Gladys, the Reaper Part 17

'Now I insist on your being quiet and going to sleep, and forgetting all those horrors,' said Miss Gwynne, a.s.suming her most decided voice to hide her emotion. 'You are not to go away to-morrow; but I daresay in a few days you will be able to do so, and we can help you a little. But your best plan now is to get as strong as you can whilst you have the opportunity,' and herewith Miss Gwynne put a large spoonful of jelly into the girl's mouth.

Mrs Prothero was wiping her eyes, and stifling a rising sob behind the curtain, which caused Miss Gwynne to become very severe, and to utter something about giving way to foolish weakness which aroused Mrs Prothero, and made the patient bury her head beneath the bed-clothes.

Miss Gwynne beckoned to Mrs Prothero, and they left the room together.

Upon asking for Netta, Miss Gwynne was let into the secret of the family troubles and consultations, and greatly fearing to be made a party in the lecturings overhanging the luckless head of the offender, she took a hasty leave of Mr and Mrs Jonathan, and begging Mrs Prothero not to be too hard upon Netta, or to let her son Rowland preach too many sermons, went her very independent way.

CHAPTER X.

THE SQUIRE'S DAUGHTER.

'You will oblige me by remaining at home this evening, my dear,' said Mr Gwynne to his daughter.

'That I a.s.suredly shall, papa,' was the reply, 'for dear Miss Hall is coming to-day, and that princess of bores, Miss Nugent, has invited herself to tea. I certainly do wish Rowland Prothero would fall in love with her. She is quite ready for the _premier venu_, be he prince or peasant.'

'Does not Lady Mary come, my dear?'

'No; I am thankful to say she is gone to spend a few days with the Llanfawr family.'

'I am very glad Miss Hall is coming, Freda. I wish she would live with you; it would be very pleasant, and a protection for you, and all that sort of thing.'

'Oh, do ask her, dear papa. I have tried a thousand times to persuade her to come here and live with us for ever; but I think she will not come on my invitation.'

'I could not possibly ask her, my dear. I should break down at the first word; we never were very familiar. She is stiff, and I am nervous--and--and--I really could not summon courage.'

Miss Hall had been Miss Gwynne's governess during a few years of her education era, and had succeeded in entirely gaining her affections, as well as a small portion of ascendancy over her determined will. She had left Glanyravon to reside with an aged father, who, having lately died, left her again under the necessity of seeking a situation. Miss Gwynne had invited her to pay her a visit, and she was to arrive almost immediately.

She did arrive whilst they were talking about her, and as the carriage that had been sent to meet her drove up to the door out flew Freda in great excitement, and scarcely allowed her _ci-devant_ governess to alight before she was overwhelming her with embraces. Mr Gwynne followed somewhat more leisurely, and received Miss Hall with his usual nervous reserve of manner, but great courtesy. She responded most warmly to the embraces of Freda, and quietly to the welcome of Mr Gwynne.

We will not give a minute description of the new comer, because she is not quite a person to be described. She is neither very good-looking nor very plain, neither very old nor very young, neither very tall nor very short, neither very talkative nor very reserved, neither very much over-dressed nor very much under-dressed, neither very merry nor very grave. Freda used to say that she was the personification of gentle dignity and serenity, and in the days of her Italian studies called her occasionally _La Dignita_, but more frequently _La Serenita_, which epithet would sometimes be abbreviated into Serena, or Sera, or Nita, or anything but Miss Hall, which the love of the impulsive pupil, so hard to obtain, and so great when obtained, thought much too formal.

When Freda took Miss Hall to the delightful apartment she had been adorning for her for a week past, the first impulse of the older lady was to throw herself upon the neck of the younger, and burst into tears.

'Dearest Serena, I have been so very sorry for you,' was all that Freda could say.

For a minute there was silence, when Miss Hall, recovering herself, said,--

'Dear Freda, this is all so kind of you. If anything could console me for the loss of my last earthly support, it is such affection as yours.'

We will pa.s.s over the long conversation of those two friends, its melancholy and its mirth, for there was much of both, and bring them to the dinner-table and Messrs Gwynne and Rowland Prothero.

They were rather a formal quartette, and at first conversation did not flow easily. Mr Gwynne's nerves, Rowland's embarra.s.sment Miss Hall's natural depression of spirits, and Freda's resolution not to make herself agreeable to a person she was determined to consider conceited, were bad ingredients for a dish of good sociable converse. By degrees, however, they thawed a little. Mr Gwynne wished to say something that would set his young chess opponent at his ease, and said the very thing likely the most to confuse a shy man. He made a personal remark and paid a compliment.

'I am sure your uncle and--and your father, of course, must have been much gratified, and so forth, at your gaining that fellows.h.i.+p at Oxford.'

'I think you labour under a mistake,' said Rowland, looking more than usually confused when he saw Miss Gwynne's eyes turned upon him; 'I merely gained a scholars.h.i.+p at Rugby, which is really nothing. I did not even try for a fellows.h.i.+p.'

'Conceited!' thought Freda. 'I suppose he thinks if he had tried he would have got one.'

'Were you not at Baliol?' asked Mr Gwynne.

'Yes; I went there because my aunt had a fancy for the college, her father having been, there, otherwise I should have gone to Jesus College and tried for a Welsh fellows.h.i.+p, which is more easily obtained, because there are few compet.i.tors.'

'Did you know anything of Mr Neville, Sir Thomas Neville's son?' asked Miss Hall.

'Yes; I was introduced to him through some friends of my aunt's, and we became very intimate. He was very kind to me.'

'Is he clever?'

'Very. I think he has very fine talents, and is likely to s.h.i.+ne at the bar if he continues in his resolution to go to it. I have just had an invitation to spend a few days with him, but do not think I shall have time before I go to be ordained.'

'Has your aunt settled the curacy?' asked Freda, with a wicked laugh in the corner of her eye.

'I think and hope so,' replied Rowland, answering the visible smile by a blush; 'she has done her utmost to obtain it for me.'

'Ah! she was well connected, and has some interest, and a--a great deal of energy, and all that sort of thing; I should think she was a clever, or I mean a--an enterprising woman.'

Mr Gwynne hesitated as he said this, not admiring the lady in question, yet thinking it inc.u.mbent upon him to pay her a compliment. His daughter glanced inquiringly at Rowland, as if wondering what he could say to so dubious a speech. He appeared equally at a loss, and, as he turned from Mr Gwynne for a moment, caught Miss Gwynne's mirthful eye. He could not help smiling, but said with much spirit,--

'My aunt has been very good to me, Mr Gwynne, and I owe her a heavy debt of grat.i.tude for giving me at least the opportunity of getting on in the world.'

'Well, I like him for that,' thought Freda; 'and are you going to London?' she asked aloud, with a degree of interest.

'I am to be ordained by the Bishop of London to a city curacy,' was the reply.

'Will you allow me to take wine with you and wish you success, sir?'

said Mr Gwynne. 'Who knows but we may see you Bishop of London some day?

Miss Hall, Freda, will you join us?'

Mr Gwynne became quite animated. He felt proud that the son of his most respectable tenant should be going to take a London curacy.

Freda bent rather less stiffly than usual to Mr Rowland Prothero. She was annoyed with herself for feeling more inclined to be friendly with him since she had heard that he was intimate with young Neville, and was to be ordained by the Bishop of London.

There was more conversation, which it is unnecessary to repeat; but in due course of time the ladies retired to the drawing-room, where they found Miss Nugent awaiting them.

'Whose _beaux yeux_ do you think we have in the dining-room?' asked Freda.

'I am thure I cannot gueth; perhapth Thir Hugh Prythe's,' Miss Nugent lisped.

'Do you call his _beaux yeux_? Little ferret eyes like his! No; guess again.'

'Young Rithe Rithe?'

'Wrong again.'