The Two Guardians Part 9

Marian's dark eyes gave one indignant flash, as she proudly drew up her head, opened her desk, laid her letter on the table before Miss Morley, and slowly walked out of the room; but as soon as she had shut the door, she ran at full speed along the pa.s.sage to her own room, where, throwing herself on the bed, she gave way to a fit of violent weeping, and sobs which shook her whole frame. Proud, pa.s.sionate feelings at first almost choked her, and soon these were followed by a flood of the bitter tears of loneliness and bereavement. "Who would have dared insult her thus, had her father and mother been living?" and for a minute her agony for their loss was more intense than it had ever been. Gradually, "the turbid waters brightening as they ran," became soothing, as she dwelt on the sweet, holy memory of her parents, and wholesome as she mourned over her fit of pride and anger. But for what were they accountable, whose selfish weakness and thoughtless curiosity had caused the orphan's tears to flow?

Caroline had not seen those flas.h.i.+ng eyes without an instant perception of the injustice of the accusation. Her half-jesting speech had led the matter much further than she had intended; and alarmed at the consequences, she ran after her cousin to entreat her pardon; but Marian, unconscious of all save the tumult within herself, hurried on too fast to be overtaken, and just as Caroline reached her door, had shut it fast, and drawn the bolt, and a gentle knock and low call of "Marian, dear Marian," were lost in the first burst of sobs. Caroline, baffled and offended, turned away with feelings even more painful than hers; and too proud to repeat the call, walked up and down, waiting till the door should be opened, to a.s.sure her cousin that nothing should induce her to touch the letter, and to beg her forgiveness; but as minutes pa.s.sed away in silence, she grew tired of waiting, thought Marian sullen and pa.s.sionate, and at length, returned to the schoolroom.

As soon as she entered, Clara exclaimed, "O Caroline, only think, how odd--"

"I don't want to hear anything about it," said Caroline, sitting down to the piano; "I wish we had never thought of it."

She began, playing with all her might, but gradually she abated her vehemence, as she caught a few sounds of a conversation between Clara and Miss Morley. At last she turned round, asking, "What? who is his G.o.dfather?"

"Mr. Arundel, 'Edmund and every body,' you know," answered Clara. "I never heard anything like it. Only fancy his hearing that boy say his catechism!"

"What? I don't understand," said Caroline; "Mr. Arundel and Gerald!

Nonsense! He can't be his G.o.dfather. Mamma said he was only four-and-twenty, and Gerald is almost nine."

"Here is Marian's authority for it," said Clara; "and certainly those Arundels are a curious family."

"Mr. Arundel is the next heir, is he not?" inquired Miss Morley.

"Yes," said Caroline; "I heard mamma telling old Mrs. Graves the whole story. His father and mother both died when he was very young, and Sir Edmund brought him up entirely, and every one looked upon him as the heir till Gerald was born; and a groat disappointment it must have been, for now he has next to nothing. But they all were just as fond of each other as before; and it does seem very strange that Sir Edmund should have made him their guardian, at his age, when there was Lord Marchmont, who is their cousin, too."

"I dare say," said Clara, as if a most brilliant thought had struck her, "I dare say there is a family compact, such as one reads of in books, that he is to marry Marian."

"My dear Clara!" said Miss Morley laughing, "How should such a notion come into your little head?"

"Now see if it is not so!" said Clara; "I do believe she is in love with him already, and he is coming to see her."

"Is he?" cried Caroline, "I am very curious to sec him. Mamma says he is very handsome, and quite a distinguished looking person. When does he come?"

"You had better read," said Clara; "I can tell you that there are wonderful things in the letter."

Curiosity again a.s.serted its power, and Caroline yielded. The letter had been opened, and it would not signify if one more person looked at it.

She took it, and read eagerly and stealthily, starting at every sound.

"My dear Agnes--I hope you and Jemmy are getting on well in your solitude without the schoolboys. Tell Charles, when you write, that a gentleman staying here caught a trout last week that weighed three pounds, but I believe that those which are caught in these rivers taste of mud, and are not nearly so good as our own. I was very much afraid that Gerald would go to school this summer, but now Mrs. Lyddell has heard that it was settled that he should not go till he was ten, and it is arranged for him to stay till next year, when I hope he will be happier than Charles was at first. You asked after his drawing, so I have put in the last sc.r.a.p I met with, and in case you should not be able to find out what it is meant for, I must inform you that it is the dog springing on the young Buecleuch.

The other day he sent Edmund a letter in hieroglyphics, with pictures instead of nouns, and Edmund answered it in the same way with funny little clever drawings throughout. His regiment is going abroad nest spring, he thinks, to the Cape, but he has promised to come and see us first, and thinks of going home to see about his things.

Thank Mrs. Wortley for being so kind as to scold me for not dating my letters. I shall not be likely to forget the date of this on September 30th, for Mr. Lyddell has just paid me my first quarter's allowance, and I am frightened to think how large it is; ten pounds a quarter only for my dress, and I am to have more when I am seventeen. So matters can go on more as they used in the parish. Will you be so kind as to pay this quarter's schooling for Amy Lapthorn and Honor Weeks and Mary Daw, and find out what clothes they want, and if Susan Grey has not a new bonnet, give her one, and a flannel petticoat for old Betty, and if any body else wants anything else let me know, and pay up for all the children that dear mamma used to put into the penny club, and send me word what it comes to, and I will send the money when Edmund comes to pay his visit.

I suppose the apples are gathered by this time; you cannot think how I miss the golden and red piles under the trees, and the droning of the old cyder press. And do those beautiful Red Admiral b.u.t.terflies come in the crowds they did last year to the heaps of apples in our orchard? Do you remember how we counted five that all came and sat on your pink frock while we were watching them?

"Will Mr. Wortley be kind enough to tell me of some book of questions on the Catechism, more advanced than the one he gave me? I suppose we ought to go on with the Catechism, till we are confirmed, and so Gerald and I always go through a section every Sunday, taking the book by turns, and he knows our old one perfectly. He is so good and steady about it that I quite wonder, considering that there is no authority to keep him up to it, but he is very anxious to stand a good examination when his G.o.dfather comes, and Edmund is sure to ask hard questions. And Gerald has never missed since we have been here, getting up in time to come and read the Psalms with me before breakfast, and really I think that is exceedingly good of him; but I have come to the end of my paper, so good-bye.

"Your affectionate

"MARIAN C. ARUNDEL."

Caroline's cheeks glowed as she read, both with shame at her own proceedings, and with respect for her narrow-minded cousin; but she had no opportunity for making remarks, for just as she had finished the letter, and folded it up again, the boys were heard coming in. The first thing Gerald said was, "So Marian has not sent her letter; I will run down with it, or it will be too late."

"It is not sealed," said Clara.

"Clara looks as if she had been peeping," said Johnny.

"I should like to see any one peep into Marian's letters," said Gerald, taking it up, and carrying it away with him.

Lionel stood with his eyes fixed on Clara. "I do believe it is true then!" said he, laying hold of Clara's arm; "I have a great mind to say I'll never speak to you again, Clara. Peeping into people's letters.

Why, you ought to be hooted through the town!"

The boys looked nearly ready to put the hooting into effect, but Clara answered angrily, "Peeping! I have been doing no such thing! Don't be so rude, Lionel."

"That is humbug," said Lionel; "you have been looking impudently, if you have not been peeping slyly."

"Lionel, you are a very naughty boy indeed!" said Clara, almost crying; "I have done just as Miss Morley and Caroline have been doing; Miss Morley always looks over----"

"Let who will do it," said Lionel, "it is an impudent, ungentlemanlike thing, that you all ought to be ashamed of. I declare papa shall hear of it."

"Lionel, do you know what you are saying?" said Caroline.

"This is sadly naughty!" feebly murmured Miss Morley.

"Lionel, mamma will be very angry," said Clara.

"I don't care," said Lionel loudly and vehemently; "I know that you all ought to be ashamed of yourselves, every one of you. Why, if you were boys you would never hold up your heads again; but girls can do anything, and that is the reason they have no shame."

"Hus.h.!.+ Lionel, dear Lionel!" said Caroline, coming to him persuasively, but he shook her off:

"I want none of your _dears_," said he; "ask Marian's pardon, not mine."

He turned his back, and took up a book. The girls dared say no more to him; Miss Morley very nearly cried as she thought how impossible it was for women to manage great boys. She ought to complain of his rudeness, but the explanation of what gave rise to it was impossible, and so, poor woman, she thought herself too good-natured.

Gerald, in the meantime, had gone to his sister's room, where he called hastily on finding the door fastened. She opened it, and he eagerly asked what was the matter.

"Never mind," said Marian; "thank you for remembering my letter. Will you fetch the sealing wax out of----"

"Well, but what is the matter?"

"Nothing that signifies; never mind."

"But I do mind, I can't bear for you to cry. You know I can't, so don't begin again," added he, as his affectionate tones made her lip quiver, and her eyes fill with tears.

"But, Gerald, pray get the wax, or----. But no, no," added she hurriedly, "do not, I will not touch it, till----"

"Till when?" asked Gerald; "I wish you would tell me how they have been vexing you. I am sure they hare, for they all looked guilty. Poor Marian!" He put his arm round her neck, and drew her cheek to his. Who could withstand such a brother? Marian whispered. "Only--but don't make a fuss--only Miss Morley made me show her my letter."

He started from her, and broke forth into a torrent of indignation; and it was not quickly that she succeeded in getting him to listen to her entreaties that he would not tell any one.

"What do you mean to do?" said he. "O I will write such a letter to Edmund, in hopes she will ask to see it. But she won't venture on mine.

Shall I tell Edmund?"

"No, no, Gerald, you do nothing; pray don't say anything. I will speak to Mr. Lyddell, for it was he who gave me leave."

"And I hope he will give poor unfortunate a good rowing. Won't it be fun?"