will you, just this once? Sir Walter does | am enjoying it! That new kind of woollike to be old-fashioned, you know, and a work! Why, every creature does it, and bride out of white satin Miss de Bury worked some a year and a half ago." "What is it?" "Would be a queen without a crown? Very well, Aunt Adelaide, white satin it shall be; wreath and veil too, I suppose?" "My dear! But you are only in jest. Orange-blossom, you know, is quite inadmissible except upon the day-quite. Your maid must take it off the dress even. You know that-yes? And, my love, your music; you will bring your music and your drawings- some of those foreign sketches you took last autumn, so bright and pretty; and and "Pray, nothing more this time. My music I will bring, but the sketches are on such a very small scale, surely there will be some one among the guests more fitted to exhibit than I?" My dear, how can you say so! Every one admires them exceedingly-so spirited, so clever!" Elizabeth started, the obnoxious epithet settled the question; nothing should induce her to be shown off to her aunt's guests. But, when the time came, Lady Adelaide was not to be foiled. The portfolio, to be sure, was not at hand, but it existed; and she could still whisper in audible asides, "Sketches, too, charminglycharmingly. Hall absolutely amazed. Lord Guelder, quite the best amateur last season, came on purpose to see them. I assure you he did. Came all the way to Kensington. So accomplished! So clever!" Or her niece could catch, "A sweet place the Cottage, is it not? And she has made it so pretty, so fresh and bright. Nice new furniture, birds, flowers, — quite a genius for arranging flowers, and all the little elegant knickknacks put about. Shows such taste in everything.' Or," Are you a worker, my dear? You must get my niece to show you her embroidery-that new kind of work, you know, in wools. All done from nature, I assure you, every stitch in it. What can the name be? Elizabeth, my love, what is the name of that beautiful wool-work you do, all from nature? Miss de Bury is longing to see it." Elizabeth could not forgive her. "I am helpless whatever she chooses to say, John. I cannot contradict, because it is bad manners. I cannot help hearing; and if I attempt to turn it aside, Lady Adelaide is sure to make herself only the more ridiculous; and me too, that is the worst of it. People will suppose that I "Oh, crewels. You know the thing, though you don't know the name. That honeysuckle I did for the little black chair, that was it. And then about our flowers, she is really very kind, you know, in bringing them, and then she is quite amazed because I put them into water. How people will laugh at us ! " 66 No, they won't. They know her too well." "Why does she fix upon me? You are her relation, yet she never annoys you in the same way." "You are mistaken. I heard her exalting my knowledge of horses to Mr. Foster, at the other end of the dinner-table." "Your knowledge of horses!" "And advising him to apply to me for the next hunters he wanted." "To Mr. Foster! The master of foxhounds!" "Even so." "John! Poor John!" Ay, poor John! I don't think any of your experiences will beat that, my little Elizabeth." "No, indeed. But how did you bear it? Did you not suffocate?" "Oh dear, no! I took a mouthful of sherry, and bore up very well." "But is it not dreadful?" John shrugged his shoulders. "It is her way, Lizzie; everybody has some peculiarity." "A peculiarity need not be offensive." "Very true. Do not be offended by it." "John, I shall take a lesson from you. You are the best John, the most patient John, the most wonderful John that ever was made. If I had heard that said to Mr. Foster, I should have jumped up, and screamed. Oh! you know what I mean. Of course you never set up for being a judge, and to a man who does! What do you suppose he thought?" Elizabeth was so taken up with her husband's wrongs that she almost forgot her own. So matters went on. Lady Adelaide, having no children of her own, took a maternal interest in her nephew and all who belonged to him. At least four days in the week the bay horses trotted through the Cottage gate, and the kind soul, full of smiles and presents, sailed into the drawing-room. The excitement did her all the good in the world; but, unfortunately, as it raised her | have loins of mutton, my dear, the most spirits, and stirred up her gentle, sluggish wasteful dish there is. And as for ribs of nature, it served also more prominently to beef, my housekeeper tells me that there display its defects. is no under-cut in them. Positively no 66 My dear, do tell me about your ser-under-cut. Little hints of that kind are vants. Are they comforts to you? I don't invaluable to receive. I never order ribs mean in the way of understanding their of beef now." duties, and keeping things properly, that, we can all see, is satisfactory; but are they comforts? So much depends upon that in a household; indeed it does. So I told John when we set about engaging them. We did our best, to be sure; but it is such a lottery. Óld, attached servants are the only ones of any value." Ι "Very true, Aunt Adelaide," gravely. "And you really are pretty well off? You will excuse my asking, I know, my dear; for it was such a responsibility. And so little experience as you have had, it would have been cruel to have inflicted bad servants upon you." "They promise very well, thank you. I know," continued Elizabeth, with a little twinge of conscience, "that you took a great deal of trouble.” the house. "No trouble in the world, my love. I would gladly be of any use. And as to a new house, you know, quite untested; no smoky chimneys? Bells ringing properly? That's well; Sir Walter and I were talking about the chimneys last night. I told him John would be sure to let him know; for of course it would be Sir Walter's place to put them in order. So mind you tell us; no reserves, my dear. "And then your calls ?" proceeded Lady Adelaide, starting afresh. "You keep a book? you are returning them all in order?" "Not a book. Indeed I can get without that." on "Ah, you are so thoughtful, so clever. But indeed a book is a great help, an absolute necessity. When I was a bride I could never have got on at all without my visiting-book." "You lived in London, Aunt Adelaide ?" "Yes, my dear, for many years. Sir Walter was in the Guards, you know. We had an immense circle of acquaintances." "And we," said Elizabeth, "have half a dozen." "Half a dozen! More than that, surely. Certainly, we manage to do without a book, somehow, at the Priory. I did not think of that. I only recollected my own experience when I was first married." By-and-by it was, "Your tradespeople are attentive? Send proper joints? Never This passed. Elizabeth, neither knowing nor caring anything about the merits of under-cuts, was still ruminating mischievously on the droll idea of establishing a visiting-book wherein to detail in order the names of the residents in a small and remarkably quiet neighborhood, when her monitress departed. "We are to keep a book, John, of all our engagements, and I am to enter in it my visitors as they call, in succession. First of all came Mr. and Mrs. Foster, then the rector and Mrs. Reeves, Lord Burchell, and Mrs. and Miss Page-Gore. I am afraid it will be Mr. and Mrs. Foster, Mr. and Mrs. Reeves, Lord Burchell, and Mrs. and Miss Page-Gore over and over again, unless I am to insert Lady Adelaide herself here and there, by way of variety. And, John, be sure you only engage old and valued servants, it is so important that they should be attached to you "Lizzie ! - the Elizabeth hung her head. The next day she had a cold. Down came Lady Adelaide kinder than ever. Black-currant tea, lozenges, best were the pâtés-de guimauves, quite invaluable, had cured Sir Walter repeatedly, and jelly, a little currant jelly, so soothing and refreshing,- were all by turns prescribed. The jelly should be sent down from the Priory at once, and the lozenges she would order on her way back through the village. Oh, it was a mere nothing, a mile or two round-the drive would do her good. Was Elizabeth's throat blistered? Had she a headache? Feverish? Yes, all three; and she would have given the world to be let alone besides. John came to the rescue. "She is not to talk, and this room is too warm for you, Aunt Adelaide; come and take a turn round the garden." "And is poor dear Elizabeth to be left by herself?" Even so. Hard-hearted John kept his visitor out of doors during the whole of her stay, and saw her safely off in the barouche ere he returned to his wife's room for the remainder of the day. "My lady's compliments, ma'am, to know how you is, this morning?" Before nine o'clock, Elizabeth's abigail | right somehow, Mrs. Tresham, and you brought this message, as she arranged her must have some sleep. It is too sore? mistress's tea-tray by the bedside. Ah yes, sore throats are very uncomfortElizabeth was no better. able things. There are a great many of I won't "My lady's compliments, ma'am, to them going about just now. know how you is, this afternoon? Worse. A groom rode over in the evening. His master and mistress were going to Brighton on the following day, but would put off their departure if Mrs. Tresham was no better. By no means. Mr. Tresham would not hear of such a thing. The doctor had just left, and there was nothing to be in the least alarmed about. Accordingly a dainty note was left at the Cottage on the following day, when the carriage returned from the station. "My dear, do take care of yourself. I feel quite cruel, quite wicked, running off in this way. But Sir Walter thinks we must; and dear John, too, so like himself, to insist upon it. A few lines, a postcard, sent to B- Square will let us know how you are. Pray, my dear Elizabeth, do not think of writing yourself. John or your maid will, I know, kindly take the trouble. In haste, your affectionate an "John, your aunt is perfect. She is unique. Where did you get such aunt? Pray, John, get me a porous plaster to put on my chest, because my throat is sore. And John, go at once to the post-office and get a post-card, or, better still, send a telegram. Oh dear! I am very naughty and very wretched. Even my ears seem to ache, and my head, eyes, everything. When will the doctor come? The doctor gave very little comfort when he did come. It was a sore throat, a very sore throat. It hurt her very much when she swallowed? Humph! Could she gargle? He prescribed a gargle and went away. But at night he came again. He happened to be passing, and thought perhaps they might like him to lookˇin. Could Mrs. Tresham let him have a peep? John held the candle, and there it was, the dreaded white bar all down one side of the throat. trouble you longer at present. Suppose I go down-stairs to write the prescription." Then he gave John a look, and they left the room together. "Why, this is brandy!" cried Elizabeth. "Ah! how it burns!" "Yes, dear, it is thought good for you." "John! what is the matter with me?" "The matter!" "Yes, you look so strange. I can't take any more, indeed I can't. Don't ask me. Only let me lie still. Oh, I don't want gruel; I hate gruel." The last sentences broken, and uttered with difficulty. "Don't go away, John." "Only for a few minutes, dear. I am going to sit up with you to-night." A slip of the tongue this, but it passed unheeded. "How long Dr. Birch has stayed!" said she, presently. He was silent. "Is he only gone now?" Now at that moment the good doctor was comfortably ensconced in John's own easy-chair by the fireside in the library, with a pair of John's own slippers on his feet. He had expected this in the morning, and made his arrangements accordingly. Mrs. Tresham was dangerously ill. The fever did not increase rapidly; it rather appeared to gain ground with insidious, unseen footsteps. She was not exactly worse, she was certainly not better. The white bar came a little further into the mouth. Dr. Birch breathed more freely. "If we can but keep it there," he said. "If we can prevent its going down the throat again, we shall do.' Alas! it crept round to the other side. "Poor dear John! poor dear fellow ! Dear! Dear! Dear! DEAR! Oh, how sad, how sad! I must, and will, go to him directly. Snowing? What if it is? I cannot get wet in a railway carriage; and what if I did, either? Dear me, if the line should be blocked! But it only came on an hour ago. Ring the bell, dear, please. Oh, Marshall, poor Mrs. Tresham is so much worse, so alarmingly worse! dreadful, quite dreadful! and I am going "That will do," said Dr. Birch, care-off to her at once." lessly. "We must get that throat put It is "What is the use of your going off at once? Indeed I can't see any good in your going at all. If you must go, wait till to-morrow," pronounced Sir Walter in his sleepy, selfish way, chipping off the shell of his egg as he spoke, and examining it with the eye of a connoisseur. "What good will your going do to anybody? And in such atrocious weather too!" "My dear! but you do not consider what you are saying. It is true I might be but of little use, but at least I could entertain the doctor, and "Nonsense! Who talks of dying? You have put yourself into an altogether unnecessary ferment, Adelaide. There is not a word of dying in the letter. Besides, if it were as bad as that, you would be most certainly de trop, and would wish yourself back here again." "I might be a little comfort to him. And John never makes me feel de trop. "Well, well, I daresay not. But don't let us have any more fuss. Drink your tea, my dear, and think it over; there is abundance of time." The tea was drunk, but scarcely was the last drop tasted, ere she broke forth again. "Such a perfect marriage! Everything so suitable ! A charming creature, so handsome, so lively, so clever! Poor John! poor dear John! Who could ever have foreseen an ending like this!" "Adelaide, do, for pity's sake, not set up that doleful cry again.' Sir Walter grew quite testy. "How can I enjoy my chop, or toast, or anything whilst you are making such a din? I like my breakfast to be a pleasant meal; it ought not to be disturbed by disagreeables.' "But, my love"- Lady Adelaide, a pattern wife, was perplexed how to express herself. The door was opened, and a hot dish was brought to Sir Walter's elbow. "Muffin? ah! nice and brown too. The sort of day to eat muffins on, as somebody says somewhere. Have some muffin, my dear, while it is hot, and let us hear no more of this, just now. There will be another letter to-morrow, and a better account, we will hope." "As if I could wait till to-morrow! It is diphtheria, my dear, diphtheria! The most shockingly fatal complaint. Ah ! how little we thought I "Well, this is most provoking! thought we had done with it at last, and now you begin all over again. How can you set yourself to be so unpleasant, Adelaide? One would really think you did it on purpose. Here is everything nice and comfortable, just as it ought to be, and I am not to be allowed to enjoy it. If I cannot have peace and quiet at my meals, I would rather go without food altogether." "I assure you I am really very sorry, my dear. Pray take another cup, such good tea, and the pot is quite full. And Marshall, be so good as look up Bradshaw at once, and let me know which is the very first train that I can catch to Stoke Ferrington." "You are really going?" Sir Walter raised his eyebrows. There was no doubt about her going. Bells rang, maids hurried hither and thither. Marshall received a summons every five minutes; and my lady, distracted betwixt her duty to her husband, her orders to her housekeeper, the claims of her engagements, the barking of her dogs, and the chattering of her parrot, grew every minute more and more bewildered and incoherent. Jeannette goes with me, of course. Did I not say so? And Marshall. No, Marshall must stay to attend on his master. Sir Walter must not be inconvenienced. I had better not take Thomas either, it would disturb Sir Walter to drive out without him. What did you say, good Jeannette? Oh, we shall get on very well, admirably. I am not at all afraid." "Miladi knows de stairshon?" suggested Jeannette, doubtfully. "Stoke Ferrington, my good girl. Stoke Ferrington is our own station, you know - our station at home. We have only to get there and the carriage will meet us." "The carriage, miladi!" "Oh, well, good Robinson will send us up in his comfortable fly. Or Mr. Tresham will drive down in the dogcart. Poor dear! of course he will be there to meet us- that is, if he knows we are coming." "Miladi has then sent the message?" "Have I sent it? Yes - no I really forget, and it does not signify. I daresay he would never get it if I did, or read it if 1 He should have been on the box-seat of the cab, of course, but my lady had actually driven off whilst he was filling for her the flask of her travelling-bag, which she had only produced at the last moment. He was at the station before her, flask in hand. My lady was quite touched; and it never occurred to her to wonder that Marshall should, on his feet, have preceded her indomitable driver with his cab. he got it. No, Marshall, no; thank you | poor, foolish, kind mistress from a hope- In vain Sir Walter murmured his disapproval-less urgently indeed now that his personal comfort was no longer interfered with, but still in uncompromising accents. The front door opened, and out she sallied, her long dress, although on one side held up high enough to do duty for both, trailing far behind her on the other, -her hands encumbered with muff, purse, and satchel. . "Now, my good man, I will give you double fare if you take us in time for the twelve-o'clock train. The twelve-o'clock train to Stoke Ferrington, mind—not the London twelve-o'clock express train." "All right, ma'am, I'll do it if it can be done," said the man, resolutely, casting about in his mind for some roundabout streets in which he could spin out the time. "Is it a block, Jeannette? Look out and see. What shall we do if it is a block?" The station, in spite of all strategy, was reached so soon, that Lady Adelaide, forgetting that Brighton is not London, could hardly be persuaded to believe otherwise than that a mass of vehicles obstructed her path. The cabman, however, got his double fare, and she had now the difficulties of the ticket-office to encounter. But these difficulties had loomed so gigantically before the eyes of the household in B- Square, that Marshall himself the magnificent Marshall had run round in the snow, and all to save his She was safely seen into a disengaged carriage, presented with her tickets, which Marshall kept his eye upon, until they were safely stowed away in the satchel; and then, he thought, with Jeannette by her side, she might be brought through; though it was not without a qualm that the worthy major-domo saw the train depart. Faster and faster fell the snow. Ridges formed upon the windows of the railway carriages; and between the flakes which settled on the panes, and slowly melting trickled down outside, and the steam arising from the warmer atmosphere within, the country through which the travellers passed was almost invisible to them. The hot-water pans rapidly cooled. Every time a door was opened, came in a blast of air so chill, so withering, that the passengers wrapped in their thickly-folded rugs shuddered from head to foot. Guards and porters, with snow-tipped hats and shoulders, blue faces, red noses, watery eyes and palsied hands, struggled with their duties. Travellers, either muffled to the ears in Ulster coats and comforters, or equally well shrouded in sealskin and Shetland veils, sought the shelter as a haven of refuge. How dismal, how cross they looked! There was the burly middle-aged man with snow on his whiskers, the soldier with ice on his moustache, the schoolgirl with thin kid gloves, the schoolboy with no gloves at all each one more wretched, more unaccommodating than the other. "Horrible!" escaped from Jeannette; but no syllable of complaint crossed the lips of her mistress. Strange to tell, yet true, Lady Adelaide and her waiting-woman reached Stoke Ferrington in safety, and the only mistake they made was in going a little beyond it. "Why, this is Becksley! Becksley is on the other side of Stoke Ferrington! Guard! guard! are we in the right train?" Depends on where you are going to, 66 ma'am." |