A Young Mutineer Part 31

"With you," she said, laying her hand on his arm, and looking into his face with her sweet eyes s.h.i.+ning through tears.

He put his arms round her and kissed her many times.

"Jasper," said Hilda after a few minutes, "I think the first wrong step that I took--the first beginning of that unhappy time--was when I lost my temper down at Little Staunton and gave up my engagement ring."

"No wonder you lost your temper when I was such a brute about everything," said Quentyns. "It was my fault."

"No, no; it was mine."

"Have you missed the ring, Hilda?"

"Missed it?" she held up her slender finger. "My heart has been empty without it," she said.

"Then let me put it on again for you."

"Can you? Is--isn't it sold?"

"Of course not. Do you think that I could sell that ring?"

"But--but the furniture in Judy's room?"

"When I saw that you must have Judy with you, Hilda, I went into debt for the furniture. Oh, never mind all that now, my darling--the debt is paid in full a week ago, and I have the receipt in my pocket. Now I am going upstairs to fetch the ring."

CHAPTER XIX.

GOOD OMENS.

And so the shadows fall apart, And so the west winds play; And all the windows of my heart I open to the day.

--WHITTIER.

Mildred Anstruther was paying a visit at the Rectory on the day that Rivers and Judy walked in. Rivers was a very striking-looking man, and all the Rectory people were so devoured with curiosity about him, and so interested in all he said and did--in his reasons for coming down to Little Staunton, and in his remarks about the Quentyns--that Judy's own return to the family circle pa.s.sed into utter insignificance. She was there--they had none of them expected her, and as she chose to come back, she was welcome of course.

It was a lovely day, and the whole party were out in the garden, when Rivers and his little charge entered their midst.

Judy wore her green cloak and pretty black shady hat. There was a new sort of picturesqueness about her, which Aunt Marjorie noticed in an abstracted way; she put it down to "the polish which even a short residence in the metropolis always gives;" she had not the faintest idea that it was due to the dignity which a n.o.ble action can inspire.

Judy greeted everyone quite in her old manner, and was rather glad that she was not fussed over, but taken quite as a matter-of-course.

Aunt Marjorie was too anxious about the cream for Rivers' tea to give serious thoughts to anyone else just then. But when the young man had departed to catch the return train to London, then a few questions were asked of Judy.

"I thought you were going to live with Hilda," said Mildred, looking curiously at the child.

Mildred was standing a little apart from the others, and Judy, whose face was pale, for the suffering of her self-sacrifice was still causing her heart to ache horribly, looked full at her, and said in a low voice:

"That turned out to be a mistake, so I've come home."

"You brave little darling!" said Mildred, understanding everything like a flash; she stooped and kissed Judy on her forehead.

Babs came rus.h.i.+ng into the midst of the group.

"Judy, Judy, I want you," she cried.

"What is it?" asked Judy.

"There's a b.u.t.terfly coming out of a chrysalis in the b.u.t.terfly-case; come quick--he's moving his tail backward and forward--he'll soon be out; come quick and see him."

The dull look left Judy's eyes; they sparkled with a sudden, swift, childish joy.

She took Babs' hand, and they rushed away, right round to the back of the house where the b.u.t.terfly-case stood.

"Let's take him out, poor darling," she said; "let's put him on a leaf, and watch him as he gets out of his prison."

Her eyes grew brighter and brighter; she bent low to watch the resurrection which was going on.

After all the chrysalis and the b.u.t.terfly were emblems. They were good omens to Judy that love and hope were not dead.

THE END.