'It will make it far easier and less constrained for me,' she said, 'and considering everything it seems to me only natural.'

They had luncheon early, and set off immediately after. Less than half an hour's drive brought them to the picturesque little village, which was in fact scarcely more than a suburb of the town of Ba.s.se.

'Villa Malmaison' was the direction, and soon the coachman drew up at a gate opening on to the road, for there was no drive up to the house. The footman was preparing to enter, but when he came round for his instructions, Lady Myrtle stopped him.

'No,' she said, 'you can wait here. We will get out at once.--I have a fancy,' she said to Jacinth, 'for going straight up to the house without being announced.'

It was a small and simple place; a balcony ran round the ground floor, and there in a long chair--a deck chair--a gentleman was half lying, half sitting, for the day was mild, and the house had a south exposure.

At the sound of their slow footsteps--for Lady Myrtle was feebler than of yore--he looked up, then rose courteously, and came forward to meet them. He was a tall thin man with gray hair, and with evident traces of delicate health and suffering upon him, and he walked lame. But his smile was both bright and sweet; his keen dark eyes not unlike Lady Myrtle's own.

'Can I'----he began, for the first instant's glance revealed to him that the new-comers were English, but a sort of exclamation from Lady Myrtle arrested him.

'Jacinth,' she had just whispered, and for a second she leant so heavily on the girl's arm that Jacinth feared she was going to faint, 'it must be he--my nephew--he is so, so _wonderfully_ like my father.'

And before Jacinth could reply, the old lady straightened herself again, and drawing her arm away from her young guide, seemed to hurry forward with a little cry.

'Are you Reginald?' she said. 'My nephew? You must be. Oh Reginald, I am your old Aunt Myrtle.'

And then--all the plans and formalities were set at naught. The two tall figures enfolded each other in an embrace like that of an aged mother and a long absent son.

'Aunt Myrtle, my dear aunt!' Jacinth heard the kind, cheery voice exclaim, though in accents broken by sudden emotion. 'You who have been so good to us, to whom I owe my life. But this--this coming yourself is the kindest of all.'

Then Jacinth turned and fled--fled down a path leading somewhere or nowhere, till she found herself at the other side of the house, and ran full tilt against Bessie, who was coming out to see what was happening.

For sounds carried far in the clear frosty air, and visitors were an event at the little St Remi villa.

'Jacinth,' she exclaimed, catching hold of the flying girl, 'what is it?'

'Oh Bessie, it's everything--everything beautiful and wonderful. But we mustn't interrupt them. Take me into the house and call Camilla and your mother, and I'll explain it all.'

That was the beginning, but by no means the end. Far from it indeed. For even if Jacinth lives to be a very old woman, I think she will always look back upon the next few weeks at Ba.s.se--the weeks before the Harpers returned to England, which they did before the doctors considered it quite safe for Lady Myrtle to face the northern spring--as among the happiest she ever knew. There were several reasons for this. There was the great and unselfish pleasure of seeing the quiet restful content on her dear old friend's face, and knowing that in some measure she had been the means of bringing it there; there was the delight of writing home with the news of the happy state of things that had come about, and receiving her full meed of sympathy and appreciation from her father and mother and faithful little Frances; and lastly, there was the, to Jacinth, really new pleasure of thoroughly congenial companionship of her own age. For at school her habit of reserve and self-dependence had come in the way of her making friends, and she was so accustomed to taking the lead and being the elder, that she was slow to enter into the give and take on more or less equal ground that is an essential condition of pleasant and profitable intercourse between the young.

And her ideal friend--much as she learned to love and esteem hearty generous Bessie and gentle little Margaret--Jacinth's friend of friends came to be Camilla, whose two or three years' seniority seemed only to bring them closer, for Jacinth was in many ways 'old for her age.'

Yes, it was a happy time, even though now and then some twinges of self-reproach made Jacinth feel how little she had at one time merited the loving confidence with which her new friends treated her.

'But that you must bear, my dear,' said Lady Myrtle, when on one or two occasions this feeling grew so acute that she had to express it to some one. 'Take it as your punishment if you think you deserve it. For it would be cruel to distress these candid, unselfish girls by confessions of ill-will or prejudice which no longer exist. For my sake, dear Jacinth, for my sake too, try now to "let the dead past bury its dead."'

And the girl did so.

Some happy years followed this good beginning. Years not untouched by trouble and trials, but with an undercurrent of good. Barmettle never became a congenial home, but Jacinth as she grew older lost her extreme dislike to it, in the happiness of being all together, and knowing that not only was her father satisfied with his work, but that many opportunities for helping others were open to herself and Frances, as well as to their active unselfish mother.

And bright holidays with Lady Myrtle, when old Robin Redbreast stretched his wings in some wonderful way so as to take in his kind owner's grand-nephews and nieces as well as the Mildmay party, went far to reconcile Jacinth and Frances to the gloom and chill of their home in the north.

Perhaps Christmas was the most trying time. For a merry family party would have been something to look forward to at that season. But the dear old lady, alas! had spent her last Christmas in England that year--that first year at Thetford--when Jacinth and Frances and Eugene were her guests. For her health grew more and more fragile, and every season her time at Robin Redbreast had to be cut shorter and shorter, till at length barely six months of the twelve could be spent by her in England.

Most winters Jacinth spent some part of with her at Ba.s.se, and sometimes Camilla or Bessie replaced her. One year the whole Mildmay family joined her for two months. So there were many pleasant mitigations of her enforced banishment, though it gradually became impossible for those who had learned to love her so dearly to blind themselves to the fact that the gentle old woman was not far from the end of her chequered and at one time lonely life.

And one day in the early spring-time, when the sunshine was already warm and the sky already deeply blue in the genial south, when the snowdrops were raising their pretty timid heads in the garden at Robin Redbreast, and the birds were beginning to hope that the winter was over and gone, Lady Myrtle died. There was no one with her at the time. Captain Harper had left her but the week before, and Jacinth Mildmay was to have joined her a few days later.

'If I could but have been with her, mamma,' said the girl among her tears.

But perhaps it was better not. To some natures the sorrow of others is very hard to see, and I think Lady Myrtle was one of those. Jacinth was nineteen at the time of her old friend's death. Two years of Colonel Mildmay's time at Barmettle had yet to expire.

'We shall miss our summers at Robin Redbreast sadly, mamma, shall we not?' she said one day. 'What is to be done about it? Is it to be sold, or are the Harpers to have it? I hope so. Does papa know?'

'He has only heard about it recently,' said her mother. 'He and Captain Harper are Lady Myrtle's executors, but there has been a good deal of trouble and delay, for owing to her death having taken place abroad, some difficulties occurred about proving the will. But now I believe all is right, and your father is going to tell you about it.'

At that moment the door opened and Colonel Mildmay came in. He glanced at his wife with a half-inquiry in his eyes when he saw that she and his daughter were talking seriously.

'Yes,' replied Mrs Mildmay to his unspoken question, 'I was just saying to Jacinth that you were going to explain to her about our dear old friend's disposal of things.'

'I happened to ask mamma if the Harpers were going to live at Robin Redbreast,' said Jacinth. 'Somehow I hadn't thought about it before.'

'It must have been a "brain wave,"' said her father, 'for only this morning I decided to have a talk with you about it.'

Jacinth looked up with a slight feeling of apprehension. Colonel Mildmay's tone was very grave. But she had no reason for misgiving: she knew she had never--since her eyes had been awakened to the prejudice and jealousy she was in danger of yielding to--never felt or expressed anything but sincere esteem and affection for Lady Myrtle's relations.

'I don't want to hear anything in particular, papa,' she said gently, 'but just as you like, of course. It was only,' and her voice faltered a little, 'the a.s.sociations with Robin Redbreast. We have been so happy there: I shouldn't like strangers to have it.'

'Strangers are not going to have it,' Colonel Mildmay replied. 'But it is not left to the Harpers. They did not wish it. They have no special liking for that neighbourhood, and it suits them far better to make their headquarters farther south. But I know you will be glad to hear, Jacinth, that their aunt has left them a most fair and equitable proportion of the property at her disposal. They have no cause for future anxiety at all. Captain Harper is more than satisfied; he had expected nothing of the kind, and I perfectly believe that if, as he says, "just a little token of her restored goodwill" had been all that was to come to them, he would have been content. I never met with more truly unworldly and unselfish people.'

He stopped for a moment.

'I am so glad, so very glad,' said Jacinth.

'And the Elvedons too are very grateful,' continued her father, 'for besides what they knew was to be theirs, she has left them her town house--a much better one than they have had hitherto. Then her favourite charities have no reason to complain; she has forgotten nothing and no one'----

Again he hesitated, and for some undefined reason Jacinth's heart began to beat faster.

'And Robin Redbreast, my dear child; Robin Redbreast is--is to be yours.'

'Oh, papa,' exclaimed the girl with a curious choking sensation. 'Oh, papa; is it right? Do you and mamma think it is?'

'Yes, dear. I think it is right. It is depriving no one of anything they had a claim upon. For Lady Myrtle had considerable savings: some part of those she surely had every right to leave as her own feelings prompted.

Some of the land is to be sold; just enough kept to make the little place complete of its kind and not too expensive to manage. Enough money will be yours--or ours--Lady Myrtle wished it to be considered our home in the meantime, anyway, and she has managed all so that, if or when you marry, a certain separation of income can be easily made--for real comfort without extravagance or display. And some of her private charities she has left in your hands, trusting to your good judgment and unselfishness. All has been excellently thought over and wisely arranged.'

'Oh, papa; oh, mamma!' was still all that Jacinth could say. But after a moment or two she asked the question which she had so much at heart, 'Shall we all go to live there?'

'Part of the year certainly. And when my time here is out--you will be of age by then, Ja.s.s--perhaps I may feel that the day for taking it easier has come, and I may get some less onerous post nearer Thetford.

But there is time enough for these details. Now run and tell Francie. I know you are longing to do so.'

So the curious prevision of the future which had come over them all at 'Uncle Marmy's gates' was actually fulfilled. And kind Uncle Marmy himself came home before very long to find it so.

There is talk of his leaving off soldiering--he has seen some active service in the East of late--and taking up his abode in his own home at Stannesley. For he has been economical to some purpose. And Jacinth, who still builds castles in the air in her quiet way, has one under construction on the completed roof of which a flag _may_ fly some day.