CHAPTER VI

A RAMBLE IN THE FELLS

MONDAY dawned bright and fair. The picnic on the lake was a great success. Ruffie was made comfortable with cushions in the boat, and the little girls were allowed to take an oar together, whilst the old gardener Stephen took the other. They rowed across to a small island, and landed there for lunch.

At six o'clock they came home; a rather tired but a very happy little party. Anstice had the art of making and keeping children so.

She overheard a conversation about herself between Ruffie and his sisters which rather amused her. She was planting a small bed with seedlings outside the library, and their voices came to her through the open window.

"I love Steppie."

This emphatically and a little defiantly from Ruffie.

"You've gone over pretty soon! I'm going to wait a month to see what she's like."

This was Josie speaking.

"Yes," said Georgie. "She may be just pretending to get us under her thumb, like the wicked witches do in the fairy stories."

"No," said Ruffie in his decided little voice, "her face couldn't be a witch's. She looks at me as if she—well, you know—liked me ever so."

"That's only the spell in her eye! I'm going to wait. If I find her out, it will be war at the end of the month."

"She wants to do nice things for us," went on Ruffie; "she's going to have flowers in the conservatory, and one end of it she's going to have doves and birds in a big room with trees and nests in it. She calls it an 'aviary.'"

"That's another spell," said Josie, but there was hesitation in her tone.

"Well, we've got a month to find out what she's like," said Georgie. "Anyhow, she doesn't worry us with lessons."

"But," said Anstice to herself, with a shake of her head, "that is exactly what I am going to do, my poor dears."

The very next day she set out on her errand to Mrs. Fergusson's.

The fine weather had suddenly departed. Rain and mist set in from over the Fells. But Anstice was indifferent to weather. She started out for her two-mile walk in waterproof coat and skirt, and revelled in the moist sweet air, and the scent of wet pines and earth as she passed along the wooded road. She turned up from the high road before long, and then winding up and down she reached a little cottage in front of a cluster of pines, with a magnificent view of the lake below, and the Fells beyond it.

The door was opened to her by the tall, handsome woman she had noticed in church.

"I must introduce myself to you," said Anstice with her happy smile; "but my husband, Mr. Holme, wished me to call upon you about a certain matter which is troubling us."

Mrs. Fergusson led her into a very cosy little sitting-room. A cheerful wood fire was burning in the grate. As she took her seat again after settling Anstice upon a comfortable couch, she took up some very pretty fancywork she was doing, and continued to sew, saying:

"I feel sure you will excuse my working. This is a cushion cover, an order which I must execute in time for a wedding the end of this month. I am very fond of needlework; I used to do a great deal when I was in Russia, and a certain firm in London gives me orders which helps with my son's education. He is at Harrow, and that costs money."

She spoke so simply, and yet with such dignity, that Anstice felt at ease at once.

"May I tell you of our trouble? It is the education of my husband's two little girls. He is away now, but before he went, we talked it over together. You see, now I am with them, they do not need a resident governess. And we were wondering if you could possibly help us in the matter?"

Mrs. Fergusson put down her work in her lap, and looked across at Anstice with smiling amusement in her dark eyes.

"You don't know, Mrs. Holme, how I have longed to take those young pickles in hand! I have always loved teaching. It is a most delicious thing to impart to others what one has acquired for oneself. I have of course seen the relays of young governesses that have come and gone at the Manor. One or two confided in me, but those were the ones who could not stand the solitude and isolation of their position. Once, owing to Mrs. Wykeham, I was very nearly offering my services; but I could not manage to give up my whole time to them. They needed a resident governess, and I have to keep up my house for my boy, and my needlework is my occupation."

"But could you come to them or let them come to you for the morning hours only?"

They plunged at once into a discussion of the subject. Anstice felt the charm of Mrs. Fergusson's personality. She did not wonder that her services had been requisitioned and valued by one of the royal families in Russia. When she asked her how it was she had settled in these isolated wilds, Mrs. Fergusson had made reply:

"I am close to my childhood's home, and in the Lake District which I love. I used to live at Helvellyn Towers, not so many miles from here. My father lost his money when I was just grown-up. I had been extremely well educated, and through interest, I went to Russia and stayed in the Grand Duke's family, the Serge V—'s, for just twelve years. I taught their three girls, and then met my husband who was an attaché in St. Petersburg."

"I came home to be married, had three happy years, then he went to the War, and was killed after four years' hard fighting. My boy was born in the first year of the War. I have had some hard and lonely years since, but settled down here three years ago, and am quite contented now with my lot. The awful tragedies in Russia and my own sorrow have whitened my hair. But I am not an old woman even now, and I long to rub up my teaching faculties sometimes. I know I have a gift in that direction. Will you tell me a little about your small stepdaughters? My boy and they have scraped up acquaintance, but they fight shy of me. I think they heard that I had been a governess once, and that was enough for them!"

So Anstice told her a good deal about the children, and felt what a boon her experience and insight of character would be to the little girls, and also to herself. She returned home having settled that Mrs. Fergusson should come regularly every morning to give the children lessons from nine to one. She preferred to come to them rather than that they should come to her, and Anstice was relieved, for she had feared that the temptation to play truant sometimes would prove too much for them.

When she came home, she broke the news at once to the little girls.

They were astounded and at first most indignant.

"We aren't going to have governesses, and we hate old women!"

"Mrs. Fergusson is not old. Do you know what turned her hair so white? Do you know that the little girls whom she taught in Russia and loved were all horribly murdered? One of them only escaped, and the horrors that she had seen and experienced sent her mad. She has never recovered her senses."

Interest was aroused at once.

"Ivan never told us that."

"No, and I don't think his mother has told him. You had better say nothing about it, I only tell you to make you feel for Mrs. Fergusson. She loved those little girls, and they loved her. They were little princesses. Don't you think if they liked Mrs. Fergusson so much that you might do the same?"

"It isn't fair to spring lessons on us."

"But didn't we agree that for a month we should try work in the morning and play in the afternoon? We are going to give it a trial."

There was silence.

Then Josie shrugged her shoulders.

"It's no good going to Ruffie to make him decide. You've got him quite over on your side. It isn't fair."

"You come over too," said Anstice, laughing; "then we shall be a very happy family."

"Did Mrs. Fergusson see the Czar being murdered? Did she see the little girls being killed?" asked Georgie breathlessly.

"No, but she heard about it, and she has seen the one poor child who is left alive."

Anstice walked away. She had announced her intentions, and thought the less discussion about it the better.

The very next morning Mrs. Fergusson appeared. She rode on a tricycle which was well known to the little girls, as they had had rides on it themselves when playing with Ivan.

Anstice had made a very comfortable room of the library. Curtains and chair-covers had been renovated, a fresh carpet put down, and the whole room cleaned and polished till everything in it looked spotless and shining. This was to be the schoolroom and only used for lessons.

The first morning of study was an undoubted success. Mrs. Fergusson never doubted for a moment her capacity to interest and teach. Her methods of doing so were entirely new to the children, and they were as clay in her hands. Anstice hardly expected to hear Josie say as she did when she came to luncheon:

"Georgie and me like Mrs. Fergusson. It doesn't seem like lessons when she teaches us."

And she was inexpressibly thankful for the result of her endeavours.

That afternoon she took a ramble over the Fells. The little girls had invited Ruffie to tea in their new sitting-room and had been busy cooking cakes and scones for the occasion.

Fond of children as she was, Anstice was sometimes glad to get away alone. Hercules, the big mastiff, had attached himself to her, and now came bounding after her as she went down the drive. The air, as she mounted higher, exhilarated her. She had a message to leave for Brenda at Hockerdale Farm, and after having a pleasant little chat with Mrs. James, went on her way to call upon an old couple who lived at the extreme end of her husband's property.

It was an isolated bit of country, down at the bottom of a little valley near a very small and picturesque lake. It was a still, warm afternoon, but there was a feeling of thunder in the air, and just before she reached the cottage, rain began to fall.

The woman opened the door to her. She had a slim, upright figure and a very pleasant, smiling face. Anstice soon saw that she and her brother had original personalities. Sister and brother had lived in the little cottage for over thirty years; the man, Tommy Nixon, as he was familiarly called, owned some sheep, a couple of cows, a pony and a sheep-dog; his sister Ellen kept poultry. Their small kitchen with its big stove and oven in the well, the thick oak beams across the low ceiling, and the quantity of treasures in brass and china and lustre on its walls, made quite a picture, and Anstice longed for an artist's pencil and brush to transfer it to paper.

"This will be a noted day for us, Mem," said Ellen, drawing a chair out for Anstice to sit on. "An' will ye be havin' a coop o' tay, fur I'm well able to gie't ye? We ha' mony a visitor t' our wee cottage, frae Americky, an' Scotland an' Ireland. We're not advertisin' nor puttin' 'tays' on a board, but we git weel spoken of frae one to anither. But 'tis not often we see the Squire's leddy nor any belongin' to him."

"I shall be very grateful for some tea," said Anstice. "How lonely you are out here! What do you do with yourselves in the winter?"

"We're never lonely," said Ellen, beaming upon her. "I havna been to a big toon fur ower five year. But there be always a lot to do. An' my hens be raal frens to me. I bake our bread and mak' t' butter, an' Tommy, he be always out aboot wi' the shaap."

"But the long winter evenings: what do you do then?"

"We leet t' lamp, an' I have ma bit sewin', an' Tommy, he has his carvin'; an' we be just very cheery a' the toime."

Then, as she bustled about, putting her kettle on, and cutting bread and butter, the old man showed with pride an old dresser which he had made out of some odd boards given him. It was most wonderfully carved. He told her he had never had a lesson in his life, but "the gift" was in the family. Anstice was shown a bird-cage made in the shape of a Swiss chalet and carved on the surface, also a chair and a box, and then he produced a bundle of walking sticks. The first one he had ever done had a most realistic snake wound round and round it, and was carved entirely with a plain pocketknife. Then he told how a gentleman came along and gave him a few tools. One of the sticks had a fox, a hare, and a rabbit, besides two stags' heads with antlers on one side of it; on the other were the hounds chasing their different quarries. And the handle was a ram's head. He told her, he sold a good many of these sticks to summer visitors crossing the Fells.

Sitting in a window-seat as he talked, Tommy looked a perfect picture of an old Westmorland shepherd, but Anstice was struck with the cheerful philosophy and contentment of the sister.

[Illustration: "I wish every one was as happy and contented as you are." _Her Kingdom_ Book I, Chapter VI.]

"So long as God be gude enou' to let us bide together, there be nothin' to complain by. Ma brither be turned seventy. If he were taken from me, t'would be a sorro'fu' daay for me, but thaat daay be not coom yet awhile. An' we ha' all we need, an' each ither, which is very pleasant. An' the visitors brighten our summer daays."

Anstice had her tea. A jug full of rich cream, some oat cakes, homemade bread and butter, and homemade jam were put before her.

"You have done me good," she said as she rose to go. "I wish every one was as happy and contented as you are. I must come up to you here, when I feel inclined to grumble."

Then with kindling eyes she added, as she shook hands with them both:

"If we both believe and trust in the Love of God, we ought never to be unhappy or afraid."

And Ellen responded with happy smile:

"Ay, Mem, that be true enow! I ha' found it sae!"

When she left them, she took a meadow path and wandered round the edge of the small lake. It seemed like a sparkling jewel set in a frame of green. On all sides the Fells rose round it, overlapping each other; those against the horizon were now blue and purple against a yellow sky. The rain had ceased, the thunder clouds had rolled away, and the lights and shadows upon the green slopes above kept Anstice gazing at them in sheer delight, till at last she reminded herself that she was a good five miles from home.

By and by she came to an old bridge across a rushing torrent of water. Here she stood for a moment watching some trout leap up, and then suddenly a car came along, and she was accosted by Mrs. Wykeham.

"My dear, what a long way from home! I have been showing my cousin some of our biggest lakes. May I introduce him to you? Colonel Malcolm Dermot. Now we will drive you home. Jump in. Malcolm is allowed to fish in your husband's preserves, so you ought to know each other."

"I can't desert Hercules," said Anstice, laying her hand on the mastiff's head. "And he is not swift enough on his legs to follow."

"He is too big to come in with us," said Mrs. Wykeham. "Let him find his way home."

"I think I must walk, thank you," said Anstice.

Then Colonel Dermot opened the car door and sprang out.

"I want to stretch my legs," he said to Mrs. Wykeham. "I'll accompany Mrs. Holme across the Fells."

"That is very nasty of you, Malcolm, to prefer Mrs. Holme's company to mine, but I'll forgive you. Good-bye, both of you."

She drove off, and Colonel Dermot turned to Anstice with a smile upon his face. He was a handsome, stalwart, grey-haired man, with energy imprinted upon his features.

"I'm not a car lover," he said; "in a country like this, one ought to walk to appreciate its beauties."

"That is how I feel," said Anstice; "I always have loved walking, and can anything be more perfect than the short springy turf on the Fells?"

They had turned off from the road now; Hercules with delight was bounding on in front of them.

"You and I must be friends," said Colonel Dermot presently; "for your husband and I have been pals for a long time. And I'm sincerely glad to find he has come to his senses at last. I've been dinning the advantages of marriage into his ears for ages, but quite ineffectually so I thought. Did you know I am godfather to his boy?"

"No," said Anstice; "then you must come and see him. Ruffie loves visitors."

She felt a little restraint in talking to this new acquaintance, for she did not want him to discover how little she knew of her husband's ways, or of his friends.

"I'll certainly look in. I'm staying about ten days with Mrs. Wykeham. She tells me that you are working wonders with those knibs of mischief—the small girls. My last experience of them was last autumn. We had a water picnic. Mrs. Wykeham invited them, because she had some grandchildren staying with her, and we all went over to have tea on the big island. We stayed there till dusk; and if you'll believe me, those imps stole down to the boats about an hour before we were leaving, and cut them adrift from their moorings. There was a strong current which took them out beyond our reach. We very nearly had to camp out that night, but we made a big bonfire and sent out signals, and young Ivan Fergusson came over to our rescue."

"I can believe anything of them," said Anstice, laughing; "but I am still hopeful that they will grow up into nice, sensible girls. It is only high spirits, and an extra fund of energy, that makes them so mischievous. And I have often noticed that the children who are pickles when they are small, are much the pleasantest men and women when they grow up."

"Why did you not accompany Justin on his voyage overseas?" said Colonel Dermot a little abruptly.

"We—we thought it better not," said Anstice after a moment's hesitation. "The Manor needs a mistress, does it not? And for the children's sake I came here."

Colonel Dermot stole a quick look at her.

"Uncommonly unselfish of you," he said. "I shall have my knife into Justin for not sending me an invite to your wedding. I always told him I would be his best man!"

"Do you know these Fells well?" Anstice asked, steering away from the difficult topic. "I am sometimes afraid of losing my way, for I have a passion for taking short cuts, and sometimes these paths are like those in 'Alice through the Looking-glass.' They give themselves a wriggle, and a shake, and land me back where I came from!"

"I shouldn't wander from the beaten track if I were you. It's easy to lose oneself, especially if a mist settles down upon you. I'm a North-countryman myself. Was brought up at a place about fifteen miles from here, near Windermere. It's sold now, worse luck; but my wife likes town and is never well anywhere else."

His face had assumed rather a bitter expression. Anstice could read between the lines of his words and felt sorry for him.

"I'm a South-country person," she said happily, "but I love the air and the sweet pungent breezes across these hills. I always feel I could go on walking for ever, and never come back. Now, as you are a native, give me the names of some of the heights in front of us."

Colonel Dermot promptly did so. When they finally reached the turning that led to Butterdale Manor, they parted, feeling that a friendship had been formed between them.

Anstice invited him over to tea the next afternoon to see his little godson, and as Colonel Dermot swung down the road away from her, he muttered to himself:

"Now where did Justin pick her up? To my certain knowledge, he did not know her three months ago, when we were in town together. And how dares he leave his bride, and go off on one of these mad voyages of his! Can't understand it. No wonder Myra Wykeham says it's a mystery. But she's a fascinating girl. I must see more of her."