Robin Redbreast: A Story for Girls

LADY MYRTLE'S INTENTIONS

And Francie, during those few days, was her mother's only confidante. Various reasons made Mrs Mildmay decide not as yet to come upon the subject with Jacinth. While still to all intents and purposes so much of a stranger to her daughter, she felt anxious to avoid all sore or fretted ground; all discussion which might lead her prematurely to judge or misjudge Jacinth. To Lady Myrtle, of course, she said nothing of this; but she suspected, as was indeed the case, that the old lady would feel no inclination to talk about the Harpers to her young companion. There were plenty of pleasanter things to talk about during the long drives on which, on most alternate afternoons, Jacinth accompanied their hostess; there were reminiscences of the past, always interesting to the girl, awakened to fresh vividness by Mrs Mildmay's own recollections of her mother and her own childhood; there were, more engrossing still, plans for the future, when 'papa' should return and be skilfully persuaded into renouncing India. And Lady Myrtle was nearly as great at castle-in-the-air building as Jacinth herself, and though too wise to discuss as yet with any one, especially with a girl who was really, notwithstanding her precocity, little more than a child, her still immatured intentions, Jacinth was far too acute, and Lady Myrtle too open and affectionate, for her young favourite not to be well aware how much her own future occupied and interested the old lady. Yet Jacinth was scarcely selfish in the common sense. She was capable, on the contrary, of great self-sacrifice for those she loved; her happy visions for days to come were by no means confined to, even though they might to a great extent revolve around, Jacinth Mildmay.

As seems often to happen when a looked-for letter, or reply to a letter, is of any peculiar importance, there was some delay in the acknowledgment of Lady Myrtle's communication by Mrs Harper. The old lady herself took it calmly enough. 'It should, as a business letter, have been replied to at once, but perhaps they are not business-like people, and are thinking it over,' was all she said.

Mrs Mildmay, on the contrary, and, so far as she understood it all, Frances, felt uneasy and perplexed. Mrs Mildmay was sorry for the Harpers to lay themselves open to the slightest appearance of disrespect or unpunctuality, and at the same time she had attacks of fear that Lady Myrtle's letter had hurt and wounded her relatives so deeply that they had decided to ignore it. Only, in that case, they would have returned the cheque.

'It is very absurd,' she said one evening to Frances. 'I don't generally "worry" about things at all, and I am quite sure I have never worried about any matter of our own as much. Except, perhaps, that time you all had scarlet fever at Stannesley, and somehow Marmy's letter missed the mail, and we were out of reach of telegraphing. Oh dear, I shall never forget that week!'

'Dear mamma,' said Francie, 'I quite know how you feel. I was so fidgety that time I sent on Camilla Harper's letter to you, though it wasn't anything like as important.'

But the very next morning the mystery was explained, and quite simply.

After breakfast Lady Myrtle sent for Mrs Mildmay to her boudoir, where she always interviewed her steward and transacted her business for the day.

'I have just got this, my dear,' she said, handing a letter to her guest, 'and I knew you would be anxious to see it. The delay, you see, was accidental.'

Her tone of voice somewhat reassured Mrs Mildmay; it was calm and unruffled. Nevertheless it was not without considerable anxiety that she took the sheet of paper from the old lady's hands and began to read it. It was from Mrs Harper – a touching yet dignified letter, and the cheque was not returned. Mrs Harper began by thanking Lady Myrtle warmly for her kindness; the money she had sent seemed indeed a 'godsend' in the real sense of the word, and no secondary considerations could make her think it would be right to refuse what might – what, she trusted and almost believed, would save her husband's life and restore him to health – 'even,' she went on to say, 'if it were possible after this, for us to think of you as an utter stranger, even then I would not dare to refuse this wonderful help. But at the same time you will allow us, I feel sure, to accept it as a loan, even though several years may pass before it is possible for us to repay it. Your agreeing to this will only immeasurably deepen, instead of lessening our inexpressible obligation.' The letter then went on to give a few details of her husband's condition, and the hopes and fears attendant on it. 'I am writing in my lodgings,' Mrs Harper went on, 'before going to him as usual at the hospital. So he does not yet know of this wonderful gift. And I think, as in your kind thoughtfulness you wrote to me, not to him, I am justified in accepting your aid without consulting him, so that I may tell him it is done. Not that in my heart I have any misgiving as to the view he will take of my action.' And lastly came a simple explanation of the delay. Mrs Harper had been for a day or two at Southcliff, as little Margaret was not well, and the rather stupid landlady of her London lodgings had never thought of forwarding the letter, knowing she was so soon to return. This with a few earnest words of repeated thanks made the whole.

Mrs Mildmay looked up eagerly after she had finished it.

'You are pleased, dear Lady Myrtle?' she said. 'At least I mean,' and she grew a little confused, for the old lady remained rather ominously silent, 'you think it is a nice letter, don't you? It seems to me to show peculiarly good feeling and good taste, for it cannot have been an easy letter to write.'

'Oh yes, my dear, I quite agree with you,' said Lady Myrtle with just a faint touch of impatience. 'I don't see how any one could think otherwise of the letter. I am perfectly satisfied that – she,' as if she shrank from naming the old name, 'is an excellent woman; refined and cultivated, and everything she should be. And I have no doubt they are all thoroughly deserving of the high character they bear. I thank you – I really do – for having given me the opportunity of serving people who so clearly deserve help. And these cases of bravely endured, almost unsuspected poverty among the gently born appeal to one almost more than the sufferings of the recognised "poor," though, of course, it is right to help both.'

'Yes,' said Mrs Mildmay, 'I often feel it so. And it is very good of you to put things in this way, Lady Myrtle. It takes away my qualms about having interfered,' and she smiled a little.

'But, my dear, I have not done,' Lady Myrtle went on, a trifle testily, 'you must quite understand me. It is not the very least– no, no; quite the other way – not the very least because they are Harpers that I am glad to be of use to them. Neither this letter, nor your own arguments – nothing, my dear, will alter the facts I stated to you the other day.'

'No,' agreed Mrs Mildmay, and she could scarcely repress a little smile; 'that was what I said myself, dear Lady Myrtle; nothing can alter facts.'

'Your facts and mine are scarcely synonymous,' said Lady Myrtle, drily, a little annoyed with herself perhaps, for having unconsciously made use of Mrs Mildmay's own expression. But the annoyance was not deep, for in another moment she added cheerfully, 'We are quite together on one point, however, and that is in rejoicing that this help has come in time, as we may hope, to save a valuable life and much sorrow to those who cherish it. If this prove a fact, I think, my dear Eugenia, we may rest content.'

'Yes, indeed,' replied Mrs Mildmay, touched by her old friend's gentleness, though to herself she added, 'for the present, that is to say.'

And when to eager little Frances she related the upshot of her intervention, she did not retract her former words about having made a beginning.

'I think,' she said, 'I have got in the thin end of the wedge. When honest-minded people are a little shaken in anything, they try hard to persuade themselves by extra vehemence that they are not so.'

'Mamma, dear,' said Frances, 'I am beginning to believe not only that you are the best but the very cleverest woman in the world.'

And Mrs Mildmay laughed the joyous laugh which was one of her charms. The success which had attended this attempt of hers so far, did seem a happy omen with which to begin again her home life.

It would be interesting here to shift the scene and follow the reception of the good news by the three anxious girls at Southcliff. It would – to me at least it would – be so pleasant to tell of the happy faces that looked at each other with questioning eyes, as if the tidings in their mother's letter were almost too good to be true. It would be gratifying to watch the progress made by Captain Harper towards the recovery of greater health and strength than had been his for so many years, but even in telling a story – and the simplest of stories – one cannot always do as one is inclined. The time has not yet come for visiting the Harpers again. I must hurry on with some necessary explanations before leaving Thetford and dear old Robin Redbreast for very different surroundings.

That spring and early summer passed on the whole very happily for Mrs Mildmay and her three children. As far as Frances and her little brother were concerned, there were, I think, no drawbacks, except the fear – not, however, a very great one – that this delightful state of things might not last if papa should be obliged to return to India. But to a great extent their mother was able to reassure them, for in every letter Colonel Mildmay wrote more and more strongly of his earnest desire to settle at home, even though his doing so should lead to some privations falling on his family.

'Everything would be made up for by being together,' said Frances over and over again. 'I wouldn't care if we all had to live in quite a tiny cottage; would you, Jass?'

But Jacinth replied rather coldly that Frances was a silly child who didn't know what she was talking about. And Mrs Mildmay smiled, and endeavoured to prevent any approach to quarrelling, as she assured Frances that at all events they would be able to afford a comfortable house.

'I should rather think so,' said Jacinth in an authoritative and yet mysterious tone. 'I do wish, mamma, you would make Frances leave off speaking as if we were paupers.'

It is scarcely necessary to say that this conversation and others of a similar kind did not take place in Lady Myrtle's presence.

And towards the end of July, sooner than he had hoped for, Colonel Mildmay arrived. They were all still at Robin Redbreast to receive him, for on hearing how much earlier his leave was to begin than had been anticipated, Mrs Mildmay gave in to their kind hostess's earnest wish that they should remain there at least till her husband's coming.

'And as much longer as we can persuade him to stay,' Lady Myrtle added. 'He can so easily run up to town from this, as he is sure to have to be there often, about these appointments. And then it will be such a pleasure to his sister to have him near.'

'Oh yes, Thetford is as good a headquarters as we could have at present,' agreed Mrs Mildmay. 'But Thetford, dear Lady Myrtle, need not necessarily mean Robin Redbreast, you know! And it would not be difficult for us to find a nice little house there that would suit us for the time.'

'Well, well, it will be time enough to see to that when your husband is here,' replied the old lady.

And Mrs Mildmay, whose nature was not one to anticipate or dwell upon difficulties or uncertainties in the future which she could not in the present take action about, gratefully accepted her kind friend's hospitality, happy in the knowledge that her doing so really gave happiness to Lady Myrtle in return.

It was very strange to have papa in person, 'as large as life or a little larger,' said Frances. For they had not pictured to themselves quite such a tall, grave, rather awe-inspiring personage as he seemed at first. And they could scarcely understand how their mother could be so entirely at ease with him; how she could even laugh at him, and tease him now and then as if she was not 'the least atom' afraid of him.

But there was plenty of fun and humour hidden in the depths of Colonel Mildmay's dark eyes; it was not altogether wanting even in his sister Alison, though the circumstances of her life had not brought out several of the qualities developed by his wider and larger experiences. And before long his children, the two younger ones especially, got to know this, and to count upon their father's ever-ready sympathy in even the more childish of their interests and amusements. And Jacinth for her part was intensely proud of her father. He suited her in every way; except that now and then a slight suspicion insinuated itself that this very grand and dignified papa of hers, affectionate and even caressing as he could be when he laid his hand on her head and smoothed her soft hair, was laughing at her a little, which did not at all suit Jacinth's princess-like ideas of herself.

Still all was very happy, very happy indeed, the sweet summer days passing only too quickly; and for some two or three weeks nothing was said about 'plans,' though Colonel Mildmay went up to town more than once to visit his doctor and the War Office.

Then came an evening on which he returned from a hot day in London, fagged and rather knocked up, though with a certain expression on his face which told his watchful and observant wife that he had come to a decision, which she quietly waited to hear till he sought a good opportunity for telling it. The opportunity came later, when Lady Myrtle, a little tired by the unusual heat, had gone to her own room earlier than her wont, and the girls and Eugene had also said good-night.

'Come out into the garden, Eugenia. We can talk better there; it seems, even compared with India, such an airless night.'

'But the stars are beautiful, aren't they, Frank? I do love this place so,' said Mrs Mildmay as she seated herself on a rustic chair on the edge of the smooth bowling-green-like old lawn.

'You always find the stars – the bright spots in every sky, I think, dear,' said her husband. 'I confess I am feeling a little gloomy to-night, and yet I am glad it is decided.'

'It is decided, then? I thought so,' said Mrs Mildmay gently.

'Yes. It is quite certain that it would be madness for me ever to think of India again, now or years hence. So I have accepted Barmettle. I send in the formal papers to-morrow,' and he sighed a little.

'I expected it,' she said. 'I am very thankful, Frank, though you know how I sympathise with you about your having to – to – come down at all in position as it were.'

'Doing right can never be really coming down,' he replied. 'And it is right. The other thing in London would have been impossible, on our means, and not work enough either. And there is nothing against Barmettle; the place is healthy and cheap, and good education for Eugene, and no doubt – the two generally go together – good masters and governesses for the girls. Socially speaking, of course, there is not much to recommend the place, though there may be a few nice people there. But the girls are still very young; we must just do our best, and make as happy a home for them as we can.'

'Lady Myrtle is sure often to invite them here,' said Mrs Mildmay, 'Jacinth especially. When shall we have to go there, Frank? Will it be worth while to look out for a temporary house at Thetford, as we had thought of?'

'Scarcely,' said Colonel Mildmay. This was the question – 'When shall we have to go there?' – which he had been the most dreading. He was glad to have it over. 'I fear,' he went on, 'you will be rather upset at finding how soon we have to go. I, at least. You and the children can stay on here awhile if you like, as dear old Lady Myrtle is sure to want you. But I myself must be at Barmettle the end of next month.'

'And you certainly shall not go alone,' said Mrs Mildmay, brightly. 'Do you think I would trust you to choose a house and all the rest of it? If Lady Myrtle will keep Eugene and one of the girls for a week or two, I and the other child will go north with you of course, and get settled before the others join us. There is only one thing I want to ask you, Frank; don't think it is that I have the faintest idea of making you change your intention; I do not even wish it. But you have not actually – officially – accepted the appointment yet?'

'No, not till to-morrow,' he replied.

'Then let me ask you this: Lady Myrtle has been so very, so more than good to us, that I should like to gratify her in every way we can. So before actually accepting this, I think we owe it to her to tell her about it. I know she is dying for you to take the London thing, and I would like her thoroughly to understand the reasons why you don't.'

'They are very simple and unanswerable,' said Colonel Mildmay, curtly.