Heriot's Choice Part 83

'I daresay not,' returned Olive, simply, 'only one wakes up sometimes to find things are turning out all wrong. Do you know they puzzled me to-night--Rex and Polly, I mean. I expected to find them so different, and they are just the same.'

'How do you mean? I should think it would be difficult to find two happier creatures anywhere; they behave as most young people do under the circ.u.mstances, are never willingly out of each other's sight, and talk plenty of nonsense.'

'That is just what I cannot make out; it seems such a solemn and beautiful thing to me, that I cannot understand treating it in any other way. Why, they were making believe to quarrel just now, and Polly was actually pouting.'

Mildred with difficulty refrained from a smile.

'They do that just for the pleasure of making it up again. If you could see them this moment you would find them like a pair of cooing doves; it will be "Poor Rex!" and "Dear Rex!" all the evening. There is no doubt of his affection for her, Olive; it nearly cost his life.'

'That is only an additional reason for treating it seriously. If any one cared for me in that way,' went on Olive, blus.h.i.+ng slightly over her words--'not that I could believe such a thing possible,' interrupting herself.

'Why not, you very wise woman?' asked her aunt, amused by this voluntary confession. Never before had Olive touched on this threadbare and oft-maligned subject of love.

'Aunt Milly, as though you could speak of such a thing as probable!'

returned Olive, with a slight rebuke in her voice. 'Putting aside plainness, and want of attraction, and that sort of thing, do you think any man would find me a helpmeet?'

'He must be the right sort of man, of course,'--'a direct opposite to you in everything,' she was about to add, but checked herself.

'But if the right sort is not to be found, Aunt Milly?' with a touch of quaintness that at times tinged her gravity with humour. 'Didn't you know "Much-Afraid" was an old maid?'

'We must get rid of all these old names, Olive; they will not fit now.'

'All the same, of course I know these things are not possible with me.

Imagine being a wet blanket to a man all his life! But what I was going to say was, that if any one cared for me as Rex does for Polly, I should think it the next solemn thing to death--quite as beautiful and not so terrible. Fancy,' warming with the visionary subject, 'just fancy, Aunt Milly, being burdened with the whole happiness and well-being of another--never to think alone again!'

'Dear Olive, you cannot expect all lovers to indulge in these metaphysics; commonplace minds remain commonplace--the Divinities are silent within them.'

'I think this is why I dislike the subject introduced into general conversation,' replied Olive, pondering heavily over her words; 'people are for ever dragging it in. So-and-so is to be married next week, and then a long description of the bride's trousseau and the bridesmaids'

dresses; the idea is as paganish as the undertaker's plume of feathers and mutes at a funeral.'

'I agree with you there; people almost always treat the subject coa.r.s.ely, or in a matter-of-fact way. A wedding-show is a very pretty thing to outsiders, but, like you, Olive, I have often marvelled at the absence of all solemnity.'

'I suppose it jars upon me more than on others because I dislike talking on what interests me most. I think sacred things should be treated sacredly. But how I am wandering on, and there was so much I wanted to tell you!'

'Never mind, I will hear it all to-morrow. I must not let you fatigue yourself after such a journey. Now I will finish the unpacking while you sit and rest yourself.'

Olive was too docile and too really weary to resist. She sat silently watching Mildred's brisk movements, till the puzzled look in the dark eyes pa.s.sed into drowsiness.

'The Eternal voice,' she murmured, as she laid her head on the pillow, and Mildred bade her good-night, 'it seems to lull one into rest, though a tired child would sleep without rocking listening to it;' and so the slow, majestic was.h.i.+ng of the waves bore her into dreamland.

Mildred did not find an opportunity of resuming the conversation until the following afternoon, when Richard had planned a walk to Fairlight Glen, in which Polly reluctantly joined; but Mildred, who knew Roy and his father had much to say to each other, had insisted on not leaving her behind.

She was punished by having a very silent companion all the way, as Richard had carried off Olive; but by and by Polly's conscience p.r.i.c.ked her for ill-humour and selfishness, and when they reached the Glen, her hand stole into Mildred's m.u.f.f with a penitent squeeze, and her spirits rising with the exhilaration of the long walk, she darted off in pursuit of Olive and brought her back, while she offered herself in her place to Richard.

'You have monopolised her all the way, and I know she is dying for a talk with Aunt Milly; you must put up with me instead,' said the little lady, defiantly.

Mildred and Olive meanwhile seated themselves on one of the benches overlooking the Glen; the spot was sheltered, and the air mild and soft for January; there were patches of cloudy blue to be seen through the leafless trees, which looked like a procession of gray, h.o.a.ry skeletons in the hazy light.

'Woods have a beauty of their own in winter,' observed Mildred, as she noticed Olive's satisfied glance round her. Visible beauty always rested her, Olive often said.

'Its attraction is the attraction of death,' returned her companion, thoughtfully. 'Look at these old giants waiting for their resurrection, to be "clothed upon," that is just the expression, Aunt Milly.'

'With their dead hopes at their feet; you are teaching me to be poetical, Olive. Don't you love the feeling of those crisp yellow leaves crunching softly under one's feet? I think a leaf-race in a high wind is one of the most delicious things in nature.'

'Ask Cardie what he thinks of that.'

'Cardie would say we are talking highflown nonsense. I can never make him share my admiration for that soft gray light one sees in winter. I remember we were walking over Hillsbottom one lovely February afternoon; the shades of the landscape were utterly indescribable, half light, and yet so softly blended, the gray tone of the buildings was absolutely warm--that intense grayness--and all I could get him to say was, that Kirkby Stephen was a very ugly town.'

'Roy is more sympathetic about colours; Cardie likes strong contrasts, decided sunsets, better than the glimmering of moonlight nights; he can be enthusiastic enough over some things. I have heard him talk beautifully to Ethel.'

'By the bye, you have told me nothing of her. Is she still away?'

'Yes, but they are expecting her back this week or next. It seems such a pity Kirkleatham is so often empty. Mrs. Delaware says it is quite a loss to the place.'

'It is certainly very unsatisfactory; but now about your work, Olive; how does it progress?'

Olive hesitated. 'I will talk to you about that presently; there is something else that may interest you to hear. Do you know Mr. Marsden is thinking of leaving us?'

Mildred uttered an expression of surprise and disappointment. 'Oh, I hope it is not true!' she reiterated, in a regretful tone.

'You say that because you do not know,' returned Olive, with her wonted soft seriousness; 'he has told me everything. Only think, Aunt Milly, he asked my advice, and really seemed to think I could help him to a decision. Fancy my helping any one to decide a difficult question,' with a smile that seemed to cover deeper feelings.

'Why not? it only means that he has recognised your earnestness and thorough honesty of purpose. There is nothing like honesty to inspire confidence, Olive. I am sure you would help him to a very wise decision.'

'I think he had already decided for himself before he came to me,'

returned the girl, meditatively; 'one can always tell when a man has made up his mind to do a thing. You see he has always felt an inclination for missionary work, and this really seems a direct call.'

'You forget you have not enlightened me on the subject,' hinted Mildred, gently.

'How stupid of me, but I will begin from the beginning. Mr. Marsden told me one morning that he had had letters from his uncle, Archdeacon Champneys, one of the most energetic workers in the Bloemfontein Mission. You have read all about it, Aunt Milly, in the quarterly papers. Don't you recollect how interested we all were about it?'

'Yes, I remember. Richard seemed quite enthusiastic about it.'

'Well, the Archdeacon wrote that they were in pressing need of clergy.

Look, I have the letter with me. Mr. Marsden said I might show it to you. He has marked the pa.s.sage that has so impressed him.'

'I am at my wits' end to know how to induce clergy to come out.

Do you know of any priest who would come to our help? If you do, for G.o.d's sake use your influence to induce him to come.

'We want help for the Diamond Fields; Theological College Brotherhood at Middleport; Itinerating work; Settled Parochial work at Philippolis and elsewhere.

'We want men with strong hearts and active, healthy frames--men with the true missionary spirit--with fixedness of will and undaunted purpose, ready to battle against obstacles, and to endure peacefully the "many petty, prosaic, commonplace, and hara.s.sing trials" that beset a new work. If you know such an one, bid him G.o.dspeed, and help him to find his way to us. I promise you we shall see his face as the "face of an angel."'

'A pressing appeal,' sighed Mildred; she experienced a vague regret she hardly understood.

'Mr. Marsden felt it to be such. Oh, I wish you had heard him talk. He said, as a boy he had always felt a drawing to this sort of work; that with his health and strength and superabundant energies he was fitter for the rough life of the colonies than for the secondary and supplementary life of an ordinary English curate. "Give me plenty of s.p.a.ce and I could do the work of three men," and as he said it he stretched out his arms. You know his way, Aunt Milly, that makes one feel how big and powerful he is.'

'He may be right, but how we shall miss him,' returned Mildred, who had a thorough respect and liking for big, clumsy Hugh.