CHAPTER X.

WHAT HAD TO BE.

RUTH took a different view of the matter, as was perhaps to be expected from her sensible and matter-of-fact nature.

"Of course I have nothing to do with deciding," she said, when called into consultation that same evening by her father and mother and sister; "but if I am to give my opinion honestly, I certainly do think that to throw aside such an opening would be the height of absurdity—almost a sort of madness. It is not as if we should lose Gwendoline. Mother talks about 'giving her up,' but there is no 'giving up' in the question, that I can see. She will belong to us still, just as much as ever, and we shall see her now and then."

"Once in two years, Ruth," Mrs. Halcombe said mournfully.

"Of course that is rather seldom," admitted Ruth. "But very likely Lady Halcot will make it once a year, as soon as she sees that we do not pester her in any way. Meantime we shall know that Gwen has every imaginable comfort and pleasure, and Gwen will know that we are all getting along, with enough to eat and to wear. Surely that is better than our all being reduced to a miserable struggle for bread. Mother talks about our working our fingers to the bone for the sake of keeping Gwen with us. I am willing enough to do my share, but Gwen would be the last to like to do her share."

"Ruth!" her father said reproachfully. He had said little yet, apparently preferring to hear others' opinions before giving his own.

"I mean her share of needlework, father. Gwen has certainly no gift in that direction, and she detests it with all her heart. Besides, to think of supporting a family of twelve by needlework is absurd. And as for keeping Gwen with us by any amount of work, it is just an impossibility. If she does not go to Lady Halcot's, we shall both have to go out as governesses. I had quite made up my mind to that, before Lady Halcot's letter came. But if the offer had come to me, I would very much rather live at the Leys than be a governess, even though I might not be free to come home quite so often."

Ruth's severe common sense was taking effect, and she saw this in the expression of her mother's face.

"Besides," she added, after a little pause, "I do think that poor old lady must be dreadfully lonely in her big house, with nobody belonging to her. It is her own fault, of course. Still, if mother is as fond of Lady Halcot as we have always thought, I should think she would like Gwen to be there particularly."

Mrs. Halcombe received this little fling meekly. "Yes, Ruthie," she said; "for Lady Halcot's own sake I could like nothing better. But I must think about Gwen first. I do not know whether Gwen could be happy there. Lady Halcot is very stern and sharp—and the matter, once done, cannot be undone."

"Mother, I think one may be happy anywhere, if God has put one there," Gwendoline said softly. "And I think I should make Lady Halcot fond of me."

"As to happiness," quoth Ruth, "isn't it the very kind of life that Gwen has often wished for—away from London crowds, and near sea and country, with plenty of money and leisure, and no children?"

Gwendoline's eyes were blinded with tears. "Oh, Ruth, you need not have thrown that at me just now."

"Why? I don't mean anything unkind," said Ruth, her rather obtuse sensibilities stirred by Gwendoline's look of pain. "I am sure you have often said you wished it."

Mr. Halcombe drew his chair a little nearer, and leant forward gravely.

"Ruth has had her say. Now listen to me," he said. "I have tried from the first to take a dispassionate view of the question, praying to be guided into a right decision. We must not be swayed by mere feelings. The thought of parting with our Gwen is a very painful one, but, as Ruth truly says, the parting probably must take place, one way or another. My first impulse was like yours, Nellie, that we could not send our child away for our own advantage. But remember two things. First, it is not for our advantage only. Gwen is one of ten, and the good of the other nine has to be considered. Would it be lawful to sacrifice the prospects of those nine for our own selfish gratification in keeping Gwen, even if we could hope to keep her ultimately? Secondly, we have to think of Gwen herself. This is an opening which probably means a life of ease and of comparative wealth, in place of long years of struggling in poverty as an artist. Putting altogether on one side other questions involved, could we rightly refuse this for her? Gwen may shrink from leaving us; but I, her father, should shrink yet more from keeping her, under the circumstances."

Gwendoline broke into his words suddenly. "Father, it isn't for my own sake that I want to go."

"I know it, dear; but my thought has been for you at least as much as for the others. There is yet another view of the matter, which I believe Gwen has already considered. Nellie, we have had for days past a heavy trouble impending—a very terrible perplexity as to our future. We have pleaded in prayer with our God that He would show us where to walk—would supply us with some means of livelihood. Here is, or here seems to be, the response. A way is plainly opened. Shall we dare to refuse it?"

Mrs. Halcombe was weeping quietly, but she shook her head; and all knew that the matter was decided.

"Still," Mr. Halcombe said, after a pause, as if with a sudden sense of reluctance, "still—if Gwennie were doubtful or unwilling, we would hesitate—would consult others. Mr. Selwyn, for instance."

But Gwendoline lifted her head, and looked straight at him with bright clear eyes.

"I am not doubtful, and I am quite willing," she said. "I have known from the first moment that it must be—'must' be, father. How could we decide otherwise? I don't think it is for my own sake that I wish to go, though of course I know it will be a life of ease. I know I have complained sometimes—at least, I suppose I have,—but indeed my choice could never be to live away from you all—and from mother." Gwendoline's voice grew husky. "But this is not choice. I don't see that any choice at all is left me. Nothing short of your positive command could make it right for me to refuse to go. How could I deliberately drag you all down to such miserable poverty?"

There was no more discussion about the manner of answer to be sent to Lady Halcot, though by common consent the letter itself was deferred till the next day. "I am not sure that it would not be wise for you to have a few words with Mr. Selwyn before writing," Mr. Halcombe said.

Half an hour later the "few words" became unexpectedly an immediate possibility. A caller's knock was followed by the entrance of Mr. Selwyn himself, in so hearty a mood of pleasure and satisfaction, that Mr. and Mrs. Halcombe began to wake up to the fact of something good having really happened. He had received a letter from Lady Halcot that afternoon, stating her intentions with respect to Gwendoline.

"I could not have wished anything better," the kindhearted lawyer said. "My wife is delighted, and she would let me have no peace till I came off to congratulate you all. It is rather late for a call, but to-morrow I shall not have a spare moment. Of course there can be no question about acceptance of the offer. It does away with all your most pressing anxieties, and places Gwendoline at once in a position of positive affluence."

He quite forgot at the moment that he always called her "Miss Halcombe" to her face. "As for the future, though Lady Halcot will not exactly pledge herself to anything, she evidently wishes it to be understood that Gwendoline will be well provided for."

"'Handsomely,' she says," observed Mr. Halcombe.

And Gwendoline gave her letter to Mr. Selwyn. He read it deliberately.

"Ah yes—just so. Better keep that letter, Mr. Halcombe. Yes—just so—exactly. There is merely the little condition of implicit obedience."

"I shall always do what Lady Halcot tells me, if it is not wrong," said Gwendoline.

"Precisely so," repeated the lawyer, with a slightly dubious expression. "That is all that you can say—of course. Your mother has no doubt told you that Lady Halcot is an old lady of peculiar temperament. It is well to avoid little differences."

"Gwen is not argumentative," said Mr. Halcombe, with a fond look at her.