Chapter IV: The Angle Window

MERE SIDE deserved all the praises bestowed upon it by Pauline Tindall. The house was really almost new, and had replaced one that was old-fashioned and inconvenient. It had been built and partially furnished out of some of the funds which had accumulated during Dick's minority. When people admired it, he was accustomed to say, "The mother and I built it. We were planning it for a couple of years before I came of age, so we were ready to begin at once when I had sufficient command of money. It owes far more to her than it does either to the architect or myself."

Truly there were plenty of more pretentious-looking places round about, for that portion of Saltshire abounded in handsome country residences. Mere Side was so delightfully homely that people scarcely thought of its costliness, but rather of the thought and taste expended upon it. There was nothing of glare or glitter about it, and it would certainly have disappointed a vulgar rich owner, whose great object might have been to secure as much show as possible in return for the expenditure. But every article of furniture was exactly suited, both for the place it occupied and for comfort and use.

Ask Richard to name the style of architecture, and he answered, "It is peculiar to the county. We call it 'Old Saltshire,' because the best really old houses that remain are in this style; only we have had to make some innovations to meet modern requirements. It is a sort of Early English. You see the lower half is in red brick and the upper half timbered, but the ivy has run up so fast that it has nearly covered the red, and already touches the black and white. We shall not allow it to stretch any higher. Now this angle window is genuine Saltshire. You never meet with just the same thing in any other county." And he would pause before one of his favourite corners.

This angle window was in the morning-room, and was perhaps the most delightful nook in the place. It was thrown across the corner of the room to the right of the tiled fireplace, just where two walls formed a right angle. It was, indeed, a square bay, and to sit in it was like being out of doors, as it was glazed to within two feet of the floor and nearly to the ceiling, the upper part in delicately tinted glass, the lower sashes being plain and opening lengthwise. The view from it was picturesque and extensive, owing to its peculiar position, which commanded two sides. Two dainty low chairs and a little writing table furnished this recess. One seat was sacred to Mrs. Whitmore's use whilst she lived. The other was called Brother Dick's, but, like everything else supposed to belong to him, was common property, and very largely appropriated by the rest in turn.

The angle window was entered from the room by an archway, draped in summer with exquisite lace curtains. In winter these were supplemented by others of rich Oriental stuff, lined with pale blue silk. Most of the happy talks between Dick and the mother took place in the angle window, and there she would sit, especially during the last weeks, watching him busy amongst the roses. He was an enthusiast about flowers, and she would smile and sympathise when he brought some dainty bloom to offer her, carrying it tenderly, as became one who loved these fair creations.

Dick was so used to her gentle presence there that, as he told Miss Pease, "I can hardly bear to look up at the angle now, I was so accustomed to see her there and meet her smile, or go to stand on the slope and chat with her from time to time. It was my favourite corner; but the charm has in great part gone, though the girls all like it, and Molly coaxes me into it sometimes. You must take care, now the dark evenings are coming on and the heavy curtains hung up, that you do not talk secrets in the morning-room without first looking to see that no one is hiding behind them. Two persons might be concealed there, and their presence be unsuspected when the curtains are down."

"I am not likely to say anything that others might not hear, and if I began telling secrets, no one in this house would hide for the purpose of listening. I hope, however, the vacant seat will one day be worthily filled by a younger Mrs. Whitmore."

"Thank you. I am sure you mean it, and I hope so too. But I must wait a few years to accomplish a purpose of mine. There will be time enough after that, if I live, and I am keeping no one waiting, for I have not yet seen her whom I should like to place in the dear mother's chair. It is ten months since we lost her, and how much the girls and I owe to you! You have got on wonderfully well with them."

"Yes, they have been very sweet and kind to me. Only Gertrude's manner puzzles me as much as ever. One would think she would wish for the society of other girls of similar age; but I think, if she might have her way, she would not allow any to cross the threshold of Mere Side. Mina and Jo are quite different, and yet for some reason they give in to their eldest sister."

"I sometimes think," said Dick, in a half-musing way, "that Gertrude dislikes the idea of being even nominally under my authority, though I cross her in nothing. In another two months she will be her own mistress. Then we shall see if there is a change."

It was only a few days after this, that the three elder girls were talking together in the morning-room. They entered it in the twilight, the curtains being already drawn, and sat down by the fire to talk.

Mina was evidently annoyed about something.

"I am tired of this, Gertrude," she said. "Of course it was right, and we all felt it as much as yourself, that we should live quietly for a good while after we lost mother. But if it had not been for going abroad, and having a change from home now and then, I could scarcely have endured the sort of isolation to which you would condemn us. Dick does not wish it. Miss Pease urges us to have young friends to stay with us; but you always oppose every suggestion of the kind, until Mere Side is like a nunnery. And you look mysterious, and drop hints about something which, if we knew, would make us feel with you. I hate secrets and mysteries. Tell us why you want to shut the door in the face of every girl friend."

"Because I realise, and you do not, what would be the consequence to us all if Richard were to marry."

Mina and Jo burst into a fit of ringing, girlish laughter.

"If Dick wanted to marry, do you think he would be hindered by you? You may make the house as dull as you please, but you cannot lock him up in it."

"I know that, but I diminish probabilities. Richard studies so much, and seems so contented without the company of dangerous characters, that I do not see why we should bring them into his presence."

"You really are too ridiculous, Gertrude, and, if I must say it, abominably selfish," said Jo. "If Brother Dick had a wife to-morrow, she would till her own lawful place in his heart, and we should keep ours. Why, Gertrude, you are jealous of a shadow."

"Am I?" was the cool response.

"Well, tell us if there is a substance in the case," said Mina. "Don't be mysterious. What would happen to us if Dick took to himself a wife? I say it would be delightful to have a nice sister-in-law—only in that case, I suppose, we could not keep darling Miss Pease."

"Do you suppose we girls should have a home here with Richard and his wife?" asked Gertrude.

"If not, we should have a good one somewhere near, with Miss Pease to take care of us; for perhaps we should be too many to stay with Dick, though I believe nothing would persuade him to part with Molly."

"You simpletons! Richard can afford to be generous now, as an unmarried man; but you would soon find out, were he to take a wife. I may as well tell you what I have known for some years past. We four girls have only a mere pittance of our very own. Mere Side is Richard's, with all the land and money, except about ten thousand pounds. That, divided into four, will be the fortunes of Mr. Whitmore's daughters."

"I always understood that the home was Dick's." said Mina. "Knowing that, I gave myself no trouble. Whilst he has it, we have a home too."

"Not if he marries. I only hope you may not find out the mistake you are making in trusting to Richard's continued generosity. He has been good so far. He could hardly have turned us out; but it will come to that some day, and it is better we should accustom ourselves to the prospect."

Gertrude rose and left the room; the others followed; and when all was still, and the sound of their footsteps could be heard no longer, a scared-looking young face, fringed with sunny hair, peeped from between the curtains which hid the angle window.

It was Molly's. The girl had been sitting watching the sunset, and remained to enjoy the lovely tints after it had disappeared. When her sisters entered, she remained quiet, never dreaming of listening, and then she felt as if she could not move from the spot. Gertrude's hard words about darling Brother Dick roused her indignation, and her heart swelled within her at the thought of her selfishness.

Released by the departure of the speakers, Molly rushed away from her hiding-place and across the hall to the library. Without waiting a moment, the impulsive girl ran towards her brother, and exclaimed—

"Dick, I have done a horridly mean thing; but I did not intend to do it. I must tell you all about it."

With an eagerness that would not be checked, she told him all that had passed.

"It was all Gertrude," she added, "not a bit Mina or Jo. You ought to know why she is so strange, and wants the others to be like her. And, Dick, if you do get married you will not send us all away from Mere Side. Jo said you would never part with me, and you will not, dear Dick. Say you will not. And oh! I want us to be together always. Forgive me for staying to hear. I could not help it."

"Molly, I am sorry, in one sense, that you listened, yet not sorry that I know what you heard. But you and I must keep all this to ourselves. Poor Gertrude! Some day she will be sorry, and will know me better."

"Thank you, Dick. I will not say a word," and Molly ran away with a lightened heart, leaving her brother to finish his letters, but only after she had received his solemn assurance that he would never part with her, until she should give somebody else leave to carry her off, ever so many years hence. He could not lecture her, because he knew Molly too well to think that the listening had been an act of deliberate meanness.

Gertrude's twenty-first birthday came and went.

She refused to have it made an occasion for special festivity, but it was marked by loving gifts from each and all the rest.

To Richard's relief his sister said nothing about her little fortune, and Molly's revelation proved to him that by some means or other she was already well informed about pecuniary matters, and knew that she was receiving the interest of the amount she was entitled to on her coming of age.

"She is becoming more reasonable," thought he. "Poor girl! It does seem hard that one son should have so much, and that the others, who are children of the same father, so little in comparison. I think she is gradually beginning to trust me, and to be content that I should make up the deficiency. It is my privilege to do it for the mother's sake—not an unwelcome burden, to be lightened as much as possible."

As to Gertrude, she was silent from motives of policy, or, to give it a right name, pure selfishness.

"If I appeared to know, I should be miserable. I will go on as I have done and say nothing," was the resolution which marked her twenty-first birthday.

Richard also came to a firm decision with regard to social matters. He was determined that Gertrude's influence should not be allowed to mar the brightness of the home, and he took open counsel with Mina, Jo, and Miss Pease as to inviting friends to Mere Side, and forming plans for their enjoyment.

He gave Gertrude every opportunity for joining in each and all of these, but she listened quietly and simply stood aloof.

She could hardly do this when longer days came round, and the disused tennis-lawn was pronounced to be in perfect condition. So again the lovely grounds were peopled by young forms, and the sound of merry voices and laughter were heard, Dick sometimes joining vigorously in a tennis tournament, or rowing the elder guests on the little lake, the most timid professing to feel safe under his guardianship.

As the days passed, and no harm seemed to be done, but rather good, Gertrude decided that perhaps there was safety in numbers, for Richard appeared to be equally kind to all the girl guests. So she, too, became more genial in her ways, and enjoyed the society of old friends, and was, to Dick's special delight, a girl once more.

One day Gertrude ran towards her brother, with her handsome face flushed with exercise and success, to tell him of a tennis victory she had just won.

He congratulated her, and taking hold of her hands in his, he held her at arm's length for a moment, whilst he surveyed her with a look of frank admiration.

"Gertrude, you have been growing younger and bonnier every day since you arrived at woman's estate," he said. "People say that girls are always in a hurry to reach twenty-one, and afterwards would count backwards if they could. You seem to be counting backwards in looks, dear. Talk about Mere Side roses! There are none amongst them, lovely as they are, that deserve to be named beside my cluster of sisters. I must be the envy of the countryside."

Gertrude felt not a little self-reproached as she looked at that kind, true face, and knew that Richard meant all he said, and that she was unworthy of his unselfish, brotherly affection. A feeling to which she had long been a stranger moved her to lessen the distance between him and herself, and to lift her face to kiss him.

His arms were round her in a moment, and he held her to him in a loving clasp, then releasing her after another kiss, he said, softly, "God bless you, Gertrude, now and always! He knows I am happy in seeing you so."

"You are the best of brothers, Dick," she replied, and then ran away, dashing a suspicious moisture from her eyes as she went.

And Richard said to himself, "Love must conquer in the end. We are brother and sister once again."

If it had but lasted!