"But I do mind. The kind of neighbour we are to have is a very important thing. They will live right between Atheling and Belward. The Gisbournes were a fine Tory family. Atheling and Gisbourne were always friends. My father and Sir Antony went to the hunt and the hustings together. They were finger and thumb in all county matters. It will be hard to get as good a master of Gisbourne as Sir Antony was."

"John, I have a bit of right good news for thee. Edgar is going to take Sir Antony's place. Will Edgar do for a neighbour?"

"Whatever art thou saying, Maude?"

"The very truth. Miss Curzon has bought Gisbourne. Lord Ashley advised her to do so; and she has brought down a big company of builders and such people, and the grand old house is to be made the finest home in the neighbourhood. She showed me the plans yesterday, and I promised her to bring thee over to Gisbourne this afternoon to meet her architect and Lord Ashley and Edgar. See, they are waiting on the terrace for thee; for they want thy advice and thy ideas."

It was, indeed, a wonderful afternoon. The gentlemen went into consultation with the architect, and a great many of the Squire's suggestions were received with enthusiastic approval. Mrs. Atheling, Kate, and Annie went through the long-deserted rooms, and talked of what should be done to give them modern convenience and comfort, without detracting from their air of antique splendour. Then at five o'clock the whole party met in the faded drawing-room and had tea, with sundry additions of cold game and pasties, and discussed, together, the proposed plans. At sunset the parties separated at Gisbourne Gates, Kate going with Miss Curzon to Ashley, and the Squire and Mrs.

Atheling returning to their own home. The Squire was far too much excited to be long quiet.

"They were very glad of my advice, Maude," he said, as soon as the last good-bye had been spoken. "Ashley seconded nearly all I proposed. He is a fine fellow. I wish I had known him long ago."

"Well, John, n.o.body can give better advice than you can."

"And you see I know Gisbourne, and what can be done with it. Bless your soul! I used to be able to tell every kind of bird that built in Gisbourne Chase, and where to find their nests--though I never robbed a nest; I can say that much for myself. Well, Edgar _has_ done a grand thing for Atheling, and no mistake."

"I told you Edgar--"

"Now, Maude, Edgar and me have washed the slate between us clean. It is not thy place to be itemising now. I say Edgar has done well for Atheling, and I don't care who says different. I haven't had such a day since my wedding day. Edgar in Gisbourne! An Atheling in Gisbourne! My word! Who would have thought of such a thing? I couldn't hardly have asked it."

"I should think not. There are very few of us, John, would have the face to _ask_ for half of the good things the good G.o.d gives us without a 'please' or a 'thank you.'"

"Belward! Gisbourne! Atheling! It will be all Atheling when I am gone."

"Not it! I do not want Belward to be sunk in that way. Belward is as old as Atheling."

"In a way, Maude, in a way. It was once a part of Atheling; so was Gisbourne. As for sinking the name, thou sunkest thy name in Atheling; why not sink the land's name, eh, Maude?"

And until the Squire and Edgar left for London, such conversations were his delight; indeed, he rather regretted his Parliamentary obligations, and envied his wife and daughter the delightful interest that had come into their lives. For they really found it delightful; and all through the long, sweet, summer days it never palled, because it was always a fresh wing, or a fresh gallery, cabinet-work in one parlour, upholstery work in another, the freshly laid-out gardens, the cleared chase, the new stables and kennels. Even the gates were a subject of interesting debate as to whether the fine old ones should be restored or there should be still finer new ones.

Thus between Atheling, Ashley, and Gisbourne, week after week pa.s.sed happily. Kate did not forget, did not cease to love and to hope; she just bided her time, waiting, in patience, for Fortune to bring in the ship that longed for the harbour but could not make it. And with so much to fill her hours joyfully, how ungrateful she would have been to fret over the one thing denied her! The return of the Squire and Edgar was very uncertain. Both of them, in their letters, complained bitterly of the obstructive policy which the Tories still unwaveringly carried out. It was not until the twelfth of July that the Bill got into Committee; and there it was hara.s.sed and delayed night after night by debates on every one of its clauses. This plan of obstructing it occupied thirty-nine sittings, so that it did not reach the House of Lords until the twenty-second of September. The Squire's letter at this point was short and despondent:--

DEAR WIFE,--The Bill has gone to the Lords. I expect they will send it to the devil. I am fairly tired out; and, with all my heart, I wish myself at Atheling. It may be Christmas before I get there. Do as well as you can till I come. Tell Kitty, I would give a sovereign for a sight of her.

Your affectionate Husband,

JOHN ATHELING.

About a couple of weeks after this letter, one evening in October, Mrs. Atheling, Kate, and Annie were returning to Atheling House from Gisbourne, where they had been happily busy all the afternoon. They were easy-hearted, but rather quiet; each in that mood of careless stillness which broods on its own joy or sorrow. The melancholy of the autumn night influenced them,--calm, pallid, and a little sad, with a dull, soft murmur among the firs,--so they did not hurry, and it was nearly dark when they came in sight of the house. Then Mrs. Atheling roused herself. "How good a cup of tea will taste," she said; "and I dare say it is waiting, for Ann has lighted the room, I see." Laughing and echoing her remark, they reached the parlour. On opening the door, Mrs.

Atheling uttered a joyful cry.

"Why, John! Why, Edgar!"

"To be sure, Maude," answered the Squire, leaping up and taking her in his arms. "I wonder how thou feelest to have thy husband come home and find thee out of the house, and not a bit of eating ready for him."

Then Mrs. Atheling pointed to the table, and said, "I do not think there is any need for complaint, John."

"No; we managed, Edgar and me, by good words and bad words, to get something for ourselves--" and he waved his hand complacently over the table, loaded with all kinds of eatables,--a baron of cold beef, cold Yorkshire pudding, a gypsy pie, Indian preserves, raspberry tarts, clotted cream, roast apples, cheese celery, fine old ale, strong gunpowder tea, and a variety of condiments.

"What do you call this meal, John?"

"I call it a decent kind of a tea, and I want thee to try and learn something from its example." Then he kissed her again, and looked anxiously round for Kitty.

"Come here, my little girl," he cried; and Kitty, who had been feeling a trifle neglected, forgot everything but the warmth and gladness of her father's love and welcome. Edgar had found Annie a seat beside his own, and the Squire managed to get his place between his wife and his daughter. Then the "cup of tea" Mrs. Atheling had longed for became a protracted home festival. But they could not keep politics out of its atmosphere; they were, indeed, so blended with the life of that time that their separation from household matters was impossible, and the Squire was no more anxious to hear about his hunters and his harvest, than Mrs. Atheling was to know the fate of the Reform Bill.

"It has pa.s.sed at last, I suppose, John," she said, with an air of satisfied certainty.

"Thou supposest very far wrong, then. It has been rejected again."

"Never! Never! Never! Oh, John, John! It is not possible!"

"The Lords did, as I told thee they would,--that is, the Lords and the bishops together."

"The bishops ought to be unfrocked," cried Edgar, with considerable temper. "Only one in all their number voted for Reform."

"I'll never go to church again," said Mrs. Atheling, in her unreasonable anger.

"Tell us about it, Father," urged Kate.

"Well, you see, Mr. Peel and Mr. Croker led our party against the Bill; and Croker _is_ clever, there is no doubt of that."

"Not to be compared to Lord Althorp, our leader,--so calm, so courageous, so upright," said Edgar.

"n.o.body denies it; but Croker's practical, vigorous views--"

"You mean his 'sanguine despondency,' his delight in describing England as bankrupt and ruined by Reform."

"I mean nothing of the kind, Edgar; but--"

"Did the Bill pa.s.s the Commons, Father?" asked Kate.

"It did; although in fifteen days Peel spoke forty-eight times against it, and Croker fifty-seven times, and Wetherell fifty-eight times. But all they could say was just so many lost words."

"Think of such men disputing the right of Manchester, Leeds, and Birmingham to be represented in the House of Commons! What do you say to that, Mother?"

"I only hope father wasn't in such a stupid bit of business, Edgar."

And the Squire drank a gla.s.s of ale, and pretended not to hear.

"But," continued Edgar, "we never lost heart; for all over the country, and in every quarter of London, they were holding meetings urging us not to give way,--not to give way an inch. We were fighting for all England; and, as Lord Althorp said, we were ready to keep Parliament sitting till next December, or even to next December twelvemonth."

"I'll warrant you!" interrupted the Squire. "Well, Edgar, you pa.s.sed your Bill in a fine uproar of triumph; all London in the street, shouting thanks to Althorp and the others--Edgar Atheling among them."

Then the Squire paused and looked at his son, and Mrs. Atheling asked, impatiently,--

"What then, John?"

"Why, then, Lord John Russell and Lord Althorp carried the Bill to the House of Lords. It was a great scene. The Duke told me about it. He said nearly every peer was in his seat; and a large number of peeresses had been admitted at the bar, and every inch of s.p.a.ce in the House was crowded. The Lord Chancellor took his seat at the Woolsack; and the Deputy Usher of the Black Rod threw open the doors, crying, 'A Message from the Commons.' Then Lord John Russell and Lord Althorp, at the head of one hundred Members of the House of Commons, entered, and delivered the Bill to the Lord Chancellor."

"Oh, how I should have liked to have been present!" said Kate.