The Pillars of the House, V1 Read online

  Meanwhile, Geraldine sat under the silvery bole of her beech tree, looking up through its delicate light green leaves to the blue sky, not even wanting to speak, lest anything should break that perfection of enjoyment. Her father watched the little pale absorbed countenance, and as Mr. Audley came up, touched him to direct his attention to the child's expression; but the outcry of welcome with which the rest greeted the newcomer was too much for even Cherry's trance, and she was a merry child at once, hungry with unwonted appetite, and so relishing her share of the magnificent standing-pie, that Mrs. Underwood reproved herself for thinking what the poor child would be if she had such fare and such air daily, instead of ill- dressed mutton in the oppressive smoke-laden atmosphere.

  And meantime, Lance was crowing like a cock, and the other boys were laughing at Robina for her utter ignorance of the white-fleshed biped she was eating.

  'No, Clem, chickens have got feathers and wings, and their long necks hang down! This can't be one of them.'

  'Perhaps it is a robin-redbreast,' said Felix.

  'No, nobody kills robin-redbreasts, because they covered the poor little children with leaves.'

  'Will you cover me with leaves, if I am lost, Bobbie?' said Mr. Audley; but as soon as she found that his attention was gained, she returned to the charge.

  'Please, did it come from your own home? and what is it, really?'

  'Why, Bobbie, I am hardly prepared to say whether it is a Hamburg or a Houdan, or a more unambitious Dorking. Cannot you eat in comfort without being certified?'

  'The species will be enough for her without the varieties,' said her father. 'You have given us a new experience, you see, Audley, and we may make a curious study of contrasts-not of Audley and myself Mother dear, but of the two Underwoods who seem to be in this place together to-day.'

  'Who is it?' was of course the cry, and the inquiry was in Mrs. Underwood's eyes, though it did not pass her quiet lips. It was to her that he answered, 'Yes, my dear-Tom; I have little doubt that it is he. He was a very rich man when last I heard of him.'

  'Is that the man at Vale Leston?' whispered Alda to Felix.

  'Oh, I hope he is not coming here to insult us.'

  'Bosh!' said Felix; 'that man's name is Fulbert. Listen, if you want to hear.'

  'Twenty years ago,' continued Mr. Underwood, 'I thought myself a prodigiously fine fellow-with my arms full of prizes at Harrow, and my Trinity scholarship-and could just, in the plenitude of my presumption, extend a little conceited patronage to that unlucky dunce, Tom Underwood, the lag of every form, and thankful for a high stool at old Kedge's. And now my children view a cold fowl as an unprecedented monster, while his might, I imagine, revel in 'pates de foie gras.'

  'O Papa, but we like you so much better as you are!' cried Geraldine.

  'Eh, Cherry!' said Mr. Underwood, 'what say you? Shouldn't you like me better if I were buying that king beech tree, and all the rest of it?'

  Cherry edged nearer, mastered his hand, and looked up in his face with a whole soul of negation in her wistful eyes. 'No, no, no-just as you are,' she whispered.

  Some mood of curiosity had come over him, and he turned an interrogative look elsewhere.

  Alda spoke. 'Of course, it would be horrid not to be a clergyman; but it is a great shame.'

  'No,' said Wilmet, 'it can't be a shame for this cousin Tom to have earned a fortune fairly-if he has; but'-and she pressed her hands tightly together as she looked at the thin worn faces of her parents- -'one can't help wishing. Why do things always go hard and wrong?' and the tears dimmed her bright eyes.

  'Because-they don't,' said her father, with a half-serious quaintness that vexed her, and forced her to turn away to let the tear drop.

  Clement said, in his calm voice, 'How can you be all so repining and foolish!'

  And Mr. Underwood, almost in lazy mischief, pursued his experiment. 'Eh, Felix, you are the party most concerned-what say you?'

  'Most concerned?' Felix looked up surprised, then recollected himself. 'I don't care,' he said, with an appearance of gruff sullenness; but his father could not content himself without continuing in a semi-teazing tone, 'Don't care-eh? 'Why this Centry Underwood once belonged to our family-that's the reason Tom is after it. If I had not scouted old Kedge, you would be prancing about here, a Harrovian, counting the partridges.'

  'Don't!' broke in Felix, with a growl.

  'Never fear, Fee'' cried Edgar, with his hand on his brother's shoulder; if one man got on in life, another may. If one only was grown up and had the start--' and his blue eyes sparkled.

  'I did not know Care's clutch had been so tight,' sighed Mr. Underwood, half to himself, half to his wife. It is not safe, my gentle Enid, to try such experiments. Eh!' rousing himself, what's that? Have the mob there a right to any sentiments?'

  'Only,' cried Clement, shouting with laughter, Lance thought you were wanted to hold a high stool for Jack Ketch.'

  'For a green goose!' shouted Lance, indignantly.

  'Oh! cried Robina, in the tone of one who had made a scientific discovery, 'did the goose have a high stool to lay the golden eggs?'

  'A most pertinent question, Bobbie, and much more reasonable than mine,' said Mr Underwood; while his colleague gravely answered, 'Yes, Bobbie, golden eggs are almost always laid by geese on high stools.'

  'I've got a picture of one! It has got a long neck and long legs, quoth Bobbie.

  'It is only a flamingo, you little goose yourself,' cried Clement.

  'Here is the golden egg of the present,' said Mr. Underwood, replenishing the boy's plate with that delicious pie. 'What's that beverage, Wilmet? Any horrible brew of your own?'

  'No, it is out of Mr. Audley's hamper.'

  'The universal hamper. It is like the fairy gifts that produced unlimited eatables. I dreaded cowslip wine or periwinkle broth.'

  'No, no, Papa,' sighed Alda, 'we only once made cowslip tea at Vale Leston.'

  'Vale Leston is prohibited for the day.-Master Felix Chester Underwood, your good health; and the same to the new Underwood of Centry Underwood.'

  'Shall we see him, Papa?' asked Alda.

  'If either party desires the gratification, no doubt it will come about.'

  'Shall not you call on him, Papa?'

  'Certainly not before he comes. Mother, some of the wonderful bottle--ay, you covetous miser of a woman, or I'll make a libation of it all. Audley, it must have wrung your father's butler's heart to have thrown away this port on a picnic. What did you tell him to delude him?'

  'Only what was true-that I was to meet a gentleman who was a judge of the article.'

  'For shame!' he answered, laughing. 'What right had you to know that I knew the taste of Cape from Roriz?'

  But his evident enjoyment of the 'good creature' was no small pleasure to the provider, though it was almost choking to meet the glistening glance of Mrs. Underwood's grateful eyes, knowing, as she did, that there were three more such bottles in the straw at the bottom of the hamper. And when baby Angela had clasped her fat hands, and, as 'youngest at the board,' 'inclined the head and pronounced the solemn word,' her father added, 'Gratias Deo, and Grazie a lei. We must renew our childhood's training, dear Mary-make our bow and curtesy, and say "Thank you for our good dinner."'

  'Thank Felix for our pleasant day,' said Mr. Audley. 'Come, boys, have a swing! there's a branch too good not to be used; and Ful has already hung himself up like a two-toed sloth.'

  Then began the real festivity-the swinging, the flower and fern hunting, the drawing, the racing and shouting, the merry calls and exchange of gay foolish talk and raillery.

  Mr. Underwood lay back on a slope of moss, with a plaid beneath him, and a cushion under his head, and said that the Elysian fields must have been a prevision of this beech-wood. Mrs. Underwood, with Felix and Wilmet, tied up the plates, knives, and forks, and then the mother, taking Angela with her, went to negotiate kettle-boiling at the cottage. Geraldine would fain have sketched, but the glory and the bea
uty, and the very lassitude of delight and novelty, made her eyes swim with a delicious mist; and Edgar, who had begun when she did, threw down his pencil as soon as he saw Felix at liberty, and the two boys rushed away into the wood for a good tearing scramble and climb, like creatures intoxicated with the freedom of the greenwood.

  After a time they came back, dropping armfuls of loose-strife, meadow-sweet, blue vetch, and honey-suckle over delighted Cherry; and falling down by her side, coats off, all gasp and laughter, and breathless narrative of exploits and adventures, which somehow died away into the sleepiness due to their previous five-mile walk. Felix went quite off, lying flat on his back, with his head on Cherry's little spreading lilac cotton frock, and his mouth wide open, much tempting Edgar to pop in a pebble; and this being prevented by tender Cherry in vehement dumb show, Edgar consoled himself by a decidedly uncomplimentary caricature of him as Giant Blunderbore (a name derived from Fee, Fa, Fum) gaping for hasty pudding.

  'That's a horrid shame!' remonstrated Geraldine. 'Dear old Fee, when the whole treat is owing to him!'

  'It is a tidy little lark for a Blunderbore to have thought of,' said Edgar. 'Tis a good sort of giant after all, poor fellow!'

  'Poor!' said Cherry indignantly. 'Oh, you mean what Papa said-that he is the greatest loser of us all. I wonder what made him talk in that way? He never did before.'

  'I am sorry for him,' said Edgar, indicating his brother. 'He is famous stuff for a landlord and member of parliament-plenty of wits and brains-only he wants to be put on a shelf to be got at. Wherever he is, he'll go on there! Now, a start is all I want! Give me my one step-and then-O Gerald, some day I'll lift you all up!'

  'What's that?' said Felix, waking as the enthusiastic voice was raised. 'Edgar lifting us all! What a bounce we should an come down with!'

  We were talking of what Papa said at dinner,' explained Cherry. 'What did you think about it, Fee?'

  'I didn't think at all, I wished he hadn't,' said Felix, stretching himself.

  'Why not?' said Cherry, a little ruffled at even Felix wishing Papa had not.

  'There's no use having things put into one's head.'

  'O Felix, you don't want to change?' cried Cherry.

  'No,' he said; but it was a 'no' in a tone she did not understand. The change he saw that hardship was working was that from which he recoiled.

  'That's like you, Blunderbore,' said Edgar. 'Now, the very reason I am glad not to be born a great swell, but only a poor gentleman, is that so much is open to one; and if one does anything great, it is all the greater and more credit.'

  'Yes,' said Felix, sitting up; 'when you have once got a scholarship, there will be the whole world before you.'

  'Papa got a scholarship,' said Cherry.

  'Oh yes!' said Edgar; 'but every one knows what happens to a man that takes Orders and marries young; and he had the most extraordinary ill-luck besides! Now, as Ryder says, any man with brains can shine. And I am only doubting whether to take to scholarship or art! I love art more than anything, and it is the speediest.'

  The conversation was broken, for just then Wilmet was seen peering about with an anxious, careful eye.

  'What is it, my deputy Partlet?' asked her father. 'Which of your brood are you looking for!'

  'I can't see Robina,' said Wilmet anxiously. 'She was swinging just now, but neither she nor Lance is with the big boys.

  'Flown up higher,' said Mr. Underwood, pretending to spy among the branches. 'Flapsy, come down! Bobbie, where are you!'

  A voice answered him; and in another moment Robina and Lance stood in the glade, and with them a girl newly come to her teens, whom they pulled forward, crying, 'She says she's our cousin!'

  'Indeed,' said Mr. Underwood: 'I am sure you are very much obliged to her.'

  'I am Mary Alda Underwood,' said the girl abruptly; 'and I'm sure there must be a very naughty boy here. He had put these poor little things up a tree, and run away.'

  'No, no! He only put us up because Tina bothered about it!' screamed Lance and Robina at once; 'he wasn't naughty. We were being monkeys.'

  'Black spider-monkeys,' added Robina.

  'And I swung about like a real one, Father,' said Lance, 'and was trying to get Bobbie down, only she grew afraid.'

  'It was ten feet from the ground,' said Mary Alda, impressively, 'and they had lost their way; but they told me who they were. I'm come down with my father to see the place.'

  Mr. Underwood heartily shook hands with her, thanked her, and asked where her father was.

  'Gone out with the man to see a farm two miles off,' she said. 'He told me I might stay in the house, or roam where I liked, and I saw you all looking so happy; I've been watching you this long time.'

  'Indeed!' said Mr. Underwood, 'till you captured two of us! Well, we are obliged for the introduction, especially if you are to be our neighbour.'

  'And my cousins will be friends with me,' continued Mary Alda. 'I'm all alone, you know.'

  'No, I did not know,' said Mr. Underwood. 'Are you the only child?'

  'Yes,' she said, looking wistfully at the groups around her; 'and it is very horrid-oh dear! who is that pretty one? No, there's another of them!'

  Mr. Underwood laughed heartily. 'I suppose you mean Wilmet and Alda,' he said. 'Come, girls, and see your new cousin-Mary, did you say!- Your name backward, Alda Mary.'

  'Mary,' she repeated. 'Papa calls me Mary, but Mamma wants it to be Marilda all in one word, because she says it is more distinguished; but I like a sensible name like other people.'

  Mr. Underwood was much amused. He felt he had found a character in his newly-discovered cousin. She was Underwood all over in his eyes, used to the characteristic family features, although entirely devoid of that delicacy and refinement of form and complexion that was so remarkable in himself and in most of his children, who were all, except poor little Cherry, a good deal alike, and most of them handsome. There was a sort of clumsiness in the shape of every outline, and a coarseness in the colouring, that made her like a bad drawing of one of his own girls; the eyes were larger, the red of the cheeks was redder, the lips were thicker, the teeth were irregular; the figure, instead of being what the French call elance, was short, high-shouldered, and thick-set, and the head looked too large. She was over-dressed, too, with a smart hat and spangled feather, a womanly silk mantle and much-trimmed skirt, from which a heavy quilling had detached itself, and was trailing on the ground; her hands were ungloved, and showed red stumpy fingers, but her face had a bright open honest heartiness of expression, and a sort of resolute straightforwardness, that attracted and pleased him; and, moreover, there was something in the family likeness, grotesque as it was, that could not but arouse a fellow-feeling in his warm and open heart, which neither neglect nor misfortune had ever chilled.

  'I think I should have known you,' he said, smiling. 'Here! let me introduce you; here is our little lame white-hearted Cherry, and the twins, as like as two peas. Wilmet, Alda-here!'

  'Shall I mend your frock!' was Wilmet's first greeting, as she put her hand in her pocket, and produced a little housewife.

  'Oh, thank you! You've got a needle and thread! What fun!'

  'The little ones are very apt to tear themselves, so I like to have it ready.'

  'How delicious! And you mend for them? I wish I had any one to mend for. Please show me, and let me do it. I tried to tear the nasty thing off, but it would not come. I wish Mamma would let me wear sensible print like yours.'

  'Are you laughing at us?' said Wilmet rather bluntly.

  'No, indeed, not a bit,' said Marilda, or Mary Alda, eagerly. 'If you only knew how tiresome it all is.'

  'What is?'

  'Why, being fine-having a governess, and talking French, and learning to dance, and coming down into the drawing-room. Then Grandmamma Kedge tells me how she used to run about in pattens, and feed the chickens, and scrub the floor, and I do so wish I was her. Can you scrub, and do those nice things?'

  'Not a floor,' sa
id Wilmet; 'and we live in the town.'

  'So have we done till now; but Papa is going to get this place, because he says it is family property; and I hope he will, for they will never be able to screw me up here as they do at home. I say, which is Fulbert! Won't your father punish him?'

  'Oh, no! You should not have told, Marilda. We never tell Papa of little tricks of the boys.'

  But the little darling might have broken her neck.'

  'Oh! life in a large family is made up of might haves,' said Alda.

  'Why, I do declare there's a smaller still! What a little duck!' and she pounced upon Angela.

  'We have a smaller than that, said Wilmet-'Bernard, only we left him at home.'

  'Tell me all your names!' cried Marilda, delighted.

  She was perfectly happy, and chattered on in great delight in her downright voice, as much at ease as if she had known them all her life. She shared their tea, and wanted Mr. Underwood to come and see her father at the house; but as she could not promise his early return, and it was necessary to get the van under weigh before five, this could not be.

  However, she would not leave them till they were all packed into the van, and then only parted with repeated kisses and auguries of many future meetings; so that the children looked down a vista of unlimited enjoyment of Gentry Park. Edgar, little gentleman as he was, saw her as far back on the way as he could venture.

  CHAPTER III. FORTUNATUS' PURSE

  'Out, base mechanical churl!'-SHAKESPEARE.

  Weeks went on, and nothing more was heard of 'Marilda' except the wishes and wonderings of the children. Alda decided that she was one of the heartless fine ladies one heard of in books-and no wonder, when her father was in trade, and she looked so vulgar; while Wilmet contended against her finery, and Cherry transferred the heartlessness to her cruel father and mother, and Robina never ceased to watch for her from the window, even when Felix and Edgar for very weariness had prohibited the subject from being ever mentioned, and further checked it by declaring that Marilda looked like a cow.

  There was plenty besides to think of; and the late summer and early autumn rolled cheerily away. The wonderful remnant of Felix's birthday gift was partly applied to the hire of a chair for Geraldine upon every favourable evening; and as the boys themselves were always ready to act as horses, they obtained it on moderate terms, which made the sum hold out in a marvellous manner. And not only were these drives delight unimaginable to the little maid, but the frequent breaths of pure air seemed to give her vigour; she ate more, smiled more, and moved with less pain and difficulty, so that the thought of a partial recovery began to seem far less impossible.