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 A DOUBLE WEDDING 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 NEW AND POPULAR NOVELS 
 
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 £. 'f- 
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 ST. OLAVE'S," "JANITA'S cross," "ANNETTE,' 
 ETC. ETC. 
 
 " We must not any way- 
 Forget our lady who is gone from us." 
 
 IN THREE VOLU^IES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 HURST Ax\D BLACKETT, LIMITED, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
 All /^i^Als Fescrvcd.
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/doubleweddingint01tabo
 
 
 ^ 
 
 i^ 
 
 v/. 
 
 -T A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 t 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ' And I also think, David, he should be 
 a married man. You would find it better 
 ^' so. 
 
 It was my mother who said this, as we all 
 
 — that is herself, my father, my sister Anne 
 
 and I — held a family conclave in the study 
 
 (^ one Monday afternoon towards the middle 
 
 - of May. The occasion of this conclave 
 
 was only an advertisement which my 
 
 father was sending for insertion in the 
 
 rv^ Guardian. But he sought my mothers 
 
 ^ help in everything that he did, and espe- 
 
 l VOL. I. B 
 
 S
 
 2 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 cially in things that would have their in- 
 fluence upon our family life ; and Anne and 
 I were of an age to be allowed to listen, if 
 not to give our own opinions. Anne, who 
 was the elder, did give hers sometimes, and 
 it was always worth considering. On this 
 matter, however, she held her peace. 
 
 The advertisement was for a curate. 
 My father was a man well past middle life, 
 and the parish of Willoughby Clays had 
 not then had the brick-fields taken from it, 
 to be made into a separate district. Up 
 hill and down dale he had to go in all 
 weathers, by day or by night, for he was not 
 a man to disregard duty, whenever or 
 wherever it might call him. Many a time, 
 after a hard day's work in that part of the 
 parish which lay round about the rectory, 
 Avould he turn out again to Moor-end, three 
 miles away across the hills, to baptize a 
 sick child, or pray with a dying man, and
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 6 
 
 that when the parish doctor had declined 
 to take leave of his comfortable chair for 
 the supply of their temporal needs. And 
 this readiness to minister to them at all times, 
 though it won for him the deep, reverent 
 love of his parishioners, was telling heavily 
 upon himself Moreover, he had begun 
 to be worried by a great lady who had 
 lately come into the parish, none other 
 than the newly-married wife of our squire, 
 ]\lr. Rakeridge of Willoughby Hall, who 
 was herself the daughter of an earl, and 
 who on that account considered herself the 
 spiritual as well as temporal head of the 
 place. Now, worry always told very much 
 more upon my father than work. I believe 
 it does upon most people. And Lady 
 Matilda's endless fidgettings and exhorta- 
 tions, the exasperating way she had of 
 discovering dust and hunting out evil be- 
 haviour, had driven him at last to this ex- 
 
 B 2
 
 4 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 treme measure of a curate, a measure to 
 which I believe neither labours nor years- 
 would otherwise have compelled him. 
 
 ' This is what I have written,' he saidy 
 taking the advertisement out of the enve- 
 lope to read it aloud to us. The envelope 
 was already addressed and stamped for 
 despatch by that evening's post : 
 
 "Wanted, for a country parish, a curate, 
 priest, views moderate. Stipend, one hun- 
 dred and fifty. Address Rev. David Hasel- 
 tine, Willoughby Cla3^s, Broadshire." 
 
 ' I do not think I need spread it out 
 more than that. It will be time enough 
 to enter into particulars by letter when 
 anyone applies. Except that perhaps I 
 ought to say something about the parish 
 being such a very scattered one. That might 
 be a drawback to some men. But that also 
 I could explain by letter.'
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 5 
 
 It was then tliat my mother put in her 
 word. 
 
 ' And I also think, David, he should be 
 a married man.' 
 
 ' That had not occurred to me,' said my 
 father. ' I wonder if it would be worth 
 writino; the advertisement over ao-ain ?' 
 
 He had folded the paper and put it 
 back into the envelope, but was still con- 
 sidering the question of rewriting it, when 
 Seline Consett, a young girl from India, 
 who had lately come to stay with us, 
 ilanced into the room in a flutter of excite- 
 ment. 
 
 ' ^ow, girls, one and both of you, quick 
 change and begone. Yonder is Lady 
 Matilda's carriao'e turnins; into the bend of 
 the road.' 
 
 That meant she was coming to call upon 
 us, for that bend of the road only led to 
 the rectory. My father gave a little sigh.
 
 6 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 My sister Anne looked annoyed. I would 
 have given half-a-crown to be able to say 
 we were not at home. My mother knitted 
 quietly on, just looking over her spectacles 
 to be sure that it really was Lady Matilda's 
 carriage ; for Seline was a mischievous 
 sprite of a girl, who enjoyed nothing so 
 much as getting us into a bustle of ex- 
 pectation and then laughing at us. There 
 was no mistake, however, this time. The 
 carriage was Lady Matilda's, and Lady 
 Matilda herself was in it, sitting bolt up- 
 right, and doubtless, as we should find 
 out when it came nearer, with a severe ex- 
 pression upon her countenance. 
 
 '- Is it the hassocks, I wonder,' said 
 Seline, who, not actually belonging to the 
 parish, could view the impending call in 
 the light of something to be made fun of; 
 ' or has a bit of frino-e on the lectern fall 
 
 o 
 
 got turned the wrong way : or had one of
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 7 
 
 the choir-boys put his surplice on wrong 
 side out last Sunday : or — but, oh, horror ! 
 don't let us think about it — can Mrs. Bum- 
 ble have carried a flea into the Hall pew ? 
 I believe Lady Matilda would rather have 
 an infidel in the pulpit, Uncle Davie, than 
 a flea in the Hall pew, and if it should have 
 happened again !' 
 
 For it was a known fact that such a 
 thing had once happened, not the infidel, 
 but the flea ; and her ladyship had driven 
 down the very next morning, with the 
 open carriage and the coachman and the 
 footman, and the rest of the ceremonials, 
 to inquire into the circumstance. Now 
 Mrs. Dumble, who, when she was Mrs. 
 Poslip, had lived with us as cook, was the 
 wife of Jonathan Dumble, the parish 
 clerk, and it was her duty, in connection 
 with her husband, to sweep the church. 
 And it was also her duty to attend to our
 
 8 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 poultry, which duty she performed in such 
 an efficient manner that my sister Anne 
 and I, whose perquisite the poultry was, 
 drew quite a tidy little penny of pin- 
 money from the weekly sale of the eggs 
 at Burstborough market. Lady Matilda 
 was convinced, that the non-worshipping 
 visitants who found their way into the 
 Hall pew were introduced there by Mrs. 
 Dumble, in consequence of her connection 
 with the rectory farm-yard, and she 
 ' strongly advised ' — which in her case 
 meant compulsion — that either Mrs. Dum- 
 ble should give up the poultry, or that 
 the church should give up Mrs. Dumble. 
 My father was not disposed to yield on 
 either point, and there was in consequence 
 a little breach between the Hall and the 
 rectory. I always felt a secret dread, as I 
 drew the largest share of profit from the 
 eggs, that Lady Matilda might mention
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. ^ 
 
 the subject again whenever she came 
 to call upon us ; and, if she chanced to 
 manifest the least si^n of fido-ettiness 
 during the morning service, my condition 
 of mind was painful. It could not be 
 the prayers, for my father was a per- 
 fect reader ; it could not be the sermon, 
 for his preaching was distinctly above 
 the average. Mrs. Dumble, then, must be 
 responsible. 
 
 ' But perhaps,' continued Seline, ' it is 
 not anything so bad as that. Perhaps it 
 is only a baby that is dying and wants 
 baptising. I am never distressed when I 
 hear of babies dying, there are such heaps 
 of them in the parish. It had much bet- 
 ter be a sick baby than a streak of dust or 
 the other sort of thing. Now, Anne, you 
 need not look so proper. You know you 
 are quite as frightened of Lady Matilda as 
 any of us.'
 
 10 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 Anne said nothing, only began to gather 
 lip her work. 
 
 ' Let lis go into the drawing-room/ said 
 my mother, for the grinding of the car- 
 riage-wheels could now be heard ii^^on the 
 road. ^ David, you will come too, will you 
 not?' 
 
 ' Certainly,' replied my father, who was 
 never the man to desert his family in the 
 hour of need. ' Come alono\ oirls.' 
 
 ' Xot I,' laughed Seline. ' I would as 
 soon sit in the stocks for an hour. I shall 
 run over and see Aunt Sunshine. May I 
 go, auntie?' 
 
 Seline was no relation to us, really. It 
 Avas only a sort of mutual adoption. Her 
 father, Major Consett, was serving with his 
 regiment out in India. 
 
 ' By all means.' And away she went, 
 escaping through the orchard-gate, just as 
 the footman was lettimr down the carriaize-
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 11 
 
 steps for my lady. Happy Seline ! wlio 
 somehow or other always did manage to 
 get out of anything that was particularly 
 disagreeable, no matter who was left in. 
 
 I cannot remember at this distance of 
 time what the occasion of that call proved 
 to be. ]\lost likely, it was something dis- 
 ao:reeable, so it is better I should foroet it. 
 I only remember, and indeed we all of us 
 had enough need to remember, that when 
 Lady Matilda had gone, and we came back 
 again into the study, my father looked 
 about for the letter which was being dis- 
 cussed when we were interrupted. It was 
 nowhere to be found. 
 
 ' The letter ? Oh ! I fastened it up and 
 posted it,' said Seline, who had been watch- 
 ing her opportunity to run over from Aunt 
 Sunshine's as soon as the carriage was out 
 of the way. ' I quite thought you said it 
 was to go this afternoon. I hope I haven't
 
 12 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 done anything wrong, Uncle Davie, have 
 I?' 
 
 * No, no, child,' said my father, affec- 
 tionately. ' There was only a little altera- 
 tion we thought of making, but I do not 
 know that it is of any serious conse- 
 quence.' 
 
 My mother made no remark. It was 
 not her way to fuss over a thing that 
 could not be helped. Only I noticed that 
 there was just a touch of disquietude upon 
 her face, as we fell to our various little 
 occupations again, Seline only, who had 
 never heard what the letter was about, 
 chattering away in her usual saucy, magpie 
 fashion, and provoking us girls into bursts 
 of laughter over Lady Matilda's peculiari- 
 ties. Seline, in those days, could never 
 see anything but the ludicrous side even of 
 such a serious subject as the mistress of 
 Willoughby Hall.
 
 13 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 I MUST ^o back a little, now. 
 
 I do not suppose that in any of tlie 
 pleasant country rectory-houses nestled 
 amongst their elm-trees, and glebes, and 
 tithe barns in the depths of secluded Eng- 
 lish parishes, a more peaceful life was ever 
 lived, nor one more free from vexing care, 
 than was ours at Willoughby Clays. Many 
 a time, as I sat in my favourite nook under 
 a bower of ivy by the laurel hedge, where 
 a break in the woods beyond the church 
 opened out the Avon valley, and the spires 
 of Burstborough blue in the sunshine
 
 14 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 above it, I have heard passers-by — for that 
 hedge separated us from the high-road — 
 remark : 
 
 ' Well, I do call that a pretty place.' 
 
 The answer was generally in the affirma- 
 tive. But once I heard an additional 
 observation which made me smile. 
 
 ' Yes, a pretty place enough. And yet 
 I don't doubt, if we knew all about it, 
 there's a skeleton in the cupboard there, 
 too.' 
 
 The kindly passer-by, whoever he might 
 be, was mistaken. We knew of no skeleton, 
 unless the recently instituted visits of Lady 
 Matilda might be looked upon as supplying 
 that necessary of life. And even Lady 
 Matilda did not live in our cupboard. 
 When she had gone through her iidgetty 
 little fault-findings, and had been handed 
 by my father, with due courtesy of fare- 
 well, into her padded and cushioned car-
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 15 
 
 riage, we breathed freely, and could even 
 laugh about it. She was not so very much 
 of a skeleton, after all. And she did not 
 want to be one, either. It was for our own 
 good, as faithful nurses say when they nag 
 at and pester the children given into their 
 care. She looked upon us, in common 
 with the church, and the schools, and the 
 poor people, and the brick-fields, and the 
 general details of the parish, Mrs. Dumble 
 included, as part of her social charge, and 
 she dealt with us accordingly. 
 
 For the rest, life moved on in a calm, 
 wholesome fashion. My father was never 
 in trouble with his churchwardens ; the peo- 
 ple brought their tithes regularly, even 
 cheerfully; he never introduced innova- 
 tions: we just endeavoured, according to 
 our lights, to do our duty in that station 
 of life to which it had pleased Providence 
 to call us. And except for that salutary
 
 IG A DOUBLE AYEDDING. 
 
 interior sense of short-coming, witliout 
 which life would stagnate in pestilential 
 self-complacency — sense of short-coming 
 which led, at any rate for my father and 
 mother, to constant watchfulness and self- 
 denial — we were in, I think, an entirely 
 right sense, satisfied from ourselves. Solo- 
 man says a good man ought to be so satis- 
 fied, and I accept his conclusion. 
 
 For seven-and-twenty years my father 
 had held that living of Willoughby Clays. 
 He and my mother came to the rectory as 
 bride and bridegroom. She was a Newcourt, 
 of Xewcourt House, a pleasant old home- 
 stead which we could see amongst the 
 woods between us and the Avon valley. 
 But strangers lived in it now, for my 
 mother and Aunt Sunshine were the only 
 children, and when, shortly after my mo- 
 ther's marriage, both my grandparents died. 
 Aunt Sunshine was not rich enough to
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 17 
 
 keep up the family liome, so she came 
 to a pretty little cottage, which my grand- 
 father had built, just beyond the church 
 plantation, and there she lived a life per- 
 haps even happier in its Avay than ours. 
 
 After my parents' marriage, a son was 
 born to them, who, when he was old 
 enough to laugh and j^l^y amongst the 
 churchyard daisies, was laid beneath them. 
 Then came my sister Anne, then myself 
 That was all; never another son to bring 
 back the little Davie's Avinning ways, or to 
 keep our name in remembrance amongst 
 the families of the earth. 
 
 That loss deeply shadowed my father's 
 life. Year by year, as the sweet Easter- 
 tide drew on, his thoughts seemed to go 
 out towards death and the life which lies 
 beyond. Always on Mid-Lent Sunday his 
 sermons were upon this subject. It was 
 upon that Sunday that little Davie sick- 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 18 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 ened, and it was upon Easter-Day that lie 
 died. And now I never see the Lenten 
 lilies toucliing into gold the edges of our 
 Willoughby brooks, nor catch the scent of 
 the pale primroses as I go down into the 
 heart of the wood, without a tender thought 
 of the little life which 1 never knew, the 
 little child-life, living still, and one day to 
 be made manifest to me. 
 
 But, if that loss shadowed our parents' 
 lives, it did not shadow ours. The little 
 grave in the churchyard brought many 
 sweet thoughts, but no tears. The baby 
 clothes, wrapped in lavender in a locked 
 drawer in my mother's room, were unfold- 
 ed by us now and then with grave rever- 
 ence, linked as they were with a might- 
 have-been, which neither my sister nor I 
 could understand. But, though we did 
 not know our own loss, I think we were 
 drawn closer to our parents by the feeling
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 19 
 
 of what we had to be to them; and, as 
 years passed on, the bands which linked us 
 to each other came closer and closer, until 
 we scarcely ever thought or realised how 
 life could possibly exist under any other 
 <;onditions than those which had become 
 habitual to us in our quiet country home. 
 Anne and I were so nearly of an age 
 — there being not a couple of years be- 
 tween us — that we both came out together 
 xit the Hunt ball, which was given every 
 October in the Burstborough Assembly 
 Rooms. I am compelled to say that, how- 
 ever much we looked forward to this 
 event — and we did look forward to it as 
 young girls naturally ought — it created no 
 sensation worth mentioning in the neigh- 
 bourhood. We were dressed exactly alike, 
 in fine white India muslin, draped with 
 real ivy leaves, which we had gathered our- 
 selves from one particular spot on the 
 
 c2
 
 20 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 ]\Ioor-end hills. Such leaves were to be 
 found nowhere else — fine, small, delicate, 
 in long sprays — and in the October time, 
 when we Avore them, they were touched l^y 
 the early frosts into the loveliest tints of 
 olive, and crimson, and gold. When we 
 were dressed, we felt quite satisfied with 
 ourselves, and more than satisfied with our 
 mother, who on that occasion wore black 
 velvet, with a few ornaments of rare Indian 
 silver work. Mrs. Duinljle came across on 
 purpose to see us. Her admiration found 
 no words to express itself, a rare thing in- 
 deed with that excellent woman. She 
 gazed at ns in silence, as we stood side Ijy 
 side on the drawing-room hearth-rug, and 
 then she took out her pocket-handkerchief 
 and slowly withdrew, saying only, 
 
 ' Well, if them two young ladies isn't a 
 picter, there never was oue.' 
 
 If we thought that other people were
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 21 
 
 going to admire lis to the same extent, 
 however, we were quite mistaken. India 
 muslin and natural ivy-leaves look very 
 pretty in the privacy of one's own draw- 
 ing-room, and in the estimation of people 
 who are not accustomed to society : but 
 the frequenters of hunt balls set very little 
 :>tore by such simplicities. In the Burst- 
 borough Assembly Rooms we were literally 
 nowhere. AVe got a fe^^' dances each. "We 
 enjo3-ed the splendid dresses, not being in 
 the least envious of them, and the dazzling 
 uniforms of the officers, and the various 
 costumes of the hunts, and we had a cer- 
 tain sense of delight in the palms and the 
 ferns and the expanses of crimson cloth, 
 and the hot-house flowers, and the per- 
 fumes, and the decorations, and the ban- 
 ners ; but there the thing ended. Our 
 emergence from the chrysalis state of girl- 
 hood was bv no means the bdiinnini:- of a
 
 22 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 brilliant series of conquests. Indeed, I 
 think socially we were rather failures. Not 
 that we were plain-looking. I would never 
 allow that, either for my sister Anne or 
 myself. We had our youthful bloom, 
 clearness of colour, brightness of eye, firm- 
 ness of health, elasticity of step, sunshine 
 of peace and content upon our faces, stamp 
 of good breeding in our air and bearing, 
 and with these advantages no girls can 
 ever be really plain. But we were not of 
 the sort that succeed in society, and I be- 
 lieve the reason of this was that we were 
 too happy at home to care much for what 
 society could do for us. As I said before, 
 we had grown up so at unity amongst our- 
 selves, so content in what we could do for 
 and be to one another, so at peace in the 
 ivy-leaves and India muslin of our own 
 simple lives that we never troubled our- 
 selves about other conditions, never even
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 23 
 
 questioned what existence could be under 
 them. 
 
 Until two Easter-tides after that ball, 
 when I was about one-and-twenty — but 1 
 am forgetting. That ball did produce one 
 result which perhaps ought to be called 
 important. 
 
 As we were being muffled up, ready for 
 our departure, a gentleman, who had 
 danced twice with my sister Anne, asked 
 my mother's permission to call upon us. 
 This was granted. He came again and 
 yet again, and after a few preliminary 
 attentions he intimated to my father that 
 it was his desire to win her for his wife. 
 
 Anne was asked for her wishes upon the 
 matter. She quietly said she had none, 
 except to be let alone, and there the matter 
 ended. I think it made as little difference 
 to us as we did to the ball at Burstborough. 
 And I do not think it made much more to
 
 24 A DOUBLE WEDDIXG. 
 
 the gentleman himself, for we used to meet 
 hhn out and about as usual, and no sorrow, 
 such as one reads of in books, seemed to 
 be eating into the heart of him. In fact 
 he married, a few months afterwards, a 
 rather uneducated girl of Burstborough, 
 who was possessed of a conveniently large 
 property. 
 
 This led me to think that perhaps 
 Anne's income might have had something 
 to do with the declaration of his attach- 
 ment. For I have forgotten to mention 
 before that my sister had iive thousand 
 pounds of her own in the funds, left to 
 her by her godmother, who died whilst as 
 yet Anne was the only living child. Now 
 that did seem rather hard upon me, whose 
 godmothers have never done anything for 
 me beyond the customary prayer-books 
 and silver spoons ; but it never made the 
 least difference to Anne. Of course, the
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 25 
 
 property did not come into her hands until 
 she was of age, and she was not much over 
 twenty at the time of that ball. And she 
 did not look upon it, when it did happen 
 to be spoken about, as a thing which could 
 at all make her future more prosperous 
 than mine. I think she took for granted 
 that we should always live together, and 
 that what one had would be enjoyed by 
 the whole family. 
 
 But I will o;o on now to what I was ^o- 
 ing to say when I remembered about my 
 sister Anne's first offer of marriage.
 
 26 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Not more than a stone's-tlirow from the 
 church, just across a lovely bit of planta- 
 tion, was the cottage, covered in summer- 
 time with blossoming creepers, where my 
 Aunt Sunshine lived. 
 
 In ordinary society she was known as 
 Miss Newcourt, formerly of Kewcourt 
 House. To the village people, who had 
 known her from her childhood, first in her 
 father's home, and then in this cottage, to 
 which she removed after my grandparents' 
 death, she was Miss Christabel ; but for us 
 four at the rectory she was Aunt Sun-
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 27 
 
 shine, never anything else than Aunt 
 Sunshine. 
 
 How she first slipped into the light of 
 such a name I do not know. Perhaps it 
 grew up with her from her babyhood, 
 coming naturally by contrast with the 
 elder sister's calmer, more thoughtful 
 temperament, for my mother was charac- 
 terized by great dignity. People even 
 sometimes thought her cold, that was their 
 own fault ; but reserved she certainly was, 
 except to those whom she loved most 
 deeply. Xow Aunt Sunshine, on the con- 
 trary, ran over with readily-expressed 
 good-will and sympathy. She produced 
 at once the impression which could only 
 be possible after years of acquaintance 
 with my mother. Both were alike gen- 
 uine and sincere, true to the very core; 
 but you saw clearly into the heart of 
 one, while the other revealed herself
 
 28 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 only to tlie few who could wait and be 
 patient. 
 
 Aunt Sunshine was by no means such a 
 cultivated woman as my mother. More 
 than five-and-twenty years lived by her- 
 self in that secluded cottage, with perhaps 
 a visit once a year or so, when rheumatism 
 asked for it, to Bath or Buxton, had rather 
 made her lose touch with the more ad- 
 vanced portion of her own generation. 
 She used laughingly to say that herself 
 and my mother were capital illustrations 
 of the effects produced by the presence 
 or absence of superior masculine com- 
 panionship, for my mother was up in all 
 the leading questions of the day, and 
 would floor a dozen Lady Matildas, if 
 it came to questions of art or literature ; 
 whilst Aunt Sunshine, except in the most 
 exquisite appreciation of old lace and 
 china, of which she had a perfect museum.
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDIXG. 29 
 
 was what would be called decidedly behind 
 the times. 
 
 Nor was it to her that we ever went for 
 the fashions. Do I not remember how she 
 wore her shawl — it was ahvays a shawl 
 with Aunt Sunshine — in a point at the 
 back, years and years after everyone else 
 had adopted the square style, and the 
 more daring spirits in AYilloughby were 
 even beginning to drape a corner over the 
 left shoulder after the manner, mth a dif- 
 ference, of the Apollo Belvidere? And 
 then the four neat little folds pinned 
 down at the neck of that said shawl be- 
 hind, to make the whole thing sit prettily ; 
 for auntie had not yet given over being a 
 trifle proud of her trim figure and her 
 falling shoulders : just the shoulders for a 
 shawl, as people used to tell her, she said, 
 when she was a girl. And that was why 
 she kept to it so faithfully, I suppose, in
 
 30 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 its primitive style, when the fashionable 
 world was rushing madly after jackets and 
 dolmans, and paletots of all sorts and sizes. 
 And there was one shawl, such an old- 
 fashioned one, with an Indian pattern 
 down one side of it, and every summer, 
 for just a single week, auntie used to take 
 that shawl out and wear it, and then it 
 was put away again. Why or wherefore 
 we never asked, and auntie never told us. 
 Could it ever have been very much ad- 
 mired, faded and out of date as it looked 
 to us young people? Had something, 
 which could never be forgotten, happened 
 in connection with it? We did not know. 
 Only when the end came, and she lay in 
 her coffin, the old shawl was for the last 
 time taken out and wrapped round her, so. 
 Dear Aunt Sunshine ! 
 
 And her afternoon silk dress, generally 
 cut a little square in front, for had she not
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 31 
 
 still the prettiest neck and throat, white 
 and smooth and kissable, under the soft- 
 net always folded so modestly round, and 
 whiter still for the bit of black velvet to 
 which a tiny gold locket was attached? 
 That locket, too, must have had its history. 
 Day and night, summer and winter, she 
 wore it, and afterwards, too^ in the long 
 sleep which knows no earthly waking. But 
 as I say, we never asked about these things ; 
 for, with all her open-hearted brightness, 
 Aunt Sunshine had a way which told us 
 w^e must go so far and no farther. 
 
 She was possessed of an income which 
 enabled her to keep two little maids and a 
 boy, and a neat carriage and pony. 
 Almost any fine afternoon you might see 
 Aunt Sunshine driving herself in that pony- 
 carriage at the most leisurely pace, for 
 Jessie, the pony, was not to be hurried, 
 any more than the solar system ; and at her
 
 32 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 side you might generally see some invalid, 
 a little child or aged person, to whom the 
 warmth and fresh air, taken without 
 fatigue, was likely to be a blessing. And 
 if the weather was not fine, if there was east 
 wind or driving fog or biting frost, you 
 might still see Aunt Sunshine in the pony- 
 carriage, but instead of the invalid by her 
 side, there would be a big basket whose 
 contents were on their way to bless some 
 poor cottage in the parish. The treasures 
 which came out of that big basket ! The 
 bright face and the beaming smile with 
 which they were dispensed ; the shrewdness 
 and prudence which always guided them 
 to the right pei:son. For people never got 
 over Aunt Sunshine; I believe, having 
 clearness of heart, she had clearness of 
 vision too, and could separate the good 
 from the bad, even whilst they were grow- 
 ing together for the harvest. What a
 
 A DOUBLE ATEDDING. 33 
 
 treasure she would have been in a town 
 parish. 
 
 Also, she was never alone. Well, such 
 as she never are, but I mean in the ordin- 
 ary social sense. She had two guest-rooms 
 in that cottage of hers. One of them was 
 for her friends who came to her when they 
 wanted brightening and cherishing. The 
 other was occupied, except in winter time, 
 by any well-recommended poor person 
 from out of the lanes and dens of Burst- 
 borough, some ailing mother, or invalid 
 child, or servant girl who had been half 
 starved both of food and fresh air. When 
 one was nursed back to life and strength, 
 she returned to her work and another 
 came. That was Aunt Sunshine's way of 
 doing good. I have seldom met with a 
 better. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 34 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 It was in March of tlie second year after 
 that ball at which my sister Anne and I 
 came out with so moderate an effect upon 
 the public generally, and I had set out one 
 Sunday afternoon to have a quiet hour in 
 church before service began. Easter-tide 
 was coming, and the decorations had to be 
 thought about. Aunt Sunshine and my 
 sister used always to do the chancel. I 
 took the font as my share, and any kind 
 friends who were willing to help us, looked 
 after the pulpit, lectern, and windows. 
 We were very proud of our font, not
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 35 
 
 from a decorative point of view merely, 
 but on account of its architectural merits. 
 It was a genuine bit of Early-English work, 
 pure and simple, untouched as yet by the 
 hand of the restorer, with its leafy margin 
 and slender clustered columns, worn indeed 
 by long centuries of use, but bearing still 
 the impress of the love and skill of the old 
 monkish craftsmen, who worked so patient- 
 ly, praying as they worked, in the days when 
 work and prayer were one. Beautiful, 
 however, as was its Ijroidery of stone 
 and cunning tracery of leaf and boss, the 
 special glory of ^Yilloughby church font 
 lay in its wrought-iron canopy of Italian 
 work, four centuries old, which people, who 
 were curious in such matters, came from 
 far and near to see. It was suspended by 
 chains from the roof, and gave one, as 
 Aunt Sunshine said, the impression of a 
 very large extinguisher. Indeed, auntie 
 
 D 2
 
 36. A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 told me she never could be comfortable at 
 a baptism in Willougliby Clays church ; 
 she always felt afraid the chains might 
 give way just as my father was holding 
 the baby over the font, and then what 
 would have become of the poor little thing ? 
 However, such a thing had never happened, 
 I think those chains, fine and delicate and 
 slender as they looked, were as strong as 
 the faith of the old craftsmen who wrought 
 them. 
 
 A new idea had struck me for the 
 decoration of this font. The cover had 
 always been my great difficulty, for, labour 
 as I would, I could not get the flowers 
 to look effective upon it. Now, instead 
 of flowers, I would outline the tracery of 
 the ironwork with those fine ivy stems 
 which we found on the moor hills. This, 
 with little knots of primroses at some 
 of the intersections, would produce, I
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 37 
 
 thought, a very artistic effect, and would 
 also be original. So I set off that Sunday 
 afternoon with my head very full of plans 
 and ideas, so full that I really forgot 
 where I Avas going, and, instead of taking 
 the proper turn from our orchard into the 
 churchyard, I found myself in the bit of 
 road which led to Aunt Sunshine's cottage. 
 
 It was no great consequence. I would 
 not turn back. Aunt Sunshine had not been 
 at church that morning, and I would go 
 on, to inquire the cause of her absence. 
 True, I had not been there myself, but 
 then, I often did stay at home after morn- 
 ing Sunday school, whereas auntie was as 
 regular as clockwork, unless something 
 very unforeseen happened. 
 
 This morning it had been something- 
 very unforeseen, as I found out as soon 
 as I crossed the threshold of the cosy lit- 
 tle dining-room ; for auntie's best dessert-
 
 38 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 service of Crown Derby, only produced 
 on the stateliest occasions, was in full 
 force upon the table, and a dishful of 
 auntie's Ribston apples — now, in the middle 
 of March, firm and rosy and sound as 
 when they left her orchard, and therefore 
 as uncommon in their way as the Crown 
 Derby — occupied the place of honour in 
 the centre ; and auntie herself, in her mul- 
 berry silk, with that lovely old Mechlin 
 at the throat, seemed as if she too had felt 
 it necessary to make a little more appear- 
 ance than usual, and the cause of all this 
 manifestation, a gentleman whom I had 
 never seen before, was sitting in the arm- 
 chair, apparently quite at home there. 
 
 ' Marjorie,' said my aunt, ' this is Mr. 
 Forrester, the nephew of Mrs. Forrester, who 
 was so o;ood to me at Buxton when I went 
 there for my rheumatism three or four
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 39 
 
 years ago, you know. My niece. Miss 
 Marjorie Haseltine, Mr. Forrester.' 
 
 I bowed politely to the nephew of the 
 lady who had been so good to my aunt. He 
 was a pleasant-looking man of about thirty, 
 with what appeared to me, unaccustomed 
 as I was to town people, quite a noticeable 
 air about him. Not of the fashionable 
 sort, like the Burstborough ball gen- 
 tlemen, but thoughtful, practical, shrewd. 
 Aunt Sunshine went on with her ex- 
 planations. 
 
 ' He has been overworking at that gram- 
 mar school up in the north, and the doctor 
 ordered him off for a week ; and, as he had 
 to pass Stilbury, he came over to see me^ 
 and I have made him stay Sunday over. 
 I am sure the air here is better than in 
 Norfolk, where he is going.' 
 
 As far as I could make out at a first
 
 40 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 o-lance, there was nothino; invalidish about 
 him. But then, as a rule, men do not 
 carry then* ill-health on their faces as 
 women do. You may notice that fact in 
 hydropathic establishments and the like, 
 where the men look quite comfortable, 
 while the women move about like shadows. 
 Or is it that a woman struggles on and 
 holds up and sticks to her colours like a 
 Trojan until the citadel is well-nigh starved 
 out, before she will run up a flag of truce ? 
 Whereas a man, with that discretion which 
 is so much the better part of valour, sur- 
 renders in good time whilst yet there is 
 hope that plentiful coddling and unlimited 
 self-denial on the part of those who have 
 to minister to him, mil restore the condi- 
 tion in which life is a pleasure, not a j^ain. 
 I am not quite sure. HoAvever, I was 
 bound to express some kind of sympathy, 
 and I said,
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. -il 
 
 ' I am very sorry you have been ill. I 
 hope the air of Willoughby will do you 
 good. It is said to be quite bracing when 
 you get on the moors.' 
 
 'Miss Xewcourt has put the case too 
 strongly,' he replied, settling down again 
 after our introduction was over, to the 
 2)aring of his Ribston. ' I have not been 
 ill at all, and I have not been working- 
 hard. I have only had a succession of 
 troublesome gum-boils, and the head-master 
 kindly let me off for a week, to get rid of 
 them in peace.' 
 
 That was not so romantic as an over- 
 wrought brain ; but I liked him better for 
 explaining. I had rather a man spoke out, 
 if it is only about a gum-boil. I told him 
 my aunt always did try to make people 
 appear more interesting than they really 
 were; and then, feeling that I had said 
 somethinof verv awkward and unofracious.
 
 42 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 I tried to cover it up by oiFering to pare 
 an apple for Aunt Sunsliine. 
 
 * Xo, tliank you, my dear. I never care 
 for Ribstons after Christmas ; let those 
 eat them that like them. I find Mr. For- 
 rester knows Dalton-by-the-Sea. He has 
 heard of your Aunt Drusilla there.' 
 
 Aunt Drusilla was my father's sister. 
 One of us used to go and stay with her for 
 a month every summer, and we did not 
 care for it very much, for the sort of life 
 she lived was a dull one. But, when my 
 sister Anne came back from her last visit, 
 she mentioned having been very much 
 interested in a course of lectures upon 
 Spenser's ' Fairy Queen,' which had been 
 given there by a Mr. Forrester. She 
 showed me the newspaper reports of them, 
 and I was interested too. How much 
 strange and beautiful meaning he had read 
 into the old poem ! What an allegory of
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 43 
 
 human life and character it became under 
 his sympathetic interpretation. How he 
 tracked the golden thread of similitude 
 throudi all its windino^s until one reached 
 the very central heart of the truth. And 
 here he was — at least it was most likely 
 the same — and I had as good as told him 
 that Aunt Sunshine had made him out to 
 be more interesting than he really was. 
 That was, of course, quite enough to make 
 me feel ill at ease, even if my general con- 
 sciousness of shortcomins: had not done so 
 before. 
 
 He seemed to know something about us, 
 too, for he asked me if I was very much 
 interested in parish work. He was evi- 
 dently mistaking me for my sister Anne, 
 whose praise was in all the churches. I 
 told him I had no talents in that direction, 
 and that I occupied myself chiefly in 
 domestic matters.
 
 44 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 ' Indeed,' I said, ' I tliink we spend a 
 great deal of useless labour over tlie poor. 
 People always seem to me to go to one of 
 two extremes. They either think that 
 the poor are made entirely for their con- 
 venience, or that they are made entirely 
 for the convenience of the poor.' 
 
 Mr. Forrester looked at me with an 
 amused expression. I felt ashamed of my- 
 self. I did not often venture upon such a 
 long speech even in the safe shelter of my 
 own family, still less amongst strangers. 
 And I had the uncomfortable conscious- 
 ness, too, that if he asked me to explain 
 myself I could not do so. I knew well 
 enough what I meant, but the difficultv 
 Avas in putting it properly. To change the 
 subject I asked Aunt Sunshine why she 
 had not been to church in the morning. 
 
 ' Mr. Forrester was the reason, my dear. 
 He came upon me quite unexpectedly in
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 45 
 
 the afternoon of Saturday, and we have 
 had so many thmgs to talk about, and 
 Betsey has a whitlow on her thumb, and 
 so I did not like her to do anything with 
 the cooking. I can't bear a whitlow in 
 connection with pastry. Was Lady Matilda 
 at church ? I heard they came back from 
 their wedding-tour some days ago.' 
 
 ' Yes, she was there but I was not, so I 
 can only tell you Avhat my mother and 
 Anne said.' 
 
 ' Well, then, what did they say ? What 
 is she like ?' 
 
 ' Oh, nothing special ; plain and proper, 
 A very handsome grey silk and a sealskin 
 jacket, and a velvet bonnet to match the 
 dress. Nothing bridal-looking.' 
 
 ' Of course not. At her age it would be 
 ridiculous. I am glad she has sense enough 
 to be aware of that. Well, I hope she will 
 be interested in the parish, but not too
 
 46 A DOUBLE AVEDDING. 
 
 much SO. I have been told that she is a 
 very good church woman, and I must say it 
 made me have my doubts.' 
 
 ' Oh, auntie ! why ?' 
 
 ' Because a good churchAvoman doesn't 
 always mean a good Christian. It may 
 mean that she wants to have a finger in 
 everything, and will have us all set to 
 rights, from the rector in the pulpit 
 down to the very moles in the church- 
 yard.' 
 
 ' If she would begin with the moles,' said 
 Mr. Forrester, gravely, ' it would be an 
 advantage. I have heard they are very 
 troublesome when you want a place nicely 
 kept, and I should think the rector, in this 
 case, would not suffer from being let alone. 
 Mr, Rakeridge has married amongst tlie 
 nobility then ?' 
 
 ' Yes,' said my aunt, ' very much so. 
 Our new bride is the daughter of the Earl
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 47 
 
 of Blankfort. Mr. and Lady Matilda 
 Rakerido^e. It does sound uncomfortable. 
 Xow Mr. and Mrs., and earl and countess, 
 make a comfortable combination, but in 
 tliis case the poor man seems to have to 
 stand such a long time out in the cold for 
 his wife's title to be got through before his 
 own name has its turn. Still, they may be 
 happy, all the same. Marjorie, are you 
 2:oino; to church this afternoon ?' 
 
 ' Yes, I meant to have 2:one straio^ht 
 from home there, but I came here instead. 
 I have a new idea about decoratins^ the 
 font, and I must consider it. Are you 
 o^oino^ ?' 
 
 ' Yes, specially as I was not there this 
 morning. I should not feel comfortable to 
 miss both services. 1\It. Forrester, shall 
 
 VOU 0^0 ?' 
 
 ' Xo, thank you,' he said, promptly. 
 ^ But I think I might as well walk with
 
 48 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 you, and then I can go round by the moor 
 hills, as you say it is a pretty walk.' 
 
 The moor hills ! — he was not much of 
 an invalid if he could do that, and I told 
 him so. 
 
 'It is a good seven miles' walk, Mr. 
 Forrester, and I thought you came here to 
 be nursed up.' 
 
 Again he looked at me with that amused 
 expression which made me feel I was say- 
 ing the wrong thing in the wrong place. 
 
 ' I am very sorry. Miss Haseltine, that 
 you should think I am obtaining goods 
 under false pretences. I told you honest- 
 ly, at the very outset, that I had only had 
 a few gum-boils, more or less. And a gum- 
 boil, as you know ' 
 
 He was laughing at me again, then. But 
 auntie never saw a joke. She always took 
 things literally, and she was afraid he 
 might misunderstand me.
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 49 
 
 * No, Mr. Forrester, I am sure she doesrit 
 know, for she never had one. The Hasel- 
 tines all have splendid teeth, but you may 
 ask me, if you like, and I can quite sym- 
 pathise with what you must have gone 
 through. I can testify they are the most 
 painful things. Marjorie dear, you are so 
 abrupt. What will Mr. Forrester think ?' 
 
 At this we both broke into a laugh, and 
 I went off with auntie to help her to put 
 her bonnet on. 
 
 A^OL. I.
 
 50 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 It was about the middle of March, per- 
 haps rather towards the end, and the 
 spring that year had opened early. I can 
 remember even to-day how, as we came 
 out of my aunt's garden-gate, the birch- 
 trees had begun to be knotted with tiny 
 buds, and the lilacs had pushed forth 
 tender leaves which shone, pale russet 
 and golden green, in the afternoon light. 
 Farther off, one could see, over the park 
 elms, that fleeting purple colour which 
 comes just before the first green bursts 
 out. Here and there, a larch-tree, stronger
 
 A DOUBLE \YEDDING. 51 
 
 than the rest, had put on its spring veil ; 
 the thorn-bushes were clustered thick with 
 the villaoje children's ^ bread-and-cheese.' 
 The thrushes sang merrily in the topmost 
 boughs of the sycamores ; down below the 
 primroses bloomed, side by side with the 
 vrood anemones. Amongst them you could 
 see the pale young spikes of the wild 
 hyacinth, with their folded buds, which 
 by-and-by would make a heaven upon 
 earth, so wondrous blue their beauty all 
 up and down the leaf-strewn paths of the 
 Vv'ood. Just across the road, past the 
 •orchard, the grey tower of my father's 
 church showed above the yew-trees ; hard 
 by it the gables of the rectory, my own 
 little window in one of them, my little 
 window which by Easter time would be 
 so gay with long, drooping westeria blos- 
 soms. 
 
 By Easter time. But I did not know 
 
 E 2 
 
 ^^^'^-^^OFllUt^OlS
 
 52 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 yet how pleasant that Easter time would 
 be. 
 
 ^ We can go straight across by the road/ 
 said Aunt Sunshine, ' or we can make it a 
 little longer by the wood. Which way 
 shall we take ?' 
 
 'Let us take the long Avay,' said Mr. 
 Forrester ; and so we did. 
 
 ' There is plenty of time,' said my aunt, 
 who always liked to show her guests that 
 wood, and the lovely peep of the moor 
 hills which came at the end of it. ' It 
 wants a quarter to three yet by my watch, 
 Marjorie.' 
 
 'And twenty minutes by mine, auntie. 
 Yours is nearly always fast.' 
 
 ' So is yours this afternoon,' said our 
 stranger, ' at least by mine, Avhich was set 
 yesterday to Greenwich. It is barely half- 
 past two. So we need not hurry.' 
 
 And we did not. I enjoyed seeing Mr.
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 53 
 
 Forrester's enjoyment of that woodland 
 path. I had walked it so many times with 
 city-bred people, who seemed to think 
 they were rather doing Nature a favour 
 by allowing that a real clump of primroses 
 at the foot of a mossy stump was half so 
 lovely as the same thing done in oils by 
 the artist of the season, and hung in a 
 suitably magnificent frame upon the walls 
 of the Royal Academy ; people who openly 
 pitied me for having real hills to look at 
 instead of water-colour ones, and who could 
 not understand how I managed to struggle 
 through May and June with only the 
 blackbird's song, never that of Mapleson 
 and Gye's latest prima donna. Now I 
 could tell from the first that Mr. Forrester 
 had the quiet, sympathetic love of one 
 who, though exiled from Nature in his 
 daily life, still found his true home in her 
 presence. He did not go into raptures over
 
 54 A DOUBLE AVEDDING. 
 
 anything. He did not rack the dictionary 
 for expressions of delight. He just simpty 
 and heartily enjoyed his walk, finding out 
 for himself, without any formal introduc- 
 tion of mine, all the sweetest lovelinesses of 
 it. 
 
 As we went we plucked the primroses, 
 the wood anemones, the long, trailing 
 mosses which grew in the depths of the 
 wood. I forget where our prayer-books 
 were. Certainly they were not in our 
 hands, duly prominent with red edges and 
 crosses, or we should not have been ac- 
 costed, about half-way to church, by a 
 stranger, a robust female, carrying an um- 
 brella and a black merino bag. 
 
 She was walking away sharply and vig- 
 orously, quite too sharply and vigor- 
 ously considering the beauty of the 
 afternoon, in the direction of the brick- 
 fields, where one of the Sunday-school
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 55 
 
 teachers held a simple little afternoon ser- 
 vice for the work people. Seeing us in one 
 of the side paths, she struck across to us 
 from the main plantation road. Possibly 
 she was going to ask the way to the brick- 
 fields, for she looked like a stranger, and 
 she was afraid of being late at whatever 
 service she meant to attend. 
 
 Nothing of the sort. The lady wanted 
 none of our ad\ice. She evidently thought 
 we needed some of hers instead. For, 
 with a glance of appalling severity, first 
 at the primroses in Aunt Sunshine's hands, 
 and then at the ivy leaves in mine, and 
 then at the willow catkins with which Mr. 
 Forrester had laden himself, she delivered 
 her message as follows : 
 
 *I am astonished to see you breaking 
 the Sabbath in this way, when the house 
 of God is open to all who wish to attend 
 it. No wonder the poor forsake the assem-
 
 56 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 bling of themselves together, when well- 
 dressed people set them such an example. 
 Shame upon you.' 
 
 And tight-reefing her fur-lined cloak 
 about her, and elevating her chin, and 
 casting a yet more severe glance towards 
 our three pairs of hands,. so destitute, alas ! 
 of the accompaniments which might have 
 proclaimed us to be on our way to the 
 assembling of ourselves together, she pass- 
 ed on, stepping well out, as a woman 
 should who knows that she, at least, is on 
 the right track, however far her neighbours 
 may be from it. 
 
 We did not so much as attempt to de- 
 fend ourselves, the onslaught was too sud- 
 den and unexpected. We did not look 
 back upon the retreating figure of our 
 Cassandra with bag and umbrella. We did 
 not even venture to smile until we had 
 passed a bend in the road, and were at
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 57 
 
 least a hundred yards away. Then Mr. 
 Forrester remarked, 
 
 ^ I see you have the Public Worship Act 
 in force at Willoughby Clays.' 
 
 ' Oh, dear, no !' said Aunt Sunshine, 
 eagerly, anxious to disabuse his mind of 
 the idea that my father, the gentleman 
 who had married her own sister, could 
 ever need such extreme measures brought 
 to bear upon him. ' My brother-in-law 
 is a most moderate man. I am sure no- 
 body could find fault with his manner of 
 conducting the service. Do you think 
 they could, Marjorie dear?' 
 
 • No, auntie. But Mr. Forrester was 
 only joking about that woman who spoke 
 to us just now.' 
 
 ' My dear, what can that poor creature 
 have to do mth the Public Worship Act ?' 
 and Aunt Sunshine's tone changed to one 
 of pity and relief. ' I was so frightened,
 
 58 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 but I didn't like to say anything to make 
 you nervous, Marjorie, for I know you 
 have such a dread of insane people. It really 
 is a shame that anyone afflicted in that 
 way should be allowed to go about with- 
 out an attendant. If you had not been 
 Avith us, Mr. Forrester, I think I should 
 almost have fainted.' 
 
 Mr. Forrester laughed. 
 
 ' She is as right as any of us, only our 
 prayer-books were in the wrong place. 
 And, after all, why shouldn't we be treated 
 as we ourselves treat poor people when we 
 go uninvited into their houses and rate 
 them for not attending what we call the 
 means of grace? How can we tell but 
 that all the time they may have their prayer- 
 books in their pockets, though they have 
 cares and troubles enough in their hands, 
 poor things ! instead of palms and prim- 
 roses.'
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 59 
 
 Aunt Sunshine looked mystified. Her 
 ideas never expressed themselves in such 
 bold metaphors. I looked straight at him, 
 for I felt something of my own in his 
 thoughts, as well as in his way of putting 
 them. 
 
 ' I believe,' said auntie, gravely, * that 
 most of the people in Willoughby do go 
 regularly to church, and they are always 
 supplied with prayer-books, if they don't 
 happen to have any of their own. My 
 brother-in-law tells Jonathan Dumble al- 
 ways to look out and be ready, if he sees 
 anyone in difficulty about finding the places. 
 And it is so nice for us that there are no 
 dissenters.' 
 
 ^At least,' she added, catching herself 
 up hastily, for as she said afterwards you 
 can never tell with these clever original 
 people, whether they may not have a crook 
 in that direction themselves, ' at least I
 
 60 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 mean they rather hamper a clergyman when 
 he is wishful to do his duty all round 
 properly. But I do not think anything 
 'Comes up to the Salvation Army.' 
 
 Auntie might venture so far, for at any 
 rate he could not belong to that. 
 
 * Not for being downright and absolutely 
 in the way. And now I do wonder if that 
 person belongs to it. Of course we never 
 have them here, but they might march out 
 from Burstborough, 'and hold a meeting 
 somewhere, and now I come to think about 
 it, I believe I have heard that they carry 
 black bags, and certainly they do walk in 
 that tremendously military way, so un- 
 feminine it appears to me.' 
 
 ' AYell, Ave shall have to march too, 
 auntie, if we don't Avant to be late. There 
 is the five minutes bell just putting in.' 
 
 ' Marjorie, you don't say so. Mr. For- 
 rester, yonder is the road to the moor
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 61 
 
 hills, through the gate, and to the right/ 
 Mr. Forrester dived into one of hi& 
 
 pockets, and produced a well-worn little 
 
 prayer-book. 
 
 'Thank you. Miss Newcourt,' he said, 
 
 ' but I shall go to church, too.' 
 
 Could it have been Cassandra that had 
 
 done it ? But in that case he would not 
 
 have had the prayer-book ready.
 
 62 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 How well I remember my father's sermon 
 that Sunday afternoon. It was about 
 ■character, and its influence upon the next 
 life. For, as I have said, it was towards 
 that other life that his thoughts at Easter 
 time always seemed to gather. 
 
 Towards life, not death. For him, death 
 was only a circumstance in the necessary 
 on-going of a continuously self-conscious 
 existence. He seemed, more than anyone 
 else I have ever met, to realise and be com- 
 forted by the unity of this life and the 
 next. They were for him in very truth 
 the same, only lived under diiferent con-
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 63 
 
 ditions. What a steadfastness this gave to 
 his conduct. How it kept him from being 
 lifted or depressed by anything which did 
 not reach down to the real foundations of 
 character. It was little Davie's death, I 
 have heard my mother say, which did this. 
 "What a gift then, that child had bestowed, 
 though his grave was the guerdon of it. 
 How, in passing from the sight of their 
 eyes, he had entered more vividly into my 
 parents' existence than if he had been 
 actually living and moving amongst us. 
 For he had broken down the middle wall 
 of partition between this world and the 
 next, and, for them, had made both one. 
 
 I wrote down much of what my father 
 said that Sunday afternoon. I remembered 
 it so well, because then, for the first time, I 
 seemed to be listening for another as well 
 as for myself. This is the substance of his 
 sermon.
 
 64 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 'AVhat may we say of the life beyond? 
 We may say that it is in no sort different 
 from the life on this side, except that we 
 live it without that body which God has 
 appointed as the soul's abiding-place during 
 the first stage of its existence. By that 
 fleshly encasement, by the limitations 
 which it imposes upon us, by the labour, 
 sorrow, anxiety to which it compels us in 
 the supply of its needs, and in the occa- 
 sions which it brings for self-denial, cul- 
 ture, restraint, government, a discipline is 
 provided for the soul, which apart from 
 such conditions it could not have. Having 
 passed through these conditions well, 
 having learnt from appetite, restraint ; from 
 labour, self-help ; from suffering, strength ; 
 from weariness, patience ; from sorrow, 
 aspiration ; it is in due time freed, but into 
 no new, strange life, only into a clearer 
 atmosphere, a state independent of material
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 65 
 
 limitations, there to go on living with just 
 so much of nobility, purity, content, as it 
 shall have won for itself by a faithful use 
 of the conditions imposed upon it here.' 
 
 ' The soul that loves God needs no 
 heaven but freedom from sin, because free- 
 dom from sin means life to the uttermost, 
 that fulness of life which the simple fact 
 of living in God's presence implies.' 
 
 *It is from the physical conditions of 
 this present life that evil, the necessary 
 opposite of good, is produced. The soul, 
 the pure breath and essence of God, must, 
 apart from matter, be sinless. To use ex- 
 ternal life then, so that, instead of dwarfing 
 and polluting, it shall develop the soul, 
 this is the essential thing.' 
 
 ' Life after death is a life dependent en- 
 tirely for its worth or unworthiness upon 
 the life which has been lived before death. 
 All that has ministered to the ujDward 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 growth of cliaracter here, will be carried 
 on hereafter; whilst of simple necessity 
 those things which have their source and 
 limit in the needs or whims of the body 
 must cease. And when we think for how 
 many people these things compass the 
 whole of their life, we cannot wonder that 
 such prefer to shut out the future from 
 their speculations ; or possibly they com- 
 fort themselves by assuming that some 
 miracle shall be wrought, through which 
 the feeble atom of spirituality into which 
 they have, by their own choice, dwindled 
 their souls, shall be enabled to appreciate 
 a vague psalm-singing immortality. The 
 truth is, such people have nothing with 
 which to begin the future. Life, apart 
 from the body, means nothing to them. 
 They have nothing which can lay hold 
 upon it. Truly what we are making our- 
 selves now, such we shall be then. It
 
 A DOUBLE ^VEDDING. 67 
 
 rests with each of us to determine what 
 store we Avill have to begin that spiritual 
 life, with w^hich bodily necessities shall no 
 longer interfere. Just so far as we have 
 lived with that part of ourselves which is 
 akin to God, shall we feel ourselves at 
 home ^vith Him when the life of physical 
 sense has passed away. That which has 
 had its influence upon character will then 
 be proved to have been the only important 
 thing.' 
 
 * To be beautiful in our own life is what 
 we need. And it is the doing of duty 
 which makes the soul fair, no matter what 
 that duty may be. So that the meek, 
 neglected, unknown ones of earth, who 
 have toiled on in the loving, patient doing 
 of such work as God gave them to do, 
 have by that very toil wrought the soul 
 into a beauty beyond all intellect, beyond 
 all art-culture, beyond everything which 
 
 f2
 
 68 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 the learning or science of mankind, im- 
 possible to them, could have developed. 
 Such lives, when this bodily vesture shall 
 have fallen away, mil be sovereign in the 
 spiritual world. The discipline so silently 
 gone through here has freed them into 
 that clearness of vision hereafter to which 
 the most perfect sight of the Divine shall 
 be granted.' 
 
 ^ So then that which has its influence on 
 character is alone the important thing. 
 To wear such fine clothes that our 
 neighbours stare at us and envy us, this is 
 damaging both to ourselves and them. To 
 be free from the need of toil and self-denial^ 
 this produces decay of the soul. To eat 
 the fat and drink the sweet — this only — is 
 to bring ourselves to the level of the swine. 
 To know all mysteries and all knowledge 
 which have their limit in a material exist- 
 ence, this is to dwarf the soul and turn it
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 69 
 
 out at last, blind, lialt, maimed, into a life 
 which you have given it no power to en- 
 joy. Love, purity, self-denial, simplicity, 
 sincerity, these are the \irtues through 
 which the soul grows to its height, and 
 these depend upon no earthly estate. 
 The poor in purse, intellect, culture, are 
 free to them alike with the rich ; nay, freer 
 than the rich.' 
 
 * Our own characters are in our own 
 hands. Physical and mental faults we may 
 have inherited, and during this present 
 material life we must, patiently as we can, 
 bear the burden. IS'atural laws make no 
 allowances for them. We are born blind, 
 then we go dark through life. We are 
 born deaf, then music has no meaning for 
 us. We are ignorant, rash, impatient. 
 Physical laws deal with our mistakes as if 
 they were sins. But it is given to every- 
 one to learn the vrisdom which comes of
 
 70 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 experience, the patience which grows from 
 suffering. Here the education of the soul, 
 which is trusted to everyone, begins ; and 
 so we make our life hereafter. That they 
 might have life ; that is Christ's. That 
 they might have it more abundantly ; that 
 is ours.' 
 
 I wish I could remember all my father 
 said that Sunday, of the influence such a 
 faith as this should have upon our dail}' 
 lives, how independent it should make us 
 of those things which perish in the using, 
 how resolutely we should keep them in 
 their place and give much thought only to 
 those which minister to the growth of 
 character. But truly his own life was a 
 livingsermon u]Don this subject, and by that^ 
 more than by his written or spoken words, 
 we were influenced. 
 
 Mr. Forrester listened very earnestly. 
 It was curious to see what a change
 
 A DOUBLE AVEDDING. 71 
 
 came over his manner, shortly after the 
 beo^innino; of the sermon. When the 
 hymn which preceded it was over, he 
 settled down into the corner of the pew, 
 as if he meant to be quite absorbed, but in 
 his own thoughts. Gradually he roused 
 up, first to attention, then to interest. His 
 face took on an expression of keen, critical 
 satisfaction. I could tell that he was at 
 one with the thoughts and aims and 
 aspirations of my father, though their 
 characters, so far as I had yet had oppor- 
 tunity to judge, were entirely different. 
 
 When the service was over and the people 
 had dispersed, we went down to the font 
 for me to discuss my new plan of decora- 
 tion with Aunt Sunshine. Mr. Forrester 
 asked if he might be introduced to my 
 father. That was done, and then we all 
 went across to the rectory for tea. The 
 conversation turned chiefly upon the ser-
 
 72 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 mon. I think my father soon found that 
 our new acquaintance was a man worth cul- 
 tivating, for I have seldom heard him talk 
 so freely to a stranger of his own thoughts 
 and opinions. When he did find anyone 
 who could sympathise with these, he 
 very quickly cast away his natural reserve, 
 but the finding was rare indeed. 
 
 ' I felt I should like to believe all you 
 told us this afternoon,' said Mr. Forrester, 
 as we took our tea round the drawing-room 
 fire, my mother and Aunt Sunshine mean- 
 while discussing some domestic matters on 
 their own account, ' but your theory 
 seems to dismiss these poor bodies of ours 
 so entirely after this present life, that I 
 think you shut us out from many sources 
 of enjoyment which I should like if I 
 could to carry forward into the future.' 
 
 'What is there, then, worth enjoying at 
 all which you cannot enjoy without such
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 73 
 
 a body as carries us about now?' said my 
 father. 
 
 ' Well, to begin with, all tlie beauty of 
 Mature. I do not like to tbink that I 
 shall lose in another life all that dawn and 
 twilight, sunrise and sunset, spring and 
 summer mean to me here.' 
 
 'And why should you? For the cul- 
 tured mind there is no limit to the enjoy- 
 ment which may be taken in by the senses 
 of sight and hearing; but why should 
 these enjoyments cease because the physi- 
 cal organs which conveyed them to us 
 have perished ? The magnificence of Nature 
 remains, and it is only our ignorance which 
 takes for granted that it cannot be made 
 manifest, except through the medium which 
 has hitherto conveyed it to us. A free 
 spirit may be, and probably is, as conscious 
 of the beauty of form, colour, sound, as a 
 fettered one. And just in proportion to
 
 74 A DOUBLE WEDPING. 
 
 the degree in which, whilst passing through 
 its probation of materiality, it brought out 
 all that was in it of power to appreciate 
 natural beaut}', will that power be to it, 
 apart from materiality, an increasing jo}' 
 for ever.' 
 
 ' Then you believe that all we can do 
 for ourselves in cultured taste, as well as 
 in the growth of character, is eternal?' 
 
 ' In the best sense, yes. Throughout 
 our whole spiritual existence we shall be 
 in contact with Nature, the living robe of 
 God. And everything that intensifies our 
 appreciation of it here is laying up treasure 
 for us hereafter. This is also true of all 
 noble human handiwork, all forth-putting 
 of unselfish human intellect, of all result 
 of honest labour into which the workman 
 has put the joy of his soul. And therefore 
 it is that I attach so much importance to 
 surrounding children with beautiful things,
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 75 
 
 both in Xatiiro and art : that. Avhilst tho\- 
 are still living through thoir senses, they 
 may be preparinii; for a time when, by 
 nuu'li rieher avenu^'S than their senses^ 
 they may be able to reeeive impressions of 
 beauty.' 
 
 'Yonr theory.' ^\v. Forrester said, 'makes 
 life a thing mueh better worth living for 
 the thoughtful and the eultured, and also 
 for those who labour honestly at anything. 
 l>ut vou don't leave mueh of a prospect 
 for the well-fed and fashionable fools, who, 
 after all, make up a large [u-oportion oi^ 
 our modern Enii:lish life.* 
 
 ' Let tiK'm purge their vision with eu- 
 phrasy and rue, then, and see Avhat it is 
 they are coming to. I am more sick at 
 hvAvx when I think of the rich than of the 
 poor : so mueh thought for their bodies, 
 none at all for that which is to go on living 
 when the bodies are done with. So much
 
 76 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 spent to fill the pockets of fishmongers, 
 wine merchants, butchers, and provision 
 dealers ; so little to help the soul to grow 
 into anything like beauty. I have come 
 to the conclusion that in all things we 
 should think chiefly of how this life may be 
 made to serve the noblest aims of the life 
 which we hope one day to live.' 
 
 'And so let the beef and the mutton take 
 care of themselves,' said Mr. Forrester ; 
 ' live in the top story, and shut up the 
 pantry.' 
 
 ' By no means. I would keep the pan- 
 try open, but not fill it quite so full, and 
 not spend quite so much time in it. Have 
 your food varied, delicate, if you like, 
 wholesomely cooked, gracefully served, for 
 so you help temper and digestion, and 
 without good digestion neither brain nor 
 spirit can be at its best. This is the end 
 of food, to keep the body in order. Be-
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 77 
 
 yond that, you have no right to take 
 thought for it. The end of dress is to 
 supply a covering, first convenient and com- 
 fortable, then as permanently rich, grace- 
 ful, beautiful as the wearer can make it. 
 So of furniture, and the surroundings of 
 our homes. Let them serve the purposes 
 of daily comfort first, then let them be as 
 beautiful as they can be made, but lasting 
 in that beauty. I would despise a man, 
 let him own as many thousands as he 
 might, who could spend a hundred pounds 
 one year over chairs, and then the next 
 year, not because the chairs were ugly or 
 worn, but only because the shape had be- 
 come unfashionable, send them all to the 
 nearest second-hand shop, and spend ano- 
 ther hundred in new ones. And then 
 
 about dress ' 
 
 ' Oh, my dear David,' said Aunt Sun- 
 shine, ' don't get upon that subject, be-
 
 78 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 ■cause really in your own family you have 
 nothing to complain of. I can tell you, 
 though, that in Bath and Buxton, where I 
 go for my rheumatism, many women didn't 
 attend church, or go to flower-shows and 
 that sort of thing last year, because of the 
 want of a puif at the back of their man- 
 tles, which puff would have marked them 
 as being new that season. The mantles 
 were just as pretty, and to my taste a 
 great deal prettier without the pufF, but to 
 have them so showed that they were a 
 year old, and to wear a mantle a year old 
 is a depth of humiliation into Avhich 
 not one woman in a thousand can descend. 
 I can tell you something else, too, that I 
 learned at Buxton. You must sink fathoms 
 deep into neglect and obscurity if you 
 have not at least four buttons on your 
 gloves. I mean a woman. Of course a 
 man is judged differently, because of his
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 79 
 
 coat-sleeves reaching farther down. I be- 
 lieve a man's character depends now upon 
 whether he has side-springs or front-laces 
 to his boots. I can't be quite sure which ; 
 perhaps you know, Mr. Forrester.' 
 
 ' He is saved by side-springs this year,' 
 replied Mr. Forrester, with a gravity be- 
 fitting the subject. ' I am not in a state 
 of salvation,' he added, seeing that natur- 
 ally enough we all began to look at his 
 boots. ' Last year one's condition depend- 
 ed upon laces up the front, and I was all 
 right. But do go on. Miss Newcourt. I 
 was never so interested in buttons before. 
 How many indicate a passable superiority 
 of character.' 
 
 ' Four. As many more as you like, 
 but no fewer, and, to show that I am not 
 joking, you may go into any shop in Bux- 
 ton and buy one-button gloves at sixpence 
 a pair, which would have been half-a-
 
 80 A DOUBLE ^VEDDING. 
 
 crown two years ago ; but ladies will not 
 buy them now for public occasions, just as 
 they will not go out in a mantle that has 
 no accredited puff behind. I often think 
 how the Paris shopkeepers, who arrange 
 the fashions to suit their own pockets, 
 must laugh at the simpletons who go 
 rushing after the buttons and the puffs, 
 and the side-springs, too, Mr. Forrester, 
 begging your pardon. But, David, if we 
 keep on talking like this, I shall never get 
 back to start my little maid off to evening 
 church. It must be almost time for the 
 bell now.' 
 
 Mr. Forrester took the hint and rose. 
 I thought my father might have asked him 
 to come over and see us again, but he did 
 not.
 
 SI 
 
 CHAPTER Yll. 
 
 Mr. Forrester, however, took that into 
 his own hands. Xext morning, directly 
 after breakfast, as I was standing in front 
 of the hall cupboard, marking and putting 
 away the eggs which Mrs. Dumble had 
 brought in from the poultry-yard. Aunt 
 Sunshine and her guest made their appear- 
 ance. She dropped him in the porch, 
 where my mother was trimming the yellow 
 jessamine, and came forward to explain 
 matters to me. 
 
 ' I know we are dreadfully early, Mar- 
 jorie, my dear, but a man does get so dull 
 
 VOL. I. O
 
 82 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 by himself in a little house. He seemed 
 quite delighted when I said we would come 
 up and see your father again, and perhaps 
 have a walk with him.' 
 
 ' Only my father is out,' I replied. ' He 
 always takes a round in the parish on 
 Monday mornings.' 
 
 ' That does not signify a bit. I have 
 2:ot him out and afloat. You and Anne 
 must take him somewhere for a walk, you 
 must indeed, until I have got my blanket- 
 club attended to. There's that pretty 
 walk to the moor hills, where he said he 
 was going yesterday.' 
 
 ' Don't you think he would rather go by 
 himself?' I suggested, innocently enough, 
 knowing what I should prefer under the 
 circumstances. ' Sometimes a man hates 
 having to keep on talking for so long.' 
 
 ' I should have thought he would too, 
 Marjorie, but he did not seem at all to
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 83 
 
 relish it when I proposed he should go 
 over there alone, though this is one day in 
 a thousand for the prospect. But the fact 
 is, my dear, you never can tell beforehand 
 what a man chooses and what a man 
 doesn't choose. On Saturday he was all 
 for solitary walks and meditations, and 
 wouldn't hear of my giving him a drive in 
 the pony- carriage. Now he won't take a 
 walk by himself at all, and he won't stay 
 in the house either. I wonder how people 
 manage who have a man to deal with in a 
 general way ; I mean a man with nothing 
 to do. I never experienced it before. You 
 and Anne will take him out now, will you 
 not?' 
 
 Poor auntie ! She was rather in the 
 iix we found ourselves in once, when Major 
 Consett sent his great mastiff to stay for a 
 fortnight with us. The unbounded capa- 
 city of that creature for being walked out 
 
 g2
 
 84 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 with, and looked after, and petted and 
 amused ! And lie was so grateful, too, for 
 being talked to, or even having a bone 
 given him to play with. But auntie was 
 in the condition of old Mother Hubbard, 
 her cupboard was bare, and so the poor 
 doo' got none. 
 
 ' All right, auntie,' T replied, for the 
 eggs were done now, and, departing, I soon 
 brought back word that Anne would be 
 very glad of a walk to the moor hills, for 
 little Bennie Bolton, who lived just at the 
 foot of them and had whooping-cough, 
 wanted some more medicine taking, and 
 this Avould be a fine opportunity of getting 
 it to him. Aunt Sunshine's face cleared 
 up. 
 
 ' Mr. Forrester,' she said, ' you will get 
 your walk now. Mr. Haseltine is out, but 
 Anne and Marjorie want to go to the 
 moor hills to see a Sunday scholar who is
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 85 
 
 ill, and you can go with tliem. You will 
 find some of that primula there, too, that 
 you were asking me about yesterday. It 
 grows close to the ivy that Marjorie uses 
 for the font. It is a rare kind, Marjorie, 
 that Mr. Forrester wants to get for one of 
 the iDoys at the school, and I know I have 
 found it there. Xow, Phyllis,' — this was 
 to my mother — ' I must be off. I never 
 like to keep those blanket-women waiting. 
 You vn\l be back at half-past one for dinner, 
 ]Mr. Forrester.' 
 
 And away trotted Aunt Sunshine, as 
 brisk as a bee now that she had got her 
 mastiff safely disposed of. 
 
 Anne came and we started. We were 
 neither of us what would be called good 
 company for a clever man. AYe had a 
 great want of readiness, an almost total 
 incapacity to make much out of little sub- 
 jects. The dull, aching feeling of incom-
 
 86 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 petence which I have endured at dinner- 
 parties from this very cause ; the gaps and 
 chasms of silence which invariably yawned 
 more and more widely between me and my 
 unfortunate companion as course after 
 course stretched its weary length along. 
 How I blessed the arrival of dessert and 
 the new ideas which might come with the 
 doylies. What a resource did I find those 
 that were done in marking-ink upon fine 
 linen, little heads and faces and groups, 
 after the Kate Green away style. One 
 could generally find something to say after 
 the d'oylies came. Now here was not a 
 dinner-party of say an hour and a half, but 
 a walk of over six miles, and no little heads 
 and faces and figures to be talked about. 
 How should we get through it ? 
 
 We got through it very well. I think 
 we were all of us sorry when it came to an
 
 A DOUBLE ^YEDDING. 87 
 
 end. We started with the Faery Queen ^ 
 which both Anne and I had read after 
 those lectures at Dalton, and that lasted 
 ns — for Mr. Forrester could repeat it almost 
 by heart — until we reached Mrs. Bolton's 
 cottage, where Anne left us to go and 
 inquire after her little scholar. Mr. For- 
 rester and I were to go to the to^D of the 
 hill to see the view over the Avon valley, 
 and find the primula, then meet Anne, and 
 so home by the brick-fields. 
 
 ' I am glad we are having a little time 
 to ourselves,' he began, as we climbed the 
 -winding path amongst the gorse. ' I want 
 to ask you about what you were saying 
 yesterday, when you came in to see Miss 
 Xewcourt. I mean about the rich and the 
 poor. Just say it again, will you ?' 
 
 That was more than I could do, and I 
 told him so.
 
 88 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 ' AVell, then,' he said, ' I think I can re- 
 peat it Avord for word, because it struck 
 me as being well worth thinking about. 
 Only you must explain what you meant. 
 You said that people as a rule seemed to 
 think that either they were made entirely 
 for the service of the poor, or the poor 
 were made entirely for their service.' 
 
 ' Yes,' I said, ' so far as I have been able 
 to make out amongst well-to-do people, 
 there are only two classes, those who get 
 all they can out of the poor, in the shape 
 of hard work and low wages, and those 
 who try to plaster over this injustice by 
 pauperising them with alms and personal 
 service. I don't think either of these 
 ways will ever really help the poor ; but I 
 haven't had experience enough to know 
 much about it.' 
 
 ' If you haven't had much experience,' 
 he said, ' you seem to have common sense
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 89 
 
 enougli to make a good use of what little 
 has come in your way. How, then, would 
 you help the poor ?' 
 
 ' By teaching them to help themselves,' 
 I replied, ' by showing them that thrift 
 and self-control and self-denial are of at 
 least as much importance to them as to 
 people in a higher position, that if they 
 can't put two eggs in their pudding, they 
 must be content with one, and if they can't 
 afford that one, they must cast about for 
 a pudding which doesn't want any eggs at 
 all. There are such to be found in the 
 cookery-books.' 
 
 ' And out of them, too,' said Mr. Forres- 
 ter, with an edge of bitterness in his tone, 
 ' I don't suppose many women, or men 
 either, get far on in their soul's house- 
 keeping, without finding that two eggs are 
 more than they can afford ; and before 
 loiig the pudding has to get itself made
 
 90 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 without one at all. In fact, you must use 
 baking-powder, have recourse to chemical 
 expedients, fall back upon philosophy to 
 make your pudding, or your circumstances^ 
 as the case may be, a success.' 
 
 ' Aunt Sunshine despises baking-powder,' 
 I replied, gravely. ' She says a really good 
 housekeeper need never be at a loss for an 
 egg. And I believe she is right.' 
 
 ' Likely enough she is, so far as you are 
 concerned. 1 don't suppose in that pretty 
 home of yours, down among the elm-trees, 
 you ever have to cast about for ways and 
 means to make yourself comfortable enough. 
 For you, no doubt, the egg market is 
 plentifully supplied.' 
 
 'So much the worse, then,' I said, 'see- 
 ing that I have to make my pocket-money 
 by stocking it. You know, Mrs. Dumble 
 and I between us attend to the poultry- 
 yard, and I was just sending oiF my
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 91 
 
 basket to Burstborouo-h when vou and 
 
 iD' 
 
 y 
 
 Aunt Sunsliine came in this morning. 
 But, seriously, even in that pretty home 
 among the ehii-trees, as you call it, ^\e 
 have learned, when w^e cannot have what 
 we like, to like what we have.' 
 
 ' I don't think you would like it. Miss 
 Marjorie, if you felt it w^as keeping you 
 from the best thing, from the thing that 
 would really set your life upon its right 
 foundation, and make it, in the true sense 
 of the word, w^orth living. That is the 
 sort of content I have to like, if I am to 
 like w^hat I have. But we are wandering 
 away from the condition of the poor.' 
 
 *Notatall. I should say you are one 
 of the poorest sort yourself, for according 
 to your own showing, you have no eggs to 
 put into your pudding, and you have not 
 so much as found out that there are pud- 
 dings Avhich will do very well without
 
 ■92 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 them, and without baking-powder either. 
 Aunt Sunshine would tell you, and she 
 knows more about it than all of us put 
 together, that we want neither eggs nor 
 baking-powder, luxury nor philosophy, lo 
 make life a worthy and lovely thing. She 
 just lives for other people. She does her 
 duty and she is content. I don't think she 
 ever has to look very far for happiness. 
 And that reminds me we are not looking at 
 all for the primula.' 
 
 ' Oh ! never mind the primula. I have 
 found something much better worth com- 
 ing out for. Little Malton shall have it, 
 though, for I promised him I would do my 
 best. I shall walk over the hill again this 
 afternoon, and take the train from Burst- 
 borough, instead of Stilbury. I shall 
 have plenty of time to look for it then. I 
 wish better things were to be found as 
 -easily. Let us go on about this pudding
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 93 
 
 of circumstances, and tlie best means of 
 ojetting it to rise properly in the baking.' 
 
 But such a triumph of cookery was not 
 in store for us, for my sister Anne had 
 come out of Mrs. Bolton's cottage and was 
 looking out for a convenient spot to cross 
 the little brook which pattered along at the 
 foot of the hill. Mr. Forrester hurried 
 down to help her, and then we all turned 
 home together, my sister telling us in her 
 calm matter-of-fact way about little Bennie 
 and his whooping-cough, and how Mrs, 
 Bolton had been put to her wits' end to 
 find a turnip to scrape down and boil with 
 sugar for him, Mrs. Dumble having told 
 her it would cure the cough in no time. 
 And if she would not get one, well, then 
 Bennie must cough to May day ; because, 
 whatever time you happened upon whoop- 
 ing-cough, cast it before next May day you 
 could not, except by means of a turnip
 
 94 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 boiled down vdtli sugar. And to get tur- 
 nips in tlie middle of March 
 
 ' But I told her I would write up to 
 Covent Garden, sooner than she should 
 not have one,' said Anne, ' for the poor 
 little lad did have such a fit of the cough 
 whilst I was there, and Mrs. Bolton says 
 she gets no rest day nor night. Ko doubt 
 the other five will have it too, and I am 
 afraid all the turnips in Covent Garden 
 will not get the coast properly cleared 
 before May day. The poor woman looks 
 worn to a shadow, but of course she 
 must go on as usual, keeping things clean 
 and decent.' 
 
 As she was doing that morning ; for, 
 even whilst we were talking about her, she 
 came out of her cottage with an armful of 
 carpets and mats, which she began to shake 
 on the little bit of grass in the front. 
 With half-a-dozen well-directed leaps, Mr.
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 95 
 
 Forrester was on the scene of action. 
 Then taking the things he shook them all 
 for her, keeping well to the right side of 
 the wind, and stowed them back in the 
 cottage, from which, a minute or two after- 
 wards, he came out and was up with us 
 again, just as I had secured a root of pri- 
 mula from its hiding-place under a gorse 
 bush. 
 
 ' Xot many eggs in that basket,' he said, 
 as he joined us. ' It is a case of baking- 
 powder or no pudding at all.' 
 
 Anne looked puzzled, but asked no 
 questions. She had already discovered in 
 Mr. Forrester a man of what might be call- 
 ed original views, and she always let such 
 people alone. Hers was a mind that saw 
 things as matters-of-fact. If they wanted 
 improving, she did her best to improve 
 them. Where other people speculated, she 
 acted. Indeed, I know that the very next
 
 96 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 day she obtained a turnip from Mr. Rake- 
 ridge's gardener, though whether it cured 
 the cough I do not remember. 
 
 Mr. Forrester had scarcely shaken the 
 dust out of his coat when my father came 
 in sight, rounding the bend of the hill, and 
 Anne and I fell behind for the rest of the 
 wa}', leaving the two gentlemen in front. 
 They must have been having an interest- 
 ing conversation, by the way they stuck 
 to each other until we reached the rectory, 
 
 ' Will you not come in to lunch ?' said 
 my father. 
 
 'No, thank you,' Mr. Forrester replied, 
 without a moment's hesitation. ' I must 
 be with Miss Newcourt at half-past one.' 
 
 ' I am sure my sister-in-law will not 
 mind.' 
 
 ' But I shall,' said Mr. Forrester, ' and I 
 am leaving this afternoon.' 
 
 Then he wished us all good-bye, telling
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 97 
 
 me he had not had a pleasanter walk for a 
 long time. We watched him until he was 
 out of sight beyond the church yew-trees. 
 
 ' I like that young man,' said my father, 
 as we turned into the house. ^ There is 
 something in him.' 
 
 And the words gave me a strange new 
 pleasure. 
 
 VOL. I,
 
 98 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Things were never quite the same again 
 after that. One can scarcely tell how it is 
 that such a filmy web of imagination, slight, 
 impalpable as those gossamer threads, only 
 visible when the sun shines upon them, 
 which float in the dewy dawn of a Sep- 
 tember morning, can yet bind us to a sweet 
 past or a sweeter future. Somehow my 
 thoughts, when I had time to let them 
 wander as they would, always now gather- 
 ed round those two days which had brought 
 such a new influence into my life, I seemed 
 to live over again little bits of our talk
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 99 
 
 together. The very primroses at the root 
 of the great ehn-tree in the plantation 
 brought back to me, every time I passed 
 them now, the words Mr. Forrester had 
 been saying as Cassandra hove in sight, 
 •Qmbrella and prayer-book in hand, from 
 the leafy distance. And many a \dsit did 
 Bennie Bolton get from me, many a half 
 hour have I nursed and played with his 
 mother s perennial baby — for that cottage 
 never was without an infant of months — 
 that I might pass the hill road and sit 
 down by the ivy clump where we two 
 stood, talking egg philosophy whilst sister 
 Anne practised good works in the cottage 
 below. 
 
 Yet, so far as anyone ^but myself could 
 tell, the current of life flowed on just as 
 quietly as usual. My father studied, my 
 mother went about her placid household 
 ways. Anne tended the poor in the parish, 
 
 h2
 
 100 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 I sent my eggs to market on a Monday 
 morning, always now with a little smile of 
 pleasant remembrance. I think that spring 
 the cochin-chinas were bigger and browner 
 than ever. Certainly they brought me a 
 better return for my trouble, and I was 
 able to give something towards sending 
 Bennie to a convalescent home for children. 
 Bennie got more than his share of attention 
 from me for many a day afterwards. 
 
 One thing was different. We seemed to 
 have a new interest in the family now, 
 Mr. Forrester's name was often mentioned. 
 My father seemed to have taken very kind- 
 ly to him, and he soon had an opportunity 
 of showino^ that kindness in a substantial 
 form. 
 
 It was only a day or two after that 
 walk to the moor hills, that the head- 
 master of the Burstborough grammar- 
 school came to see us. He told my father
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 101 
 
 there was going to be a change in tlie staff 
 of masters, and, after enquiry into the 
 qualifications necessary, my father wrote to 
 Mr. Forrester, advising him to offer him- 
 self as a candidate for the second master- 
 ship. 
 
 This he did. The election was to take 
 place after Easter. My father, who was a 
 scholar as well as a gentleman and a Chris- 
 tian, had an influential position as member 
 of the council board, and the recommen- 
 dation which he could so honestly give 
 would, we all hoped, be of service. I 
 think that both my father and mother 
 felt that such a man, with strength of will 
 to work, and mth sympathies reaching far 
 beyond his immediate sphere of duty, 
 would do great good in a place like Burst- 
 borough, where there was an abundance of 
 wealth and even a superior abundance of 
 poverty ; but as yet no officiating clergy-
 
 man to marry tlie two in the bonds of 
 mutual helpfulness. 
 
 This question of the second mastership 
 brought Mr. Forrester into frequent cor- 
 respondence with us. My parents consult- 
 ed each other on most matters, and we., 
 their children, listened often to the con- 
 sultations, though we were not always, 
 and certainly not in this case, asked to 
 give our opinions For me it was enough 
 to hear Mr. Forrester praised. Perhaps, 
 too, I was not without a little secret plea- 
 sure in the knowledge that what I felt and 
 thought about things was interesting to 
 him. For I got on as a rule so badly at 
 dinner-parties that I had begun to doubt 
 my fitness for any kind of society ; and. 
 all imagination apart, it was a relief to me 
 to find that a man whom my father ad- 
 mired could enjoy an hour's talk with a 
 girl so pitifully lacking in all social quali- 
 
 'it I :f
 
 iications as I had lonoj ago discovered my- 
 self to be. 
 
 Aunt Sunshine was very much interest- 
 ed, though, as she frankly told my father, 
 when he spoke of the desirability of a per- 
 sonal interview with the head-master, no- 
 thing should ever induce her to ask Mr. 
 Forrester to the cottage again. A grown- 
 up man, when he took to being unsettled 
 and restless, was such a very uncomfort- 
 able thing to have to stay with you. 
 
 ' Then we will ask him to come here, 
 shall we, Phyllis ?' said my father. 
 
 'Yes, certainly, David, if you wish it.' 
 
 My mother said this after a little pause. 
 She did not speak with any profession of 
 eagerness, still less with the hesitation 
 which might imply that such a visit would 
 be a weariness to her. Indeed, her tone had 
 a reserve of satisfaction in it which thrilled 
 me through with pleasure, just as my
 
 104 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 father's had done when we separated 
 after that walk from the moor hills. So it 
 was arranged that Mr. Forrester was to be 
 invited to spend Easter Sunday and Mon- 
 day ivith us, and then he and niy father 
 were to go over and have an interview with 
 the head-master of the Burstborou2:h 
 grammar-school. 
 
 ' But don't think for a moment, Phyllis 
 dear,' said my aunt, ' that I have not every 
 possible respect for the young man be- 
 cause I don't want him on my hands again. 
 I am sure for the first day and a half he 
 was as easy to manage as a tame pussy- 
 cat, and I began to think what a delight- 
 ful possession he would be for anyone who 
 wanted a permanent lodger. But you 
 never know when a man is going to take on 
 a fit of the fidgets ; and, when once he does 
 take it, you have no idea what it is to be 
 shut up in a small house with him. I
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 105 
 
 vowed when Mr. Forrester was with me 
 Last time I never would go through it 
 again. He was worse than half-a-dozen 
 invalid girls or delicate children rolled 
 into one. Bat, all the same, you must 
 hring him to dinner when he comes, or to 
 a cup of tea, or anything else that you 
 find convenient, for he is a person I have 
 the greatest possible regard for, only you 
 don't leave him on my hands entirely. 
 And now, Phyllis, when are we to call upon 
 Lady Matilda Rakeridge ?' 
 
 'Oh, dear !' said my mother, ' I had 
 quite forgotten. Yes, of course. She made 
 her appearance at church last Sunday, and 
 that means that she ought to be called 
 upon before she makes her appearance 
 there again.' 
 
 ' " Pity 'tis, 'tis true," ' said my father, get- 
 ting up to leave us womenfolk to settle our 
 calling business amongst ourselves. He
 
 106 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 disliked visits of ceremony as much as 
 any man in the world, and Lady Matilda 
 had the reputation of being somewhat of 
 a female pope as well as a good church- 
 woman. 
 
 ' The rector's family ought to be amongst 
 the first to call,' continued Aunt Sunshine, 
 ' and I always feel that I have to represent 
 my poor dear father at I^ewcourt, as the 
 people who live there now are not gentle- 
 folk. Could we all go together some time T 
 
 I suggested that we should divide our 
 forces, a detachment of us going on the 
 morrow, to save our credit for Sunday, 
 and the remainder making their call the 
 following week. 
 
 ' Suppose, Aunt Sunshine, you and Anne 
 go first. You see, being a householder on 
 your own account, you ought to head a 
 party ; and then mother and I, and father
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 107 
 
 too, if he can be persuaded, will pay our 
 respects afterwards.' 
 
 ' Very well, Anne and I will go, if you 
 like, but not first. The rector and his 
 wife must take the lead. Even if it is a 
 cross, she must carr}^ it. Phyllis, you take 
 Marjorie to-morrow, and Anne and I Avill 
 do what is proper early next week. What 
 is your impression about Lady Matilda? 
 You know, Marjorie and I have not seen 
 her yet, as we were not at morning church 
 last Sunday.' 
 
 ' Well, she has a good, strong, sensible 
 face, and she dresses with great plainness^ 
 and evidently she is a woman who takes- 
 great notice of details. She wiped a little 
 dust from her prayer-book with her pocket 
 handkerchief, and then she drew her finger 
 along the ledge of the pew, to see if any 
 had been left there.'
 
 108 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 'Ah! then David may look out. That 
 tells the whole story. We shall have her 
 bringing a dustpan and brush into the 
 pew before long, if she begins on the tirst 
 Sunday by using her handkerchief for a 
 duster. Oh, I have known women of that 
 sort, and they arc a plague ! Commend 
 me to a woman who runs her linger along 
 the ledges of doors and shelves, and then 
 holds it up with such an air of righteous 
 triumph. Don't I pity Mrs. Dumble, and 
 Jonathan too, now ?' 
 
 ' Well,' said I, ' she had better dust the 
 prayer-book than the doctrine that is 
 j^reached from it. Sometimes the great 
 lady of the parish thinks it her place to 
 keep the clergyman in order, as well as 
 the church.' 
 
 ' Your father will soon settle that,' said 
 my mother, Avith proper wifely pride. ' I 
 never knew a man who could hold his
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 109 
 
 own better. Xot a whole beneh of women- 
 bishops could make him alter a thing, 
 either in the church or out of it. if he 
 had once made up his mind to it. He 
 has the strono-est will I ever came across 
 in matters that he considers important.' 
 
 'They wouldn't make him alter any- 
 thing, Phyllis,' said my Aunt Sunshine; 
 M.nit they would ^s'ori'}- the ver}- life out 
 of him in trying to do it, and out of you 
 too. I always say a wife carries the 
 heaviest end of the burden, when people 
 besrin to nao; at her husband. But we 
 need not give poor Lady Matilda the credit 
 of being so bad. Let us hope she will 
 be content with keeping tlie dust from 
 the outside of her prayer-book, and leave 
 wiser people than herself to attend to th(i 
 rest. Then next Tuesday, Anne, you and 
 I will call. I will come here for you about 
 four.'
 
 110 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 * I will be ready,' said Anne, as calmly 
 as tliough the call were only to be upon 
 little Bennie Bolton. I believe nothin^^ 
 that came to her in the way of duty ever 
 did ruffle the even current of her self- 
 possession. And she never worried over 
 things that could not be helped. I think 
 Providence must have intended her from 
 the first for a clergyman's wife.
 
 Ill 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Mother and I paid our visit to the Hall 
 the very next day, and father went with 
 •QS, to get it over, as he said. 
 
 Shall I say that I was horrified, or only 
 very much amused, when I found that 
 Lady Matilda Rakeridge of Willoughby 
 Hall, and our Cassandra of the woodland 
 path, were one and the same person ? I 
 think the amusement had the best of it, 
 especially when I found that her ladyship 
 did not in the least recognise me. I knew 
 her at the very first glance. There was 
 no mistaking that tall, well-set-up figure,
 
 112 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 although the long cloak and the bag 
 and the umbrella were absent, nor those 
 almost semi-circular eyebrows, nor that 
 high-pitched nose, nor that equally high- 
 pitcbed voice whicli had such a ring of 
 authority even about its mildest tones. 
 How thankful I was that we had none of 
 us attempted to defend ourselves from the 
 torrent of reproach which she brought to 
 bear upon us in the wood, because now 
 my speech did not betray me. Xeither 
 did my dress, for I always went to church 
 in a bonnet, that being the rule of those 
 days, and now I wore my best of possible 
 hats, together with my other best things, 
 as was fitting for a call upon the newly- 
 married mistress of the Hall and the 
 daughter of an earl, too. But I mentally 
 determined that before next Sunday, when 
 they would have to appear in church 
 again, the two bonnets which had met
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 118 
 
 Lady Matilda, Aunt Sunshine's and mine, 
 should be so altered and re-trimmed that 
 neither they nor the faces inside them 
 should be known again for the same. And 
 I did this out of the purest consideration 
 for Lady Matilda herself, for I thought 
 she would be so distressed if she ever 
 found out that she had been misjudging 
 us in that cruel manner. I came to know 
 her better afterwards, and to understand 
 that a good scolding, to whomsoever 
 administered, was a thing she never re- 
 pented of. 
 
 On this occasion, however, she was very 
 kind and courteous. True, the cloven foot 
 made itself manifest in the shape of a few 
 stringent remarks upon my father's manner 
 of conducting the service, a manner differ- 
 ing, she said, from that to which she had 
 herself been accustomed in town ; but a 
 little judicious management on my mo- 
 
 V^OL. I. I
 
 114 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 ther's part turned the current of tlie con- 
 versation upon the condition and prospects 
 of the agricultural poor, who, not being 
 present, could not feel hurt by her lady- 
 ship's opinion of them. She had studied 
 that subject, too, and had strong opinions 
 upon it, almost as strong as those she held 
 upon the necessity of regular Sunday after- 
 noon church-going. In short, she impressed 
 us as a woman who held nothing but 
 strong views upon any subject at all, and 
 who would fight not only those who dis- 
 agreed mth her, but also those who agreed 
 to an extent short of her own strength. 
 
 For the rest, we had some frightfully 
 strong tea out of the daintiest possible egg- 
 shell china cups, and some filmy bread and 
 butter, and then we took our leave, my 
 lady smiling upon us with the kindly au- 
 thoritative manner of one who knows that 
 she has the whip-hand of you, and can
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDIXG. 115 
 
 make you feel it if she likes, even though 
 she mav not be able to make vou 2:0 her 
 own wav in evervthinof. 
 
 * Father,' I said, when we were once 
 more breathing freely outside the Hall 
 garden, ' do you remember our telling vou 
 about that curious woman in the wood, 
 last Sunday?' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' ^Vell. then, it was Lady Matilda.' 
 
 ' I am not in the least surprised,' said 
 my father ; and he said no more. 
 
 Seeing that he was not disposed to talk, 
 my mother and I chatted between our- 
 selves, avoiding subjects that would worry 
 him. There was enough to talk about, for 
 the Hall had been entirely re-furnished by 
 Mr. Rakeridge, just before his marriage, 
 from one of the best establishments in Lon- 
 don, so that we, in our simple, country 
 quietness, were now privileged to behold 
 
 i2
 
 116 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 what manner of carpets, curtains, chairs^ 
 and tables Bel^^ravia itself aifected. And 
 also, which I think was more surprising to 
 us, the fashion in which these articles were 
 disposed. Now, for the first time, I beheld 
 a drawiiiix-room centre-table cast down 
 from ifs dignity and banished into a corner, 
 in order that chairs might be dotted about 
 in picturesque little groups all over the 
 room, for the better prosecution of after- 
 dinner gossip. And the piano, which tra- 
 dition had with us from time immemorial 
 assigned to a position against the wall, 
 was drawn out into the open, so that per- 
 formers thereupon might boldly face the 
 company, instead of singing or playing, as 
 before, to the paper-hangings. And the 
 curtains were draped with audacious dis- 
 regard of custom, and books were piled 
 together on the floor, instead of being 
 ranged in due circles upon the deposed
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 117 
 
 table; and you miglit stumble over any 
 number of tiny little tea-poys and foot- 
 stools, and the mantelshelf was shrouded, 
 like a half-developed window, in curtains 
 and fringes, and there was a general air of 
 strangeness and yet prodigality of comfort 
 about the whole room, which, at any rate 
 for my mother and myself, diverted our 
 thoughts from Lady Matilda and the 
 plagues she might bring upon us. 
 
 The first thing I did when we got home 
 was to thrust our own drawing-room table 
 into a corner, and group the chairs, and 
 re-drape the curtains, and pile some of 
 father's big folios upon the floor, and pro- 
 duce a general sort of artistic effect in place 
 of the absolute neatness and regularity 
 in which we had hitherto delighted. I 
 was succeeding to my entire satisfaction 
 when the late post came, and brought a 
 letter for my father from India.
 
 118 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 It was from a friend who was to hini 
 almost like a brother, a Major Con sett, 
 serving now with his regiment in the 
 North-West Provinces. He was coming 
 home some time in the spring with his 
 only and motherless child. Seline, and we 
 all expected this letter would tell us what 
 mail would bring them. 
 
 Instead, it told us that Major Consett 
 had been ordered to the front, some Afghan 
 difficulties having lately begun, and it was 
 quite luicertain when he would be able to 
 obtain leave at all. But he said that, as 
 he had already made arrangements for 
 breaking up his household and coming 
 home, he should still send Seline, both on 
 account of the difficulty of providing a 
 suitable home for her out there, and also 
 that she might escape the hot weather 
 which she had found so trjdng the season 
 before. She was to return by the mail which
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 1 1 9 
 
 arrived in London the last -sveek of April, 
 some friends from Laliore taking charge of 
 her for the voyage, and she was to stay 
 Avith them until the steamer sailed, as Major 
 Consett himself had to start with his regi- 
 ment without a day's delay. 
 
 He wished to know if my father would 
 meet Seline in London and bring her down 
 to Willoughby Clays for a time. If we 
 could have her with us all through the 
 summer, until he could return and make 
 a home for her, he said he should feel it a 
 great boon ; but, if my parents could not 
 arrange that, he hoped they would secure 
 a quiet home for her where she could both 
 have motherly care and sisterly companion- 
 ship. 
 
 It was an important matter, and we 
 all assembled, as usual, to talk about it.' 
 
 ^ I shall of course meet Seline,' said my 
 father, ' and bring her down here for
 
 118 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 It was from a friend who was to him 
 ahiiost like a brother, a Major Con sett, 
 serving now with his regiment in the 
 North- West Provinces. He was coming 
 home some time in the spring with his 
 only and motherless child. Seline, and Ave 
 all expected this letter Avould tell us what 
 mail would bring them. 
 
 Instead, it told us that Major Consett 
 had been ordered to the front, some Afghan 
 difficulties having lately begun, and it was 
 quite uncertain when he would be able to 
 obtain leave at all. But he said that, as 
 he had already made arrangements for 
 breaking up his household and coming 
 home, he should still send Seline, both on 
 account of the difficulty of providing a 
 suitable home for her out there, and also 
 that she might escape the hot weather 
 which she had found so trying the season 
 before. She was to return by the mail which
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 119 
 
 arrived in London the last week of April, 
 some friends from Lahore taking charge of 
 her for the voyage, and she was to stay 
 with them until the steamer sailed, as Major 
 Consett himself had to start with his regi- 
 ment without a day's delay. 
 
 He wished to know if my father would 
 meet Seline in London and bring her down 
 to Willoughby Clays for a time. If we 
 could have her with us all through the 
 summer, until he could return and make 
 a home for her, he said he should feel it a 
 great boon ; but, if my parents could not 
 arrange that, he hoped they would secure 
 a quiet home for her where she could both 
 have motherly care and sisterly companion- 
 ship. 
 
 It was an important matter, and we 
 all assembled, as usual, to talk about it. 
 
 ' I shall of course meet Seline,' said my 
 father, ' and bring her down here for
 
 120 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 awhile. But about her sta}dngwith us for 
 six months, what do you say to that, my 
 dear ?' 
 
 My mother was silent for awhile. She 
 never rushed into things, nor made pro- 
 fessions of readiness for self-sacrifice. If a 
 thing was necessary, she would do it, but 
 with no gilding of fine words. 
 
 ' It depends very much upon Seline her- 
 self,' she said, at last. ' If, after living for 
 years near a gay station like Lahore, she 
 can settle down to quiet country life with 
 us, I shall be very glad to have her. But 
 I am afraid she will find it rather difi'erent 
 from what she has been accustomed to. 
 No balls, no parties, no afternoon dances. 
 Do you think she will take kindly to it ?' 
 
 ' That is Seline's afi*air, not ours. She 
 shall come and try, at any rate, and, if we 
 are too dull for her, I can but write out 
 and ask old Brian to make some other
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 121 
 
 arrangements. Poor old Brian ! I am 
 sorry for him, ordered off in tlie very face 
 of liome. And those Afghans are a nasty 
 lot. He was up amongst them once before. 
 I wish him safely out of it. I will write 
 at once and tell him it is all ridit for 
 Seline to come to us.' 
 
 * There is no time, father,' said Anne, 
 mindful, as usual, of dates and details. 
 ^ This is near the end of March, and, let 
 ]ne see, when is Easter this year?' 
 
 ' April the thirteenth,' I said, quickly. 
 Xo need for me to calculate that date, for 
 was it not to be a red-letter day, 'Mr. 
 Forrester coming to spend it vdih us? 
 And then I was vexed vdih myself, for I 
 felt the colour rising in my face. Yet if 
 I remembered the date and they did not, 
 why should I not hurry to tell them? And 
 for the red, they might not see it. I am 
 sure Anne did not.'
 
 124 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 ther the motherless girl, who was even 
 now on her way to us for a home, would 
 soon be fatherless too.
 
 125 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 My mother was a woman of a practical 
 turn of mind, and, "whether Major Consett 
 was to return victoriously from this cam- 
 paign or not, the kindest thing she could 
 do for him now was to prepare a comfort- 
 able home for his only child. 
 
 * Marjorie,' she said to me, ' Seline shall 
 have the little room over the porch, with 
 the dressing-room out of it. The dressing- 
 room shall be made into a sort of little 
 boudoir for her. I believe in India ladies- 
 spend a good deal of time in their own 
 rooms : and I should like her to feel she
 
 12G A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 is not obliged to be always with us. There 
 is nothing so trying to some people as 
 having to talk and be sociable when they 
 would rather be alone.' 
 
 ' I think both rooms will want papering 
 and painting,' I suggested ; ' the sun has 
 faded every bit of colour out of them.' 
 
 * Never mind, we will have that done. 
 Seline ought to have a warm room, so 
 that will be the very one for her. And 
 both windows have such a pretty view of the 
 hills. I should like her to see that we have 
 taken some thought in preparing a pleas- 
 ant place for her. Poor child ! she has 
 no one in the world but her father, and 
 we cannot tell how soon she may lose him 
 now.' 
 
 For really we were beginning quite to 
 take for granted that Major Consett never 
 would return from that Afghan campaign. 
 In imagination, I already beheld Seline
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 127 
 
 dressed in mourning, and given over to 
 unavailing tears. I suppose it was be- 
 cause we had first heard of her coming 
 to us in connection with her father's de- 
 parture for the seat of war. that this im- 
 pression had fixed itself upon our minds. 
 
 * If anything should happen to him, mo- 
 ther,' said Anne, ^ Seline would stay with 
 us always, would she not?' 
 
 ' If she Avished to do so, I would certain- 
 ly make a home for her. Her father was 
 your father s dearest friend.' 
 
 Even my mother spoke of him in the 
 past tense. Had his death been already 
 announced in the Gazette^ we could not 
 have dwelt upon it mth more certainty. 
 
 ' Poor girl !' continued Anne. * But, if 
 she did stay with us always, what a help 
 she might be in the parish. We do so 
 want some one who will take a real interest 
 in things.'
 
 128 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 This was said Avithout the slightest re- 
 flection upon me. Anne had no mean- 
 nesses of that kind. It had been tacitly 
 accepted for years that we two divided 
 our duties, she taking the parochial, T the 
 home department. She was my father's 
 rio^ht hand in all matters of detail. She 
 kept accounts, managed classes, arranged 
 and organised the Sunday school, visited 
 the sick and ailing ; Avas, in fact, an unpaid 
 curate, and therefore we never claimed her 
 time for domestic matters, though she had 
 in her the making of as good a house- 
 keeper as any of us. It was I who came 
 to the front when either of the maids fell 
 ill, or went for a holiday ; I who developed 
 unusual activity at cleaning times ; I who 
 dusted the drawing-room, struck out 
 changes in the position of chairs and 
 tables, helped our mother with the neces- 
 sary arrangements when there was a din-
 
 A DOUBLE AVEDDIXG. 129 
 
 ner-party ; and, so far as in me lay, shel- 
 tered lier, even as Anne sheltered my 
 father, from the mechanical anxieties which 
 were now becomino- wearisome to them 
 both. 
 
 ' I do hope she will have a love for 
 parish work/ continued Anne. ' If she 
 has, I almost think the two of us might do 
 instead of the curate father is talking 
 about. I am sure he would a great deal 
 rather not have one, and it would be more 
 comfortable for us all. Now, if Seline 
 could take the religious instruction in the 
 day-schools for an hour, twice a week, and 
 I could manage that Saturday afternoon 
 service at the brickfields, I am sure there 
 need not be a curate.' 
 
 My mother smiled. 
 
 'You are laying out a tolerably large 
 sphere of work for her, Anne. I am afraid 
 young ladies in India are not, as a rule, 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 accustomed to undertake the religious in- 
 struction in day-scliools. And then we 
 must make allowances for Seline's brino;ino^- 
 
 up; 
 
 Anne's countenance fell. 
 
 ' Oh ! mother, do you really think she 
 will not take an interest in the parish ?' 
 
 ' I cannot tell, my dear ; but I think 
 you must not take it for gi^anted. You 
 know she was educated in Paris, at one of 
 the convent schools, and then she lived for 
 a year with a lady, a friend of her mother, 
 who introduced her into society and looked 
 after her outfit, and all that sort of thing, 
 before she went out to her father in India, 
 so that you see she has not been trained 
 to know much about a country parish. I 
 only saw her once, when she was brought 
 over to England from Paris, to stay with 
 an aunt who is dead now. She was a 
 bright, merry, delightful little child, and I
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 131 
 
 should think she would develop into a 
 charming girl ; but about being very use- 
 ful I cannot tell. If she should be willing 
 to learn, that is all we can expect.' 
 
 * Yes, and then consider,' I said, ' what 
 an anxious mind she must have. Even if 
 her father has not been killed already, 
 how can she tell but that any time the 
 news of his death may be telegraphed. 
 Anne, just fancy what you and I would 
 feel if father were in a campaign and we 
 were eight or ten thousand miles away 
 from him. Do you think we should care 
 to take any interest in parish matters, or 
 undertake religious instructions in the day- 
 schools ? I am sure I could never do it. 
 1 should just be moping all day and think- 
 ing of him.' 
 
 ' People are different,' said Anne. ' I 
 think if 1 had a great anxiety I should 
 work all the harder, just to keep it out of 
 
 k2
 
 132 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 my thoughts, that is, if I could not make 
 it any better by thinking about it. But 
 of course we cannot tell anything ; we 
 must just leave it until she comes. I do 
 hope, though, she will want to be useful.' 
 
 Then my mother went into the study to 
 make some arrangements there, and Anne 
 and I talked the whole thing over in its 
 more personal aspect. Because, parish 
 considerations excluded, it was a serious 
 matter to have what might be called a 
 third sister coming amongst us for an in- 
 definite time, perhaps for always. And 
 our Cassandra, Lady Matilda Rakeridge, 
 with all that she might possibly prove for 
 or against us, passed for the time out of our 
 thoughts. 
 
 Aunt Sunshine drove me next day to 
 Stilbury, and there we chose the very 
 loveliest paper for the two little rooms, a 
 soft olive green with jasmine leaves and
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 133 
 
 T^uds straying over it. Then Debitt, Mrs. 
 Dumble's brother, who lived in the village, 
 was to 2:)aint the wood- work to correspond. 
 The painting and papering asked for new 
 curtains, but that was no difficulty, for my 
 mother was one of the most industrious 
 netters I ever knew. In our linen-room 
 upstairs were bundles and bundles of net- 
 ted curtains of all degrees of fineness, sort- 
 ed and tied together in pairs, ready for 
 ' getting up ' whenever they should be 
 needed. It was only to starch and spread 
 a couple of pairs and put them up over 
 linings of Turkey red muslin, to make those 
 two rooms, with the warm sunlight pouring 
 through their windows, a perfect nest of 
 rosy comfort. 
 
 But that spreading was a business, and 
 mother and I always did it ourselves. In 
 our part of the countr}^, and in those days, 
 gentlewomen were not ashamed of putting
 
 134 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 their own hands to all the daintier parts of 
 laundry work, nor of letting other people 
 know that they did so. AY hen mother had 
 spent hours and hours over netting those 
 curtains, and when every inch of them had 
 a separate thought, hope, or memor}' work- 
 ed into it, she was not very likely to hand 
 the whole thing over to one of your paid 
 washerwomen to be dragged and pulled 
 and driven at so much a pair, as if it was a 
 piece of machine-work that could be 
 matched for pounds, shillings, and pence at 
 any respectable upholsterer's shop. Xo 
 indeed. But when the fabric had been 
 duly washed and starched by one of the 
 maids, mother and I carried it up in state 
 to the big spare attic, and stretched it out 
 on a sheet to the required compass, and 
 then, patiently kneeling upon our knees, Ave 
 drew out every single separate loop, all up 
 and down the sides and ends, only with
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 135 
 
 natural human frailty skipping over the 
 top a little, where it would be hidden 
 under the fringes of the curtain pole. My 
 mother was a long time before she would 
 give in to that skipping. She would fain 
 have gone all the way round, on the same 
 principle that the old Greeks did their 
 work, remembering that the gods see 
 everywhere, and have made me do the 
 same ; but with degenerate modern hurry I 
 insisted upon scamping my work as re- 
 garded the top, and was content if the 
 edges of three sides manifested themselves 
 with perfect regularity. Then we left it 
 to itself for the night, and next morning, 
 when we carefully lifted it from the sheet, 
 it was a marvel of snowy reticulation, firm, 
 symmetrical, regular as a piece of frosted 
 silver work, and good to keep its whiteness 
 for a twelvemonth Avhen it was once care- 
 fully hung. Oh, the housewifely triumph
 
 136 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 of taking those netted curtains up, the 
 morning after their spreading ! I can re- 
 call it now, and the admiration with which 
 year after year, as the cleaning time came 
 round, we looked upon the result of our 
 labours. 
 
 ' I think,' said my mother, as we knelt 
 over our handiwork in the big attic, whilst 
 the paperers were busy at work below, ' I 
 think I shall let Mr. Forrester have those 
 two little rooms when he comes at Easter. 
 I am sure he would rather be there than in 
 the great guest-room. And that guest- 
 room does take such a deal of preparing. 
 It is a mornino;'s work for the house- 
 maid to o-et all the covers off the thino-s. 
 And he is not a man who cares to be made 
 a stranger of What do you think, 
 Marjorie ?' 
 
 ' 1 am sure he would not care,' I said, 
 with such indifference as I could summon.
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 137 
 
 * It -^vill be ever so much more clieerfal 
 than the other room, because there is more 
 sun. Mr. Forrester will only be staying 
 — how long?' 
 
 ' From Saturday to Monday at the 
 farthest. Dr. Hatherley has appointed 
 Saturday afternoon for the interview ; and 
 he goes on, I suppose, to his own home 
 early on Monday." 
 
 ' AYhere is his own home ?' I asked, for 
 at present we only knew of him in con- 
 nection with that grammar-school up in the 
 north. 
 
 ' I am sure I do not know,' said my 
 mother. 'Your father says there used to 
 be a Mr. Forrester vicar of a large town 
 parish in Yorkshire, and very likely that 
 is our Mr. Forrester's father.* 
 
 ' Our Mr. Forrester.' How pleasantly 
 that sounded. I could have told my 
 mother, however, that there was no Mr.
 
 lovS A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 Forrester anywliere in a Yorkshire ^'icarage 
 now. for I had searched that county 
 through in the Clergy List to find out 
 what I could about Aunt Sunshine's visitor, 
 and no such name appeared, though I 
 judged from what he said himself that his 
 father had been a clergyman, and in a 
 crowded district too. That was how he 
 came to interest himself in the condition of 
 the poor. 
 
 ' I should think,' continued my mother, 
 going back to her housekeeping, ' that for 
 two or three days he would prefer being in 
 those little rooms with the sun upon them. 
 I shall leave it to you, Marjorie, to have 
 evervthino; arransred comfort ablv in the 
 little dressincr-room which is to be Seline's 
 boudoir. You had better have the writing- 
 table brought up from the morning-room, 
 we can do very well without it there. And 
 there are some bookshelves in one of the
 
 A DOUBLE WKDDIXG. 139 
 
 attics, they will give the room a cosy look. 
 And ]<:t ;l few good pictures be put up. I 
 should like Selinc to have things pretty 
 about her.' 
 
 J promised I would do my best, 
 tliou;ili I may be forgiven if it was not 
 the image of our Indian guest, with sable 
 garments and weeping behaviour as I 
 always pictured her now, which rose most 
 frequently before my mind's eye as I con- 
 sidered what we could best spare from the 
 rest of the house to make that room what 
 my mother wished it to be, dainty, artistic, 
 choice, and comfortable.
 
 140 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 '" I THINK this curtain will do now,' my 
 motlier said. ' I am glad it is the last.' 
 
 And she stood up, straightening herself 
 with just the faintest sigh of weariness. 
 And then she went and sat in the case- 
 ment window, through which the April 
 sunlight was streaming, broadly and 
 brightly. 
 
 Something in the tiredness of her voice 
 made me look up. It was not so much a 
 suggestion of physical fatigue, as of that 
 other kind, which looks before and after, 
 and can only be satisfied by the rest which 
 is unbroken.
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 141 
 
 For the first time the thought came over 
 me that things could not always be as they 
 were now. I bent clown over my work, 
 mechanically drawing out the loops and 
 arranging them as heretofore, but the vision 
 of that little room and what I could do in 
 it, the Easter-tide hopes which had come 
 thronging in golden clouds only a moment 
 or two before, seemed to fall away, and 
 another life, other possibilities, replaced 
 them. I felt as I had never felt before, 
 that the bond which Jinked us ajl so closely 
 together, father, mother, sister Anne, and 
 myself, would sooner or later have to be 
 broken ; that this little sigh of weariness, 
 unconscious though it might be, was as 
 the cloud no bigger than a man's hand,, 
 Avhich might by-and-by cover my whole sky 
 with blackness. 
 
 Strange it is what trifles can press upon 
 us the thought of a surely coming future.
 
 142 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 Stranger still, that, life being what it is, 
 the thought of change and separation is 
 not more constantly present with us. Here 
 was I, a girl of twenty, an unbroken chain 
 of memory binding me to one home, child- 
 hood springing into youth, youth blossom- 
 ing into girlhood, under the same roof-tree, 
 beside the same hearthstone, our parents' 
 watchful look of love an unfailing benedic- 
 tion around us. And funerals, many a 
 one, had come in their season to the church- 
 yard whose gravestones were visible from 
 my own little window, funerals which 
 meant homes broken up, husbands and 
 wives separated, children orphaned, 
 brothers and sisters scattered. Yet until 
 just now, seeing my mother with head a 
 little wearily bent, sitting in the stream of 
 sunlight which came through the casement 
 window, the fact of our own part in the 
 o'encral lot of humanitv had never been
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 143 
 
 with convincing force borne in upon 
 me. 
 
 I had never realised that any other grave, 
 save that which bore little Davie's name, 
 would be visited by us ; that tears of ours 
 would be shed, sooner or later, over relics 
 of a past not so far away, not so softened 
 and sanctified by mist of years, as those 
 which were locked in the drawer in our 
 parents' room, much still to them, but 
 almost like a dream to sister Anne and 
 myself. 
 
 In that moment, as I knelt there, bend- 
 ing lower so that the tears which filled my 
 eyes might not be noticed, the past and 
 future seemed to flash like an open vision 
 upon me. The past so sunned by the 
 most unselfish love that life can ever 
 know, the future with all its unseen bright- 
 nesses, hopes, joys just now awakening for 
 me, yet surely one day to be uncompanioned,
 
 144 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 save in memory, by that holiest love. It 
 seemed to me now, as if in the light of a 
 sudden revelation, that any joy in which 
 my mother had not part, any hope to 
 which she was not admitted, was an act of 
 iinfaith, disloyalty to her. It seemed that 
 no future, however bright, could cop}' the 
 steady love, the unfailing devotion of the 
 past. 
 
 Then the vision closed. I was a girl 
 again, standing in the present, with a girl's 
 hopes, vague as yet, unexpressed, almost 
 unacknowledged, but so full of the glow 
 and glory which seems too bright ever to 
 fade. Once more my thoughts gathered 
 into the little room which I was to make 
 so bright, but not for Seline Consett. I 
 was again busy over my housewifely 
 spreading of curtains, the curtains which 
 were to look like frosted silver over their 
 rosv linino's. And it was the labour of
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 145 
 
 helping me with those curtains which had 
 made my mother give that sigh of weari- 
 ness. And she knew nothing of what it 
 all meant to me. I was opening the door 
 for a life to which she, who had done so 
 much, borne so much for me, was a 
 stranger. 
 
 Now we were not a demonstrative family. 
 One and all we kept our feelings to our- 
 selves. I believe it was our pride to do 
 so. Aunt Sunshine, who was cast in a 
 different mould, used sometimes to say she 
 did not know what to make of us. If we 
 were glad, we were quiet. If we were 
 sorry, we were quiet. If anything offend- 
 ed us, we were quiet. If anything stirred 
 up our affections, at least ought to have 
 stirred them up, we were still only quiet, 
 nothing more than quiet. We were the 
 sort of people, she said, who ought to live 
 for ever, because our emotions never made 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 any visible demand upon us. We never 
 fussed or excited ourselves over any- 
 thing. 
 
 And she was so far right that, except in 
 our morning and evening partings and 
 greetings, on our birthdays, or on the rare 
 occasions of our setting forth upon, or 
 returning from, railway journeys, we were 
 never in the habit of kissing or embracing 
 each other. Why we manifested our feel- 
 ings in this way when it was a railway 
 journey, and not when the separation was 
 accomplished by a pony-carriage, I cannot 
 tell, except that one had more fear of rail- 
 way accidents, and our dear little Hector, 
 though spirited, was as safe as the church 
 tower. Bat we never went even to Stil- 
 bury by train without a duly affectionate 
 farewell, thouo-h when we drove to Burst- 
 borough, which was twice as far, a smile
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 147 
 
 and a wave of the liand was considered 
 sufficient. 
 
 But something came over me now which 
 I could not resist. I went to my mother as 
 she sat there, wearied, in the sunshine, and 
 I put my arms round her neck and kissed 
 her, and I said, 
 
 ' Mother, you shall not be tired again. I 
 will always do it for you, now.' 
 
 My mother kissed me, but said nothing. 
 I kept my arm round her, and felt rather 
 than saw that the tears were in her eyes, 
 too. I think we both of us knew, though 
 not a word was spoken about it, that this 
 kiss given and taken meant much ; that it 
 was a recognition both of the past and the 
 future. 
 
 Then we came away, for the curtains 
 needed no more care of ours until next 
 morning, when we were to put them up. 
 
 l2
 
 148 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 But ever after that there was a new and 
 beautiful feeling, all the more precious be- 
 cause we never talked about it, between 
 my mother and myself.
 
 149 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 I DO not think I ever had a happier time 
 in my life than whilst I was a-preparing 
 that little dressing-room over the porch. 
 There was a big easy-chair to be covered 
 and polished up, because, as my mother 
 said, people, even young girls, who had 
 lived in India, always liked chairs that 
 ^ave them room enough to lounge. And we 
 fetched in the writing-table out of the morn- 
 ing-room, and over it I hung my favourite 
 etching of Sin tram and his companions. 
 The bookshelves, too, were hunted out of 
 the attic, furnished with such material as 
 I thoufrht would meet Mr. Forrester's
 
 150 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 taste, my own special copy of the ' Fairy 
 Queen ' not being forgotten. Browning 
 also I brought, and some philosophical 
 volumes out of the study. It was in my 
 mind to put a cigar-stand on the mantel- 
 shelf, but after consideration I left that 
 for my father to arrange. 
 
 '' I am sure Seline will be very comfort- 
 able here,' said Anne, coming into the 
 room as I was putting some finishing 
 touches to the folds of the curtains. ' No- 
 thing could be prettier than that Turkey 
 red under the netting. It sends such a 
 warm glow into the room, and makes a 
 contrast with the landscape outside. I 
 fancy, too, they use a great deal of it in 
 India, so she will be reminded of old times. 
 But do you think she will care for Mill and 
 Darwin ?' 
 
 And Anne proceeded to take a survey of 
 the literary provender.
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 151 
 
 ' I rather had an idea such books were 
 more for men. I am sure I have never 
 read them myself, though they have been 
 in the study for years. You know mother 
 said Seline was what they call - charm- 
 ing/' and somehow that sort of thing- 
 does not seem to o-q with touiiii books 
 like these.' 
 
 ' Xever mind.' I said. ' we can change 
 them afterwards, if they do not suit her 
 taste. I believe it is the fashion now for 
 charming people to know something about 
 evervthino:, so that she mav like to have 
 
 ^ CD ^ ./ 
 
 them remain as a tribute to her superior 
 capabihties. And then, you know, mother 
 says Mr. Forrester is to be put into these 
 rooms when he comes at Easter.' 
 
 ' Oh, dear, yes ! I had quite forgotten 
 that. Of course Mr. Forrester is able to 
 digest anything we can give him in the 
 way of philosophy. He comes for Easter-
 
 152 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 day, why, that is the Sunday after next. 
 Oh ! and, Marjorie, we must settle about 
 the decorations. Lady Matilda said she 
 should like to help, and she will send 
 flowers doAvn from the Hall.' 
 
 ^ That means she will want to be at the 
 top of everything, and upset all our owji 
 little plans, and tell us what to do, and 
 get offended with us if we will not do 
 it. But, Anne, I will not give up the 
 font to anyone. All the Lady Matildas 
 in the world shall not do me out of 
 my ivy tracery. She must understand 
 so much.' 
 
 'I don't think she will object. For 
 peace's sake I shall give up the chancel if 
 she wishes to undertake that, and, if she 
 has all the east end her own way, I think 
 you will be free of the west. Shall we 
 settle now, as soon as you have done those 
 curtains, who are to be asked to bring
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 153 
 
 flowers ? Little Emma Dmiible must 
 gather daffodils for the lectern.' 
 
 ' And Jonathan must have his crop of 
 them over the old rector's monument. I 
 do hope her ladyship won't interfere with 
 that. I have finished the curtains now, 
 Anne, so if you like we can go into the 
 village and arrange with the people who 
 are to help us.' 
 
 Which we did, and everything was 
 planned as comfortably as possible, when 
 a note was sent from the Hall, asking 
 Anne and myself to go up there, to con- 
 sult with Lady Matilda about the decora- 
 tions. And the end of it was that every- 
 thing was upset, and we had no end of 
 worry, and going backwards and forwards, 
 and Lady Matilda hunted out innumerable 
 books and designs ; and, as soon as one 
 was fixed upon, another one was produced, 
 until our patience Avas fairly wearied out,
 
 154 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 and, but for Mr. Forrester, I could have 
 wished that there was no such word as 
 Easter in the calendar. 
 
 But it came, and he came with it. My 
 father drove over to Burs thorough to meet 
 him, and they were to see Dr. Hatherley 
 and get that important interview over be- 
 fore coming to the rectory at all. We 
 supposed they might arrive about four in 
 the afternoon, and I wanted to work hard, 
 and get my share of the decorations fin- 
 ished, so that I might have the rest of 
 the day free. But we had no sooner gone 
 into the church, with our store of materials, 
 ready to carry out, so far as we were able, 
 Lady Matilda's wishes, than she swept 
 down upon us herself, with almost a cart- 
 load of plants, and an entirely new scheme 
 of arrangement, which, she said, had sug- 
 gested itself to her after our last consulta- 
 tion, and which was vastly superior to
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 155 
 
 anythino^ we had been able to strike out 
 before, though it might take a little more 
 time to carry it into eiFect. 
 
 We were to have an ascending scale of 
 potted plants in the east Avindow, tall in 
 the middle, and sloping down towards each 
 side. And a tree-fern in front of the Ten 
 Commandments, and another, to match it, 
 in front of the Creed. And the screen 
 was to be one blaze of daifoclils, its wood- 
 work outlined with them, — I am sure her 
 ladyship had borrowed the outlining idea 
 from me, though she was going to carry 
 it out differently, — with a knot of scarlet 
 azalea at each point where the lines inter- 
 sected. Then the pulpit, a lovely piece 
 of black oak carving, was to be completely 
 covered with daffodils, which happened to 
 be plentiful in the Hall plantations that 
 spring ; so that, when it was completed, 
 it would, to my thinking, present very
 
 156 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 mucli the appearance of a magnified yel- 
 low tulip, in the centre of which my dear 
 father's figure would develop itself at ser- 
 mon time like an overgrown pistil. The 
 windows were each to blossom into a splen- 
 dour of purple and red, azaleas being 
 plentiful in the Hall greenhouses, as dafi'o- 
 dils were in its plantations; and every 
 boss of carved work down the pew-ends 
 of the centre aisle was to be surmounted 
 by a cluster of flowers, crimson and gold 
 alternately. 
 
 ' I assure you, my dear girls, it will be 
 most striking. I lay awake for hours the 
 night before last, carrying it out in my 
 own mind. You see, as this is my first 
 Easter in the parish, I should like to do 
 something original, and I do not at all 
 grudge the trouble. By Christmas I hope 
 we shall be in a condition to produce a 
 still better effect : but then we must have
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 157 
 
 a committee for Aveeks beforehand, and 
 have everything planned out. We shall 
 also, I hope, by that time have a curate 
 who will act as secretary, and carry out 
 the details. A parish like this really does 
 require a curate, if the machinery is to be 
 worked with anything like energy and pre- 
 cision. I have quite made up my mind 
 that there must be a curate, and I have 
 asked some of my friends to be on the 
 look-out for a suitable person, subject, of 
 course, to your father's approval. Xow, 
 
 for instance, those Sunday schools ' 
 
 But when her ladyship got upon the 
 Sunday schools I edged my way aside from 
 the rood screen, already beginning to blaze 
 with daffodils, and slipped quietly down to 
 the font, which I had succeeded in keeping 
 to myself, spite of our Cassandra who would 
 have made that also, like the rest of the 
 church, not a harmony, but the reverse,.
 
 158 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 in yellow and purple. Only the day 
 before I had been to that particular spot 
 on the moor hills by Mrs. Bolton's cottage, 
 where the small, white-edged ivy was to be 
 found, and had brought away as much as 
 I thought would outline my iron- work up 
 to the very top. And well it was that J 
 did so, for, towards afternoon of that 
 Easter-eve, the clouds, which had been 
 lowering all day, descended in a drenching 
 rain, and no ivy would have been possible, 
 except to a determination greater than my 
 own. 
 
 I worked away happily enough there at 
 the west end by myself, thankful that I 
 had taken time by the forelock in gather- 
 ing my leafy harvest. Aunt Sunshine was 
 busy with her windows. Lady Matikla 
 was haranguing my patient sister Anne 
 labout the state of the schools and the 
 necessity of a curate to take the religious
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 159 
 
 instruction. Her voice gave one a feeling 
 of unrest, like the windy rain outside. My 
 own thouglits comforted me, for they were 
 full of hope, the hope which only comes to 
 us when we are young and inexperienced. 
 When my fingers ached, I used to stand 
 still awhile and look at St. Christopher in 
 his narrow lancet window in the north 
 aisle. — St. Christopher going across the 
 river with the child Christ on his shoulder. 
 Ever since I could remember anything, that 
 Avindow liad been my delight. We looked 
 down to it from my corner of the rectory 
 pew. When we were children, my mother 
 had told us the story of it. I loved it 
 then for a certain dimness and mystery 
 about it, for the sun, except on summer 
 evenings, never got round to shine through 
 the purple of St. Christopher's robe, nor 
 the misty green of the quaint up and 
 down waves, nor the glory round the head
 
 160 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 of the Child. There was always a sombre 
 seriousness about it, as of difficulty, labour, 
 and distress, though we knew that these 
 were all to end in victory. 
 
 Rarely, very rarely, the sun shone 
 through upon the blue hills across the 
 river, but I had never seen it shine there 
 yet, nor even kindle the child Christ's 
 glory into gold. He and the saint who 
 bore Him seemed for ever in a twilight of 
 trial and uncertainty. My mother always 
 told me that the sunlight did come through 
 it if we could only be there at the right 
 time to see ; and then St. Christopher s face 
 was as the face of an angel, and the hills 
 across the river like the blue of Heaven 
 itself. Still, I had never seen them so. 
 
 I was working away diligentl}- at my 
 font-cover when, to my disappointment, I 
 discovered that my store of ivy would not 
 carry me more than two-thirds of the way.
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 161 
 
 I called Aunt Sunshine from her windows 
 to sympathise with me. 
 
 ' Was ever anything so provoking ? And 
 I did so want to outline it right up to the 
 very top where the chains begin. It will 
 look such a half-and-half thing noAv.' 
 
 ' Yes, and what is worse still, Lady 
 Matilda will say, " I told you so.*' I think 
 it is always worse than the failure itself, to 
 have people repeat that formula to you. 
 Are there no ivy leaves but those by Mrs. 
 Bolton's cottage ?' 
 
 'Xone that will do for me. And, if 
 there were, I could not go out in this 
 drenching rain to gather them.' 
 
 ' No. I should almost think the ducks 
 must be getting wet through, and what 
 about your poor father and Mr. Forrester 
 I do not know, for I should think they 
 will be on their way hoDie by now, and, if 
 Mr. Forrester hasn't got over his liability 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 to gum-boils, this is tlie very afternoon for 
 the cold to strike through and give him 
 one. Now, if it had been anything like a 
 day, I would have put the pony in with 
 the greatest of pleasure, and driven you 
 myself to get that ivy ; but with a rain like 
 this one would scarcely send a cat out, and 
 Jessie so delicate.' 
 
 'You must not think of it, auntie,' I 
 said. 'I shall leave the font just as it is, 
 only I do wish Mr. Forrester could have 
 seen it as we really intended it to be. He 
 will think I have been making much ado 
 to very little purpose, when he sees such 
 a half-finished thing.' 
 
 ' AVhat is the matter ?' cried Lady 
 Matilda from the other end of the church, 
 in that shrill, high-pitched voice which 
 had smitten us so unmercifully in the 
 Willoughby woods. 'Has anything hap- 
 pened ?'
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 163 
 
 ' Xo, only I am stuck fast in the middle 
 of my font,' I replied. ' The ivy-leaves 
 have given out, and there is ever so much 
 more to be done.' 
 
 Her ladyship came down from the chan- 
 nel steps where she was superintending the 
 rood screen, and looked critically at my 
 5m?Jl piece of performance. 
 
 ' Oh ! my dear girl,' she said, with that 
 funny little twitch of the eyebrows and 
 head which she always used Avhen she 
 wanted to shake off her7;mc^.?26'^, 'you are 
 too fond of trivial detail in your decora- 
 tion. Xow you see you have spent nearly 
 a day over this, and yet the effect is, as 
 one may say, feeble. You know, in church 
 decoration, boldness of general effect is the 
 chief thing to be aimed at. What did you 
 aim at in this ?' 
 
 Lady Matilda asked the question as 
 severely as though she was convinced my 
 
 m2
 
 164 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 aim had been the breaking of one of tlie 
 Ten Commandments. 
 
 ' Only to get my font-cover entirely out- 
 lined with small ivy-leaves,' I replied. 
 ' You see I have got it covered two-thirds 
 of the way up ; but I cannot carry it on 
 any further.' 
 
 ' And so it produces no effect,' said Lady 
 Matilda, putting on her glasses again and 
 making a tour of the font. ' Well, never 
 mind. I think I can improve it for you. 
 We can spare a few daffodils and azaleas 
 from the rood screen, and if you arrange 
 them in judicious masses on the apex of 
 the cover, they will give dignity to the 
 whole. You see, as it is, I should call it 
 niggling. But do not be discouraged. You 
 know everything must have a beginning, 
 and so must experience in church decora- 
 tion. I will send one of the children down 
 Avith some flowers, and, if you arrange
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 165 
 
 them as I have suggested, your font will 
 soon look quite a different thing.' 
 
 There was no doubt of that, I thought 
 to myself, as Lady ^fatilda shook the 
 spectacles off again and went back to her 
 rood screen. But I was not going to have 
 knops and bunches of yellow and purple 
 on my beautiful bit of old ironwork. 
 
 ' If I can't finish it as I like, I won't 
 finish it at all,' I said, doggedly. * It shall 
 go just as it is.' 
 
 ^And very much better so,' said my 
 Aunt Sunshine. ' After all, it doesn't look 
 so very unfinished. It only gives one the 
 idea that the ivy has begun to grow, but 
 hasn't quite got to the top. I am sure Mr. 
 Forrester will like it a great deal better 
 so, than with the flowers stuck about in 
 bunches, and I would rather take his taste 
 in such matters than Lady Matilda's. Just 
 leave it as it is, my dear, and come over
 
 166 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 with me to the south aisle. I am almost 
 as much embarrassed by too many flower& 
 as you are by too few leaves. Do help 
 me to make the Avinclows on that side 
 look rather less like a row of market gar- 
 dener's baskets.' 
 
 I did so, and for a couple of hours we- 
 worked away like anything, though at the 
 end of the time, even with all our efforts, 
 our beautiful old church rather resembled 
 a Mechanic's Institute decked out for a 
 fancy fair. But we had already discovered 
 that it was better to let Lady Matilda have 
 her own way, so long as she only interfered 
 with the external fabric. When she began 
 to dust the clergyman as well as the church, 
 it would be time to put the drag on. 
 
 Later on in the afternoon, tired and a 
 little sullen too, for my temper was not so 
 even as Aunt Sunshine's, I came back to have 
 a farewell look at my font. It was really
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 167 
 
 not SO bad after all, and, contrasted with 
 the violence of colouring in the rest of the 
 church, I thought there was a certain 
 artistic simplicity about it. Aunt Sun- 
 shine's suo^o;estion o-ave the desio^n a life- 
 like air. It did seem as if the ivy were 
 growing and would find its way up to 
 the top of the canopy, if only one could 
 stand and watch it long enough. I was 
 fingering the delicate stems and guiding 
 them a little where they had sprung away 
 from the iron work, when I heard the 
 heavy west door creak upon its hinges. 
 The curtains behind me were pushed 
 aside, and a great cluster of my coveted 
 Avhite veined ivy leaves was reached out in 
 front of me, whilst as yet I could not see 
 whence it came. 
 
 ' There, child, I was determined you 
 should have them.' 
 
 Turning, I saw Mr. Forrester, the wet
 
 168 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 dropping in little pools upon the pavement 
 from Ms Inverness. 
 
 ' Mrs. Haseltine tolcl me you were all 
 busy here over the decorating, so I came 
 across, and just as I opened the door you 
 were bemoaning to Miss Newcourt that 
 your leaves had run short, so I set off at 
 once to the moor hills, where I remember 
 you said it grows. Now, shall I help you 
 to finish ?' 
 
 Just then a great burst of sunshine came 
 in through the west window, and turned 
 the raindrops on the ivy leaves to emerald 
 and diamond. Then it died away, but we 
 had our own sunshine afterwards, and I 
 don't think the time seemed long to us, 
 though the evening shadows were begin- 
 ning to creep about in the church before 
 Lady Matilda and my sister Anne finished 
 the rood screen and came down to our 
 end.
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 169 
 
 ^ A sliglitly frivolous effect still,' said her 
 ladyship ; Mr. Forrester had withdrawn 
 a few paces, and was reading the inscrij)- 
 tions on the monuments. ' Niggling, as I 
 said before, and with not sufficient boldness. 
 In fact, it is a case of carving heads upon a 
 cherry stone. You would have made a much 
 better thing of it if you had carried out 
 my suggestions and had a few massy groups 
 of daffodils interspersed with azalea as a 
 relief to the prevailing flatness. But we 
 will manage it better another time. Yon 
 see I have had a good deal of experience 
 in London churches, and they do these 
 things on entirely a different line there. 
 Good-bye, my dear girls, and will you please 
 see that there is fresh water put into all 
 the flower glasses first thing to-morrow 
 morning? I told Dumble to attend to it, 
 but he said he had never been accustomed 
 to take any such trouble. And you know
 
 170 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 nothing is to be done in a church without 
 trouble, absolutely nothing. It is such a 
 mistake, Miss Marjorie, not to keep a man 
 like Dumble up to the mark.' 
 
 And Lady Matilda walked away, just 
 dramng her finger- tip along the ledge of 
 the nearest pew as she passed, and then 
 examining her glove. I think it had 
 become a habit with her to do this sort of 
 thing ; indeed, Aunt Sunshine said she did 
 it when she went to make calls, as if by 
 a sort of instinct. 
 
 When she had disappeared, Mr. Forres- 
 ter came back to us at the font. 
 
 ' Mr. Forrester,' I asked. ' Do you 
 know that lady ?' 
 
 ' Of course I do, just as well as if she 
 had her umbrella and black bag, and all 
 the rest of it. She is the Cassandra who 
 gave us our scolding in the plantation 
 four Sunday afternoons ago.'
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 171 
 
 ^ Yes ; and more than that, she is Lacl}^ 
 Matilda Rakeridge, of Willoughby Hall.' 
 
 * Then I wish you joy, for I am sure you 
 will all be well attended to, both as to 
 morals and behaviour. And now, do let 
 us go across to the rectory, and forget all 
 about her.'
 
 172 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 After that happy surprise in the church, 
 1 did not see much more of Mr. Forrester. 
 My father, who, when he took to anyone 
 at all, took very firmly, kept him very 
 much to himself. There were long talks 
 in the study, long pacings up and down 
 the garden-walk under the churchyard 
 yew-trees, long discussions at meal-times 
 upon educational matters, or the condition 
 and prospects of the poor, a subject to 
 w^hich Mr. Forrester seemed to devote 
 plenty of thought as well as action. 
 
 I never asked myself why 1 was begin-
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 1 Tu- 
 
 ning to feel not only satisfaction but pride 
 in hearing him talk, nor why, mentally, I 
 always took his side in any argument, and 
 was glad when my father would yield to 
 it. For, in a general way, there was no- 
 thing I disliked so much as argument. It 
 never influenced me in the least. I had 
 inv own ideas about thino^s, and, thouo'h 
 logic might most conclusively prove that 
 the}' were wrong, logic could never make 
 me alter them, not even if the logic were 
 Mr. Forrester's. 
 
 My mother said the interview with Dr. 
 Hatherley had been very satisfactory. He 
 had told my father afterwards that he 
 should certainly use his influence on Mr. 
 Forresters side. That meant that the 
 question was as good as settled, for the 
 elective committee would not be likely to 
 go against the clearly-expressed opinion of 
 so important a person as the head-master.
 
 174 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 But we kept our own counsel on the 
 matter. 
 
 Aunt Sunshine came as usual to dine 
 with us on Easter-Day. Though she had 
 handed her guest over to us, she did not 
 at all cease to consider him as in some 
 sort belonging to herself, and great was 
 her delight at the prospect of having him 
 permanently established at so short a dis- 
 tance from us as Burstborough. As a 
 special offering to him on this Sunday, she 
 had brought over the last dish of her 
 splendid old Ribston apples, and we were 
 busy discussing them when Mr. Forrester 
 inquired about the earliest train by which 
 he could conveniently leave for the north 
 next morning. 
 
 My father, who was a methodical person 
 in his invitations, as in most other things, 
 had only asked him to stay with us from 
 Saturday to Monday, taking for granted
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 175 
 
 that lie would wish to spend as much as 
 possible of his holidays with his own family 
 and friends. It was an embarrassing thing, 
 he said, for a guest not to know how long 
 he was expected to remain, and, besides, 
 our acquaintance with Mr. Forrester was 
 so slight that there was no object in asking 
 him to prolong his visit over the time 
 necessary for business. Still, as Dr. 
 Hatherley had appointed Saturday after- 
 noon for the interview, and there were no 
 convenient evening trains for the north, 
 we were in courtesy bound to keep him 
 over the Sunday, and he was equally in 
 courtesy bound to make arrangements for 
 his departure as soon as possible after. 
 
 ' AYe shall be sorry to lose you,' said my 
 mother, with kindly hospitality, ' and we 
 should have been very glad, if you could 
 have spent a day or two longer with us ; 
 but I suppose your own people would not
 
 176 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 thank us for trying to keep you longer 
 than necessary from your home. One 
 always seems to want to gather home at 
 these festival times.' 
 
 ' I have no home, Mrs. Haseltine. And 
 I have no people, either.' 
 
 Mr. Forrester said this quite simpl}^, yet 
 with such a touch of unconscious sadness 
 in his voice, that for a moment or tAVO we 
 were all silent. Aunt Sunshine never 
 controlled her feelins^s so much as the 
 rest of us, and I saw her wipe a distinctly 
 visible tear out of the corner of her eye. 
 My mother expressed her sympathy in a 
 more practical way. 
 
 ' Then if you have no home, Mr. For- 
 rester,' she said, ' you are not obliged to 
 hurry away to it. Will you make our 
 house your home for a few days longer ? 
 My husband only named from Saturday 
 to Monday, as we thought your own friends
 
 A DOUBLE ^^"EDDING. 177 
 
 would be anxious for your return, but we 
 should be very glad if you could stay. 
 David, you mil do what you can to keep 
 Mr. Forrester, will you not?' 
 
 ' It will be a real pleasure to me if Mr- 
 Forrester will stay.' 
 
 This was all my father said, but he said 
 it so as to make it enough. There was no 
 mistaking his entire good-will and cor- 
 diality. Something kept me from joining 
 in the o^eneral chorus of consent, thouo;h I 
 felt that Mr. Forrester looked across to me 
 before he gave any reply. 
 
 ^You are very kind,' he said, at last, 
 ' but I am not going to have any holidays 
 this time. I have made arrangements for 
 going into Yorkshire, to give private les- 
 sons to a young man who wishes to get 
 into one of the universities. We begin on 
 Wednesday.' 
 
 ' That is a pity for us,' said my father, 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 ' but you can stay here until tlie day after 
 to-morrow, at any rate, and then you will 
 still be in plenty of time. It is but a 
 three hours' journey from here to the north 
 of Yorkshire.' 
 
 ' Thank you ; I should have been very 
 glad.' 
 
 Ah ! that tiresome conditional mood, 
 how it did seem to take the brightness 
 out of things. If I had any idea that we 
 vvT^re important or interesting enough to 
 move Mr. Forrester from his duty, I was 
 mistaken. 
 
 ' I should have been very glad, but I 
 like to have time before beginning my 
 work. It is not just to my pupil to 
 start with him in a hurry. I want a day 
 to talk over plans with him and find out 
 what he is fit for. My credit is at stake, 
 too. I am very anxious to get him 
 through.'
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 179 
 
 ' All riglit,' said my father. ^ I see you 
 liave the turning out of a head-master in 
 3^ou. I was made of that sort of stuif 
 myself, and would have said just the same 
 when I was a coach at Cambridge, thirty 
 years ago. You shall be off, then, to-mor- 
 row morning, by the eleven train. But 
 what do you say to coming to us for a 
 week or so at midsummer?' 
 
 Mr. Forrester's face brightened. 
 
 ' If I am fortunate enouo;h to ^Qt this 
 appointment, I shall be only too glad to 
 do so. If not, I must work harder than 
 ever at any sort of holiday engagement 
 that I can pick up.' 
 
 ' I hope you will get it,' said my father. 
 ' So far as I can see, things are moving in 
 the right direction, and you may depend 
 upon it that anything I can do for you will 
 be done. If I had not got over that sort 
 of foolishness, I think I could wager a bot-
 
 180 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 tie of port that you will not need a holida}^ 
 engagement at midsummer.' 
 
 And then we ladies came away. 
 
 ^ Only to think,' said Aunt Sunshine, as^ 
 we looked out for the most comfortable 
 easy-chairs, ' only to think of that poor 
 man having neither home nor friends ! 
 The head-master up at the Yorkshire gram- 
 mar-school never told me that. He onl}' 
 said he was pulled doAvn in his health and 
 wanted a change ; and I was delighted to 
 be able to do him a kindness. And now, 
 just fancy, if his coming to Willoughby a 
 waif and a stray, as one might express ity 
 should lead to his being elected second 
 master to the Burstborough school. And 
 David says Dr. Hatherley is in favour 
 of it.' 
 
 ^ Very much in favour of it.' 
 
 ' Ah ! then you will see it will come to 
 pass. The committee will never go against
 
 A DOUBLE ^VEDDING. 181 
 
 a popular man like Dr. Hatherley. Why, 
 he has been the very making of the 
 school. The shares have gone up, I don't 
 know how much, since he came. You see 
 in a new concern like the Burstborouo^h 
 school, where there are no foundations and 
 bequests to go back upon, everything 
 depends upon the head-master being- 
 popular ; and when he is popular, he can 
 do i^retty much as he likes. I would 
 venture a pair of gloves myself on that 
 visit at midsummer, only like David I 
 have given up that sort of foolishness. 
 And the second master has a beautiful 
 house in the college grounds, has he not ?' 
 ^ Yes, a very good one, I believe. You 
 know there are three houses in the college 
 grounds, and they all receive pupils. The 
 second master's house can accommodate 
 fifty or sixty. But I really never took 
 much interest in it until David thouofht
 
 182 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 about Mr. Forrester for the appointment. 
 I have heard since then that the applica- 
 tions are very numerous, so I suppose the 
 position is a desirable one.' 
 
 ^ Well, whatever it may be, Phyllis, one 
 thing I am sure of, they cannot give it to 
 a better man.' 
 
 And with that Aunt Sunshine settled 
 down to her Sunday afternoon nap.
 
 183 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 First thino; after breakfast next mornino:, 
 I went across to the church, to put fresh 
 water to the flowers, and generally brighten 
 up the decorations. Anne and I, as a rule, 
 did it together, but she was busy over some 
 parish work for my father this morning, so 
 I had to go alone. 
 
 Lady Matilda's determination to convert 
 the church into a flower-show considerably 
 increased my labours. All her innumer- 
 able pots of daffodils had to be attended to, 
 and the faded blossoms picked out. It 
 took me a good hour to make the rood
 
 184 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 screen look any thing like tidy. Then there 
 were Aunt Sunshine's windows in the south 
 aisle to trim up, and then I worked my 
 way down to the font, whose tracery of 
 delicate ivy leaf and stem looked almost 
 as fresh as when I finished it with Mr. 
 Forrester the Saturday before. Only a few 
 primroses, which I had laid in amongst 
 the moss round the base, needed replacing. 
 How I loved that old font. How often 
 on sultry summer days have I gone in and 
 rested myself upon its steps, so hollowed 
 and worn and stained by the footsteps of 
 generation after generation of fathers and 
 mothers who had held their little ones 
 there. Those old steps were amongst the 
 very first things which Lady Matilda had 
 wished to improve away, but my father 
 steadily refused to let them be touched. I 
 think he had a strong vein of sentiment in 
 him, though it seldom worked its way to
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 185 
 
 the surface. My mother had been christen- 
 ed at that font, and her fore-elders before 
 her, for centuries past, from the time when 
 Xewcourt, mossed and crumbling now 
 amongst its elm-trees, had been built by 
 the founder of the family. There, on those 
 worn steps, she had stood a happy young- 
 mother to hold her first-born, my little 
 brother Davie, to receive the name by 
 w^hich the angels knew him now. That 
 was the thought in my father's heart as he 
 said " no " to Lady Matilda's desire for 
 polished marble with an inscription on 
 brass, to the glory of God, and her own 
 praise. And that would keep the steps of 
 the old font sacred until a stranger came 
 to do his work and take his place. 
 
 But I had other thoughts than these, as 
 I stood by Willoughby church font on that 
 Easter Monday morning. Its ivy tracery 
 seemed to tell me a story sweeter than that
 
 186 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 of the old long ago past. There was the 
 place on the fine wrought iron-work, where 
 I had been obliged to leave my work, and 
 there was the very vine leaf — I could find it 
 so easily, clear cut and life-like still, though 
 the hand that fashioned it had been moul- 
 dering in the dust for four centuries — where 
 1 had been able to begin again, Mr. For- 
 rester having laboured through six miles 
 of rain and storm to bring me the materials 
 I needed. I seemed to hear his voice 
 again, saying as he reached the ivy 
 branches out to me, himself still unseen, 
 
 'There, child, I was determined you 
 should have them.' 
 
 I was meditating upon my handiwork 
 still, moving into place the little stems 
 which had strayed, and trimming up the 
 moss round the base of the font, when the 
 curtains over the west door were put aside, 
 and Mr. Forrester came in.
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 187 
 
 He accounted for himself in a very simple 
 and satisfactory manner. 
 
 ' Dr. Hatherley sent down a note to say 
 that he would like to see me again this 
 morning, so your father has kindly arranged 
 to drive me over to Burstborough, and I 
 shall take the train from there instead of 
 here. We are obliged to start at once, or 
 I shall not get to the end of my journey 
 to-night, and so I came to say good-bye to 
 you. Mrs. Haseltine said I should find 
 you here, and I did not like to go away 
 without seeing you.' 
 
 'Oh, thank you,' I said; 'that would 
 have been very disappointing.' 
 
 I meant, of course, that it would have 
 been disappointing to me, and then the 
 thought just flashed across my mind that 
 possibly he might suppose I meant it would 
 be disappointing to himself. And I was 
 not going to be such a fool as to think
 
 188 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 that sa}dng good-bye to me, or not saying 
 it, could make any difference to him. So 
 I added, hurriedly and awkwardly enough, 
 I daresay, 
 
 ' I mean that I should have been very 
 sorry to have found you gone. It was so 
 kind of you to fetch these ivy-leaves. I 
 don't know what 1 could possibly have 
 done if I had not had them.' 
 
 ' Oh ! I see. Then do you want some 
 more ? I am afraid there would scarcely 
 be time to get them this morning. If I 
 had only known a little sooner !' 
 
 After all my trouble, I had succeeded 
 in sivino; him to understand that I was 
 only sorry for his going away earlier, be- 
 cause I had wanted him to make another 
 journey to the moor hills for me. How I 
 did wish I had the tact of ordinary girls 
 in making myself understood ! 
 
 ' I don't want any more leaves, thank
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 189^ 
 
 you. I only wanted to thank you again 
 for taking so much trouble to fetch these.' 
 
 There I stuck fast again, and Mr. For- 
 rester seemed to find as much difficulty as 
 myself in saying anything. If we could 
 only have found something to argue about^ 
 much as I hated argument, it would 
 have been such a relief. But we seemed 
 each of us driven in upon our own person- 
 ality. Mr. Forrester stood there in silence, 
 guiding the delicate ivy stems over the 
 ironwork where they had strayed away 
 from it. 
 
 'You see, they look quite fresh yet,' I 
 continued desperately, vexed with myself 
 for feeling so awkward, and rather vexed 
 too with Mr. Forrester for making no 
 effort to say anything. ' I am very glad 
 I did not do what Lady Matilda wanted^ 
 and cover the whole thing with a parasol 
 of dafi'odils. That would have been quite
 
 190 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 faded by now. And I hope you will have 
 a good journey. We shall be very anxious 
 to know the result of the committee.' 
 
 Still Mr. Forrester said nothing, only 
 guided the ivy-leaves along the ironwork 
 of the font-cover, until, slowly following 
 the pattern, it brought him nearer and 
 nearer to me. If he would not speak, I 
 must say the more. 
 
 *You have no idea how beautiful our 
 village looks at midsummer, if you are able 
 to come then. I hope very much you will 
 be able to come then.' 
 
 At last Mr. Forrester did speak. 
 
 ' Thank you. I don't think you can 
 understand Iioiu anxious I am that I should 
 be able to come.' 
 
 Yes, I could. For had he not said that 
 his coming depended upon his getting the 
 mastership? and I should think anyone
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 191 
 
 might understand liow anxious lie was to 
 get that. 
 
 ' I am sure I can,' I said, promptly ; 
 ' for, if you come to Willoughby, it means 
 that you ^\dll come to Burs thorough too. 
 We shall all be so glad if you are the suc- 
 cessful one.' 
 
 Mr. Forrester smiled, still quietly work- 
 ing away at those truant ivy stems. 
 
 ^ Well, whether I come or not, I shall 
 always have this to remember, that you 
 have given me two of the pleasantest days 
 I have ever spent in my life.' 
 
 As he said this, he broke away one of 
 the ivy stems and laid it carefully in a 
 little book which he carried in his pocket. 
 It did not occur to me that what he said 
 applied to myself specially — 'you' being 
 a pronoun which, thanks to our English 
 lack of individuality, may refer to one or
 
 192 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 many. I took for granted that he was 
 thinking of Aunt Sunshine's hospitahty 
 and my mother's, on the occasion of his 
 two visits to Willoughby. And so 1 re- 
 plied, feeling that I was getting into 
 smoother waters at last, 
 
 * I am so glad if you have enjoyed it. 
 Willoughby is a very quiet place, but I am 
 sure anyone who likes the country must 
 be happy here. And it is so pleasant for 
 my father to have some one to talk to. 
 The gentlemen about here are not very 
 congenial companions for him. They are 
 not particularly cultivated.' 
 
 Mr. Forrester let that pass. Then he 
 took the bit of Iaw out of the little book. 
 
 ' I wish you would give me a piece 
 yourself, instead of this. Will you ?' 
 
 I think I felt slightly vexed. It seemed 
 as if the other end of the magnet had been 
 held to me, and I wanted to draw myself
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 193 
 
 away from it. ^Ir. Forrester looked quietly 
 at me. 
 
 'Will you give me one ?' 
 
 I broke off a little bit, my fingers shak- 
 ing all the time, and held it to him, not 
 looking him in the face, for I was still 
 wavering between confusion and vexation. 
 I like to know both what I mean mjself 
 and what other people mean ; and now I 
 knew nothing, except that I seemed called 
 upon to manifest what I would have pre- 
 ferred keeping to myself. What right had 
 Mr. Forrester to ask me for a bit of ivy ? 
 Did he want it as a general sort of re- 
 membrance of an interesting church ? If 
 so, why could I not have given it to him 
 in a self-possessed and straightforward 
 manner, instead of making a simpleton of 
 myself by my flushed face and shaking 
 fingers? Why need one colour such a 
 simple thing "with a personal aspect at all? 
 
 VOL. I. O
 
 19i: A DOUBLE WEDDING, 
 
 But I had so coloured it, and now I could 
 not get back to the independent ground 
 again. I wished I could have swept away 
 the font and the ivy-leaves and Mr. For- 
 rester and everything, and been just my 
 own self, answerable to nobody. 
 
 With a desperate effort at appearing as 
 if nothing was the matter, I gathered up 
 my basket and scissors and the rest of my 
 things, and made for the door. 
 
 ' There is no hurrv,' said Mr. Forrester, 
 as I fumbled in vain at the big key which 
 would not move for any efforts of mine. 
 
 With most quiet, leisurely deliberate- 
 ness, he adjusted the stem of ivy in the 
 little book, put the book in his pocket, 
 picked up the bit of ivy which he had 
 first broken off, and, giving it to me, said, 
 
 ' Keep that until I come again.' 
 
 Then he moved my useless hands away, 
 opened the door, put me through, locked
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 195 
 
 it after us, and, without another word, we 
 came quietly home ; I for my part feeling 
 thankful enough that the distance was so 
 short, though truly that fifty yards seemed 
 more like a mile, so strange a tumult of 
 thought had taken possession of me. 
 
 How thankful I was when the narrow 
 windino; walk brouo-ht us in sio;ht of the 
 rectory porch, Avhere my father and mother 
 and my sister Anne were standing, the 
 pony-trap there too, and my father hold- 
 ing the reins in his hands. "What a relief 
 to feel oneself once more within the magic 
 band of home. It was as if a dream had 
 broken. 
 
 And yet not broken, for there was Mr. 
 Forrester close by me, nearer than father 
 or mother or sister. 
 
 ' There is no hurry,' he said. And, as 
 he said it, he came nearer still, instead of 
 measuring a good distance between us, as 
 
 o 2
 
 19(> A DOUBLK WEDDING. 
 
 1 would tain liavo done when once we liad 
 eouie in sight of the poreh. 1 remember 
 now the wistful h^ok upi>u my mother's 
 face. Or was it only anxiety that ]\Ir. 
 Forrester should be in time for his appoint- 
 ment with Or. llatherley? For my mo- 
 ther was the very soul of punctuality. 
 Never bustle or hurry or disorder over 
 any departure whose manaiivmcnt was en- 
 trusted to her. 
 
 So the i^'ood-bves were said, and Hector 
 shook his bonnie black mane, and the little 
 traj> and my father and Mr. Forrester 
 were soon out oi sight. AVe stood and 
 watched for them again where the bend of 
 the road curved out across the moor hills, 
 beyond the Hall plantations. We could 
 not tell if they saw us, they were too iar 
 away. My mother spoke no word, only as 
 if unconsciously drew a little nearer to me, 
 nnd I felt her hand upon my shoulder. It
 
 A iMMtm.lil VVIODUINU. 197 
 
 WIVH Anilf \vll<» ill.l, MM \V(^ illl (III..- :>(n.M| 
 
 thera m Mm' |m,i. i.. 
 
 • I (I.I lh.|..- iliiii M- l'\.i li^^ici- will gnt 
 
 ( lie :l|l|l. II II I IIKII (
 
 198 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 And he did. Towards the end of the week^ 
 there came a telegram to my father, just 
 containing the one word, 
 
 ^ Successful.' 
 
 And a few days afterwards we read with 
 due pride the following paragraph in the 
 Bursthorough Chronicle^ our leading daily 
 paper : 
 
 ' We have much pleasure in stating that 
 Mr. Michael Forrester, at present of the 
 Polwick Grammar School, has been ap- 
 pointed to the second mastership of Burst- 
 borough College, vacant by the resigna-
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDIXG. 199 
 
 tion of the Rev. Arthur Connalt, that 
 gentleman having accepted the vicarage of 
 Lesser BoUington, Westshire. Mr. Forres- 
 ter was educated at Kesselby Grammar 
 School, obtained a Clare scholarship, 
 graduated with honours, and, upon his 
 removal from Cambridge, undertook a 
 junior mastership at Pol wick School, 
 where he has remained until the present 
 time. The college is to be congratulated 
 upon the election of a man of sound 
 classical learning, who unites with his 
 ability as a teacher that public spirit which 
 will find ample scope in the philanthropic 
 enterprises of the town. Mr. Forrester 
 enters upon his duties in September next.' 
 
 ' A very neat little paragraph,' remarked 
 my father. And then I cut it out and laid 
 it away in my desk, no one else wanting it. 
 
 So then there was the summer visit to 
 be looked forward to, and the establish-
 
 200 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 ment of our new acquaintance as a com- 
 paratively near neio^hbour, Burstborougli 
 being only seven miles away by the road. 
 
 That was pleasant, all more distinctly 
 personal considerations apart. For I knew 
 how my father would enjoy having some 
 one within reach with whom he could con- 
 verse freely upon subjects of more than 
 passing interest, and in whom he could 
 find intellectual S3anpathy when wearied 
 with the details of parish work. 
 
 And really now these details were often 
 made a weariness to him. As time wore 
 on. Lady Matilda amply justified the fore- 
 warnings which Aunt Sunshine gave of 
 her character and behaviour. She was, in 
 fact, the very spirit and boiled-down 
 essence of all the Public Worship Regula- 
 tion Acts Avhich ever fermented in the 
 brain of a Cabinet Minister. I believe, if 
 the book-markers huna' down an inch or two
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 201 
 
 lower over the lectern frontal than usual, she 
 took it as an indication of Ritualistic ten- 
 dencies. If my father ventured upon the 
 use of the word 'priest' in explaining from 
 the pulpit any of the rites and ceremonies 
 of the church, she was sure to drive down 
 the very next morning, and spend at least a 
 ojood hour in endeavouring to convince 
 him that the word was now obsolete as 
 reorarded our Eno;lish Establishment. And 
 Avhen my sister Anne, who was as innocent 
 as a new-born babe of anything like sym- 
 pathy with Romanising innovations, put a 
 cross of maiden-hair fern and purple pansies 
 in front of the east window on Whit-Sun- 
 day morning, the face that bent down 
 upon us from under her ladyship's bonnet 
 during the service might have sent a ner- 
 vous person into fits. So might the tones 
 of her ladyship's voice as she encountered 
 us in the churchyard path, having sent
 
 202 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 Mr. Rakeridge on in advance that she 
 mio'ht have the ojround all to herself. 
 
 ' My dear Miss Haseltine ! And the 
 Church of England seething in tumult as 
 it is at the present moment. Why, have 
 you not read how the parish of St. Mod- 
 wena, in the Burstborough archdeaconry, 
 is up in arms for no other reason than that 
 the rector insists upon a cross upon the 
 communion-table? And the churchwar- 
 dens, being of the opposite opinion, have 
 taken it down ; very properly too, as I 
 consider, and I should feel it my duty to 
 ask Mr. Rakeridge to do the very same 
 thing if anything of the sort were perma- 
 nently introduced into my parish church. 
 Do, my dear girl, just take it quietly away 
 before any unpleasant feeling is stirred up. 
 I should be so grieved to have to call upon 
 the rector about it.' 
 
 Down came Anne's pretty little fabric of
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 2 OS' 
 
 pansies and maiden-hair, for we knew too 
 well by now what a call upon the rector 
 meant, and how it often worried my father 
 for days ; and I would not, for all the 
 crosses in Christendom, have seen that 
 harassed look upon his face if any amount 
 of giving-in upon my part or Anne's could 
 have prevented it. Worry took more out 
 of my father, ten times more, than actual 
 work. 
 
 Then Lady Matilda was consumed, no 
 other word expresses it, by a passion for 
 re-organising everything. She would have 
 re-organised the rector himself, if she could. 
 The day-schools were to be taken to pieces, 
 turned inside out and upside down, and 
 re-made upon an entirely different pattern. 
 Then the Sunday-schools followed, because, 
 as she said, we had no system. For her 
 part, she considered that a Sunday-school 
 never accomplished its purpose until the
 
 204 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 <:hildren obeyed the superintendent's Ijell 
 as immediately, and accurately, and me- 
 chanically as that bell obeyed the hand 
 that commanded it. So we spent well-nigh 
 a month of afternoons and mornings, Sun- 
 cUiy after Sunday, in practising obedience 
 to this said bell, until her ladyship con- 
 sidered us perfect. We entered the school, 
 we left it, we knelt down to say our 
 prayers, we rose when they were done, we 
 found our hpnns, opened our Bibles, mark- 
 ed our class-books, said our lessons, stood 
 up and sat down, in truth, almost breathed 
 to the sound of that bell ; and, once a 
 month. Lady Matilda had a meeting of us 
 all, teachers I mean, to rehearse the per- 
 formance, she rino;ino: the bell herself that 
 we might quite understand what to expect 
 from our scholars. I do not believe any- 
 thing ever gave her more satisfaction than 
 to put us through these exercises. It Avas
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 205 
 
 SO like being colonel over a regiment, and 
 Lady Matilda liad the make of half-a-dozen 
 colonels in her. 
 
 Then there was the blanket-club to be 
 reorganised, and the Women's Provident 
 Society, and school children's pence club, 
 and the Penny bank ; and when all that was 
 done, she wanted the rectory house re- 
 organised, with a separate kitchen place 
 from which soup might be given out, in- 
 stead of the people fetching it from the Hall. 
 She was sure it could all be built and 
 finished during the summer, and then we 
 would start the soup-making in November, 
 and it was to be given out every day after 
 morning prayers, because of course by that 
 time we should have daily prayers, every 
 church ought to have them ; and no one 
 was to have soup who had not been to the 
 prayers first. And these prayers were to 
 be said upon a certain note, but not so as
 
 '206 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 to give an impression of intoning, because 
 intoning was a practice against which she 
 had distinct religious scruples. 
 
 And then would my father mind wear- 
 ing a surplice just a trifle wider in the 
 sleeves ? She had happened to pick up one 
 of those dreadful ritualistic ecclesiastical 
 tradespeople's catalogues, illustrated, and 
 the pattern supplied to the extremest Lon- 
 don church was identical with that hang- 
 ing up in the "Willoughby vestry. My 
 father must excuse her, for she hoped she 
 was a genuine churchwoman, sound to 
 the very core, and if he would not mind 
 a slight difference in the cut it would he 
 such a relief to her. She would with tlie 
 very greatest pleasure order down a 
 couple of new ones from town at her own 
 expense. 
 
 ~My father agreed, but only to the 
 difference of cut, not to being dressed at
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 207 
 
 Lady Matilda's expense. He was not a 
 man who iidgetted over trifles. I think, 
 however, if he had stood out about it, 
 Anne and I would privately have intro- 
 duced an extra quarter of a yard into the 
 surplice sleeves, and trusted to masculine 
 indifference for the addition never being 
 noticed, such misery were we already 
 brought into by Lady Matilda's anxiety 
 for the interests of religion in the parish. 
 
 Then we two girls came in for our share 
 of reorganisation. Could we not get up 
 something now and then by way of enter- 
 tainment in the school-rooms ? The young 
 ladies of the rectory, when there were any, 
 were always looked to, to take the lead in 
 that sort of thing. If people were not 
 amused, they drifted away to Dissent. A 
 penny reading now and then, or a concert, 
 or an exhibition, or a bazaar was a capital 
 thing for gathering parish interest into a
 
 208 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 focus. The time was past, she said, when 
 a clergyman's family could be inactive. 
 They must rouse themselves and move 
 mth the movement of public opinion. 
 Every effort must be put forth, for the 
 demon of Disestablishment was stalking 
 abroad, and unless the clergy, and their 
 wives and daughters too, were alert upon 
 their watch-tower, the clock of the ages — 
 for Ladv Matilda had a fine command of 
 metaphor — would sound the knell of the 
 Church's doom, and we should awake too 
 late, and find that neither penny readings 
 nor surplices would save us from being re- 
 duced to the level of a sect, a mere bit of 
 brick, as she might say, in the great pyramid 
 of truth, instead of its foundation and 
 corner-stone. 
 
 So that now we really dreaded a call 
 from Lady Matilda, and would gladly have 
 fled into the uttermost parts of the parish
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 209 
 
 when we saw her carriao'e turnino; round 
 that bend in the road which led to the 
 rectory and nowhere else. 
 
 It was a relief to have Seline's arrival to 
 think about. That event was drawing: 
 very near. Everyday we looked in the 
 mail and shipping news for the landing of 
 the Tussorah at Brindisi. As soon as that 
 was announced, father was to go to London 
 to be in readiness to receive our young 
 ^uest, and, after two days' rest there, she 
 was to come down to Willou^jlibv. 
 
 Of course Anne and I were in a state 
 of great excitement about her coming. 
 Not that we were exactly overjoyed at 
 the prospect of her permanently remaining 
 with us. We were content amongst our- 
 selves. Seline was a stranger, who might 
 or might not fall in with our quiet ways. 
 Our interest was, I may say, purely bene- 
 volent. We knew well enough what 
 
 VCL. 1. P
 
 210 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 our own state of mind would have been 
 had our father been summoned into action 
 thousands and thousands of miles away, 
 and had we been unable to hear from 
 him except at distant intervals ; we kncAv 
 what a torture life would have been for 
 ns were we unable to minister in any way 
 to his comfort, unable to receive his last 
 words if dying, or to drop a tear upon his 
 grave if he were laid in a distant land 
 amono^st strano^ers. Such a trouble coni- 
 ing into our quiet lives Avould crush us 
 to the dust, and T, for my part, doubted 
 not it would have the same effect upon 
 Seline. She was coming to us in her 
 anxiety and loneliness. We must be very 
 tender with her, we must comfort and con- 
 sole her. The shadow of orphanhood was 
 han2:ino: over her. A demon more terrible 
 than that of Disestablishment was stalking
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 211 
 
 abroad. She iniglit any morning take up 
 tlie daily paper, and, glancing her eye 
 down the column from the seat of war, 
 read there the news of her fathers 
 death. 
 
 ' But we will never let her get hold of 
 the paper until we have looked it through 
 ourselves. It w^ould be too dreadful for 
 her to find out anything in that sudden 
 w^ay.' 
 
 I said this to mv mother and Anne one 
 day, as we were all three busy in the 
 dining-room, making up a large, soft cushion 
 to be placed in the easy-chair in Seline's 
 room. The Tussorah had been telegraphed 
 from Brindisi the day before. My father 
 had left for London the same evening, 
 and any post might bring a letter from 
 him to say by what train we were to 
 expect them. 
 
 p2
 
 212 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 ' We must give the station-boy special 
 instructions,' Anne said, 'not to give the 
 paper into any hands but ours. Don't you 
 remember Mrs. Dumble's picking it up when 
 she was here as cook, and finding out the 
 death of her brother at the Cape, and 
 how she went into hysterics and shrieked, 
 and we had such a business to get her 
 round ?' 
 
 *Yes,' I replied; 'and, after all, it was 
 nothing of the sort. She had got hold of 
 the wrong list, and, instead of being killed 
 and wounded, he was amongst those who 
 were coming home in the next troopship. 
 What an amount of feeling was wasted 
 upon that occasion ! But I am very sorry 
 for poor Seline, for we know that her 
 father is in real danger. She can never 
 have a moment of comfortable peace. Do 
 you think she can, mother ?' 
 
 * I would not say so much as that,' re-
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 215 
 
 plied my mother. ' You have not been 
 accustomed to military life, and you can- 
 not quite understand how suspense which 
 would be dreadful to most people comes to 
 be accepted as a matter of course, a sort 
 of necessary condition.' 
 
 ' Then do you think, mother,' said Anne, 
 ' that Seline will not be so very unhappy, 
 after all ? Do you think we may talk 
 with her just as if she were in ordinary 
 circumstances like ourselves ?' 
 
 ' I am sure you may talk to her as if 
 she were in ordinary circumstances. In- 
 deed, that will be the best thing for you 
 to do. And a soldier's daughter has a 
 pride in feeling that her father is doing 
 his duty, however much it takes him into 
 the midst of danger.' 
 
 ' Yes, of course,' Anne replied, dubi- 
 ously, ' though I do not think that 
 Avould comfort me so very much, when
 
 214 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 I knew that the Afghans were down upon 
 him.' 
 
 'No,' I said, ' but I wish we could make 
 it comfort us when we know that Lady 
 Matilda is down upon him. I am sure she 
 is as terrible as the Afghans. Perhaps 
 when Seline has been with us a little while 
 she Avill wonder that ive can be so bright 
 and cheerful when our father is engaged in 
 such a conflict with the parish frontal 
 tribes. But yonder comes the postman, 
 Now, has he anything for us ?' 
 
 Yes, there was a letter from my father 
 -to say that the Tussorah had arrived, I mean 
 that the mail train bringing its passengers 
 had reached London safely ; that he had 
 met Seline and taken her to the hotel, and 
 that on the next day but one they should 
 come to Willoughby. He told us nothing 
 about her, except that she had had a plea-
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 215 
 
 sant voyage, and did not seem any worse 
 for it'; so we were left as much as ever to 
 our own imaginings.
 
 216 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Seline arrived ; the daintiest little bundle 
 of soft, warm sealskin from top to toe that 
 one could imagine : sealskin hat, sealskin 
 muff, sealskin coat down to the very tips 
 of her toes ; no face, in the gloom of that 
 late April evening, to be discerned out- 
 side, as we three women-folk crowded into 
 the hall to receive her. Only, as my father 
 lifted the bundle down, the carriage-lamp 
 flashed its light up into a pair of lovely 
 brown eyes, and so guided us as to the 
 whereabouts of the flice which we were 
 all waiting to kiss, the face of our poor 
 little motherless guest who might so soon 
 be fatherless too.
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 217 
 
 * This is Auntie Ph341is,' slie said, put- 
 ting up a cheek as soft and downy as the 
 sealskin muffled round it : 'and this is 
 Anne, and this is Marjorie. It is so good 
 of you to have me. ]^o, I am not a bit 
 tired, thank you, for Uncle Davie has 
 taken such good care of me, only it is so 
 cold. I have been perished with cold ever 
 since we turned out at Brindisi. Oh, you 
 dear, delightful fire ! What a treat it is to 
 see you.' 
 
 For we had now talked ourselves into 
 the drawing-room, where a great easy-chair 
 had been dragged up for her to the very 
 edge of the fender. She made straight for 
 it, just as a bird makes for its nest, and 
 gathered herself up amongst its cushions 
 and reached a fan which Avas lying conve- 
 niently at hand to screen her face from the 
 flames. 
 
 ' I do like the way they make fires here
 
 218 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 in England. It does one good even to 
 look at them. On board ship we had such 
 stupid little match-boxes of grates. One 
 might as well try to warm oneself at a pic- 
 ture. But it won't be like this very longy 
 will it ? I mean the cold.' 
 
 And then she crossed her little feet on 
 the fender, and threw her gloves on the 
 hearthrug, and her satchel somewhere else, 
 and tumbled oiF her hat, so for the first 
 time giving us a really good view of the 
 features under it. 
 
 Seline was a very pretty girl, not to go 
 farther and call her beautiful. I never 
 like to call a face beautiful until I know 
 something of the character which shines 
 through it. She had that clear, distinc- 
 tively brunette complexion which leaves 
 no doubt as to what colours best become 
 its possessor. In that respect she was much 
 better off than either Anne or myself,
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 21^ 
 
 whose complexions, though clear and 
 ao^reeable enouo;h, were of that betwixt 
 and between type, which goes tolerably 
 well with everything, but supremely well 
 Avith nothing. Now, when Seline had 
 tumbled off her hat, she proceeded to tum- 
 ble off her jacket, and in so doing brought 
 to light a bunch of yellow jonquils care- 
 lessly thrust into the fastening of her 
 dress ; and the way that bit of yellow har- 
 monised -with the cheek and chin that came 
 into contact mth it was just a wonder 
 and a delight to behold. If I could have 
 been envious upon such a short notice, I 
 think envy would have been almost a justifi- 
 able feeling. But I can honestly say that 
 as I knelt there upon the hearthrug, look- 
 ing up into Seline's face whilst I unbutton- 
 ed her boots for her, and gathered together 
 the various articles which she kept flinging 
 aside, I was conscious of nothing but plea-
 
 220 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 sure. The pity whicli I had expected to 
 feel on account of her peculiar circum- 
 stances was nowhere. 
 
 When she had got rid of her hat, one 
 might have thought that a handsome 
 lad of fourteen or fifteen had come to stay 
 with us. She wore her dark hair cut quite 
 short, except in the front, where it curled 
 and fell over loosely until it almost touch- 
 ed her fine, well-marked eyebrows. Her 
 face was lively and intelligent, the eyes 
 having well the upper hand in the impres- 
 sion it made upon you. They were large, 
 bright, well set, with such long dark 
 lashes. I could fancy there was any 
 amount of fun and mischief in those eyes. 
 They might also look lovely behind a mist 
 of tears, as dark eyes with long lashes do ; 
 but there were no tears dimming them 
 now, nor even shadow of thought or 
 memory. The firelight, or the light of her
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 22 B 
 
 own content, just flaslied and sparkled in 
 them. For the rest of her face, when those- 
 eyes released you from looking into them,, 
 you felt it was dainty and well-bred and 
 charming. The nose had the prettiest 
 little upward tilt, the mouth was small 
 and full of expression, the upper lip short 
 and saucy, just falling a little over the 
 lower one when the face was at rest, which, 
 truth to say, it seldom seemed to be, so 
 rapidly did even thought, as well as speech, 
 play to and fro upon it. 
 
 ' It is really too good of you,' she said, 
 when 1 had got the boots unbuttoned, and 
 the slender, finely-curved feet put into a 
 pair of loose slippers ever so much too 
 laro^e for them, thouoch the smallest I had^ 
 ' It is so nice to be waited npon again a 
 And oh, auntie dear, have you really 
 brought me a cup of tea ? That is a 
 treat.'
 
 222 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 For my mother, thinking that this would 
 warm her more effectually than anything 
 ehe, just to begin with, had ordered tea to 
 be prepared, and had brought it to Seline 
 herself, for somehow we did not want hire- 
 ling hands to do anything for her just yet. 
 We wanted her to feel that she was to be 
 received, cared for, watched over by 
 ourselves. 
 
 ' It is good of you, auntie,' she said, just 
 reaching out her hand for the cup, and 
 then another hand for the biscuits which 
 Anne was holding. ' I have been dream- 
 ing of a cup of tea with real country cream 
 in it, ever since I knew I was coming to 
 stay with you. In India one never gets 
 cream worth anything. You know they 
 can't keep the milk, or whatever it is, long 
 enough. This is delicious.' 
 
 The mention of India gave us courage to 
 ask, thou2:h with a mixture of fear and 
 
 7 O
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 223 
 
 trembling, if slie had good accounts of lier 
 father. 
 
 ' Oh ! yes, thank you,' she replied, very 
 cheerfully. 'lie was all right last time 
 we heard. You know we don't get letters 
 very often; but the telegrams used to 
 come down every day. Dear old dad ! He 
 just sent a few lines to be ready when we 
 landed at Brindisi.' 
 
 * What a relief that must have been,' I 
 said. ' It was such a long time, all the 
 way from Bombay to Brindisi without any 
 word at all. You could not tell what 
 might have happened,' 
 
 Anne o;ave me a warnino; look. We had 
 agreed that we would not say anything, at 
 any rate not just at first, that might lead 
 her mind to dwell upon Major Consett's 
 perilous position. 
 
 I caught myself up, feeling very uncom- 
 fortable. I never could say the right thing
 
 224 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 at the riglit time. And to say it at the 
 wrong time was worse than not saying it 
 at all. But Seline did not betray any 
 emotion. She took another biscuit from 
 the plate which my sister was holding. 
 
 ' Forgive me for picking out the almond 
 ones. I am so fond of them. I don't 
 think anything particular has happened 
 yet. I hope our men will give those fellows 
 a good dressing before they have done 
 with them. I felt quite glad when I found 
 there was a chance at last of our having a 
 brush with the Afghans.' 
 
 This was unexpected, but the cheerful- 
 ness might be only on the surface. Still I 
 felt bound to enter some sort of a protest. 
 
 ' Oh, Seline ! Do you mean to say you 
 are really glad it has come to fighting?' 
 
 ^ Yes — why not? Marjorie, you have 
 no idea what a state everything had got 
 into with such a long dull, sleepy time.
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 225 
 
 There was no sucli piece of luck as a j^ro- 
 motion. Why, papa will be a colonel noAV 
 in no time. I do so want him to be that. 
 Everybody says a campaign like this is the 
 very thing we want.' 
 
 'Yes, but then when one's own people 
 have to be in it?' 
 
 ' Oh ! well, in this kind of fighting, you 
 know, it is not so much the officers who 
 get picked off. It is chiefly the rank and 
 file. I suppose papa sits in his tent most 
 of the time writing letters, unless he may 
 get a little hunting now and then.' 
 
 I beo;an to think we might relax our 
 vigilance about the morning papers. 
 
 ' The hunting, you know, is splendid up 
 there. I hope papa will be able to get me 
 some tiger-skins. Of course, it only lasts 
 until the cold weather, but I daresay the 
 campaign will be over by then, and he 
 will be able to come home. Those black 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 fellows ought not to orive our men a great 
 deal of trouble. Marjorie, may I have 
 some more cream ? I never tasted any- 
 thing so refreshing as this tea.' 
 
 I emptied half the contents of the jug 
 into her cup. Clearly we were not to 
 mingle our tears over any possible harm 
 which might happen to Major Consett in 
 the discharge of his duties. 
 
 My mother, who had been silent during 
 this conversation, now changed the subject. 
 
 ' Did you have a pleasant voyage, 
 Seline ?' 
 
 ' Oh, yes, auntie, thank you.' 
 
 And smiles, evidently born of some 
 amusing memory, began to chase one an- 
 other over Seline's face. 
 
 * You know it wasn't quite such fun as 
 it might have been, for as soon as ever the 
 frontier business began they stopped all 
 the leave. The officers who were on fur-
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 227 
 
 lough had to show up again, and a great 
 many who were just coming home had to 
 give it up. like papa, and send their wives 
 and children home instead, so we had no 
 end of ladies on board the Tussorah. I 
 don't suppose there were more than twenty 
 men altogether, and of course that made it 
 rather dull. But I am a good sailor, and 
 I got on very comfortably.' 
 
 ' I am glad of that,' said my mother. 
 ^And then there was the lady who was 
 taking you under her charge. You would 
 be with her most of the time.' 
 
 ' Mrs. Macallister, and Seline shruo^o;ed 
 her shoulders with the funniest little air 
 of being bored even with the mention of 
 that lady's name. ' Oh ! I didn't see very 
 much of her. She was nearly always down 
 in her cabin. We were the best of possi- 
 ble friends at Lahore, where I was staying 
 with her just before we started, and I am 
 
 q2
 
 228 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 sure I thought we should have got on 
 verv well together, but she was always 
 pulling me up about something or other — 
 at least, when she was well enough to be 
 on deck at all, and I soon got tired of it.' 
 
 ' Tired of what ?' asked my sister Anne, 
 innocently, not comprehending the situa- 
 tion at alL At that stage of our ex- 
 perience, we had neither of us come into 
 contact with girls for whom a quiet, un- 
 eventful life, like our own, was not 
 sufficient. 
 
 Seline shrugged her shoulders again,, 
 and an amused laugh curled and rippled 
 all over her face. 
 
 'Tired of being pulled up, being always 
 scolded, I mean, for wanting to have a 
 little fun. Why, with a hundred and fifty 
 wives and daughters, and not more than 
 twenty officers, she might have been sure 
 it was dreadfully dull. We used to have
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 229 
 
 <lances, you know, on deck every evening ; 
 nnd I am very fond of dancing, and 1 was 
 not ""oino* to sit out to let the married 
 ladies have the chance of a partner. You 
 know, with such an army of women, and 
 only twenty partners for them, a good 
 many had to sit out, but I was not going 
 to be one of the many.' 
 
 ' I think you ought to have drawn lots,' 
 I said, gravely. 
 
 ' Drawn lots for partners ? no, indeed. 
 I used to go in for every dance regularly, 
 and I could not have done that if we had 
 drawn lots. But, most fortunately for me, 
 Mrs. Macallister turned out a dreadfully 
 bad sailor. Every time there was the 
 least bit of a breeze, she used to disappear, 
 and oh ! the groans I was treated to when 
 I went down to the cabin. You know we 
 shared a cabin, but I assure you I did not 
 spend any more time there than was ab-
 
 230 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 solutely necessary. Of course, when she 
 was ill, she could not pull me up about 
 anythinp^, and I enjoyed myself immensely. 
 Sometimes as many as fifty ladies would 
 disappear, and then we had much pleas- 
 anter dances.' 
 
 ' Poor Mrs. Macallister !' said Anne, 
 ' And did she have to lie there in the 
 cabin all by herself?' 
 
 Seline put down her cup and saucer, 
 I think she did not quite appreciate the 
 point of view from which we looked at the 
 subject. 
 
 ' I suppose you think I ought to have 
 hung over her with basins and smelling- 
 salts, and that sort of thing. Oh ! dear, 
 no. On board ship we leave that to the 
 stewardess. It is the kindest thing you 
 can do to let people alone when they are 
 sea-sick. They are so miserable that, if 
 you made yourself a perfect martyr to
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 231 
 
 them, they would never know it ; so where 
 is the use ?' 
 
 ' Seline, what a utilitarian you are,' I 
 remarked. 
 
 ' A what, Marjorie ?' 
 
 ' A utilitarian. Do you always con- 
 sider only how much profit a thing will 
 bring ?' 
 
 ' I don't know what you mean. But I 
 do know it is not a bit of use trying to be 
 kind to people when they are sea-sick. It 
 is a most useless waste of good intentions. 
 No, I used to look upon Mrs. Macallister's 
 disappearance as a most agreeable relief, 
 and I enjoyed the dances in her absence 
 as much as I could. Besides, you know, 
 it was very much owing to papa's recom- 
 mendation that Captain Macallister got his 
 promotion last year, so that there was not 
 such a very great obligation on my part. 
 Marjorie, are you a moral philosopher?'
 
 232 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 'About as much so, perhaps, as you are 
 a utilitarian. I am not quite sure whether 
 I should like to have my debts paid by my 
 father in that way, but then I have never 
 had a Mrs. Macallister to pull me up.' 
 
 Seline showed such a pretty row of little 
 pearly teeth as she laughed at me. 
 
 * I don't think anyone would ever have 
 pulled you up. Some people don't give 
 half so much trouble as others. I used to 
 have some real downright scoldings from 
 Mrs. Macallister, and she threatened to 
 Avrite to papa, and all sorts of things. But 
 I don't believe she ever meant to do any- 
 thing of the sort. And dear old dad 
 wouldn't have made a fuss about it, even 
 if she had. Auntie, what time is break- 
 fast? May I go now?' 
 
 ' Breakfast, my dear child !' said my 
 mother, ' why, there is dinner to come 
 first. We put it a couple of hours later
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 233 
 
 this evening, as we thought you would be 
 hungry after your journey.' 
 
 ' Oh ! yes, and so I am, ever so hungry. 
 Only I thought perhaps you would let me 
 have it up in my own room to-night, and 
 then I shall not have the trouble of making 
 a toilette. It is such a nuisance unpack- 
 ing all your things when you are tired.' 
 
 ' Certainly, then you shall have it brought 
 .up. I wonder what you would like.' 
 
 ' Oh ! please don't ask me what I should 
 like.' And Seline began to look about for 
 her gloves, hat, boots, satchel, and other 
 things. ' I think it is ever so much nicer 
 not to know what it is going to be. And, 
 Marjorie, you will help me to unpack to- 
 morrow, won't you ? I have only brought 
 just a few things, because all the heavy 
 luggage had to be sent by Southampton ; 
 and oh ! auntie, I have got the very love- 
 liest bits of embroidery for you from papa.
 
 234 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 You know the wallahs are all coming 
 down into the stations with it, as they 
 don't like to be travelling over the passes 
 into their own country now that the fight- 
 ing has begun. Good-night ; I must 
 begin to-morrow to tell you all about 
 everything.' 
 
 And, putting up her soft saucy lips to be 
 kissed by each of us in turn, Seline man- 
 aged to scramble up her scattered belong- 
 ings, and I led the way, thinking my own 
 thoughts, to that cosy little dressing-room 
 over the porch.
 
 235 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 She was in the hall, chirping to the parrot, 
 when I came downstairs next morning. I 
 thought I had never seen a more charming 
 picture than she made in her closely fitting 
 brown dress of some soft, clinging material 
 which she told me was Mnelida,' with a 
 bunch of daffodils thrust loosely into the 
 collar of it. One might think they had 
 grown there of their own accord, so prettily 
 did they peep out and caress the soft 
 white throat. If I had wanted to put a 
 finish to my toilette with flowers, I might 
 have pinned and pottered for half-an-hour^
 
 •236 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 and made a failure of it after all. Seline j ust 
 caught sight of the daffodils, as I opened 
 the door to let in the fresh morning air.' 
 
 ' Oh ! delightful. That is just the very 
 bit of colour I want.' 
 
 And away she went, Polly looking very 
 disappointed at the desertion, tore up a 
 handful of the blossoms, pushed them 
 into her dress at hap-hazard, and came 
 back into the hall a perfect picture of light 
 and colour and warmth. 
 
 ' I suppose you are very fond of flowers,' 
 I said, as we went into the morning-room 
 for breakfast. 
 
 * Oh ! yes,' she replied, ' I cannot live 
 without them, I did miss them so on board. 
 Of course you know one cannot get any- 
 thing to live in the midst of the sea-air. I 
 never feel that I am properly dressed with- 
 out a flower. If I cannot have one, I have 
 to be content with a knot of yellow ribbon
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 237' 
 
 instead, but it isn't half so pretty, you 
 never get such a perfect colour in ribbon. 
 I hope the daffodils last a good long time. 
 Mr. Barrington sent me in a bunch of them 
 as soon as we got to the hotel. I suppose 
 he knew that colour suited me, and I deter- 
 mined I would never be without them 
 again as long as they could be bought.' 
 
 ' I daresay we shall have them until well 
 into the middle of May, and then the 
 pheasant-eye narcissus comes, which I 
 think is still more beautiful.' 
 
 'Is that yellow?' asked Seline, eagerly; 
 ' I never heard of it.' 
 
 ' Xo, it is the very purest white, with a 
 crimson-scarlet circle in the middle. I 
 never saw a Avhite so perfectly lovely. 
 And the flower looks down from its stalk 
 so wistfully, as if it were searching for 
 something far off. We call it the blessed 
 damozel, because it always reminds us of
 
 "238 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 Rossetti's maiden looking down from heaven 
 for her lover.' 
 
 ' How very curious ! If it is white, with 
 that scarlet centre, I shall be able to wear 
 it. A perfect white with a touch of colour 
 suits me very well. But yellow is my 
 favourite.' 
 
 I felt just a little pinch of disappoint- 
 ment. I was going to ask Seline if she 
 would come and see my garden before 
 breakfast, as the morning was so bright ; 
 my own bit of garden down by the shrub- 
 bery, where I had all the old-fashioned 
 flowers that I could collect. But somehoAv 
 I did not like the idea of my pets being 
 admired and appreciated only in so far as 
 they were suitable to a certain tone of 
 complexion. I do not think, however, that 
 she would have cared to go, for just then 
 she caught sight of the fire in the morning- 
 room, and darted away to that as eagerly
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 239 
 
 as a minute before she had set off after the 
 daffodils. 
 
 She kissed my mother, and dropped into 
 a little heap on the hearthrug, her bright, 
 pretty head rising so blossom-like from 
 the soft brown colouring round about her. 
 When my father came in she did not make 
 any pretence of rising, but just stretched 
 out her arms, and held up her face for a 
 caress. So also when Anne came in. Our 
 little lady was one who liked to be com- 
 fortable. But then there was such a grace 
 and spontaneousness in everything that 
 she did. 
 
 We went into the drawing-room after 
 breakfast, for there was an abundant sup- 
 ply of easy-chairs there, and the room was 
 full of sunshine, and Seline said it was no 
 use troubling about unpacking her things 
 and arranging them until the heavy lug- 
 gage had arrived from Southampton. It
 
 240 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 was good to see how slie enjoyed our 
 Eno'lish firesides, with their amplitude of 
 hearthrug and cushioned convenience. 
 
 Anne su2:o:ested a walk round the o-arden. 
 
 ' Oh ! no, thank you. It is too perfect- 
 ly delightful here. I don't care very much 
 for a garden until I can lie about in it 
 like a lizard. It is better looked at 
 through a window at this time of the 
 year. Have you much glass here ?' 
 
 I did not even know what she meant. 
 People in the country had not then begun 
 to class greenhouses under this generic 
 term. Seeino- that Anne and I looked 
 puzzled, she proceeded to explain. 
 
 ' I thought you always called it so — I 
 mean conservatories, and that sort of thing. 
 I did so admire those big conservatories 
 as we drove about the west end of London. 
 I told Herbert Barrington that I thought 
 to be a hudgeregar^ and spend one's life in
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 241 
 
 a London conservatory, amongst azaleas 
 and orange blossom, must be the very 
 height of enjoyment.' 
 
 Who was this Mr. Barrington ? I won- 
 dered, but did not like to ask. He had 
 been once before mentioned. And as little 
 did I know what a budgeregar meant. I 
 did venture to ask that. 
 
 'Oh ! budgeregars are those lovely little 
 green and purple birds, almost like flowers 
 themselves, that we used to have out in 
 India. I believe they properly belong to 
 Australia, but we can keep them about 
 Lahore. There were some of them under 
 glass, amongst the flowers at Covent Gar- 
 den, and they did look so happy. Is that 
 a railway man coming, with such a big 
 parcel?' 
 
 And Seline leaned as far as she could 
 out of her easy-chair to watch a shiny cap 
 that was in sight above the laurels. 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 ' It is SO nice to see the railway men 
 come with their parcels. I had ever so 
 many whilst we were in London. I won- 
 der is this my new hat. Oh ! Marjorie, I 
 did buy such a pretty hat in Regent 
 Street ; but the colour was not exactly 
 right, and they had to alter it, and they 
 promised I should have it that same even- 
 ing and it never came, and poor dear Mr. 
 Storridge went telegraphing up and down 
 about it, and there was no end of trouble. 
 Poor little man ! I am sure he was very 
 good. The parcel is coming here, Mar- 
 jorie. I do hope it is going to be my 
 hat.' 
 
 No, it Avas not the hat ; but it was 
 something almost as interesting, and for 
 Seline too. A box of the most absolutely 
 beautiful hot-house flowers I had ever be- 
 held — cactus, tuberose, Japanese lily, golden 
 orchids which looked more like living crea-
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 243 
 
 t LI res than blossoms. Oh ! what a orlow of 
 colour and a glory of perfume poured out 
 upon us as Seline undid the fastenings of 
 that box, and tumbled its treasures upon 
 the hearthruo'. 
 
 She gave the queerest little grunt of 
 disappointment. 
 
 ' What a plague that it isn't the hat ! 
 I must send a note to my good little 
 civilian, and tell him to go and look after 
 it for me. And where did these things 
 come from, I wonder?' 
 
 Seline turned over the lid of the box to 
 look at the address ao;ain, but nothino^ 
 was to be gathered from that, only the 
 name and address of the florist in Covent 
 Garden. 
 
 ' They must have been tolerably expen- 
 sive,' she said, carelessly. ' These things 
 don't grow out of doors in England, I 
 suppose ?' 
 
 k2
 
 244 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 ' Out of doors, Seline ! I should think 
 they don't,' said I, burying my face in the 
 midst of a delicious cluster of tuberose which 
 seemed to be like all the indolent languor 
 and luxury of the east, gathered into one 
 heart of perfume. ' And these orchids, 
 why, in London they must be almost 
 worth their weio^ht in o:old. I know what 
 orchids are, for Lady Matilda has some in 
 the greenhouses at Willoughby Hall, and 
 she told me herself how much she had been 
 obliged to pay for them. One of them was 
 just like this, deep purple, with the golden 
 centre.' 
 
 'And what did it cost?' 
 
 ' Well, I forget exactly, but a great deal, 
 a very great deal. Something like ten 
 guineas for the root, and you know they 
 don't have many flowers. I think this one 
 of Lady Matilda's was only to have a 
 single bloom.'
 
 A DOUBLE AVEDDING. 245 
 
 ' Ridiculous,' said Seline. ' And down 
 in tlie valleys, amongst the hill-stations in 
 India, you give a coolie a few pice and he 
 will climb a tree and bring you as many 
 as you like. You simply tear them away 
 from the moss which grows on the boughs. 
 Fancy that.' 
 
 Just then I picked out another, golden 
 yellow with spots and pencillings of brown, 
 the very tint for Seline to wear. As I 
 lifted it, a card fell out which I handed to 
 her. 
 
 ' Now you will know where they came 
 from,' I said, with a pardonable touch of 
 curiosity. 
 
 ' With Mr. Herbert Barrington's com- 
 pliments.' 
 
 Seline laughed ; a merry, disdainful 
 laugh, yet with a certain amount of satis- 
 faction in it. 
 
 ' That everlastino; Mr. Barrino^ton !'
 
 246 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 ' My dear Seline,' I said, innocently, ' he 
 can't be very everlasting, when you have 
 been in England only tAvo days.' 
 
 She twisted the card into shapes, and 
 then flung it on the fire. 
 
 * Oh, he was on board all the way from 
 Bombay, you know. I rather thought at 
 first they might have been from the other 
 one. Marjorie dear, ivill you put them 
 into water for me ? I suppose I ought to^ 
 take care of them.' 
 
 ' Ought ! I should rather think you 
 ought, indeed. Such treasures as these 
 have scarcely ever been seen in Willough- 
 by before. Take care of them indeed !' 
 
 Seline smiled at my enthusiasm. Hav- 
 ing discovered the sender of the floAvers^ 
 she did not seem to have much more inter- 
 est in them. She settled down again in 
 the easy-chair, and crossed her feet on the
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 247 
 
 fender, and allowed me to do as I liked 
 with the lovely mass of colour and per- 
 fume. I fetched a jug of water and some 
 of our deep, old-fashioned china bowls, and 
 was soon very happily engaged in what, 
 next to housekeeping, chanced to be my 
 favourite occupation, the arrangement of 
 leaves and flowers. 
 
 ' I think I do remember,' remarked Se- 
 line, in a casual sort of way, * that I told 
 him I admired orchids, so I suppose he 
 hunted these out and sent me them. 
 Really, if he had wished to prove his de- 
 votion, he might have done it in a more 
 satisfactory way by going into Regent 
 Street and telling Madame Gautier to get 
 that hat finished and sent home without 
 delay. I should have felt excessively 
 obliged to him for an attention of that sort. 
 Poor fellow !'
 
 248 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 And Seline, idly watching me as I ar- 
 ranged the fioAvers, began to hnger them 
 again. 
 
 ' Did you say they were very expensive, 
 Marjorie?' 
 
 ' The orchids are, very,' I replied ; ' I am 
 not so sure about the others. I know Lady 
 Matilda gave ten guineas for a root of that 
 purple kind.' 
 
 ' Well then, I should think they would 
 scarcely cut a single bloom in Covent 
 Garden for less than half-a-guinea, and 
 here he has sent nearly a dozen of them. 
 What unmitigated stupids men are ! Stay, 
 Marjorie, don't you think that golden one 
 Avith the streaks of brown would suit this 
 melida better than the daifodils.' 
 
 I thought it would, and told her so. 
 
 ' Just hand it over and let me try. 
 One would think it had been chosen on 
 purpose to match.'
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 249 
 
 With a half yawn, as if the whole thino- 
 was a weariness, but yet must be gone 
 through as a tribute to appearances, Seline 
 took the brown and yellow orchid, crossed 
 over to a little oval mirror in the corner, 
 and beo^an to arrano;e it in her dress. 
 How pretty she looked, stepping first to 
 one side, then to another, to get a proper 
 light upon the flower, then mounting on 
 a footstool for the purpose of obtaining a 
 more complete full-length efl'ect in the big 
 ^lass over the mantel-shelf. 
 
 ' I think I will keep it in,' she said at 
 last, ' it suits me very well.' 
 
 And she flung away the dafi*odils inside 
 the fender. 
 
 I picked them up. I cannot bear to see 
 flowers treated with ignominy, and I 
 arranged them with some others in a green 
 bowl in the window. I like flowers to be
 
 250 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 either burnt at once or properly taken care 
 of. 
 
 Seline laughed at me. 
 
 ' One would think daffodils were as 
 valuable as orchids, you make such a fuss 
 over them. It is a pity poor dear little Mr. 
 Barrington is not here. He would be over- 
 joyed to pick up a flower which I had worn 
 for half-an-hour. I wonder ' 
 
 And Seline went up to the table on 
 which I had arranged the orchids. 
 
 ' 1 wonder whether Mr. Barrington in- 
 tends this to lead to something else. Does 
 he mean anything by it ? Marjorie, should 
 you think he does ?' 
 
 I daresay I looked stupid enough. I 
 know I was in a dense fog of wonderment. 
 My sister and I were not accustomed to 
 discuss matters of this kind. 
 
 ' I really don't understand anything
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 251 
 
 about it,' I replied at last, rather abruptly. 
 'I don't even know who this Mr. Barring- 
 ton is.' 
 
 ' Of course you do not. I forget. Well 
 then, you must know he was one of the 
 young civilians on board the Tussorah. I 
 told you there were about twenty of them 
 to a hundred and fifty of us ladies, and he 
 made no end of a fuss over me. Ever so 
 many of them did. It wasn't my fault 
 at all. I suppose they had nothing else to 
 do. When Mrs. Macallisterwas able to come 
 on deck, she used to pull me up about it, 
 but I believe she would have done just the 
 same herself if she had not been shut up in 
 her cabin so much. He was very young, 
 and had no means of his own, and I don't 
 suppose his pay reached three hundred a 
 month, so that anything serious was out 
 of the question.'
 
 252 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 ' Three hundred a ]noiith ! Seline,' I said, 
 wondering what our pretty little Indian 
 flirt would consider a competence worth 
 grounding anything serious upon. 'Three 
 hundred a month ! why, that is more than 
 three thousand a year. I had no idea 
 people got so much in India.' 
 
 ' You little goose, I mean rupees. 
 Everything goes by rupees there. You 
 may call it three hundred pounds a year, 
 if you like, but it is really not so much as 
 that, with all the snippings and cuttings 
 taken off. You see, Government slices 
 away so much for pensions and that kind 
 of thing, ]mt I was only going to say I 
 hope he will Jiot come down here and be 
 troublesome. It would be no end of a 
 nuisance.' 
 
 ' Come down here ?' I replied, looking 
 more bewildered than ever. ' Why on 
 •earth should he come down here ? We
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 253^ 
 
 don't any of iis know him, and there is 
 nothing special to bring strangers ta 
 Willoughby.' 
 
 ' Just as if I might not be the something- 
 special myself,' said Seline, with a coquet- 
 tish little smile at the corners of her lips. 
 ' Marjorie, you are, without exception, the 
 dearest old country mouse that ever I 
 came across. It is perfectly delightful to 
 talk to you. Xow, I think I ought to write 
 to my excellent Mrs. Macallister, and tell 
 her I have arrived safely at the end of my 
 journey.' 
 
 And Seline went.
 
 254 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 But slie was not far wrong in her specula- 
 tions. The very next afternoon a gentle- 
 man called, requesting to see my father. 
 We three girls were out for a walk. When 
 we came in my mother met us, looking 
 rather worried. 
 
 Seline had not been with us a couple of 
 days, but I had seen that expression already 
 several times upon my mother's face. My 
 mother was not one who took readily to 
 strangers. Except in the case of ]\Ir. 
 Forrester, who seemed almost from the 
 very beginning to be as one of ourselves,
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 255 
 
 she required time to make up lier mind 
 about anyone, I do not think she had 
 made u^) her mind about Seline yet. She 
 was not so impatient with her as my sister 
 Anne and I were sometimes inclined to be. 
 She had large charity, and she could make 
 allowance for what we, in our narrower 
 range of experience, were perhaps apt to 
 consider folly with a little touch of selfish- 
 ness. She was wonderfully patient with 
 Seline's demands upon the attentions of 
 others, and upon their services too. That 
 young lady, having been accustomed to 
 have an ayah or a bearer to do every pos- 
 sible thing for her, could not understand 
 just at first that English people of the 
 middle classes were in the habit of taking 
 off their own shoes and stockino-s, hano^ino- 
 up their own clothes, and putting away 
 their own gloves and ribbons and hand- 
 kerchiefsj and such small things. And as
 
 256 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 Ave did not like to introduce this idea into 
 lier mind too suddenly, and it did not seem 
 to come to her by instinct, Ave had our- 
 selves to do a great deal of fetching and 
 carrying and lady's-maid's work, in order 
 that everything might go smoothly. My 
 mother kept her temper beautifully. I 
 have seen her go round the room after 
 Seline had left it, putting things in their 
 places and clearing aAvay ends and odd- 
 ments, with never a word of impatience. 
 But now something seemed to ha\'e really 
 ruffled her. 
 
 ' Seline,' she said, ' Uncle Davie wants to 
 see you in the study. Will you go to 
 him?' 
 
 I believe Seline knew exactly what it 
 was, though she raised her pretty eyebroAvs 
 Avith an air of innocent surprise as she 
 Avent off to my father. Anne and I settled 
 doAA^i to our Avork in the draAAdng-room^
 
 A DOUBLE AVEDDING. 257 
 
 and my mother disappeared to take her 
 afternoon rest. 
 
 In a very short time Seline came back 
 to us. She did not look as if anything^ 
 important had been going on. She crossed 
 over to the most comfortable easy-chair by 
 the fire, and curled herself cosily up 
 amongst its cushions. 
 
 'Now, is it not ridiculous/ she began^ 
 after a while, seeing that we did not ask 
 any questions. ' To think of Mr. Barring- 
 ton coming all the way down here to pro- 
 pose for me to Uncle Davie. I had no 
 idea that he would have been so foolish. 
 He might have saved himself a great deal 
 of trouble if he had had the common-sense 
 to ask me first what I thought about it.' 
 
 My sister Anne coloured and went on 
 with her work in silence. As for myself, 
 it did not so much as dawn upon me just 
 then that a young man's affections, or the 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 temporary feelings which pass for such in 
 the present day, were under consideration. 
 Seline was still wearing the beautiful 
 brown and gold orchid in her dress. She 
 kept toying with it, sometimes taking it 
 out and holding it in the light. 
 
 ' It is perfectly ridiculous, and on three 
 hundred a month, too. Why, we should 
 have to go begging amongst all our rela- 
 tions. You may well look so astonished, 
 Anne dear. 1 assure you I was astonish- 
 ed enough myself Of course I told uncle 
 at once that I had given him no encourage- 
 ment to come forward in that way, and 
 that there was not the slightest necessity 
 for me to have a personal interview with 
 him. I do dislike personal interviews of 
 that kind. I thought perhaps when I 
 came here there would not be any more of 
 them.' 
 
 ' I suppose that depends upon yourself,'
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 259 
 
 I suggested, rather tartly, for I knew how 
 iny father and mother were worried by 
 things of this kind, and the object of Mr. 
 Barrington's visit had dawned upon me at 
 last. 
 
 Seline laughed. 
 
 ' Marjorie, you are a second Mrs. Mac- 
 allister. I always determine, when I get 
 into a scrape of this kind, that it shall be 
 the very last, because the getting out is so 
 awkward. I do dislike having to meet 
 people again, after they have been foolish 
 in that way. I wonder if Mr. Barrington 
 has gone. Have you seen any gentleman 
 take his departure?' 
 
 ' Not since we have been sitting here,' 1 
 replied. 
 
 ' Well, then, I suppose he is here still. 
 Only think, if Uncle Davie should ask him 
 to lunch.' 
 
 ' I don't suppose father would ask him, 
 
 s2
 
 260 A DOUBLE WEDD^G. 
 
 under the circumstances,' said Anne, with a 
 certain quiet dignity. ' And if he did, 
 Mr. Barrington would not be obliged to 
 stay.' 
 
 ' I don't know,' and Seline re-arranged 
 the flower in her dress. ' Perhaps he might 
 think that being asked to stay at all, meant 
 some encouragement, and no doubt the 
 poor fellow would be ready to catch at the 
 merest straw. I am really sorry for him. 
 But it is his own fault. I told him all the 
 way through I had not the slightest inten- 
 tion of becoming engaged.' 
 
 ' Oh ! then,' I said, ' Mr. Barrington had 
 already asked you to marry him.' 
 
 Seline looked at me with a kindly air of 
 toleration, much as I should have looked 
 myself at a dancing bear when it was 
 going through its performances. 
 
 ' Marjorie, what a frightfully bald wa}- 
 you have of putting things. You are so
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING* 261 
 
 very direct. No, Mr. Barrington never 
 actually came to the point, though of 
 course I knew what he meant.' 
 
 'And you let him go on, and you let 
 him send you flowers.' 
 
 ' Well, what else could I do ? I could 
 not tell him that I knew what he was 
 going to say, and would save him the 
 trouble of saying it.' 
 
 ' Yes, you could, Seline, quite well. You 
 could have made him understand it without 
 any words at all. And he would never 
 have sent these flowers and come himself, 
 too, if you had not given him some sort of 
 encouragement.' 
 
 I daresay I spoke sharply, for I felt very 
 vexed, not only on account of the poor 
 young man who had journeyed down from 
 London on such a fruitless errand, but for 
 the annoyance it would cause to my father 
 and mother, who did not take these things
 
 2Q2 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 SO easily as Seline appeared to do. How- 
 ever, if I manifested any temper, Seline 
 was not ruffled by it. I Avas ignorant of 
 the Avorld, and she made allowances for 
 me. 
 
 'Yon are a dear, good child, Marjorie, 
 but you have never been in society, and 
 you don't know what it is. You talk ex- 
 actly like a Young Lady's Guide, and very 
 pretty it sounds ; but wait until you have 
 to carry your own maxims into practice, 
 and then see what sort of a success you 
 make of it. Mow do let us talk about 
 something else. We have been serious too 
 long. You know these things happen 
 every day, and the world goes on as 
 usual.' 
 
 I was silent. My thoughts went back 
 to that Monday morning, not so long ago,, 
 when Mr. Forrester had come to me as I 
 stood by the old font. How strangely his
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDIXG. 263 
 
 ^vords, somethino; in his tones, had opened 
 for me a door into the future. Did he, 
 too, think of these things as Seline did? 
 Was that sudden flash of consciousness 
 which reveals the secret of a human heart, 
 only something which ' happens every day, 
 and the world goes on as usual ?' I felt 
 as if life were sinking for me to a lower 
 moral level. I had had little opportunity 
 of seeing people as they were. I knew 
 nothing but of truthful living, and simple 
 thinking. I took for granted that the 
 great world was like my little world, that 
 what was real to me was real to everyone. 
 Xow I was learning that Seline, a kind- 
 hearted, well-bred, expensively educated 
 girl, the daughter of my father's dearest 
 friend, took an entirely different view of 
 things. 
 
 Other people — Mr. Forrester, for instance 
 — mio^ht do the same. The touch of a
 
 264 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 child's finger — a little thoughtless child — 
 upon an electric spring may launch a great 
 vessel out into the ocean. Might that be 
 true of the vessel of a haman love, sent 
 out and endued into its native element 
 by a touch as careless, as unthinking ? 
 yet, once sent forth, no return for it pos- 
 sible. Was Seline to teach me that I 
 must not judge other people by myself, 
 nor myself by other people ; that I must 
 not expect the light of my little farthing 
 candle to direct the movements of the 
 great world outside, or even to guide my 
 own footsteps with any sort of security 
 when the way began to strike out of the 
 plain, beaten high-road ?' 
 
 It was a puzzle, all a puzzle. But just 
 then our housemaid came in to say that 
 father wanted to see Seline again in the 
 study. 
 
 ' I was afraid I had not come to the end
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 265 
 
 of it,' she said, clasping her hands with a 
 pretty air of deprecation, as she got up and 
 looked at herself in the glass before obey- 
 ing the summons. ' I expect Mr. Barring- 
 ton insists upon seeing me. I declare I 
 never will bring myself into a difficulty of 
 this kind again — no, not for fifty pounds' 
 worth of the most beautiful orchids in 
 Co vent Garden. Anne and Marjorie, take 
 warning by my example. Now I am 
 c^oino;.' 
 
 'Thank you,' said Anne. 'But I would 
 advise you to put another flower in your 
 dress. It is scarcely kind to Mr. Barring- 
 ton to wear his own colours if you are 
 going to be a traitor to him.' 
 
 ' Dear me ! I quite forgot. What a very 
 good thing that you reminded me. I 
 should have felt so awkward if I had sud- 
 denly remembered it. Of course the poor 
 man would take it as a token of encour-
 
 26Q A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 agement. All tlie same, I must have 
 something.' 
 
 And, flinging the lovely brown and gold 
 orchid away, Seline began to poke about 
 amongst the daffodils which I had that 
 morning arranged in the bowl in the 
 window. 
 
 ' Mr. Storridge said he should as soon 
 expect to see a macaw without its crest 
 as myself without a touch of yellow some- 
 where, and he took care that I had plenty 
 whilst we were those two days in London. 
 Will that do ?' 
 
 And, giving the flowers a pat and a 
 touch, they fell into position under her 
 pretty cheek just as if they had grown 
 there. 
 
 ' Now, good-bye, girls. And wish me 
 well' 
 
 Not many minutes afterwards, a gentle- 
 man whom we supposed to be this same
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 267 
 
 Mr. Barrington Avent slowly, with bent 
 head, clown the garden-path. Then we 
 heard the crunching of a horse's hoofs on 
 the road, and by-and-bywe saw him again, 
 canterino; alonp; towards Burstborouoii. I 
 
 Co a 
 
 hope the bright sunshine and the beautiful 
 country toned down his disappointment. 
 I hope a loving wife waited somewhere 
 else for him. Anne and I felt very sorry. 
 He looked so discouraged and sad as he 
 went away. We could tell that well enough 
 though we never saw his face. But per- 
 haps some young men forget trouble as 
 lightly as some young maidens give it. 
 
 Seline did not come back for an hour or 
 more. Then she looked as if she had been 
 crying. She went straight to the oval 
 mirror in the corner. 
 
 ' It has made me feel perfectly miserable,' 
 she said, settling the curls over her fore- 
 head, 'and my eyes look just like boiled
 
 "268 A DOUBLE WEDr>ING. 
 
 gooseberries. Anne, your father lias been 
 giving me such a scolding. He told me I 
 had no business to encourage people when 
 I did not mean anything, and then he ask- 
 ed me if this sort of thing was likely to 
 occur again in connection with any of the 
 passengers who came home in the TussoraW 
 
 ' You did tell us there was another one,' 
 said my sister Anne, pitilessly. 
 
 ' You mean Mr. Storridge. Yes, I am 
 sure I might just as well have expected 
 him to come down as Mr. Barrino'ton, onlv 
 he did not go to the length of sending 
 flowers. What can you do ?' 
 
 And Seline faced round upon us with an 
 apparently hopeless air of perplexity, as if 
 life and its problems were altogether too 
 much for her. 
 
 ' You can't behave yourself like a bear 
 when people pay attention to you. Can 
 you?'
 
 A DOUBLE AVEDDING. 269* 
 
 ' Yes, you can,' I answered, defiantly, 
 having poor Mr. Barrington's figure in my 
 thoughts, as he went slowly and sadly 
 down our garden-walk only an hour before. 
 ' You had very much better behave like a 
 bear and have done wdth it, than go draw- 
 ing people on to send you flowers, and 
 then tell them you did not mean anything.' 
 
 ' I daresay you could behave like a bear 
 without any difiiculty,' Seline replied, with 
 that charming frankness which never gave 
 any offence, and she crossed over and kiss- 
 ed me in the most affectionate manner. 
 ' I can fancy you keeping a whole shipload 
 of officers and civilians at a most respect- 
 ful distance, the dear little savage that you 
 are. No, you will somehow select the 
 right person — at least I hope you will, and 
 you will walk straight up to each other 
 and become engaged after a suitable inter- 
 val, and after another suitable interval you
 
 270 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 will be married, and live happily ever after- 
 wards. You need not turn so red, Mar- 
 jorie, I am a true prophet, and if I could 
 be as sensible myself it would save a 
 o^reat deal of trouble. When does the 
 Indian mail go out?' 
 
 'Monday,' I replied, promptly, being 
 very glad of a change in the subject; 'no, 
 I mean Friday, — at least, Thursday from 
 here.' 
 
 ' I don't believe you know loliat you 
 mean,' said Seline, with a quick glance 
 into my face. ' Well, I shall write to papa 
 anyway, and tell him that I am safely here, 
 and that you hava all begun to bully me. 
 There, then. Xow, don't contradict.' 
 
 And Seline went to the little writing- 
 table and began to pour out her feelings 
 upon a sheet of foreign letter-paper. 
 
 She was rather subdued for the rest of the 
 day. I fancy she must have had a second
 
 A DOUBLE ^YEDDIXG. 271 
 
 talking-to from my mother, for her eyes 
 bore traces of tears again when she ap- 
 peared for afternoon tea. I think my 
 father noticed this, and was sorry for 
 her. He was a very tender-hearted man. 
 To make things pleasant all round, he 
 proposed that we three girls should go 
 for a walk with him, as Seline had not yet 
 been properly introduced to the beau- 
 ties of AYilloughby. We were to go 
 through the church plantations and then 
 round bv the foot of the moor hills, where 
 the primroses and 'wdld anemones were 
 now in their full beauty. 
 
 Her tears were quickly dried. My 
 father had perhaps been more moved by 
 them than was necessary. We were not 
 a crying family. Something very sharp 
 was necessary to drive any of us to that 
 • extent of outward manifestation; and 
 doubtless, judging Seline by ourselves, he
 
 272 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 feared his rebuffs miglit have produced too 
 deep a mental disturbance. 
 
 But I wonder if any girl ever took to 
 heart, with anything like painful peni- 
 tence, a reproach for flirting. I believe 
 the nature that could indulge in the flirt- 
 ing could not feel the pain. And, beneath 
 any possible sorrow which such reproach 
 might cause to the girl who merits it, 
 there would be a certain little feeling of 
 triumph in the consciousness of her power 
 over others ; and this triumph would be 
 sweet enough to compensate effectually 
 for the mortification of the scolding. At 
 any rate, Seline soon recovered her spirits, 
 and chatted away with my father as gaily 
 as though nothing of importance had oc- 
 curred during the afternoon.
 
 273 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Ox our way home, we encountered Lady 
 Matilda. My sister Anne duly introduced 
 our fascinating little visitor. 
 
 Lady Matilda shook off her eyeglasses 
 with that odd grimace which was now so 
 familiar to us, and offered a rather shab- 
 bily-gloved hand to Seline's, which was per- 
 fect in the most daintily-fitting French 
 kid. Seline's hands and feet were always 
 irreproachable, and I do not wonder, for 
 the shape of them was so lovely that it 
 would have been a sin not to have set 
 them off to the best advantage. But the 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 gloves she got through ! for she never 
 mended one. 
 
 'Ah ! yes, Mrs. Haseltine told me yoa 
 were expecting a young friend from India. 
 So sorry for you. Miss Consett ; you must 
 be in such a dreadful state of anxiety. 
 You see, the war news gets worse and 
 worse. I think I understood that Major 
 Consett had gone with his regiment to 
 the front?' 
 
 Anne and I would have felt very un- 
 comfortable, if other people had been as 
 sensitive as ourselves ; but we had learned 
 by this time that there was no need for 
 reticence with regard to the Afghan cam- 
 paign, so we let her ladyship talk on. 
 
 ' Everyone says that it will be more 
 serious than was at first expected. I have 
 several cousins and nephews out there, but 
 they don't happen to have been sent up ; 
 and very thankful I am. You would see
 
 A DOUBLE AVEDDING. 27 
 
 
 
 1)V the teleo-rams this mornino; that there 
 has been some fehtino^.' 
 
 'Yes, a little skirmish,' said Seline, cool- 
 ly, ' and one or two of our soldiers killed. 
 But they were only privates, you know.' 
 
 ' My dear Miss Consett,' and Lady Ma- 
 tilda put on her eyeo^lasses, and proceeded 
 to criticise our guest with a severity which 
 might have appalled her, had she been 
 susceptible of fear. ' I hope you remem- 
 ber that, though they are only privates, 
 they have souls to be saved, and also 
 wives and mothers, and perhaps children, 
 to whom their loss would be a serious 
 calamity. We are too apt to be careless 
 in estimating any trial which does not fall 
 upon ourselves.' 
 
 ' Oh ! yes, of course,' replied Seline, ac- 
 cepting Lady Matilda's amendment as 
 generally admissible, but not at all pain- 
 fully applicable in the present instance. 
 
 t2
 
 276 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 ' I suppose the garrison chaplains do what 
 is necessary about their souls and that 
 sort of thing. You know each regiment 
 takes a chaplain, and there are scripture- 
 readers as well. And as for the wives, 
 they don't make a very serious trouble of 
 anything that may happen. A soldier's 
 widow usually marries again very soon. 
 The loss of a private is quite a temporary 
 affliction, I mean to his widow.' 
 
 Seline said this with perfect coolness 
 and self-possession, though it seemed to 
 me that the mistress of Willoughby Hall 
 was looking down upon her from a con- 
 stantly increasing height of astonished 
 dignity and reproach. It was curious 
 how her ladyship seemed always to ex- 
 pand, both perpendicularly and laterall}', 
 when she assumed her natural function as 
 judge over the conduct of other people. 
 J felt a pigmy when she was criticising
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 277 
 
 me. As for Seline, who was shorter even 
 than myself, she ought in her own estima- 
 tion to have dwindled down to a microbe ; 
 but she did nothing of the sort, she toyed 
 with the daffodil in her collar, and looked 
 as comfortable as possible. 
 
 Lady Matilda put on an expression 
 which convinced me that our audacious 
 little visitor, in common with the rest of 
 the parish, would soon have to be re- 
 organised ; and then she turned to my 
 father, and with a sudden abandonment of 
 the subject in hand which would have 
 crushed an ordinary girl to the dust, she 
 said, 
 
 ' Do you think you could go into the 
 church with me for a few minutes ? Only 
 a few minutes. I will not detain you very 
 long. I want to show you how shamefully 
 Dumble is neglecting those window-ledges, 
 I have felt convinced for a long time that
 
 278 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 he does not do his duty to them, though 
 both he and Mrs. Dumble say that they 
 dust the whole of the edifice thoroughly 
 once a week.' 
 
 My father sighed, but said nothing. It 
 was always best, in the long run, to let 
 Lady Matilda go on. 
 
 'Now, I should say,' she continued. 
 ' that twice a week was the very least that 
 could keep the place in at all a proper 
 condition for worship ; but to accept his 
 own conclusions, and to test the matter 
 satisfactorily, I put a small leaf wpon one 
 of the window-ledges, and there it has re- 
 mained for a fortnight. Of course Dum- 
 ble 7nai/ remove it and put it carefully 
 back again when he has dusted underneath 
 it, but I take leave to doubt that.' 
 
 ' You wouldn't doubt it if Dumble was 
 a native,' said Seline, heroically undisturb- 
 ed by the manner in which Lady Matilda
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 279 
 
 had just now set her down. 'Our bearer 
 would take any little bit of rubbish care- 
 fully up and dust under it and then put it 
 back again. I daresay he thought you 
 had laid it there to be taken care of.' 
 
 Lady Matilda slowly put up her eye- 
 glass and looked, no more than that, at 
 Seline ; then went on : 
 
 'Now, if you would just come in and 
 judge for yourself, you could speak to him 
 accordingly. I got the keys of the church 
 from him on purpose as I came along, as I 
 intended to satisfy myself once more as to 
 the dust on the ledges before I spoke to 
 you about it. I never like to find fault 
 without a sufficient foundation. And we 
 are so near now that it would scarcely take 
 you out of your way at all.* 
 
 ' Oh ! do go in. Uncle Davie,' said Seline, 
 not in the least embarrassed by the snubs 
 which Lady Matilda kept giving her. In-
 
 280 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 deed, I do believe she was ' cheeking ' the 
 mistress of AVilloughby Hall. ' I should 
 so like to see a real old English church. 
 You know in India they are not at all 
 pretty, and then they are so spoiled by the 
 punkahs and thermantidotes and things, 
 and the bearers sweep them so carefully 
 that you can never see a spot of dust any- 
 where. Now I do like to see a church 
 properly dusty. It gives such a comfort- 
 able tone to the colouring.' 
 
 Seline looked straight at Lady Matilda 
 as she said this. I am sure she meant to 
 be saucy, yet she did it with such a 
 pretty air of innocence and unworldliness. 
 
 ' Seline,' I whispered, as Lady Matilda, 
 with Rhadamanthine severity continually 
 accumulating behind her eye-glass, turned 
 away and marched on in advance mth my 
 father, brandishing the keys as she kept 
 laying down the law in that irritating
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 281 
 
 liigh-pitcliecl voice of hers, ' Seline, do take 
 care. 
 
 'Take care what about?' she replied, 
 stooping down a little to adjust the folds 
 of her dress. 'Have I torn anything? 
 This melida does catch so, if there are nails 
 anywhere.' 
 
 ' It isn't nails,' I said, still in a whisper. 
 ^ It is Lady Matilda that is so easily 
 vexed.' 
 
 ' Oh ! then,' and Seline shook her dress 
 out, ' I won't take care a bit. A nasty, 
 mean old thing, to be putting her bits of 
 rubbishy paper to trip people up. I won- 
 der how you can endure her. I mean to 
 have a good stand-up fight with her, if 
 she goes on at me any more.' 
 
 ' I think you had better let it alone,' I 
 said. ' Power is on the side of the gods.' 
 
 ' Oh ! no, it isn't. At any rate not when 
 the gods are so ugly as that. Would I
 
 282 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 not like to make the voyage home from 
 India with half-a-dozen Lady Matildas. 
 They would soon find power wasn't on 
 tlieir side, at all. But still I won't say any- 
 thing, if it would make things uncomfort- 
 able for you. I shouldn't like spectacle 
 Matty to visit her spite upon my dear good 
 little bear of a Marjorie.' 
 
 And Seline took hold of my hand and 
 gently smoothed it up and down, as if it 
 had been a nice woolly paw. I could not 
 but laugh, though I knew that such a 
 state of things as this would soon produce 
 a revolution. Seline was too clever. She 
 could pretend to be so guileless, and yet all 
 the time give such malicious little thrusts. 
 
 We were now in the porch of what Lady 
 Matilda called the sacred edifice. She 
 turned the key in the lock herself, flung 
 open the door, and marching in went 
 straight up to the window where the bit of
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING- 283^ 
 
 leaf ought to have been. It was not there. 
 Then she drew her finger carefully along 
 the ledge, and examined the tips of her 
 gloves. They were quite clean. At least 
 as clean as before the operation, which 
 M^as not saying too much for them. 
 
 ' That is vet'y satisfactory,' she said, in 
 a tone of disappointment. ' I am glad 
 Dumble has begun to awaken to a sense of 
 his duties. And now, dear Mr Haseltine, 
 as we are here together might I take the 
 opportunity of speaking a word to you 
 about that strip of matting which leads up 
 to the Hall pew ? You know how much I 
 dislike fault-finding. I am sure you know 
 how much I dislike that^ Mr. Haseltine.' 
 
 M3- father bowed his head just enough, 
 I think, to hide a little twinkle of humour 
 which must have broken out into a smile 
 if he had goue on looking at Lady 
 3Iatilda.
 
 284 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 ^ I really would not mention it at all, 
 only I know that gentlemen overlook such 
 little matters, that is, at least, if you can 
 call anything little which appertains to a 
 church, and which aifects the comfort of 
 the worshippers. But I am afraid, posi- 
 tively afraid, to let down the train of my 
 dress as I walk over that matting. I am 
 perfectly certain that I have seen a flea in 
 it — a Jiea^ Mr. Haselline.' 
 
 It was my turn to be uneasy now. We 
 were nearing the subject of Mrs. Dumble 
 and the poultry, and I was not going to 
 give in about having anyone else to 
 take care of them. Yet I felt that if 
 her ladyship turned those terrible eye- 
 glasses upon me, I could no more show 
 fight than a chick newly out of the shell. 
 I was just considering how I could put in 
 a word for my cochin-chinas and speckled 
 Dorkings, if it did get so far as a downright
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 285 
 
 attack upon Mrs. Dumble, when Seline 
 said, with the most charming air of ease 
 and unconcern, 
 
 ' One flea. Oh ! how thankful we 
 should feel, out in India, if it was only one 
 of them. I think, Lady Matilda, it would 
 do vou a 2;reat deal of g:ood to d^o to India. 
 AVhy, up at Ranikhet when papa was there 
 with his regiment, and I stayed the hot 
 weather with him, there used to be 
 hundreds and thousands of them, and no- 
 body thought of making any complaint 
 about it.' 
 
 Lady Matilda turned and looked curious- 
 ly at Seline, not so much in astonishment 
 at the discreditable state of things at 
 Ranikhet, as at the effrontery with which 
 a young girl could state her own views 
 and opinions respecting it. Seline return- 
 ed the look with undiminished self-posses- 
 sion, and calmly continued :
 
 286 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 ' Do you know? when tlie men stood up 
 at the parade service on Sunday mornings, 
 you could see the little black specks, hop- 
 ping all over their scarlet coats ; and the 
 arch-deacon, when he came round on 
 visitation, never so much as made a note 
 of it in the church book, much less said 
 anything to the chaplain on the subject. 
 And the Commander-in-Chief let it alone, 
 too. In fact, everybody let it alone. Was 
 it not dreadful?' 
 
 I slipped away to the west door, for 
 vSeline's audacity and Lady Matilda's aston- 
 ishment were becomino; too much for mv 
 gravity. And still the girl went prattling 
 on, though she knew, as well as any of us, 
 what a tumult of wrath she was stirring 
 up in the breast of our worthy feminine 
 pope. 
 
 ' No one would ever find fault with you, 
 Uncle Davie, about fleas, if you were a
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 287 
 
 garrison cliaplain in India. I think they 
 would more likely find fault with you if 
 3^ou didn't have any. One takes them for 
 granted, you know, just as one takes 
 worries and stupidities here, as part of the 
 Establishment. Our old colonel used to 
 say they were very useful in keeping the 
 people awake.' 
 
 ' The worries you mean, and the stupidi- 
 ties,' said my father. 
 
 ' No, the little acrobats. I don't think a 
 clergyman has so many of the worries and 
 other things in India, as he seems to have 
 here. And he never gets troubled about 
 dust. This church would be considered a 
 model of neatness. If I were you, I would 
 keep a little more dust about, it improves 
 the colouring. Don't you think a certain 
 amount of dust does give a delightful tone 
 and shadow to the stone-work ?' 
 
 Seline turned to Lady Matilda, as if that
 
 288 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 estimable person's opinion upon the sub- 
 ject would be really valuable. 
 
 Lady Matilda took no notice this time. 
 She had turned away in a very marked 
 manner, Avhen Seline put in her word about 
 the fleas, and she was now talking with 
 my sister Anne about something connected 
 with Sunday schools. She would not so 
 much as level her eye-glass at our offend- 
 ing guest. But the guest was not going 
 to be ignored in that way. 
 
 ' Don't you really think, Lady Matilda, 
 that a certain amount of dust increases the 
 human interest of a parish church?' 
 
 Seline looked so anxious for informa- 
 tion as she said this, that Lady Matilda 
 was obliged to face about again. Very 
 deliberately and with an air of great 
 dignity she turned, and, after regarding 
 the girl severely for a few seconds, she 
 replied,
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 289 
 
 *Xo, Miss Consett, I do not. If 3^011 
 Avish for my opinion, I must say tliat I 
 have always considered our sacred edifices 
 as worthy of the utmost attention that can 
 be bestowed upon them. And I am ex- 
 ceedingly sorry to find that those who have 
 the direction of ecclesiastical matters in 
 India, do not appear to be more awake to 
 the claims of duty in this respect. You 
 Adll, I hope, discover before long that 
 public opinion in this country is decidedly 
 more enlightened.' 
 
 ' Oh ! yes, I am discovering it very nicely 
 now, thank you. I don't think we are at 
 all enlightened in India. We let things 
 go and we don't worry at all. I mean, we 
 don't worry other people who are doing 
 their best. I think it is a great deal more 
 comfortable not to be enlightened, if it 
 only makes you look upon the dark side of 
 things. But I am so sorry to have dis- 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 290 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 turbed you as you were talking about the 
 Sunday schools. I won't interrupt you 
 any more.' 
 
 And with the very prettiest smile, and 
 an inclination of her curly head which con- 
 veyed an irresistible impression of mingled 
 courtesy and ' cheekiness,' Seline turned 
 to my father. 
 
 ' Uncle Davie, papa told me once that 
 you had some very fine stained glass 
 windows in your church. He remembered 
 one particularly about St. Christopher. I 
 don't know who St. Christopher was, but 
 I should like to see it, for a stained glass 
 window always makes one feel cheerful, 
 and I do feel as if I wanted something to 
 make me cheerful now. I am sure Lady 
 Matilda will not mind telling you the rest 
 about Mrs. Dumble and the matting, after- 
 wards.'
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 291 
 
 As she said this the audacious little 
 chit slipped her hand confidentially under 
 my father's arm, and without any further 
 apology to Lady Matilda, who was grasp- 
 ing a pew door in mute astonishment, led 
 him away towards the west end, where the 
 sunlight was glowing in a splendour of 
 purple and red through the window over 
 the old font. 
 
 My father made no resistance. I do not 
 think he shared in my sister Anne's horror 
 at Seline's effrontery. Indeed, he rather 
 seemed to be enjoying the whole thing, 
 seeing more the present fun of it than 
 the results which it might produce upon 
 Lady Matilda's conduct. And then any 
 door of relief from the vexed question of 
 Mrs. Dumble and the matting was too 
 tempting. 
 
 I heard her ladyship say, in not a very 
 
 u2
 
 292 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 subdued whisper, before she returned to 
 the subject of Sunday-school management 
 which Seline had interrupted, 
 
 ' A rather frivolous young person, I 
 should imagine. But I am not in the 
 least offended, dear Miss Haseltine. Do 
 not distress yourself Of course she will 
 apologise when it is represented to her 
 that that is not the way we do things in 
 this country. I daresay I shall have the 
 opportunity of a quiet little talk with 
 her before long. It is such a pit}^ when 
 young people err through ignorance. And 
 now about the attention which I wish pay- 
 ing to that Sunday-school bell.' 
 
 Here I stepped out into the sunshine, 
 and lost the rest. How pleasant to look 
 away past the churchyard yew-trees to the 
 rest and peace and stillness of our garden, 
 where the early blossoms were just begin- 
 ning to show creamy white against the
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 293 
 
 clear blue of the sky. Quiet there as 
 yet, and room to think our own thoughts, 
 and a place to shelter from the strife of 
 tongues. 
 
 My father used to say sometimes that 
 since Lady Matilda's residence in Wil- 
 loughby he had been much drawn to the 
 doctrines of Buddhism. If one could have 
 accepted that form of religious belief, there 
 would have been such a satisfaction in the 
 thought that in some future state her 
 ladyship would be born again as a clergy- 
 man in a remote country parish, and then 
 she would know what it was to be ever- 
 lastingly worried and nagged at by some- 
 body who should be to her what she was 
 now, probably with the best intentions, to 
 ourselves. The Burmese little girls are 
 encouraged to industry and good behaviour 
 by the prospect of being born again as 
 little boys. On the same principle might
 
 294 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 not Lady Matilda be rewarded for her 
 kindness in teaching us our duty, by 
 being allowed, in one of her transmigra- 
 tions, to practise in a passive form the 
 virtues she now so diligently inculcated 
 upon us ? There are things more un- 
 likelv.
 
 295 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Lady Matilda was still holding forth to 
 iny sister Anne about Sunday-school man- 
 agement. My father had finished explain- 
 ing to Seline the beauties of the St. Chris- 
 topher window. I was lingering about, 
 waitino; for us to o^et back to the rectory. 
 Somehow we all managed to drift together 
 in the aisle by the pulpit, close to which 
 was our own pew, and over it, upon the 
 wall, a handsome marble tablet, erected 
 by the parishioners to the memory of their 
 former rector, dear old Mr. Sandilands, as 
 Aunt Sunshine, who remembered the par-
 
 296 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 ish under his management, always called 
 him. 
 
 Not that this was any sort of reflection 
 on my father, quite the contrary, because 
 no one recognised more than Aunt Sun- 
 shine did, the great improvements which 
 had taken place of late years. But Mr. 
 Sandilands was one of those kindly, genial 
 ecclesiastics, with a smile for everyone, 
 good and evil alike, and a fine tolerance 
 for public-houses, and a lurking fondness 
 for fox-hunting, and a comfortable income 
 which he expended liberally at Christmas 
 time in coals and beef As for penny 
 banks, temperance societies, week-evening 
 services, daily prayers, and the like, he 
 never took them into his consideration. 
 And, as the brick-fields were not estab- 
 lished in his time, there was no need of a 
 curate to suggest any modern reforms. 
 
 Everyone missed his genial, rosy old
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 297 
 
 face Avlien he was gone, and the people 
 put up this tablet to him. The inscrip- 
 tion was decided upon, Aunt Sunshine 
 said, at a general meeting of the parish- 
 ioners. After setting forth at some length 
 Mr. Sandilands' good qualities, and the 
 ancient and honourable family from which 
 he was descended, the marble testified as 
 follows : 
 
 He departed this life :\ray 20, 18—, 
 
 Aged 79, 
 
 Having been Rector of this place forty-seven years. 
 
 ' There the ■v^•icked cease from troubling, 
 And there the weary be at rest' 
 
 Xow it always did seem to me that this 
 last quotation was a poor compliment to 
 the parishioners, though they chose it 
 amongst themselves. I think that after 
 having spent nearly fifty quiet, peaceable 
 years in such a pretty village as ^11- 
 loughby, with an ample private income, a
 
 298 A DOUBLE WEDDIXG. 
 
 good wife, a handsome family, and no 
 Lady Matilda in those days to re-organise 
 either himself or the parish, something 
 more suitable might have been inscribed 
 upon his monument than the implied state- 
 ment that he was weary, and the people 
 were wicked. However, there the words 
 were, and no one, so far as we knew, had 
 ever found fault with them, or questioned 
 their appropriateness. 
 
 Involuntarily my father paused as we 
 passed this tablet, and leaning his arms 
 upon the pew-doors, for there were the 
 old-fashioned high pews in Willoughby 
 church in those days, murmured, as if to 
 himself, the words inscribed upon it : 
 
 ' There the wicked cease from troubling, 
 and there the weary be at rest.' 
 
 ' Oh ! Uncle Davie, dear,' said Seline, 
 tripping lightly up and putting her cheek 
 almost close to his, ' that is pretty. I
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 299 
 
 don't think I ever heard it before. Is it 
 from Walter Scott or Shakespeare ?' 
 
 Well, Ave ivere unfortunate this after- 
 noon. And Lady Matilda, large as life, 
 standino; in the verv midst of us. Seline 
 had said many unwise things, but this 
 excelled them all. 
 
 My father did not change countenance, 
 did not even move. He just stood there^ 
 with arms leaned on the oak j^anelling, 
 and head a little bent as he replied, 
 
 '• Xo, Seline. Those words were not 
 written by either Walter Scott or Shake- 
 speare. They have come down to us from 
 a far older poet, a patriarch who dwelt in 
 the land of Uz.' 
 
 ' A icliat^ who dwelt in the land of ivliereT 
 asked Seline, with the quaintest possible 
 expression of bewilderment upon her face. 
 ' I never heard of the place. Do tell me.' 
 
 And this was the young person whom
 
 300 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 my sister Anne had fondly hoped might 
 undertake the religious knowledge depart- 
 ment in the day-schools. But I think 
 Anne had let that hope pass from the very 
 first. 
 
 I pulled at Seline's sleeve by way of 
 trying to make her be quiet. 
 
 ' It was Job,' I said, in a whisper, draw- 
 ing her a little on one side, for I felt we 
 were all being compromised by her ignor- 
 ance. ' Don't you know that book in the 
 Bible ? You must have heard it read out 
 in church often enough. It comes regu- 
 larly in the lessons.' 
 
 ' No, I'm sure I never heard of it,' 
 replied Seline, by no means in a whisper. 
 ' I only used to go to church once a month 
 or so, at Lahore, and never at all in the 
 hot weather. Very few people ever thought 
 of going in the hot weather. You have no 
 idea how uncomfortable it was.'
 
 A DOUBLE AYEDDIXG. 301 
 
 ' I am sure it must have been,' said my 
 sister Anne, in a sympathetic manner. ' I 
 should feel quite lost myself, if I did 
 not get to church twice on a Sunday. I 
 should not like to live in a place like 
 that; 
 
 Seline shru2:2:ed her shoulders. 
 
 ' Oh, I didn't mean that it was uncom- 
 fortable not a'oin2: to church. I meant 
 that the heat was such a terrible nuisance, 
 and the prayers always seemed so long. 
 How the garrison chaplain managed to get 
 through them at all, I can't understand. I 
 know he used to cut out as much as he 
 could, and so perhaps that part about the 
 land of somewhere went too. The heat 
 was really too dreadful.' 
 
 Lady Matilda put up her eyeglass and 
 scanned us, one and alh Beneath the 
 severity of her gaze I felt that we were as 
 much in fault to have a young persoa
 
 302 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 
 
 sta}dng with us who only went to church 
 once a month, and in the hot weather not 
 at all, as the young person herself was to 
 live in such heathenish darkness. And 
 then for Seline to look so comfortable and 
 complacent about it. Something in Lady 
 Matilda's face convinced me, though for 
 the present she said nothing, that the very 
 next morning she would drive down and 
 have a long interview with my father upon 
 the subject. 
 
 ' I think it is time for us to be going,' 
 said Anne, meekly. ' We told mother we 
 should not be away very long. Shall I 
 take back the keys for you to Jonathan 
 Dumble?' 
 
 ' No, thank you ;' and Lady Matilda 
 clenched them vigorously. ' 1 shall like to 
 ^ee Dumble myself, and have a word with 
 him about the mattimr. You will add
 
 A DOUBLE WEDDING. 303 
 
 your instructions, will you not, Mr. Hasel- 
 tine ? I always think anything of that 
 kind comes so very much better from 
 the rector. And I should be so much 
 obliged if you would urge Mrs. Dumble to 
 be careful about the poultry. I feel cer- 
 tain that, being brought into such close 
 contact with them as she is, produces 
 great inconvenience. In fact, I should 
 strongly advise ' 
 
 But here we had reached the vestry, 
 from which there was a door of escape 
 into the rectory garden. And, as another 
 little path close to it led into the church 
 plantations, the most direct road to the 
 Hall, there was no rudeness in parting 
 company with her ladyship, especially as 
 we were expected home in good time. 
 
 So we excused ourselves, bowed, shook 
 hands, and parted. And Seline, instead
 
 304 A 110UBLE WEDDING. 
 
 of being in the faintest degree confounded 
 by what had taken place, actually laughed 
 and joked up to the very door of the 
 house. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON : PKINTED BY DUNCAN MACDONALD, BLENHEIM HOUSE. 
 
 //^
 
 
 m