"I thought you did not care about lifts in life."
"I ought not. But when it is brought home that we have slipped down two degrees in the social scale, it is tempting to step up one again!
However, it plainly cannot be."
Yet when Wilmet mustered her irrefragable figures to prove how much poorer they would be in London than on their present income at Bexley, he would not go into details, saying that he wanted to hear no more about it, in a tone that a little hurt her. He was so uniformly gentle and gracious, that what would have pa.s.sed unnoticed in most brothers, was noticed anxiously in him; and as Wilmet darned his shirt sleeve, a glistening came between her eyes and her needle, as she felt the requital of her prudence rather hard. Must all men pant to be out in the world, and be angry with women for withholding them?
Nor was Geraldine devoid of the old p.r.i.c.k, when she thought of the degrees in the social scale in connection with the words about tradesmen and merchants.
Wilmet was not quite happy without knowing that the letter of refusal was written, and was more vexed than she liked to show when Felix laughed at her for supposing he could have made time to write it on a busy Sat.u.r.day, even if there had been any London post to send it by.
Poor Alice Knevett got a considerable snubbing for bursting in to ask the decision, and lamenting over it when she had heard it; but she stood her ground with a certain pertinacity of her own: and so late in the evening, that Wilmet had gone up to put Stella to bed, Felix came up with the letter in his hand. It was so carefully expressed, that Cherry could not help saying saucily that it was worthy of the editor of the Pursuivant; while Alice, much impressed by the long words, enthusiastically broke out, "It is a most beautiful letter, only it ought to have said just the other thing!"
"Why, what would you have done without Cherry?" said Felix.
"I"d have come to stay with her! And it is such a pity! A merchant is a gentleman, and I am sure you could get to be anything--a member of Parliament, or a baronet, or--" as if her imagination could not go farther; but she looked up at him with a dew of eagerness glistening in her bright hazel eyes. "I was telling Cherry it does seem such a dreadful horrible pity that you should be nailed down in this little hole of a place for life."
Felix smiled--a man"s superior, gratified, but half melancholy smile --as he answered, "At any rate, you won"t lose the pleasures of imagination or of pity."
"But I want to see you have the spirit to try," cried Alice, eagerly.
"I know you could."
"It would not be right," said Felix, sitting down by her, and in full earnest gentleness and gravity setting before her the reasons that Cherry had hardly thought it worth while really to explain--namely, the impossibility of their being able to pay their way and meet the needful expenses, and the evils of the young, inexperienced household residing in London, resigning security for dependence.
Alice, flattered by being treated as a sensible person, said, "Yes,"
and "I see," at all the proper places; then drew a sigh, saying, "It is very good in you."
"I knew you would see it in the right light," replied Felix.
"Oh!" but the sigh recurred. "I can"t help being sorry, you know."
"There is nothing to be sorry for," he said gratefully. "I was disappointed at first myself; but for sheer usefulness to one"s neighbour, I believe that this present position, if I have sense to make use of it rightly, is as good as any; and the mere desire of station and promotion is--when one comes to look at it properly-- nonsense after all."
She opened her eyes in amazement, and made a little exclamation.
"They may be well when they come," said Felix in answer: "but I have thought it over well to-night, and I see that to do anything doubtfully right for their sake would be a risk for all that I have no right to run."
Alice hung her head, overcome by the pure air of the region where he was lifting her; and in a sort of shyness at the serious tone in which he had spoken, he added, smiling,
"Then you"ll forgive the "sound of it.""
"O Mr. Underwood," she said, in the simplest and most earnest voice that Cherry had ever heard from her, "I"m ashamed to recollect that nonsense!"
CHAPTER XIV
WHAT IT MAY LEAD TO
"I never was so berhymed since I was an Irish rat, which I can scarcely remember."--As You Like It.
"Dim memories haunt the child, Of lives in other beings led-- Other, and yet the same."
KEBLE.
In the autumn Alda made a visit at home. She had, as usual, gone with Mr. and Mrs. Underwood to their German baths, and had there fallen in with a merry set of her intimates in London, who had persuaded her to join them in an expedition to the Tyrol, which lasted till the end of September. On her return, she was dropped at Bexley, where her sisters were greatly edified by her sketch-book, a perfect journal in clever scenes and groups, like the "Voyage en zig-zag." Two of the gentlemen seemed always in waiting on the graceful outline that did duty for Alda; and indeed, she gave Wilmet to understand that only the skill that played them off one against the other had averted an offer from each, hundreds of miles from home, when it would have been so very inconvenient! Every morning Wilmet considered how her dinner would appear if one or both should suddenly drop in to pursue his courtship.
Even Felix, though he had pooh-poohed the mysterious whisper from his sisters, was startled at the apparition of a picturesque figure; in Tyrolese hat, green knickerbockers, belt, knapsack, loose velvet coat, and fair moustache, marching full into the shop; and while the customers who were making it a rendezvous gazed in doubt between gamekeepers and stage banditti, holding out a hand too fair and dainty for either character, and exclaiming, "How are you, Mr.
Froggatt! Hollo, Felix!"
Mr. Froggatt was amazed beyond measure, and it was only on hearing the ring of the mirthful laugh that he exclaimed, "Mr. Edgar This is an alteration. You will find the young ladies up-stairs."
Felix was disengaged at the moment, and could take him through the parlour, too glad to have him there at all to utter the faintest wish that he would have rung at the private door; and he ushered him into the drawing-room with the words, "Here"s the artist who has begun with himself;" and then retreated.
"Edgar! oh, you wonderful boy!" cried happy Geraldine, as he threw his arms round her; while Alda asked: "Is that the thing now, Edgar?"
"Quite comifo," he answered. "Ha, little ones, have you forgotten me?"
"Stella says you"re the clarionet in the bra.s.s band," said Bernard.
"What have you got in that pack?"
"Munitions of war!" he answered, unstrapping his bag, and producing packets of French bon-bons, bought on his way home, from the sketching tour Mr. Renville always made with sundry of his pupils in early autumn. "Gobble them up, little mice, before the cat comes home."
Stella paused with a dutiful "May I?" and Cherry had to interfere between the little maiden"s scruples, Bernard"s omnivorous inclination, and Theodore"s terror at any new article of food; while Alda and Edgar exchanged eager question and answer:
"You"ve been at home. You"ve seen them all?"
"I dined there on Sunday--might do so any day; they can"t do without me, that"s a fact."
"Nor me, I imagine," said Alda. "I suppose I am to go back with you?"
"So Madam proposed; but the fact is, that Molly has done uncommonly well without you this time."
"What do you mean ?" asked Alda, sharply.
"What think you of a friend of Cherry?"
"I haven"t got any friends."
"Think again! Not the great convert, the Cacique of all the Mexicos?"
"Ferdinand Travis! You don"t mean it?"
"_I_ don"t; but the elders mean it, and the youngers will do it."
"Do tell me! I can"t understand," cried Alda, much excited. "We have never met him."