much a stranger to him as to me.

'I'm afraid I must,' he said, 'I have to go to Middlemoor, but I shall not be away more than an hour and a half. Lindsay – you'll look after Helena, and Helena will look after you and prevent you getting into mischief while I'm away.'

For though Lindsay was a very good little boy, and not wild or rough, he was rather unlucky. I never saw any one like him for tumbling and bumping himself and tearing his clothes.

After Harry had gone, Lindsay got out their stamp album and we amused ourselves with it very well for more than an hour, as there were a good many new stamps to put into their proper places. Then Kezia came in —

'Miss Helena,' she said, 'would you and Master Lindsay mind going into the other room? I want to tidy this one up a little, I was so long talking with you this morning that I dusted it rather hurriedly.'

We had made a litter, certainly, with the gum-pot and scraps of paper, and cold water for loosening the stamps, but we soon cleared it up.

'Isn't it nearly tea-time?' I said.

'Yes, you shall have it as soon as Master Harry comes in,' said Kezia, 'it is all laid in the dining-room.'

'Oh, well,' said Lindsay, 'we won't do any more stamps this afternoon; come along then, Helena, we'll tell each other stories for a change.'

'You may tell me stories,' I said – 'and I'll try to listen,' I added to myself, 'though I don't feel as if I could,' for as the day went on I felt myself growing more and more frightened and uneasy. 'I wish Harry would come in,' I said aloud, 'I think I should write to grandmamma to-day.'

'He won't be long,' said Lindsay, 'Harry always keeps to his time,' and then he began his stories. I'm afraid I don't remember what they were. There were a great many 'you see's' and 'and so's,' but at another time I daresay I would have found them interesting.

He was just in the middle of one, about a trick some of the boys had played an undermaster at their school, when I heard the front door open quietly and steps cross the hall. The steps were of more than one person, though no one was speaking.

'Stop, Lindsay,' I said, and I sat bolt up in my chair and listened.

Whoever it was had gone into the drawing-room. Then some one came out again and crossed to the kitchen.

'Can it be Harry?' I said.

'There's some one with him if it is,' said Lindsay.

I felt myself growing white, and Lindsay grew red with sympathy. He is a very feeling boy. But we both sat quite still. Then the door opened gently, and some one looked in, but it wasn't Harry, it was Kezia.

'Miss Helena, my love,' she said, 'there's some one in the drawing-room who wants to see you.'

'Who is it?' I asked, breathlessly, but my old nurse shook her head.

'You'll see,' she said.

My heart began to beat with the hope – a silly, wild hope it was, for of course I might have known she could not yet have left Cousin Agnes – that it might be grandmamma. And, luckily perhaps, for without it I should not have had courage to enter the drawing-room, this idea lasted till I had opened the door, and it was too late to run away.

How I did wish I could do so you will easily understand, when I tell you that the tall figure standing looking out of the window, which turned as I came in, was that of my stern Cousin Cosmo himself!

I must have got very white, I think, though it seemed to me as if all the blood in my body had rushed up into my head and was buzzing away there like lots and lots of bees, but I only remember saying 'Oh!' in a sort of agony of fear and shame. And the next thing I recollect was finding myself on a chair and Cousin Cosmo beside me on another, and, wonderful to say, he was holding my hand, which had grown dreadfully cold, in one of his. His grasp felt firm and protecting. I shut my eyes just for a moment and fancied to myself that it seemed as if papa were there.

'But it can't last,' I thought, 'he's going to be awfully angry with me in a minute.'

I did not speak. I sat there like a miserable little criminal, only judges don't generally hold prisoners' hands when they are going to sentence them to something very dreadful, do they? I might have thought of that, but I didn't. I just squeezed myself together to bear whatever was coming.

This was what came.

I heard a sort of sigh or a deep breath, and then a voice, which it almost seemed to me I had never heard before, said, very, very gently —

'My poor little girl – poor little Helena. Have I been such an ogre to you?'

I could scarcely believe my ears – to think that it was Cousin Cosmo speaking to me in that way! I looked up into his face; I had really never seen it very well before. And now I found out that the dark, deep-set eyes were soft and not stern – what I had taken for hardness and severity had, after all, been mostly sadness and anxiety, I think.

'Cousin Cosmo,' I said, 'are you going to forgive me, then? And grandmamma, too? I am sorry for running away, but I didn't understand properly. I will go to school whenever you like, and not grumble.'