Robin Redbreast: A Story for Girls

Colonel Mildmay bent his head.

'Ah well,' said Lady Myrtle, 'another dream vanished!'

Mrs Mildmay started up at this.

'Oh, dear Lady Myrtle, dear, dear friend,' she said, and the tears were in her eyes, 'don't speak like that. I cannot bear it. You say there can be no sort of compromise, but surely there can be of one kind; you will not, you cannot expect us to leave off looking to you and feeling to you as our best and dearest friend?'

And she threw her arms round the old lady as Francie might have done, and was not repulsed.

'You will let me have Jacinth sometimes?' whispered Lady Myrtle.

'Of course, of course; whenever you like and as much as you like,' said Mrs Mildmay eagerly.

'I will not be unreasonable,' the old lady said with one of the half-wistful smiles that were so touching. 'Even if – if everything had been going to be as I hoped, I would never have wished or expected anything which could have interfered with her home ties and duties. And I need scarcely say I will never come upon this subject that we have been discussing, with her. I will leave it entirely to you, her parents, to tell her what you think right, though I own I should like her to realise how I have been thinking of her.'

'That she certainly shall,' exclaimed Mrs Mildmay impulsively. And though a moment afterwards she was tempted to murmur to herself 'at all costs,' she did not repent of her promise. 'It would not be fair to Lady Myrtle for Jacinth to be told nothing,' she reflected. 'And scarcely indeed fair to the child herself. For I cannot but believe she will see it all as we do.'

So that afternoon Colonel Mildmay wrote to accept the appointment offered him up at gloomy, smoky Barmettle in the dreary north country.

'I doubt if we have done much to forward the poor Harpers' cause,' said his wife as she watched him closing and sealing the big blue official envelope.

'Very possibly not,' he replied calmly. 'But we have, I hope and believe, done right. And so we must not feel over much concern for the poor Harpers' future any more than for that of our own children, my dear Eugenia.'

And though Mrs Mildmay agreed with him, she was human enough, and woman enough, to sigh a little at certain visions of what might have been, which would intrude themselves!

'But what,' she began again after a little pause, 'what are we to say to Jacinth?'

It is to be confessed that Colonel Mildmay's reply was not quite so ready this time.

'We must consider well about that,' he said. 'Of course we must tell her soon about Barmettle. It would not be treating her fairly, for she is a remarkably sensible girl, and has behaved excellently in rather difficult circumstances. Alison's little house and odd ways must have been somewhat trying after the liberal easy-going life at Stannesley. It would not be treating Jacinth as she deserves, not to take her into our confidence as to our plans.'

'And the mere mention of Barmettle will lead on to the whole,' said Mrs Mildmay. 'Frank, you must help me to put it to her wisely. I fear, though very little has been said about it, that Jassie has an intense dislike to the idea of Barmettle; and I fear still more, that in spite of Lady Myrtle's good sense and extreme wish to cause no trouble, she has somehow or other allowed some hint of her intentions to escape her.'

Colonel Mildmay looked very grave at this; graver than he had yet done.

'Jacinth is extremely quick,' he said, 'and notwithstanding her quiet undemonstrative manner I suspect that she has a very lively imagination. But surely all she has got in her head is only childish; looking forward to long visits here and a continuance of Lady Myrtle's kindness? As regards Barmettle, I have no doubt she would prefer my taking the London appointment, but she is sensible; we only need to put it to her.'

'I hope so,' said Mrs Mildmay with a sigh. 'But the whole is so complicated: she is prejudiced against the Harpers; just the opposite of Frances.'

'That is unfortunate,' said Colonel Mildmay. But after a moment's silence he spoke again more cheerfully. 'We must not spoil Jacinth,' he said. 'If she has been led to cherish any brilliant hopes, the sooner she gives them up the better. I shall be sorry for her disappointment, but I am sure she is not really selfish. If she sees that you and I are happier – infinitely happier – as things are, she will not take it to heart. And it may not be necessary to say much; not to enter into mercenary details, to a child like her.'

'I hope so,' said Mrs Mildmay again. But again her sigh somewhat belied her words.

The very next day brought the dreaded opportunity. Some little allusion was made to Colonel Mildmay's intention of running up to London again the following week.

'Shall you have any commissions for me, Lady Myrtle?' he said lightly.

The old lady shook her head, but without her usual smile.

'I think not, Colonel Mildmay, thank you,' she said. 'I had thought of asking you to see my agent about my house in Brook Street. The present tenant's lease expires nine months hence, and I must make up my mind what I am going to do.'

'I fear I am not very au fait of such matters,' he replied. 'But I could at least hear what the agent has to say more satisfactorily than by letter. So pray let me call; give me all your instructions. I should be more than delighted to be of any use, you must know,' he ended earnestly.

Lady Myrtle seemed pleased.

'Thank you,' she said. 'Well, yes then; I will tell you what I want to know.'

This conversation took place at luncheon. That afternoon Jacinth sought her mother in her own room.

'Mamma,' she said, 'are you busy? May I talk to you a little?'

Mrs Mildmay laid down her pen.

'I was writing to Marmy,' she said, 'but I have plenty of time. What is it, dear? I am glad to have a little quiet talk together. I have been wishing for it, too.'

But Jacinth scarcely seemed to listen.

'Mamma,' she began again, somewhat irrelevantly it might have seemed. 'Brook Street isn't a very grand part of London, is it? At least all the houses in it are not tremendously grand, are they? I was thinking about Lady Myrtle's house. Couldn't it be arranged for us to be her tenants? I'm sure she would like it if she thought we would. Mightn't I say something about it to her? She likes me to say whatever I think of, but I thought – for such a thing as a house, perhaps I had better ask you first.'

'But, my dearest child, we don't want any house in London,' said Mrs Mildmay with a smile which she strove to make unconstrained. 'You forget, dear, the choice was never between Barmettle and London, but between Barmettle and India again, and' —

'But mamma,' interrupted Jacinth, 'please answer my question first. Is Brook Street very grand? Would a house there be out of the question for us, even if we – if we had one there for nothing?'

'Yes; unless we had another thousand a year at least, we could not possibly live there on our income with any comfort or consistency,' Mrs Mildmay replied quietly.

The girl's face fell.

'A thousand a year! that's a good deal,' she said. 'I had thought' —

'But why worry yourself about things that can never be, dear Jassie?' said her mother. 'We were going to tell you – even your Aunt Alison does not know yet – that it is all decided, and oh, I am so thankful that the long separation is over at last. Your father wrote yesterday to accept the Barmettle appointment.'

Jacinth grew scarlet, then very, very pale.

'Mamma,' she exclaimed, and the low repression in her tone was more unnatural – more alarming, I had almost said – in one so young, than any even violent ebullition of temper. 'Mamma, it can't be true. You are saying it to tease me. You – you and papa would never have settled it without telling me, without consulting Lady Myrtle, after all her goodness?'

'No,' replied Mrs Mildmay, arming herself for the contest by a resolute determination not to lose her self-control, however it might be tried; 'no, though a little reflection would show you that you should have more trust in your parents, dear Jacinth; it was not done without consulting our kind old friend. And however she may regret it, I know she respects your father's decision.'

Jacinth looked up eagerly; a reaction of hope came over her.

'Mamma,' she said breathlessly, 'believe me, I don't mean to be either disrespectful or distrustful, but did Lady Myrtle say nothing against it? Is she perhaps going to do so when – when she has thought everything over?'

'She did say everything she could; she did use the strongest arguments she had: but she could not but see that your father's motives were right, and so she saw it must be as he said,' replied Mrs Mildmay.

A harder look crept over Jacinth's face; the eager, almost nervous, anxiety died out of it.

'There is something about all this that I do not understand,' she said. 'Unless you and papa mean to treat me as a baby, I think I have a right to know. I think Lady Myrtle would say so.'

Mrs Mildmay felt much perplexed. Any approach to diplomacy, anything but perfect candour and frankness, was so foreign to her nature, that it was difficult for her not at once to speak out and explain the whole. But then, if she did so, she might be only sowing seeds of future bitterness. It was improbable, to say the least, that Jacinth had realised in any definite way Lady Myrtle's intentions with regard to her, seeing that the old lady had not announced them to her.