CHAPTER V. ADELAIDE.

Waikato Times, Volume XXVI, Issue 2116, 30 January 1886, Page 1 (Supplement)

CHAPTER Y. ADELAIDE.

Another week or two passed away very pleasantly at the Vicarage; George Manners coining down at the end of each, and enlivening the whole family by his presence and his news. At every visit * his five children,' as he called them, -were not forgotten, but Dolly remarked rather jealously on one one occasion — ' Your sweets are always in a pretty box, Miss Williams, and ours only in paper.' * It's because she's the eldest,' said George, laughing, and Miss Dolly was obliged to be content with his explanation. Miss Williams had told Qeorge truly ■when the said she was beginning to be happy at Narbrough. It is always pleasant to feel people like you, and sho daily had that pleasure. The two elder girls treated her as a confidential friend, tellinghertheir troubles, theirquarrels, and how they hated Adelaide, and how badly she behaved to 'mamma ;' while the little ones were never so happy as sitting on her knee, and listening to her fairy tales. With the Vicar and his wife, too, all went on smoothly. Mrs Manners really liked the soft, gentle, ladylike girl, who was so ready to please one. And although the Vicar got very snappish sometimes, and declared she was' setting her oap at George,' and ♦hoped the young fool would take care of himself,' yet he also would now really havo misfed Miss Williams, and generally came out of his study when he heard her singing in the evenings, and would compliment her on her voice and expression. 1 You see what a siren you are, Miss Williams, 1 he would say, * calling me fway from my work. Hia • work,'

generally consisted in reading an amusing book, smoking his pipe, and not un« frequently consoling himself with a glnas of whisky toddy. But still it spoke highly of Miss Williams' attractions in his eyes, to be able to draw him away from anything that he considered so comfortable. By-and-bye, however, these pleasant days camo to tin end, foi Adelaide Manners, the Vicar's eldest daughter, returned to her home. ' Here's a letter from Adelaide,' the Vicar said to his wife one morning at breakfast time, passing on one which he held in his hand. ' She's comiugback at tho end of tho week.' 1 Very well, my dear.' answered Mra Manners ; but a cloud camo over her nsuallv happy face. ' Miss Manners writes a good hand, doscn't she?' she said to Miss Williams, after just glancing at the note, and handing tho envelope to tho governess as she spoke. Then Miss Williams know who had written the letters to engage her ; the cold explicit letters, which had given her such a wrong impression of her kindly hostess. • Sho wrote to me before I came, did sho not ?' she asked, after looking at the handwriting. ' Yes,' replied Mrs Manners. ' Adelaide generally writes all the letters when she's at home.' ' When it suits her fancy to do so, that is,' said tho Vicar. ' Adelaide is like tho most of you women, Miss Williams, as they say in the country, bad to guide,' Miss Manners came home at the time she had announced, and the whole house seemed changed both before and after her arrival. In the first place, Mrs Manners had what is called a ' general cleaning,' in preparation for her coming— and stairs without carpets, and a powerful perfume of beeswax and turpentine do not add to the comfort of an establishment. Then Miss Williams was given to understand that when ' Adelaide was at home ' they dined late ; that is, there was a regular dinner in the dining-room at half-past six o'clock, instead of the usual early one, and ' high tea, at which the Vicar and George generally dined. So Mies Williams and the children now partook of that refreshment in the schoolroom, while Mrs Manners sat down to table with her stately step-child. All this was nut very pleasant. It broke into the homely and friendly ways of the house, to which Miss Williams had become accustomed ; and a frown settled down on Mr George Manners's forehead, whon on the Saturday evening he returned home as usual, and found, on coming into dinner, that his friend tho governess was not present. ' So yon haven't Miss Williams when you dino late, mother ?' he said. 'My dear George!' exclaimed Miss Manners in surprise. ' Well, my dear Adalaide/ he said, very crossly, ' What then.' ( The idea of having the governess down to a late dinner, George !' she answered with a little scornful laugh—' preposterous.' 'Have you seen her?' asked Mr Manners. • Yes for a minute — I think her rather an over-dressed young person,' replied Miss Manners. < And then she does her hair so absurdly, with those long curls.' George made no answer to this speech of his sister's but sat almost silent during tho rest of the dinner, and when it was over lit his cigar without a word, and left the room and went into the garden. He was greatly annoyed, for he had got to like Miss Williams during the last few weeks, as he had never liked any woman before, that he Bhould not care to sco her slighted. Still his common sense told him he could scarcely expect her to be treated as a guest, and yet he felt very angry with his sister for so plainly reminding him of the fact. 'So Miss Adelaide has to turn everything upside down at her will, has she,' he thought, angrily, as he walked up and down the damp garden walks. • Well, we'll see about that. I would marry her I believe to-morrow if I could afford it, but I can't, so its no use thinking of it. But she's superior to every one of them, and I won't see her snubbed if I can help it.' 'But why should I fancy sho would have me, even if my circumstances were different?' he presently asked himself. ' I have little cause.' This was true. There has been nothing in Miss Williams's manner during the week which he hod known her that had indicated any particular wish to attract either his admiration or regard. Since that day at the hall, indeed, she had treated him with a kind of quiet intimacy, and seemed to have put some faith in his offers of friendship ; but this had been all. He was interested in her, and she felt some sort of gratitude to him in return. This was tbe conclusion which George Manners came to as he walked up aud down in the misty twilight. • But I like her," he added mentally. And then the old question of ways aud means rose gloomily in his mind. ( For I'm not such a scoundrel as to try and make her care for me, I hope,! and then leave her to pine — but for all that I am not going to be ruled by Adelaide.' And as he thought this, he pitched his cigar irritably among the raspberry bushes, and after hesitating a moment or two longer, walked back into the holl*o,h 011*0, and went straight upstairs to the schoolroom door. ' Come in,' said Daily's perb voice, from inside, after he had knocked ; so he opened the door and found them all sitting at the table drinking their tea — that is, the children were— for Miss Williams was standing by the fire, looking, George thought, both pale and weary, with her untasted cup on the mantel-piece bosido her. ' We heard you come,' she said, holding out her baud to Mr Manners with a smile. •Yes,' answered George, and then looked at the table with a very dissatisfied glance. ' You don't seem to have things very comfortable here,' he added. •Yes, George, isn't it a shame,' said Dolly, eagerly, 'the tea is so cold, and the bread and butter bo thick and horrid we can hardly eat it.' 'Ring for some fresh,' said George, sharply, ' and tell them to make you some toast,' 'Nonsense, nonsence,' said Miss Williams, smiling good naturedly, ' it does very well as it is ; besides, the servants have been busy with the dinner.' ' That is no reasen why wo should be neglected,' answered George. 'If you will allow me, Miss Williams, I shall ring the bell.' 'No," she said, and sho put out her hand and just touched his arm, ' no, Mr Manners, please do not — I should rather you did not.' ' Have you had anything to eat ? ' said George. 'No I see. Do you know it is really too bad ; bad for Milly two. I shall speak to my mother about it. And in the meantime, Dolly, as Miss Williams won't allow us to ring, supposo you and I try to make some toast for tho two delicate ones.' • I hope I'm not one of them ? said Miss Williams, with a little laugh. 'You don't look over strong, as you 6tand there at any rate,' answered George. ' Now, Dolly, Bee whose toast will bo best.' George had, however, over-estimated his abilities. His toast would full off the point of tho knife into the cinders on the hearth, or get blaokened against the , bars, with the children crowded round 1 him, wutcluug him with delight burning

his faco and scorching his fingers, and only making some very bad toast after all. Perhaps, however, ho would not have knelt so long patiently, on the rug, if a pretty blue skirt had not been almost touching his arm at the time, and a very pretty pair of small feet resting on tho fen* der near. As it was, he got quite into a good humour over his occupation, and declared that in time he would become a first-rate cook, and be able to raako a living by the profession. 1 We'll have some fresh tea, too, I am determined,' he said at length, rising to his feet. • I'm dying of thirst, so don't grudge me a cup, Miss Williams, and I'm not going to drink this cold stuff. So tho bell was rung, after all, and Miss Williams, the children, and George, sat round the table and drank the fresh tea, and ate the spoilt toast, and laughed and chatted very merrily together. Then, after they had finished, they gathered round the fire, and Bonuy, mounting her governess's knee, said ' Now, Willy, tell us some faiiics.' ' Yea, do,' said George,' we're all attention.' But Miss Williams shook her head and presently Milly, laying her pretty check against her brother's knee said, in her soft little way — ' About the pantomime, Georgie — and the golden stars '' 4To be sure !' cried George Manners, • a happy thought, Milly.' He felt just in the humour to do something to defy his sister, and he thought the Christmas play which they had talked about, with himself and Miss Williams as performers, would certainly do this. 'Let us talk it over,' he said, 'What shall it be ?' Then a long consultation followed, and at last a piece was agreed upon. An old, old, simple story, we almost all have once been interested in. Some, how long ago ! Some but yesterday, for whom life's real play has scarce begun. Some, peeing again with love's fond delight, read it once more amid their children's prattle. But we all remember it— the pretty fairy tale that filled us once with wonder and delight, and goes on still, fresh and beautiful, for each fresh young heart in turn, j But they were to keep it a secret. MiB3 Williams agreed to write a kind of acting version of the old story suitablo to their age, and George Manners promised to have everything necessary ready in time. It was about the second week in November, and on the 24th of December their little CluUtmas play was to be performed ; so they had plenty of time to make preparations ' Mamma said we might,' said Katie, on Miss Williams mentioning something about consulting the lady of the house. ' She said, if George wished it, it was sure to be all right.' 'And Miss Manners?' asked Miss Williams. ♦What has Adelaide to do with it? 1 answered George frowning. 'We can amuse ourselves without her leave, can't we ? We did very well before she came, Miss Williams, and we'll do very when she is gone.' ' I wish she was,' said the free spoken Dolly. 'I hate Adelaide. She puts everything wrong. Mamma is cross, Willy is dull, and Georgie ' • Well, what is George, Miss ? € Georgie looks like thunder.' In the meantime a serious skirmish was going on downstairs between poor Mrs Manners and her refractory atepgirl. Adelaide had seated herself in one of the easy chairs by the fire, immediately after dinner, with a very dissatisfied expression of countenance, for, to do her justice, she was foud in her way of her only brother, and she felt annoyed that any disagreement should, so soon after her return home, have arisen between them. 1 What a stupid boy he is,' she thought kindly enough. 'How little he knows of the world— fancy quarrelling about that absurd young person !' Presently she heard him open tho hall door, and she turned round with a smile to welcome him, quite prepared to look over his bad temper ; but George, as we know, went upstairs. In a little while the sound of voices and laughter — a man's laughter — was distinctly heard from the schoolroom above. Adelaide listened, bit her lips, and then rose and opened the door to assure herself. ' Mrs Manners,' said she, coming back and standing by the fire, ' George is in the schoolroom. Is — is he in the habit of going there ?' Mrs Manners moved uneasily on being thus addressed. She had indeed been dosing over the fire and was but; half awake when her step-daughter spoke to her. • What ? ' she said. ' Oh, George is in the schoolroom, is he ? Well, my dear, why shouldn't he be there ?' • And you allow it ?" Adelaide Manners asked this in such a tone of suppressed indignation that she effectually roused her step-mother. ' Well, really, Adelaide, what harm is there ?' she said. ' George is fond of tho children, poor fellow— why shouldn't he be with them ?' •And the governess,' said Adelaide, * is she there too ?' •Why, of course, Adelaide, George likes Miss Williams very much.' llf you don't take care,' said Adelaide, her sharp voice ringing so clear and loud, that it awoke the sleeping Vicar — ' If you don't take care we shall be having another mesalliance in tho family, and one is surely enough.' Mrs Manners did not exactly understand the French word, but she understood the whole meaning of the speech, and he comely pleasant face suddenly became scarlet. 'You— you are always quarrelling,' she said, in a voice broken with tears. This roused the Vicar. •I'll tell you what it is, Adelaide,' ho said, pulling his silk pocket handkerchief angrily off his face, I'll tell you what it is, I'll have none of this. You forget whose house you are in. If you come to mine, you must try to treat your mother with respect.' •She is not my mother,' retorted Adelaide. • She's my wife at any rate,' answered the Vicar, in great wrath, ' and by Jove, if you don't learn to behave yourself, you may march. As for alliances, or maallianccs, which you are so fond of talking about,' he continued rising, • I wounder you don't try to form an alliance yourself—if you could only get any one to bo fool enough to have you.' Tears sprang into Miss Manners's eyes as her father spoke, • You are all rude to me,' she said. 'You all hate me— Oh ! mamma, mamma, why did you die and leave me alone?' And sobbing out the last words she hurried from the room. • Oh, Arthur ! I'm sorry she's vexed,' said Mrs Manners, drying her own goodnatured face. Serve her right,' answered the Vicar savagely , ' she's always meddlin?. Why doesn't she catch Hugh, and go back to her old home, if she's too fine a lady for her father's house. I am sure no one would miss her.' The thought of any human being in distress was, however, painful to Mrs Manners, and after sitting uneasily for a few minutes — the reverend philosopher having again composed himself to sleep — Mrs Manners rose and went softly upstairs, and knocked gently at Adelaide's door. No one spoke in reply to her summons, ahe opened tLc dour and wont iuto tliQ

room, where she found Miss Manners lying on the bed and sobbing bitterly. • My dear,' said her kindly step-mother, 1 My dear Adelaide, don't.' 'Go away,' cried Adelaide. • You have turned my father and brother against me — go away, and leave me alone.' 'Oh Adelaide ! how can you say it ? I never mention your name. Why cau't you be like George, and like the rest ?— You have all one father.' • What am I to him ?' said Adelaide bitterly. 'You heard what he said, he would turn me out of the house if I dare to speak.' 1 We most of us say things we're sorry for as soon as our passion is over,' replied Mrs M.inners gently. 'I'm sure he didn't mean it. Why, all his talk this week has been about having things nice for you; more as you have been accustomed to.' 1 What matter is it ?' said Miss Manner". • But it is,' went on the kind creature, ' it is matter for you to be well and happy in your father's house — and you the eldest too — the eldest girl, I moan. ' I was vexed about George,' said Miss Manners, beginning to be ashamed of her ill-temper, and sitting up in bed. ' But-, don't you see George is a grown man, and men won't be thwarted— and as for Miss Williams a pleasanter young lady I never met.' 1 Bur who is she ,' said Adelaide. • Why, Adelaide, you engaged her yourself, Didn'c you write all the letter*, and didn't you say the reference was satisfactory. There was a Mrs C)lonel Ross, or something* like that, in Indiadon' t you remember?' 1 Yes, I remember. I wonder if Hugh knows anything of her. He knew lots of Indian people. I have the letters from the register woman in my desk somewhere. Perhapj Mrs Ross's husband's regiment is mentioned. 1 She got up as she spoke, and began turning over some letters in her desk, and glancing at their addresses. 'Here they are,' she Raid presently, opening a packet ; ' yes, Colonel Ross'd regiment is mentioned. Why, it is the 3rd!— Hugh's own old regiment. If there is such a person,' continued Adelaide, eagerly, ' he will know. I wish ho would come back." 'Well, you can ask him when becomes,' replied Mrs Manners with a little sigh. 'And now, come downstairs, my dear, and don't say any more to vex your brother. This, however, Adelaide found very hard to do. George came down from the schoolroom defiant and talkative, full of the children's play, and very quietly ignored his sister's presence ; answering her direct questions with the very scantiest of courtesy, and plainly showing her how much he was offended. It was ' mother ' this, and ' mother ' that, and Adelaide sat biting her lips behind a book, and tryiug not to notice his manner. The next day was equally unfortunate. Adelaide got up in the morning with the good intention of endeavouring to keep friends with her brother, but George, impatient of remark or control, felt still resentful, and his first greeting to her was anything but encouraging. "I shall wait for you, George,' she said, ' and we can walk on to church together.' 'Thauk you, ' he answered, 'but don't mind waiting, for I promised Milly and the rest to go with them. And whsn Adelaide came downstairs ready dressed she found George standing with his hat on, leaning against the front door, and with an indignant gesture she swept past him, and presently had the satisfaction of seeing him enter the church, accompanied by Miss Williams and her little sister, and with anger and jealousy in her heart Adelaide sat through the service. ' But who is this woman, I wonder ?' she thought ; ' this woman George prefers to his own sister.' And her proud dark eyes wandered over the governess's face and person with curiosity and surprise. ' Where could she geb such expensive dress,' she asked herself. • Where ? But Hugh was coining — Hugh would know something of the Colonel— might even know something of Miss Williams herself.' With these reflections she consoled herself, trusting that her cousin at all events might be able to give her some clue to trace out the mystery which, as she sat watching Miss Williams, she was beginning to be convinced surrounded her. But other eyes also that morning were looking with some uneasiness at the governess. George Manners, sitting opposite to her in the Vicar's square pew, was thinking on pretty much the same subject as his sister. ' How did a poor governess get all these fine things ?' What struck him particularly was a remarkably handsome sealskin jacket, under which, in the chill November morning, pretty Miss Williams sat shivering. He happened to know their value just at that time, as he had been planning a birthday present of one to his stepmother, and he bit his lips and stroked his moustache, which with him was always a sign of mental disturbance, as he looked at Miss Williams ; and for the first time since he had known her, some painful doubts and misgivings rose in his mind. So strongly did this sealskin jacket influence him, that after the service was over he went into the vestry and waited for his father, instead of, as usual, walking home with the rest of the family. ' I will see as little of her as possible,' he thought ; and then, instead of keeping to his resolution, as soon a3 dinner was over he found his way up to the schoolroom, and spent most of his afternoon there, sitting by the fire and talking over the Christmas play.