CHAPTER XXXVII

THE DAWN OF A BRIGHTER DAY

“We liked Myrtle Grove so well that we made it our home for three years. Its quiet beauty seemed so soothing and restful after the terrible grandeur of Enderby Castle and the mournful desolation of Weirdwaste. I had a little school of poor children, and a small number of aged and invalid cottagers, whose necessities gave me interest and occupation.

“My father was now a recluse and a student, passing most of his time in the small library among his favorite authors, or, if the weather was very fine, sitting in his leather chair under one of the trees in the thickly shaded grounds at the back of the house, with a book in his hand.

“My brother came every Christmas and every midsummer to spend his vacation with us. As I mentioned before, he knew nothing of my short, disastrous marriage, and was to know nothing of it.

“His talk, when he was at home, was full of Angus Anglesea, his one dear friend. When he was praising this hypocrite I was forced to make some excuse to get out of the room, or to keep a painful silence in it, for I could not contradict him or expose Anglesea’s villainy to me without betraying facts that it was desirable should be kept from him.

“Even my father, who knew now every circumstance attending my imprudent marriage, knew nothing of Anglesea’s insulting proposal to me. Pride, delicacy and consideration for that dear father’s feelings prevented me from telling him. Yet I made him understand that, under my peculiar circumstances, I did not want any visitors, especially gentlemen visitors, at Myrtle Grove—of course always excepting the vicar, the doctor, the lawyer and my dear brother, who could scarcely, indeed, be called a visitor.

“In this manner, without having to mention Anglesea’s name, I kept my brother’s dear friend from coming to Myrtle Grove.

“Before the commencement of every vacation, undaunted by previous refusals, Glennon would write from his college, and ask leave to bring his friend home with him.

“My father would then bring the letter to me, and ask my opinion. I would always tell him—what was the truth—that my soul shrank from visitors.

“And he would write something to the same effect in his reply to Glennon.

“My brother took this very hard, and on his arrival at home would always complain that it was—in schoolboy slang—‘a jolly shame’ he could not have Anglesea to spend the holidays with him as he had always been accustomed to do.

“He said that he did not know what had come over ‘Friday.’ She had been very fond of Anglesea when they were at Brighton together. So fond of him that he—Glennon—had hoped Anglesea might one day be his brother-in-law, as he was now his brother in heart.

“I said nothing in self-defense at all, but left it to my father to explain—what he assumed to be the truth—that I had no especial objection to Anglesea, but that the state of my health unfitted me to entertain company.

“This generally satisfied him, at least for the time being.

“At length, when little more than three years had passed, my father began to grow weary of our long seclusion from the world, and proposed that we should make another tour of the Continent—avoiding as much as possible the crowded resorts of tourists and betaking ourselves to quieter scenes.

“I consented to this, as I did to every plan proposed by my father. I made but one condition. The Easter holidays were approaching, and my brother was expected to come to Myrtle Grove to spend the time with us as usual. I therefore proposed to my father that Glennon should now invite his friend to accompany him to Myrtle Grove, while I myself should go for a week and take lodgings at the dairyman’s cottage in Kent, where my child was at nurse.

“You may wonder why I should have done this, knowing the character of Anglesea as I did. I have sometimes wondered at the same act. But I think it was from affection for Glennon I acted. I knew how he longed to have Anglesea with him at Myrtle Grove. I wished to gratify that longing. I knew that nothing I could do could either cement or sever the bonds of that strong friendship. I knew also that Anglesea never had and never would show his cloven foot to Glennon, or that even if he should do so, Glennon would never tolerate it; he would fly from it. I felt instinctively that Anglesea could never harm my brother.

“More than willingly, gladly, my father agreed to my plan. He wanted to gratify his son. So I wrote immediately to see if I could obtain lodgings, ‘for change of air,’ at the dairy farm. In good time came a favorable answer.

“Then my father wrote to Glennon, authorizing him to invite his friend to spend the Easter holidays with him at Myrtle Grove.

“I did not wait for the arrival of the visitor, but on the Wednesday before Easter I set out alone for Kent, meaning to engage some country girl in the neighborhood of the dairy to wait on me while in lodgings.

“I reached the dairy about four o’clock on that Wednesday afternoon, and found my son, now a fine boy over three years old, in the rosiest health and most boisterous spirits. He sprang into his ‘auntie’s’ arms and covered her with caresses before he began to search her pockets and her hand bag for the sweetmeats and toys she was accustomed to bring him.

“A dainty tea table was waiting for me in a charming cottage parlor. So Mary Chester coaxed my ‘nephew’ from his ‘auntie’s’ arms and showed me into a clean, neat, fresh bedroom, snow white, as all delectable bedrooms were in the days before the ‘decoration’ craze spread over the land. There I laid off my bonnet and washed off the railroad dust.

“And then I returned to the parlor, where my ‘nephew’ was allowed to join me at the tea table, sitting up in a high armchair.

“That night Mary Chester waited on me as lady’s maid, but the next day I procured the country girl I had been thinking of.

“I spent a really happy week at the dairy with my child and his foster-brother. These two children were so fond of each other that it was a comfort and delight to me to think of them together.

“Mary Chester had no other children, and she was entirely devoted to them. John Chester, her husband, was a fine, wholesome, honest young man, bearing an excellent character in the neighborhood. We all went to the parish house together on Easter Sunday, leaving the two baby boys at home in charge of Mary Chester’s grandmother, who was too infirm to sit through the long church service, but who was quite equal to the care of two children for a few hours.

“As Easter week drew to a close I began to think of returning to Myrtle Grove.

“But I did not leave the dairy until I received a letter from my father, informing me that the visitors had departed.

“Then I loaded my little son, his foster-brother and his attendants with presents suited to the conditions of each. I returned heartfelt thanks to Mary Chester for her excellent care of my ‘nephew,’ and paid her six months in advance.

“Finally, on the Thursday after Easter, I bade them all good-by and set out to return to Myrtle Grove.

“I found my father in excellent health, but impatient to start on our journey.

“I hurried my preparations, and two days after we left England for Germany, where it was my fate first to meet you, Abel Force, who made all the happiness of my life.”