CHAPTER XIV.

A LONG-DEFERRED HOPE IS REALIZED.

A FORTNIGHT later, on a raw, gloomy afternoon, Aldyth and her aunt stepped from a train on to the platform of Liverpool Street Station. A telegram received late on the previous evening had acquainted them with the fact that the Stanton family had arrived in London, and Aldyth was now on her way to meet her mother.

Aldyth's face was white and eager, and Miss Lorraine, too looked excited. Aldyth had been disposed to maintain silence all the way, and the journey had never seemed to her so tedious; but excitement had had the contrary effect on her aunt. Unchecked by her niece's reluctant rejoinders, she had talked the whole time, chiefly on matters of little or no importance. But when they were in a cab, driving to the West-end hotel where the Stantons were to be found, Miss Lorraine, too, became silent, and her eyes were often turned upon her niece with a rather anxious expression.

It was no new thing to Aldyth to be in London. She and her aunt not seldom came up for a day's shopping in town, or gave themselves a few days' enjoyment of sight-seeing. They found such delight in the pleasures of town as only country people can, to whose ordinary experience it offers so sharp a contrast.

But to-day Aldyth had no eyes for the shop windows, nor for the beautiful equipages they met as they drove westwards. She saw nothing that they passed. There was a strange combination of thoughts—if thoughts they could be called—in her heart. Every now and then tears would rise to her eyes as she told herself how happy she was going to be. Life must be different for her from henceforth. All she had known or read or dreamed of a mother's love was to be realized at last. She started as from a dream and flushed crimson when her aunt suddenly laid her hand on her arm.

"We are almost there, Aldyth. See, this is Charing Cross."

And, still with a dreamy sense of unreality, Aldyth recognized the wide space before her, the fountains, the lions, the statues, with the omnibuses taking up passengers, the carriages dashing to and fro, and all the bustle and stir of London life.

"Oh, Aldyth! Oh, my dear child!" said Miss Lorraine, taking the girl's hand in hers, and speaking in agitated tones.

Aldyth looked at her wonderingly; but whatever Miss Lorraine was about to say—if indeed she knew—was never said.

Their cab was making its way through a crowd of vehicles. There was a bump and a jar which startled Miss Lorraine, always somewhat nervous when driving in London. Happily there was no cause for alarm; all was right in a moment. But ere Miss Lorraine had recovered from her fright, they were at the door of the hotel, and an obsequious servant stood ready to help them to alight.

Aldyth made an effort to subdue her excitement as they followed a waiter up the steps; but in spite of her will, her heart beat uneasily, and she felt quite faint as the man threw open a door and announced them. She need not have experienced any nervousness, however. The room they entered was a large one, with three windows overlooking the Embankment, and at first sight it appeared to be empty; but a young lady rose hastily from the depths of a great easy-chair by the fire, and came forward with outstretched hand.

"Aldyth! Do we meet at last?" she said, and kissed her affectionately. "How strange it is to think that you are my sister, and we have never seen each other till now! And this is your aunt, I suppose? How do you do, Miss Lorraine? I cannot claim you as an aunt, although Aldyth is my sister. Pray come near the fire; you must be dreadfully cold. I never knew anything like the cold of London."

Aldyth sat down, but her eyes were fixed upon the door which communicated with the next room. Was her mother there? Why did she not come to her?

"You are Gladys, I suppose?" said Miss Lorraine, pitying Aldyth's suspense. "Mrs. Stanton is quite well, I hope?"

"Oh, perfectly well, thank you," said Gladys. "She will never forgive herself for not being here to welcome Aldyth; but papa wanted her to go out with him. I think they were going to inquire about a house, and of course we did not know exactly when you would arrive. But mamma will be very vexed."

Aldyth said nothing. She could not have spoken without betraying how disappointed she was. All the way to London she had had a vision of her mother awaiting her, eager for her coming, longing to clasp her in her arms. This reality was so different from her anticipations that she experienced a painful revulsion of feeling.

"Do come nearer the fire," said Gladys Stanton, seeing her turn pale and shiver. "And you will like some tea—tea is always refreshing after a journey." She rose and rang the bell as she spoke.

Aldyth now looked more attentively at her sister. She was very fair, with large blue eyes, and an abundance of pale, silky hair twisted in a sort of picturesque confusion about her head. Her tall, willowy form was almost too slim, but it was a pleasure to watch its easy, graceful movements. The small, oval face, framed by the masses of bright hair, had faulty features; but its expression was winsome, and the long blue eyes had a way of looking and the mouth a trick of smiling, the fascination of which Aldyth soon began to feel.

When the waiter appeared, she ordered tea, and then inquired where the ladies' rooms were, and if their luggage had been taken up.

"Did the ladies want rooms in the hotel?" asked the man, with an air of surprise. "I am afraid that is impossible; I believe every room is taken."

"Oh no, that cannot be," said Gladys; "Mrs. Stanton has engaged the rooms. You are making a mistake. Please go and inquire about them."

"Of course he must be mistaken," she said, when he had gone. "I know mamma meant to engage rooms for you."

But when the waiter reappeared with the tea, he brought word that there were indeed no rooms to be had. The clerk declared that no extra rooms had been engaged for Mrs. Stanton's party.

"Oh, dear! Then mamma must have forgotten it. How tiresome of her!" said Gladys. "What will you think of us?" she added, turning with a pretty, deprecating air to Aldyth. "But you know we only arrived yesterday, and mamma has had so much to think of. She lost one of her trunks, too, and that has put her out very much. What is to be done now, I wonder?"

"We must go to another hotel, of course," said Miss Lorraine, promptly; "there are several others in this neighbourhood."

Here the waiter interposed, and said that the ladies could have rooms in a private hotel on the opposite side of the street.

"Oh, that might do," said Gladys, as she poured out the tea; "you would be close by, and could be with us all the time. Would you mind that so very much?"

"Not at all; we should do very well there," said Aldyth, who by this time had conquered her wounded feelings and regained self-control.

"We must see the rooms before we agree to take them," said Gladys, promptly, with a business-like air. "Now do drink your tea whilst it is hot, and then I will go across with you and see if the place is fit for you."

Aldyth was beginning to feel much interested in her pretty sister. There was something surprising to her in the self-possession and savoir-faire of this girl of nineteen. She could have imagined that Gladys was older than herself, for Gladys' rich dress and the jewellery with which her person was lavishly adorned gave her a mature air. Her gown of ruby silk was more gorgeous than anything Aldyth ever wore, and had she possessed such a one, she would have deemed it only suitable for a dinner or evening party.

Aldyth was still on the watch for her mother's arrival; but Gladys did not appear to expect her immediate return.

"We are to dine here at seven, as a family party," she said, glancing round the room. "Mamma thought it would be nicer than going to the table d'hôte to-night. Perhaps you would like to go to your rooms now; you would wish to change your dress, I dare say—not but what you look as nice as possible."

Miss Lorraine assented with some eagerness. She was anxious to be assured of comfortable quarters for the night before it grew later.

Gladys caught up a handsome travelling cloak and a large hat with drooping feathers which lay on a chair, hastily arrayed herself in them, thrust her jewelled fingers into a tiny muff, and declared herself ready to accompany her visitors. They had but to walk a few steps, across the street, and they were in the other house.

The rooms were very nice. Gladys found some fault with them, perhaps because she felt duty bound not to be too easily satisfied on behalf of her friends. She lingered for a while, offering to help Aldyth to unpack and evidently anxious to do all she could for her new-found sister.

When at last Aldyth assured her there was nothing more she could do, Gladys threw her arms about her a gave her a loving little hug and kiss.

"I am sure I shall like you," she said, impetuously. "I am sure we shall get on well together, although you are older than I am."

"I should be very sorry to think that we should not get on together," said Aldyth, her heart going out in warm response to this welcome affection. "You do not know how I have longed for a sister. It has seemed so hard to have sisters whom I could never see."

"Oh, I hope you will not be disappointed," said Gladys, impressively. "I do hope you have not romantic ideas about sisterly affection; for, if so, I am sure we shall shock you, since Nell and I are for ever quarrelling. But now I will leave you. Be sure to come over as soon as you are ready."

"She seems a nice girl, although so over-dressed," said Miss Lorraine, popping her head into Aldyth's room as soon as her sister had gone; "I hope you will like her."

"I do like her; I am sure it will be easy to love her," said Aldyth, warmly.

"I wish you would come and see if you can open the register in my room," said her aunt; "I fancied the room felt stuffy when I entered, and now I find that the chimney is fast closed."

Aldyth went at once, soon had the chimney open, and rendered several other little services to her aunt. Miss Lorraine refrained from any comment on the fact of Mrs. Stanton being absent when her daughter arrived, and Aldyth was grateful for her silence.

When she went back to her room, Aldyth bolted her door, sat down and burst into tears. She was so disappointed; there was no disguising the truth, though she tried to persuade herself that she was unreasonably disappointed. It was but too clear that her coming was not to her mother what her mother's coming was to her. And how should it be? Aldyth asked herself, trying hard to rally her common sense Had not her mother three other children, and was there not for her all the excitement of returning to England after an absence of twenty years?

And yet—and yet, Aldyth could not argue away her pain. Something within her heart would say that their meeting should have been more to her mother than all beside. The one ray of pleasure that lightened Aldyth's disappointment came from the kindness of her sister Gladys. The warmth of her loving caress and frank, impulsive words seemed to remain with Aldyth.

Aldyth did not long give way to tears. She remembered that time was passing, and that she must prepare for the meeting with her mother. Slowly and with more deliberation than she often bestowed on it, she began to make her toilet. She took down and shook out her long, dark hair, brushed it till it shone like satin, then combed it straight back from her brows, and plaited it into a beautiful coil at the back of her head.

As she surveyed the effect, she smiled to think what a contrast her appearance presented to that of Gladys. "I should feel so untidy if I wore my hair in such a tangle," she thought; "and yet she looks very pretty so. I wonder if that is an Australian fashion."

With some anxiety, Aldyth put on her gown—a soft grey cashmere with a vest of pale pink. It had won much admiration from Hilda Bland, but now Aldyth felt doubtful about it. She looked wistfully at herself in the mirror.

"Shall I look old-fashioned beside Gladys?" she asked herself. "Oh, I do hope mother will like the look of me."

She smiled at the absurdity of the thought, but with the smile came tears. Were not mothers generally disposed to like their children's looks?

There was a tap at the door, and she opened it to admit her aunt. Miss Lorraine wore her best black silk and a dainty little head-dress of lace.

"Ah, you are ready," she said; "then we had better go across. It is half-past six."

"Shall I do, auntie?" asked Aldyth, anxiously.

"Do! You will always do, child," said Miss Lorraine, playfully. "Yes, indeed, you look very nice—far more suitably dressed than Gladys, in my opinion." And she kissed Aldyth.

After all, she told herself with secret pleasure, Aldyth was her child, and belonged to her far more truly than to that strange mother, just come across the sea.

Aldyth was trembling again as she went up the stairs of the hotel. Gladys met them in the corridor, took Miss Lorraine to their private sitting room, but drew Aldyth back as she was about to cross the threshold.

"Come with me," she said; "mamma hates scenes, and she would rather see you alone first. We will go to her room."

They passed along the corridor; but Aldyth was aware of nothing till a door was thrown open, and she found herself in the presence of a tall and handsome lady. Then she had a momentary bewildering sense that the photograph had deceived her, and this was not the form she had imaged to herself. But ere she could receive any distinct impression, the lady had folded her in her arms, and a voice exquisitely sweet, and full, and caressing said, tenderly—

"My dear child! Can it indeed be my little Aldyth come back to me like this?"

For a few moments Aldyth could not speak. It Was like a dream-the tender pressure, the soft kisses, the caressing tones, and mingling with them the subtle, sweet perfume that pervaded her mother's dress.

In that brief interval, Aldyth tasted the bliss for which she had yearned. But the next minute, Mrs. Stanton's arms loosened their clasp; she drew back a step or two, and stood looking at her daughter, evidently awaiting her inspection.

Aldyth looked at her mother with eager, wondering eyes. She could see a likeness to the portrait now; but she saw also great differences. The rich waving hair, abundant as ever, was now silvery grey—a change which gave a striking effect to the handsome, clear-cut features and the large, flashing dark eyes, which had lost little of the brilliancy which in youth had made them so irresistible. Few women of her years could have borne to wear their hair rolled high up above the brows as hers was; but, despite her grey hair, Mrs. Stanton had no look of age. Her cheeks were well rounded, her complexion fresh, and her full, red lips closed over perfect teeth. She had the appearance of a full-blown beauty of the period when it was the fashion for ladies to powder their hair, by way of accentuating their bloom. Her figure was full and well-formed; and the daring simplicity of her black velvet gown, with square-cut bodice showing the round, white throat, set it off to perfection. Her beautiful arms were bare from the elbow, and adorned with heavy gold bracelets.

A glow of admiration might well kindle in Aldyth's eyes as she observed her mother.

"Well," said Mrs. Stanton, at last, not ill-pleased with the expression she read on Aldyth's face; "am I at all what you expected? What do you think of me?"

"You are not what I expected," Aldyth replied, slowly, in a low, fervent tone; "but—you are very beautiful."

Mrs. Stanton laughed. She was well pleased with her daughter's simple, ingenuous remark.

"Ah, you are a flatterer, I fear," she said, lightly; "but really your appearance is not altogether flattering. I did not expect to see such a woman. You make me feel quite old. Let me see—what is your age, by the by?"

"I was twenty-one last March," said Aldyth, a little surprised that her mother should need to ask.

"Ah, to be sure, I had forgotten," said Mrs. Stanton, carelessly, "and Gladys is just nineteen. But now Mr. Stanton will be impatient to see you, and you have yet to make the acquaintance of Cecil and Nelly. Come, darling."

So saying she led the way to the sitting room.

Mr. Stanton did not look as if he were impatient to see Aldyth or any one. He was a weary-looking man, with bald head and stooping shoulders. His manner was singularly nervous and shy, and though he greeted Aldyth not unkindly, he seemed to have nothing to say to her. But his wife was well able to supply his lack of words. She talked both for him and for herself.

"I have been telling Aldyth how anxious you were to see her, Robert. Now, is she what you expected? Not at all like me, is she? No, she resembles her father. It is very strange that not one of my girls is really like me. Gladys resembles me most; but then she is fair, like your family, and her features are not like mine. I often wonder how it is that people will persist in saying she is like me. Oh, here is Nelly! Come, Nelly, and let me introduce you to your sister Aldyth."

Nelly appeared by no means desirous of the introduction. She was a big, awkward girl of fifteen, dark, heavy-browed and somewhat sullen-looking; but with good eyes, and a certain resemblance to her handsome mother, although she was undeniably plain. She seemed to have inherited her father's nervous, shy manner. She shook hands with Aldyth without looking at her, and rushed away to the further end of the room, where, hidden by a curtain, she leaned on a window sill and watched the outer world.

Cecil did not appear till dinner was on the table. He was a good-looking lad of seventeen, bright and pleasant in manner, though somewhat foppish in his person, and not without the conceit common to youths of his age. Still, Aldyth felt that she should like him when she knew him better. But all her impressions that evening seemed vague and unreal. She felt like one in a dream as she sat listening to the talk that went on, and replying to the remarks addressed to her.

Mrs. Stanton, as seemed to be her habit, not only spoke for herself, but said everything that her husband should said, whilst he, sitting opposite to her, silent and melancholy, occasionally murmured an assent. She had many questions to ask respecting Woodham and various families residing in the vicinity, to which Miss Lorraine was only too pleased to make full replies.

Gladys, whose vivacity seemed inexhaustible, chatted fast with her brother and Aldyth; Mr. Stanton and Nelly were the only silent ones. The latter, seated opposite to Aldyth, made good use of her opportunity of observing the appearance of her half-sister.

If Aldyth's glance met hers, she looked away hurriedly; but her eyes returned to the inspection, and Aldyth was conscious that they travelled over her, and that, apparently, no detail of her person escaped their notice. But as soon as dinner was over, Nelly buried herself in a book and made no attempt to converse with Aldyth.

"Aldyth," said her mother, coming up to her and laying her hand on her shoulder, "I am glad to hear that your uncle, at his great age, keeps so hale and well. To-morrow we must, have a quiet talk together, and you shall tell me all about him and your cousin Guy."

"Yes, I will," said Aldyth, her heart throbbing with joy at the thought of that confidential talk. "Oh, mother! I am so happy to think that I can talk to you at last."

"Darling!" said her mother, pressing her hand. "But don't call me 'mother' in that solemn way, Aldyth. It makes me feel so—I don't know what. Say 'mamma,' as Gladys does."

The lightly-spoken words jarred on Aldyth in her vivid emotion. But nothing could be more tender and caressing than her mother's manner to her throughout the evening; and when, on parting for the night, Aldyth found herself again folded in her mother's arms, her heart was too full of happiness to have any doubt.

"You are sure that you and your aunt will be quite comfortable there—you are sure you have everything you want?" asked Mrs. Stanton, with an air of maternal solicitude. "Mr. Stanton was so vexed—were you not, Robert? That he forgot to order rooms for you in the hotel."

Mr. Stanton looked slightly surprised at his wife's appeal to him, but replied to her words in the affirmative. Then, at her suggestion, he found his hat and coat, and escorted Aldyth and her aunt across the street to their lodgings.