Charlotte Yonge - Modern Broods; Or, Developments Unlooked For

Mysie echoed, “Oh, calisthenics are such fun!” and took the reins to drive away.

“Oh! she is very nice,” exclaimed Mysie, as they drove down the hill.

“Yes, there is something very charming about her. I wonder whether Sam made a great mistake.”

“Mamma, what do you mean?”

“Have I been meditating aloud? You said when you met her at Castle Towers, she asked you whether you had a brother Harry.”

“Yes, she did. I only said yes, but he was going to be a clergyman, and when she heard his age, she said he was not the one she had known; I did not speak of cousin Henry because you said we were not to mention him. What was it, if I may know, mamma?”

“There is no reason that you should not, except that it is a painful matter to mention to Bessie or any of the Stokesley cousins. Harry was never like the rest, I believe, but I had never seen him since he was almost a baby. He never would work, and was not fit for any examination.”

“Our Harry used to say that Bessie and David had carried off all the brains of the family.”

“The others have sense and principle, though. Well, they put their Hal into a Bank at Filsted, and by and by they found he was in a great scrape, with gambling debts; and I believe that but for the forbearance of the partners, he might have been prosecuted for embezzling a sum—or at least he was very near it; besides which he had engaged himself to an attorney’s daughter, very young, and with a very disagreeable mother or stepmother. The Admiral came down in great indignation, thought these Prescotts had inveigled poor Henry, broke everything hastily off, and shipped him off to Canada to his brothers, George and John. They found some employment for him, but Susan and Bessie doubt whether they were very kind to him, and in a few years more he was in fresh scrapes, and with worse stains and questions of his integrity. It ended in his running away to the States, and no trace has been found of him since. I am afraid he took away money of his brothers.”

“How long ago was it, mamma?”

“At least twenty years. It was while we were in Malta.”

“Who would have thought of those dear Stokesley cousins having such a skeleton in their cupboard?”

“Ah! my dear, no one knows the secrets of others’ hearts.”

“And you really think that this Miss Prescott was his love?”

“I know it was the same name, and Bessie told me that he used to talk to her of his Magdalen, or Maidie; and when I heard of your meeting her at Castle Towers I wondered if it were the same. And now I see what she is, and what she is undertaking for these young sisters; I have wondered whether your uncle was wise to insist on the utter break, and whether she might not have been an anchor to hold him fast to his moorings.”

“Only,” said Mysie, “if he had really cared, would he have let his father break it off so entirely?”

“I think your uncle expected implicit obedience.”

“But—,” said Mysie, and left the rest unsaid, while both she and her mother went off into meditations on different lines on the exigencies of parental discipline and of the requirements of full-grown hearts.

And, on the whole, the younger one was the most for strict obedience, the experienced parent in favour of liberty. But then Mysie was old-fashioned and dutiful.

The afternoon at Clipstone was a success. Gillian was at home, and every one found congeners. Lady Merrifield’s sister, Miss Mohun, pounced upon Miss Prescott as a coadjutor in the alphabet of good works needed in the neglected district of Arnscombe, where Mr. Earl was wifeless, and the farm ladies heedless; but they were interrupted by Mysie running up to claim Miss Prescott for a game at croquet. “Uncle Redgie was so glad to see the hoops come into fashion again,” and Vera and Paula hardly knew the game, they had always played at lawn tennis; but they were delighted to learn, for Uncle Redgie proved to be a very fine-looking retired General, and there was a lad besides, grown to manly height; and one boy, at home for Easter, who, caring not for croquet, went with Primrose to exhibit to Thekla the tame menagerie, where a mungoose, called of course Raki raki, was the last acquisition. She was also shown the kittens of the beloved Begum, and presented with Phœbus, a tabby with a wise face and a head marked like a Greek lyre, to be transplanted to the Goyle in due time.

“If Sister will let me have it,” said Thekla.

“Of course she will,” said Primrose. “Mysie says she is so jolly.”

“Dear me! all the girls at our school said she was a regular Old Maid.”

“What shocking bad form!” exclaimed Primrose. “Just like cads of girls,” muttered Fergus, unheard; for Thekla continued—“Why, they said she must be our maiden aunt, instead of our sister.”

“The best thing going!” said Fergus.

“Maiden aunts in books are always horrid,” said Thekla.

“Then the books ought to be hung, drawn, and quartered, and spifflicated besides,” said Fergus.

“Fergus doesn’t like anybody so well as Aunt Jane,” said Primrose, “because nobody else understands his machines.”

Thekla made a grimace.

“Ah!” said Primrose. “I see it is just as mamma and Mysie said when they came home, that Miss Prescott was very nice indeed, and it was famous that she should make a home for you all, only they were afraid you seemed as if—you might be—tiresome,” ended Primrose, looking for a word.

“Well, you know she wants to be our governess,” said Thekla.

“Well?” repeated Primrose.

“And of course no one ever likes their governess.”

This aphorism, so uttered by Thekla, provoked a yell from Primrose, echoed by Fergus; and Primrose, getting her breath, declared that dear Miss Winter was a great darling, and since she had gone away, more’s the pity, mamma was real governess to herself, Valetta, and Mysie, and she always looked at their translations and heard their reading if Gillian was not at home.

“And they are quite grown-up young ladies!”

“Mysie is; but I don’t know about Val. Only I don’t see why any one should be silly and do nothing if one is grown up ever so much,” said Primrose.

“As the Eiffel Tower,” put in Fergus.

“Nonsense!” said Primrose, bent on being improving. “Don’t you know what that old book of mamma’s says, ‘When will Miss Rosamond’s education be finished?’ She answered ‘Never.’”

Thekla gave a groan, whether of pity for Rosamond or for herself might be doubted; and a lop-eared rabbit was a favourable diversion.

There was a triad who seemed to be of Rosamond’s opinion regarding education, for Agatha was eagerly availing herself of the counsel of Gillian, and the books shown to her; with the further assistance of the cousin, Dolores Mohun, now an accredited lecturer in technical classes, though making her home and headquarters at Clipstone.

Thekla’s views of young ladyhood were a good deal more fulfilled by the lessons on cycling which were going on among the other young people after the game of croquet had ended. Every size and variety seemed to exist among the Clipstone population, under certain regulations of not coasting down the hills, the girls not going out alone, and never into the town, but always “putting up” at Aunt Jane’s.

Vera and Paulina were in ecstasy, and there was a continual mounting, attempting and nearly falling, or turning anywhere but the right, little screams, and much laughter, Jasper attending upon Vera, who, in spite of her failures, looked remarkably pretty and graceful upon Valetta’s machine; while Paula, whom Mysie and Valetta were both assisting, learnt more easily and steadily, but looked on with a few qualms as to the entire crystal rock constancy that Vera had professed, more especially when Jasper volunteered to come over to the Goyle and give another lesson.