The first trial resulted in Elvira's going to sleep over her book, the next in her playing all sorts of ridiculous tricks, and sulking when stopped, and when she was forbidden to speak or go out till she had repeated three answers in the multiplication table, she was the next moment singing and dancing in defiance in the garden. Caroline did not choose to endure this, and went to fetch her in, thus producing such a screaming, kicking, rolling fury that Mrs. Coffinkey might have some colour for the statement that Mrs. Folly Brownlow was murdering all her children. The cook, as the strongest person in the house, was called, carried her in and put her to bed, where she fell sound asleep, and woke, hungry, in high spirits, and without an atom of compunction.
When called to lessons she replied-"No, I'm going back to grandpapa."
"Very well," was all Caroline answered, thinking wholesome neglect the best treatment.
In an hour's time Mr. Gould made his appearance with his grandchild. She had sought him out among the pigs in the market-place, pulled him by the coat, and insisted on being taken home.
His politeness was great, but he was plainly delighted, and determined to believe that her demand sprang from affection, and not naughtiness. Elvira stood caressing him, barely vouchsafing to look at her hostess, and declaring that she never meant to come back.
Not a fortnight had passed, however, before she burst upon them again, kissing them all round, and reiterating that she hated her aunt, and would live with Mother Carey. Mr. Gould had waited to be properly ushered in. He was distressed and apologetic, but he had been forced to do his tyrant's behest. There had been more disturbances than ever between her and her aunt, and Mrs. Gould had declared that she would not manage the child any longer, while Elvira was still more vehement to return to Mother Carey. Would Mrs. Brownlow recommend some school or family where the child would be well cared for? Mrs. Brownlow did more, offering herself to undertake the charge.
Spite of all the naughtiness, she loved the beautiful wild creature, and could not bear to think of intrusting her to strangers; she knew, too, that her brother and sister-in-law had no objection, and it was the obvious plan. Mr. Gould would make some small payment, and the child was to be made to understand that she must be obedient, learn her lessons, and cease to expect to find a refuge with her grandfather when she was offended.
She drew herself up with childish pride and grace saying, "I will attend to Mrs. Brownlow, for she is my cousin and my equal."
To a certain degree the little maiden kept her word. She was the favourite plaything of the boys, and got on well with Babie, who was too bright and yielding to quarrel with any one.
But Janet's elder-sisterly authority was never accepted by the newcomer. "I couldn't mind her, she looked so ugly," said she in excuse; and probably the heavy, brown, dull complexion and large features were repulsive in themselves to the sensitive fancy of the creature of life and beauty. At any rate, they were jarring elephants, as said Eleanor, who was growing ambitious, and sometimes electrified the public with curious versions of the long words more successfully used by Armine and Babie.
Caroline succeeded in modelling a very lovely profile in bas-relief of the exquisite little head, and then had it photographed. Mary Ogilvie, coming to Kenminster as usual when her holidays began in June, found the photograph in the place of honour on her brother's chimney-piece, and a little one beside it of the artist herself.
So far as Carey herself was concerned, Mary was much better satisfied. She did not look so worn or so flighty, and had a quieter and more really cheerful tone and manner, as of one who had settled into her home and occupations. She had made friends, too-few, but worth having; and there were those who pronounced the Folly the pleasantest house in Kenminster, and regarded the five o'clock tea, after the weekly physical science lecture at the school, as a delightful institution.
Of course, the schoolmaster was one of these; and when Mary found how all his paths tended to the Pagoda, she hated herself for being a suspicious old duenna. Nevertheless, she could not but be alarmed by finding that her project of a walking tour through Brittany was not, indeed, refused, but deferred, with excuses about having work to finish, being in no hurry, and the like.
"I think you ought to go," said Mary at last.
"I see no ought in the case. Last year the work dragged, and was oppressive; but you see how different it has become."
"That is the very reason," said Mary, the colour flying to her checks. "It will not do to stay lingering here as we did last summer, and not only on your own account."
"You need not be afraid," was the muttered answer, as David bent down his head over the exercise he was correcting. She made no answer, and ere long he began again, "I don't mean that her equal exists, but I am not such a fool as to delude myself with a spark of hope."
"She is too nice for that," said Mary.
"Just so," he said, glad to relieve himself when the ice had been broken. "There's something about her that makes one feel her to be altogether that doctor's, as much as if he were present in the flesh."
"Are you hoping to wear that out? For I don't think you will."
"I told you I had no hope," he answered, rather petulantly. "Even were it otherwise, there is another thing that must withhold me. It has got abroad that she may turn out heiress to the old man at Belforest."
"In such a hopeless case, would it not be wiser to leave this place altogether?"
"I cannot," he exclaimed; then remembering that vehemence told against him, he added, "Don't be uneasy; I am a reasonable man, and she is a woman to keep one so; but I think I am useful to her, and I am sure she is useful to me."
"That I allow she has been," said Mary, looking at her brother's much improved appearance; "but-"
"Moths and candles to wit," he returned; "but don't be afraid, I attract no notice, and I think she trusts me about her boys."
"But what is it to come to?"
"I have thought of that. Understand that it is enough for me to live near her, and be now and then of some little service to her."
They were interrupted by a note, which Mr. Ogilvie read, and handed to his sister with a smile:-
"DEAR MR. OGILVIE,-Could you and Mary make it convenient to look in this evening? Bobus has horrified his uncle by declining to go up for a scholarship at Eton or Winchester, and I should be very glad to talk it over with you. Also, I shall have to ask you to take little Armine into school after the holidays. "Yours sincerely, "C. O. BROWNLOW."
"What does the boy mean?" asked Mary. "I thought he was the pride of your heart."
"So he is; but he is ahead of his fellows, and ought to be elsewhere. All measures have been taken for sending him up to stand at one of the public schools, but I thought him very passive about it. He is an odd boy-reserved and self-concentrated-quite beyond his uncle's comprehension, and likely to become headstrong at a blind exercise of authority."
"I used to like Allen best," said Mary.
"He is the pleasantest, but there's more solid stuff in Bobus. That boy's school character is perfect, except for a certain cool opinionativeness, which seldom comes out with me, but greatly annoys the undermasters."
"Is he a prig?"
"Well, yes, I'm afraid he is. He's unpopular, for he does not care for games; but his brother is popular enough for both."
"Jock?-the monkey!"
"His brains run to mischief. I've had to set him more impositions than any boy in the school, and actually to take his form myself, for simply the undermasters can't keep up discipline or their own tempers. As to poor M. le Blanc, I find him dancing and shrieking with fury in the midst of a circle of snorting, giggling boys; and when he points out ce petit monstre, Jock coolly owns to having translated 'Croquons les,' let us croquet them; or 'Je suis blesse,' I am blest."