than to herself. The girl felt the parting; but eager interest in the new old house, longing for her mother and sisters, and shy pleasure in her father’s notice, overwhelmed the feeling and pushed it aside for the time. She was delighted when her father took her to lunch at Verey’s, and enjoyed the strawberry ice which he gave her. She tried to adapt her conversation to what she supposed might be Lord Haredale’s tastes, and asked him if the hunting near Cleverley was good.
“Fond of riding, eh?” he said. “I haven’t been out for years, – never was much in my line. But your aunt, she was the best horse-woman in the county. Fellows used to lay bets on what ugly places Annabel Haredale would go in for next. But she was up to the game, and when she was expected to show off would ride as if she were following a funeral – make them open all the gates for her, and then go ahead like a bird and distance everybody. – You’ll do, if you have her hand at a horse’s mouth, and her seat on the saddle.”
Amethyst found some difficulty in picturing her aunt flying over the country like a bird, and answered humbly —
“I never rode anything but Dobbin, the Rectory pony, papa; but he could take a flat ditch, if it wasn’t too wide. I should like hunting.”
“Well, we’ll see about it next winter. I’ll manage to mount you, perhaps, somehow.”
“Oh, papa, I don’t want anything that’s any trouble. I like everything that comes handy.” She smiled gaily as she spoke, and her sweet light-hearted look struck her father.
“You take after my lady,” he said aloud, and then under his moustaches, “and, by Jove! you’ll cut her out too.”
Amethyst’s gaiety subsided as they came to the little country station, and were driving through the lanes to Cleverley Hall. Her heart beat very fast – it was the intensest moment her young life had known.
“Shy, eh?” said her father good-naturedly, as they reached the Hall. “Never mind – we take things easy. Visitors in the drawing-room, do you say?” – to the servant. “Generally are, I think. My lady would have made a circle of mermen and savages if she had been shipwrecked with Robinson Crusoe.” Amethyst hardly heard; she followed her father into the long low room, full of misty afternoon sunlight. She did not heed that several figures rose hurriedly as they entered; she heard a clear sweet voice say —
“Why here she is! Here’s my big girl!” and, full in the dazzle of that confusing sunlight, she saw her mothers slender figure and smiling face.
As the welcoming arms clasped her, and the smiling lips kissed her, Amethyst felt as if she had never known what happiness meant before.
Chapter Five
Sisters
The visitors, who were introduced by Lady Haredale as, “Our neighbours at Ashfield, Mr Leigh, and Mrs Leigh,” speedily took their leave. Amethyst had hardly seen them; for the whole evening was dazzling and dreamy to her, full of emotion and excitement.
It was hours before she could sleep, though a wakeful night was a new experience to her. But when she woke the next morning rather late, she was sensible of the light of common day, and came down fresh and cheerful to find herself the first at breakfast, and nobody there to receive her apologies for having overslept herself.
Breakfast was in the “library” – a pleasant room, but with no books in it to account for its appellation; and Lady Haredale soon appeared, while the three girls straggled in by degrees.
“Now, you bad children,” said Lady Haredale gaily, as the meal concluded, “you know you have all got to make up your minds that Amethyst will go out with me, and that you are all still in the school-room.”
“Where is it?” asked Tory, with her lazy drawl.
“There isn’t much to go out for, that I see – down here,” said Una.
“Oh, you are all spoiled,” said Lady Haredale. “Amethyst never saw such a set of ignorant creatures. I shall leave her to tell you what good little girls should be like.”
There was a sweet lightsome tone in Lady Haredale’s voice, that seemed to Amethyst to indicate the most delightful relations between herself and her daughters, though the three girls did not look responsive.
“Have you any pretty frocks, my dear?” said Lady Haredale, as she rose to go away. “I mean to have some parties, and there will be people here. If his lordship won’t let us go to London, we must amuse ourselves here, mustn’t we? Though I don’t despair of London yet.”
“I don’t know – I’m afraid you wouldn’t think my best dress very pretty, mamma.”
”‘Mamma’ – how pretty the old name is on her tongue!”
Amethyst blushed.
“I’m afraid it’s old-fashioned,” she said, “but the Rectory girls at Silverfold say ‘mamma.’ Do we call you ‘mother’?”
“Do you know,” said Lady Haredale, ”‘mamma’ is so old-fashioned that I think it’s quite chic. And very pretty of you; go on – I like it. And never mind the frocks. Of course it’s my place to dress you up and show you off – and I will. I’m glad you’re such a pretty creature.”
She kissed Amethyst lightly as she passed her, and went away, leaving the girl embarrassed by the outspoken praise. But Amethyst knew, or thought she knew, all about her own beauty, and accepted it as one of the facts of life; so she roused herself in a moment, clapped her hands together, and sprang at her sisters – seizing Una round the waist.
“Come! come! let us look at each other, let us find each other out! – How big you all are! Come and tell me what work you are doing, and what you each go in for; let’s have a splendid talk together.”
She pulled Una down beside her on the sofa, and looked smiling into her face. She had not been grown-up so long as not to be quite ready for companionship with these younger girls, and girls came natural to her.
Una looked back wistfully into the laughing eyes. She was as tall as Amethyst, and her still childish dress accentuated the lanky slenderness of her figure, which seemed weighed down by the enormous quantities of reddish brown hair that fell over her shoulders and about her face. Indeed she looked out of health; all the colour in her face was concentrated in her full red lips, and her wide-open eyes were set in very dark circles. She looked, spite of her short frock and her long hair, older than her real age, and as unlike a natural healthy school-girl as the most “intense” and aesthetic taste could desire. Kattern was prettier, and, as Amethyst expressed it to herself, more comfortable-looking, but she had a stupid face; and by far the shrewdest, keenest glances came from Tory’s darker eyes, which had an elfish malice in them, that caused Amethyst mentally to comment on her as “a handful for any teacher.”
“We don’t do any work – we’re neglected,” she said, perching herself on the arm of the sofa, and looking at her sisters as they sat upon it, with her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. “I expect we shall have some lessons now, though, we’re ‘in the school-room,’ now we are in the country – like the Miss Leighs.”
“You could not do regular lessons when you were travelling,” said Amethyst, “but I dare say you’re all good at French and German. We might have some readings together anyhow. I don’t mean to be idle, Una – you’ll help me to stick to work of some kind, won’t you?”
“You’d
