Chapter I: Her Brother's News

THE fire blazed away cheerfully in the grate, throwing flickers of light across the dusky room.

Sara sat in an easy-chair with her feet on the fender. There was a quiet serenity and grace about her attitude; her needlework was upon a small table by her side. Just now she was idle; her slender capable hands were clasped in her lap, but her large heavily fringed grey eyes were perplexed with busy anxious thought.

Her surroundings, if not luxurious, were essentially cosy and homelike. The carpet was a thick Turkey, the leather chairs and large Chesterfield couch drawn up on the other side of the fire looked made for comfort. There were two handsome bookcases, a piano, and a large writing-table between two long narrow windows. But the sporting prints on the walls, the pipe-racks over the chimney-piece, and the scent of tobacco in the room were evidences that this was more of a man's room than a woman's. And yet there were feminine touches in the gracefully grouped flowers in glass bowls, and in the indescribable woman's impress on it all.

Sara herself was an attractive figure—not strictly beautiful, but she had a bright lovable face, which changed perpetually from grave to gay; a face that one learnt to watch with increasing interest, for it mirrored a happy and beautiful soul. She had a way of twinkling her eyes, and pulling down the corners of her mouth when she was amused, and Sara had the gift of humour in no small degree. Now she was very serious, and a wistful look had crept into her soft eyes.

Outside there was a distant rumble and roar of motors and 'buses. The street itself was a quiet one, taxis occasionally dashed past the house, but there was a continual tramp on the pavement. In a few minutes, she raised her head.

A taxi had stopped at the door; she heard the click of a latchkey inserted in the lock, for her door was open; then she heard voices and steps coming along the hall. For an instant she rose from her chair, and stood irresolute, then with a quick-caught breath, she reseated herself. And the next moment a young man and a very pretty girl stood before her.

"Here we are, Sara! Give us your blessing!"

Sara was on her feet again, she held out both hands to the girl; then stooping, for she was fully a head the taller of the two, she kissed her warmly.

"We shall be sisters now, Milly. I am so very glad."

"And so am I," said Milly, prettily. "I have always admired you so much; and Arnold and I have been saying that you must always live with us. I couldn't be happy if I felt that I was turning you out of your home."

Sara winced, then she laughed.

"We need not talk about that," she said, "but I thank you for your thought of me."

Then Arnold drew the most comfortable chair towards the fire and seated Milly in it.

"We'll have tea down here, eh?" he asked. "Just as we do when we want to be cosy."

"I'm afraid Lacy has laid it in the drawing-room with unusual pomp and splendour. You'll hurt her feelings dreadfully if you make her alter her arrangements."

Milly laughed.

"You're always in such bondage to Lacy; now, in our house, our servants do what we want; we don't do what they want!"

Sara looked at the girl reflectively.

"Yes," she said after a pause, "that's the orthodox way, of course, but fifteen years of faithful service makes one's heart tender."

"Oh, well," laughed Arnold, "let us come along up, then. It is in honour of you, Milly, so we won't grieve the poor old soul!"

They went upstairs into a pretty drawing-room. A sweet-faced elderly woman was putting the finishing touches to a round table wheeled up to the fire.

"Here, Lacy, is the future Mrs. Arnold Darlington. Don't you think I'm a lucky man?"

Lacy looked up and almost made an old-fashioned curtsey.

"I wish you both well, sir," she said sedately, but she did not look overwhelmingly glad as she spoke.

"I'm sure Lacy doesn't approve of me," said Milly, when the old servant had left the room. "She never did, not from the first day I came to see Sara here."

Arnold laughed happily. Lacy's opinion was of small importance to him at this present moment.

Sara took her place at the tea-table, and talk flowed on in an easy fashion. Milly was slightly excited by her new position, and full of plans for the future.

"We're going to be married next month," she announced. "We've talked it all over and settled the day, and my dress, and everything. We've known each other for two years, and there's nothing to wait for."

"Nothing in the world," responded Arnold fervently; "and we're going to make a flying visit to Paris, and then will settle in here straight away."

"You take my breath away with such rapidity," said Sara. "And what do the parents say, Milly?"

"Arnold is coming to dinner to-night, and then the whole thing will be settled," said Milly, her eyes roving round the room as she spoke. "Sara dear, don't you think the curtains rather shabby here? I love blue in a room. Pale blue Roman satin would be lovely. What do you say, Arnold?"

"Anything you like," was the answer of the reckless lover. "I suppose the house ought to be done up a bit. You'll see to that, eh, Sara?"

"Oh," said Milly, eagerly, "you must let me have my say in it. I love getting new furniture and having fresh paint and papers in a house."

"Yes, it will be your right," said Sara, looking across at the girl with a friendly smile; "and I can't promise to supervise things, for I shall be away."

"Away?" gasped Arnold. "Why, Sara, you've never left me. Where can you go?"

"Ah!" said Sara, with a laugh and mysterious nod. "That's 'my' secret!"

Her brother looked at her wonderingly, but Milly claimed his attention. She did not seem surprised by Sara's statement, and the young couple did not stay long after tea.

Milly invited Sara to dinner that evening, but she declined the invitation.

"It will be better for Arnold to meet your parents alone," she said, and she saw the relief in Milly's face as she spoke.

When they had left the house, Sara walked downstairs again to the smoking-room, and sat down at the writing-table to answer a letter which had come by the morning post, and which had been in her thoughts all the day. She sealed it and stamped it, then stood up, and clasping her hands behind her neck, looked at herself in the low mirror over the fireplace.

"You're strong and comfortable looking," she murmured, giving her reflection a little nod of approval, "not very young or flighty. And you've learnt, or you ought to have learnt, to have an unlimited amount of patience and forbearance to draw from when required. And you must buck up and do what thousands of other women are doing, for you have most assuredly burnt your boats behind you now."

Then she added, with a sudden inspiration—

"I'll run over and see Miss Grafton. I won't sit brooding and mooding, and fermenting the feeling of injury and neglect!"

To say was to do with her. She swiftly went upstairs to her bedroom, and wrapping a fur cloak around her, sped down the stairs out into the cold foggy street.

Across the square, she knocked at a house in a terrace.

The door was opened, and a minute later she was shaking hands with a bright-faced little old lady upon an invalid couch.

"My dear Sara! You whirl in like a fresh breeze. Isn't my room very warm? My dragon will have the windows shut to-night! And the fire is big enough to roast an ox. Now, what is your news?"

"What I have expected for a long time. Arnold and Milly are engaged."

"What fools young men can be!"

"Now, don't be nasty. She really is devoted to him, and he to her. They have a lot to learn, but they will learn it like every one else."

"And when is the wedding coming off?"

"Almost immediately. In a month's time. There is no reason why they should wait. Arnold has a handsome income, and she, you know, has plenty of money."

"I hope we are not going to lose you."

"In about three weeks," said Sara, slowly, "I shall be in the wilds of Westmorland, living with a lonely widow in the capacity of a companion and help."

"My dear girl!"

Little Miss Grafton looked genuinely shocked and disturbed.

She cast her memory back to the day when the rising young barrister had come to the opposite house to live with his sister. She had known their old home in Berkshire; their father had been a small country squire there. And Sara had hunted with him four days a week during the winter, and had house-parties of young friends all the summer. She had paid occasional visits to town after she had been presented at Court, and had always had plenty of admirers amongst her friends. But since her father's death, and the break-up of the old home, Sara had withdrawn herself from much social gaiety.

Mr. Darlington's affairs were found to be in a shocking state after his death. The estate had to be sold to pay off the accumulated mass of debts, and Sara came to live with her brother with only an income of fifty pounds a year which had come to her through her mother. She and her brother had been all in all to each other till the usual thing happened. Millicent Conway had come into their lives; and Arnold had quickly lost his heart to her.

"But, my dear girl," said Miss Grafton, slowly, "is it necessary to cut yourself aloof from your brother? Does he wish it?"

"I am afraid I do." Sara's head was raised in the air, and a heightened colour was in her cheeks. "It never does for sisters-in-law to live together, and Milly and I have hardly a thought in common."

"But 'anybody'—a shop girl—could become a companion help. It is really a waste of material for you to sink to that. With your culture and education you could do so much better. How did you hear of this?"

"I saw the advertisement in the paper. It attracted me. I don't know why. I have spent my days in taking care of a helpless man. I shall miss my vocation if I do not take care of somebody. And I wanted something at once. And though I answered other advertisements, this was the only one that had a satisfactory result. She required one reference, and my clergyman's proved quite sufficient. The advertisement ran like this—I know it by heart—

"'Wanted at once by lonely widow; a gentlewoman as companion, also to help in light household duties. Must be patient, capable, and resourceful.'

"I like the word 'resourceful,' don't you? There's an adventurous sound in it! Well, I answered it, and this is the reply."

She took a letter out of her pocket—

"'Mrs. Laird has received Miss Darlington's application, and begs to say that she requires a young woman of good birth to wait upon her, as she is a great invalid. Her duties would be light, but though Mrs. Laird keeps two indoor servants, she expects her companion to bring her comfort and cheerful society. She does not wish a young or flighty girl, and she wants some one who is good-tempered and forbearing. If Miss Darlington is not happy in the country, she had better not come.'"

Miss Grafton gave a little laugh.

"It does not sound an attractive post."

"It does to me. I love making people happy and comfortable. And I want hard things to tackle. I have been leading a very luxurious lazy life."

"My dear Sara, you are always busy. You have a district and a Sunday school class."

"Yes."

For an instant Sara's bright face shadowed.

"I shall feel leaving them. But I am panting for a fuller life, Miss Grafton. And my opportunity has come."

"Shut up with a cranky invalid in desolate country," exclaimed Miss Grafton. "You had much better come and live with me."

Sara looked at her friend with tenderness in her eyes.

"What would your dragon say?" she asked lightly. "No, Miss Grafton, you are too happy and resourceful in yourself to need me. You have taught me to be happy, I want to pass the teaching on. I don't know why my heart goes out to the lonely and sad ones of the earth, but it does."

"And what remuneration do you get for this post? That is, if you think fit to tell me."

"Forty pounds a year. A nice little addition to my income. I would have gone if she had offered me twenty."

There was silence. Then Miss Grafton said—

"And what are Lacy's views?"

"I have not told her yet."

"Surely you have made all these arrangements very prematurely?"

"I knew what was coming. I wanted to have my plans ready, because I cannot stand any discussion and argument about a course which I am determined to take."

Miss Grafton gave a funny little shake of her head.

"A stout heart, and a strong will, are more the characteristics of a man than a woman."

Then sudden tears came to Sara's eyes. She knelt down by Miss Grafton's couch, and kissed her.

"Oh, you don't know what a wave of homesickness and desolation has come over me to-day. I'm so alone, so unwanted, a superfluous woman on the face of the earth. If I can't comfort and help this lonely widow, I don't know what to do next!"

Miss Grafton looked at her with moisture in her eyes. Then she said softly—

"'The works that I do, shall ye do also.' And those works cannot soon be finished."

Sara got up.

"I must go. And I know this is the time for your evening meal. Shall I ever be such a little saint as you?"

She left the room as a tall hard-featured maid entered, the maid who had lived with Miss Grafton all her life, and who would have laid down her life for her.

When she got home, she went up to the smoking-room again. She had letters to write, and accounts to make up, but she was not left long in peace. Lacy came in to make up the fire, and lingered purposely.

"May I speak to you, ma'am, please?"

Sara wheeled round her chair.

"Why, Lacy, what a lugubrious face! What is the matter?"

"I'm only looking ahead, ma'am, and thinking of the time when a new mistress will be head of this house. And if you will be going to make your home elsewhere, I hope you'll take me with you. I've been with you since you were ten years old, and I can't take to new ways and faces at my time of life."

"But, my dear Lacy, you know you dote upon Mr. Arnold, and he will be the head of the house, not his wife. You must stay with him, you really must. You look after his comforts like no one else, and I am going to stay in a house where it would be impossible to have you."

"But couldn't I be your maid, ma'am? You are going away. I guessed you would. Ladies always take their maids with them on visits."

Sara began to laugh at the idea of a "companion help" arriving with her maid. And then she sobered down, and talked soothingly and persuasively to Lacy, getting her to promise to think of making no change for the present.

When Lacy eventually left her, it was dinnertime. She dined alone, and her thoughts were sad. She did not wait up for her brother's return, which she usually did, but went early to bed. And so ended an eventful day and epoch in Sara's life.