The garden reached out to the verge of the cliff, or rather to a low wall, with iron rails and spikes at the top, and a narrow, rather giddy path beyond. There was a gate in the wall, the key of which Aunt Jane kept in her own pocket, as it gave near access to certain rocky steps, about one hundred and thirty in number, by which, when in haste, the inhabitants of Rockstone could descend to the lower regions of the Quay.
There was a most beautiful sea-view from the house, which compensated for difficulties in gardening in such a situation, though a very slight slope inwards from the verge of the cliff gave some protection to the flower-beds; and there was not only a little conservatory attached to the drawing-room at the end, but the verandah had glass shutters, which served the purpose of protecting tender plants, and also the windows, from the full blast of the winter storms. Miss Mohun was very proud of these shutters, which made a winter garden of the verandah for Miss Adeline to take exercise in. The house was their own, and, though it aimed at no particular beauty, had grown pleasant and pretty looking by force of being lived in and made comfortable.
It was a contrast to its neighbours on either side of its pink and gray limestone wall. On one side began the grounds of the Great Rockstone Hotel; on the other was Cliff House, the big and seldom-inhabited house of one of the chief partners in the marble works, which went on on the other side of the promontory, and some people said would one day consume Rockstone altogether. It was a very fine house, and the gardens were reported to be beautifully kept up, but the owner was almost always in Italy, and had so seldom been at Rockstone that it was understood that all this was the ostentation of a man who did not know what to do with his money.
Aunt Adeline met the travellers at the door with her charming welcome. Kunz, all snowy white, wagged his tight-curled tail amid his barks, at sight of Aunt Jane, but capered wildly about the Sofys basket, much to Valettas agony; while growls, as thunderous as a small kitten could produce, proceeded therefrom.
Kunz, be quiet, said Aunt Jane, in a solemn, to-be-minded voice, and he crouched, blinking up with his dark eye.
Give me the basket. Now, Kunz, this is our cat. Do you hear? You are not to meddle with her.
Did Kunz really wink assenta very unwilling assent?
Oh, Aunt Jane! from Val, as her aunts fingers undid the cover of the basket.
Once for all! said Aunt Jane.
M-m-m-m-ps-pss-psss! from the Sofy, two screams from Val and Fergus, a buffeting of paws, a couple of wild bounds, first on a chair-back, then on the mantelpiece, where, between the bronze candlestick and the vase, the Persian philosopher stood hissing and swearing, while Kunz danced about and barked.
Take her down, Gillian, said Aunt Jane; and Gillian, who had some presence of mind, accomplished it with soothing words, and, thanks to her gloves, only one scratch.
Meantime Miss Mohun caught up Kunz, held up her finger to him, stopped his barks; and then, in spite of the Oh, donts, and even the tears of Valetta, the two were held upblack nose to pink nose, with a resolute Now, you are to behave well to each other, from Aunt Jane.
Kunz sniffed, the Sofy hissed; but her claws were captive. The dog was the elder and more rational, and when set down again took no more notice of his enemy, whom Valetta was advised to carry into Mrs. Mounts quarters to be comforted and made at home there; the united voice of the household declaring that the honour of the Spitz was as spotless as his coat!
Such was the first arrival at Rockstone, preceding even Aunt Adelines inquiries after Mysie, and the full explanation of the particulars of the family dispersion. Aunt Adas welcome was not at all like that of Kunz. She was very tender and caressing, and rejoiced that her sister could trust her children to her. They should all get on most happily together, she had no doubt.
True-hearted as Gillian was, there was something hopeful and refreshing in the sight of that fair, smiling face, and the touch of the soft hand, in the room that was by no means unfamiliar, though she had never slept in the house before. It was growing dark, and the little fire lighted it up in a friendly manner. Wherever Aunt Jane was, everything was neat; wherever Aunt Adeline was, everything was graceful. Gillian was old enough to like the general prettiness; but it somewhat awed Val and Fergus, who stood straight and shy till they were taken upstairs. The two girls had a very pretty room and dressing-roomthe guest chamber, in fact; and Fergus was not far off, in a small apartment which, as Val said, stood on legs, and formed the shelter of the porch.
But, oh dear! oh dear! sighed Val, as Gillian unpacked their evening garments, Isnt there any nice place at all where one can make a mess?
I dont know whether the aunts will ever let us make a mess, said Gillian; they dont look like it.
At which Valettas face puckered up in the way only too familiar to her friends.
Come, dont be silly, Val. You wont have much time, you know; you will go to school, and get some friends to play with, and not want to make messes here.
I hate friends!
Oh, Val!
All but Fly, and Mysie is gone to her. I want Mysie.
So in truth did Gillian, almost as much as her mother. Her heart sank as she thought of having Val and Fergus to save from scrapes without Mysies readiness and good humour. If Mysie were but there she should be free for her great thing. And oh! above all, Vals hairthe brown bush that Val had a delusion that she did herself, but which her doing left looking rather worse than it did before, and which was not permitted in public to be in the convenient tail. Gillian advanced on her with the brush, but she tossed it and declared it all right!
However, at that moment there was a knock. Mrs. Mounts kindly face and stout form appeared. She had dressed Miss Ada and came to see what she could do for the young people, being of that delightful class of old servants who are charmed to have anything young in the house, especially a boy. She took Valettas refractory mane in hand, tied her sash, inspected Ferguss hands, which had succeeded in getting dirty in their inevitable fashion, and undertook all the unpacking and arranging. To Vals inquiry whether there was any place for making a dear delightful mess she replied with a curious little friendly smile, and wonder that a young lady should want such a thing.
Im afraid we are all rather strange specimens of young ladies, replied Gillian; very untidy, I mean.
And Im sure I dont know what Miss Mohun and Miss Ada will say said good Mrs. Mount.
Whats that? What am I to say? asked Aunt Jane, coming into the room.
But, after all, Aunt Jane proved to have more sympathy with messes than any of the others. She knew very well that the children would be far less troublesome if they had a place to themselves, and she said, Well, Val, you shall have the boxroom in the attics. And mind, you must keep all your goods there, both of you. If I find them about the house, I shall
Oh, what, Aunt Jane?
Confiscate them, was the reply, in a very awful voice, which impressed Fergus the more because he did not understand the word.
You need not look so much alarmed, Fergus, said Gillian; you are not at all the likely one to transgress.
No, said Valetta gravely. Fergus is what Lois calls a regular old battledore.
I wont be called names, exclaimed Fergus.
Oh, what, Aunt Jane?
Confiscate them, was the reply, in a very awful voice, which impressed Fergus the more because he did not understand the word.
You need not look so much alarmed, Fergus, said Gillian; you are not at all the likely one to transgress.
No, said Valetta gravely. Fergus is what Lois calls a regular old battledore.
I wont be called names, exclaimed Fergus.
Well, Lois said sowhen you were so cross because the poker had got on the same side as the tongs! She said she never saw such an old battledore, and you know how all the others took it up.
Shuttlecock yourself then! angrily responded Fergus, while both aunt and sister were laughing too much to interfere.
I shall call you a little Uncle Maurice instead, said Aunt Jane. How things come round! Perhaps you would not believe, Gill, that Aunt Ada was once in a scrape, when she was our Mrs. Malaprop, for applying that same epithet on hearsay to Maurice.
This laugh made Gillian feel more at home with her aunt, and they went up happily together for the introduction to the lumber-room, not a very spacious place, and with a window leading out to the leads. Aunt Jane proceeded to put the children on their word of honour not to attempt to make an exit thereby, which Gillian thought unnecessary, since this pair were not enterprising.
The evening went off happily. Aunt Jane produced one of the old games which had been played at the elder Beechcroft, and had a certain historic character in the eyes of the young people. It was one of those variations of the Game of the Goose that were once held to be improving, and their mother had often told them how the family had agreed to prove whether honesty is really the best policy, and how it had been agreed that all should cheat as desperately as possible, except honest Phyl, who couldnt; and how, by some extraordinary combination, good for their morals, she actually was the winner. It was immensely interesting to see the identical much-worn sheet of dilapidated pictures with the padlock, almost close to the goal, sending the counter back almost to the beginning in search of the key. Still more interesting was the imitation, in very wonderful drawing, devised by mamma, of the career of a true knightfrom pagedom upwardsin pale watery Prussian-blue armour, a crimson scarf, vermilion plume, gamboge spurs, and very peculiar arms and legs. But, as Valetta observed, it must have been much more interesting to draw such things as that than stupid freehand lines and twists with no sense at all in them.
Aunt Ada, being subject to asthmatic nights, never came down to breakfast, and, indeed, it was at an hour that Gillian thought fearfully early; but her Aunt Jane was used to making every hour of the day available, and later rising would have prevented the two children from being in time for the schools, to which they were to go on the Monday. Some of Aunt Janes many occupations on Saturday consisted in arranging with the two heads of their respective schools, and likewise for the mathematical class Gillian was to join at the High School two mornings in the week, and for her lessons on the organ, which were to be at St. Andrews Church. Somehow Gillian felt as if she were as entirely in her aunts hands as Kunz and the Sofy had been!
After the early dinner, which suited the invalids health, Aunt Jane said she would take Valetta and Fergus to go down to the beach with the little Varleys, while she went to her district, leaving Gillian to read to Aunt Ada for half an hour, and then to walk with her for a quiet turn on the beach.
It was an amusing article in a review that Gillian was set to read, and she did it so pleasantly that her aunt declared that she looked forward to many such afternoon pastimes, and then, by an easier way than the hundred and a half steps, they proceeded down the hill, the aunt explaining a great deal to the niece in a manner very gratifying to a girl beginning to be admitted to an equality with grown-up people.
There is our old church, said Aunt Ada, as they had a glimpse of a gray tower with a curious dumpy steeple.
Do you go to church there!
I doalways. I could not undertake the hill on Sundays; but Jane takes the school-children to the St. Andrews service in the afternoon.
But which is the parish church?
In point of fact, my dear; it is all one parish. Good morning, Mr. Hablot. My niece, Miss Gillian Merrifield. Yes, my sister is come home. I think she will be at the High School. He is the vicar of St. Andrews, as the clergyman went off in the direction of the steps.
I thought you said it was all one parish.
St. Andrews is only a district. Ah, it was all before your time, my dear.
I know dear Uncle Claude was the clergyman here, and got St. Andrews built.
Yes, my dear. It was the great work and thought with him and Lord Rotherwood in those days that look so bright now, said Aunt Ada. Yes, and with us all.
Do tell me all about it, entreated Gillian; and her aunt, nothing loth, went on.
Dear Claude was only five-and-twenty when he had the living. Nobody would take it, it was such a neglected place. All Rockquay down there had grown up with only the old church, and nobody going to it. It was a great deal through Rotherwood. Some property here came to him, and he was shocked at the state of things. Then we all thought the climate might be good for dear Claude, and Jane came to live with him and help him, and look after him. You see there were a great many of us, and Janewell, she didnt quite get on with Alethea, and Claude thought she wanted a sphere of her own, and that is the way she comes to have more influence than any one else here. And as I am always better in this air than anywhere else, I came soon aftereven before my dear fathers death. And oh! what an eager, hopeful time it was, setting everything going, and making St. Andrews all we could wish! We were obliged to be cautious at the old church, you know, because of not alarming the old-fashioned people. And so we are still
Is that St. Andrews? Oh, it is beautiful. May I look in?
Not now, my dear. You will see it another time.
I wish it were our church.
You will find the convenience of having one so near. And our services are very nice with our present rector, Mr. Ellesmere, an excellent active man, but his wife is such an invalid that all the work falls on Jane. I am so glad you are here to help her a little. St. Andrews has a separate district, and Mr. Hablot is the vicar; but as it is very poor, we keep the charities all in one. Rotherwood built splendid schools, so we only have an infant school for the Rockstone children. On Sunday, Jane assembles the older children there and takes them to church; but in the afternoon they all go to the National Schools, and then to a childrens service at St. Andrews. She gets on so well with Mr. Hablothe was dear Claudes curate, you see, and little Mrs. Hablot was quite a pupil of ours. What do you think little Gerald Hablot saidhe is only fiveIsnt Miss Mohun the most consultedest woman in Rockquay?
I suppose it is true, said Gillian, laughing, but rather awestruck.
I declare it makes me quite giddy to count up all she has on her hands. Nobody can do anything without her. There are so few permanent inhabitants, and when people begin good works, they go away, or marry, or grow tired, and then we cant let them drop!
Oh! whats that pretty spire, on the rise of the other hill?
My dear, that was the Kennel Mission Chapel, a horrid little hideous iron thing, but Lady Flight mistook and called it St. Kenelms, and St. Kenelms it will be to the end of the chapter. And as she exchanged bows with a personage in a carriage, There she is, my dear.