CHAPTER IX.--A TRYSTING-PLACE.

Rachel had a very restless fit on. She was a child full of impulses, with spirits wildly high one day and proportionately depressed the next; but the restlessness of her present condition did not resemble the capricious and ever-changing moods which usually visited her. The uneasy spirit which prevented her taking kindly to her lessons, which took the charm from her play-hours and the pleasure even from Kitty's society, had lasted now for months; it had its date from a certain lovely summer's evening. Had Aunt Griselda and Aunt Katharine known more about what their little niece did on that occasion, they might have attributed her altered mood to an over-long ride and to some physical weakness.

But Rachel was wonderfully strong; her cheeks bloomed; her dark eyes sparkled; and the old ladies were interested just now in some one whom they considered far more important than Rachel. So the little girl neglected her lessons without getting into any very serious sc.r.a.pes, and more than once rode alone into the forest on Surefoot without being reprimanded. Rachel would steal away from Kitty and from little Phil, and would imperiously order Robert to saddle her pony and to ride with her just a very little way into the forest; but then the groom was not only allowed, but requested to turn off in another direction, and Rachel would gallop as fast as possible past Rufus' Stone, and on as far as that lovely glade where she had sat and gathered bluebells in the summer. She always dismounted from Surefoot here, and standing with her back to an old oak tree, waited with intense expectancy. She never went further than the oak tree; she never went down a narrow path which led to a certain cottage clothed completely in green; but she waited, with her hands clasped and her eyes fixed eagerly on the distant vista of forest trees. Sometimes her eyes would sparkle, and she would clap her hands joyfully and run to meet a prim-looking old woman who came forward through the shades to meet her. Sometimes she returned home without seeing anybody, and on these occasions she was apt to be morose--snappish to Kitty, rude to Mrs. Lovel and Phil, and, in short, disagreeable to every one, except perhaps her gentle Aunt Katharine.

The old ladies would vaguely wonder what ailed the child, and Miss Griselda would hope she was not going to be famous for the Lovel temper; but as their minds were very full of other things they did not really investigate matters.

One frosty day about the middle of November, when Phil and his mother had been quite four months at Avonsyde, Rachel started off earlier than usual for one of her long rides. The forest was full of a wonderful mystical sort of beauty at all times and seasons, and now, with the h.o.a.r-frost sparkling on the gra.s.s, with the sun shining brightly, and with many of the autumn tints still lingering on the trees, it seemed almost as delightful a place to Rachel as when clothed in its full summer glory. The little brown-coated winter birds chirped cozily among the branches of the trees, and hundreds of squirrels in a wealth of winter furs bounded from bough to bough. Rachel as usual dismissed her faithful attendant, Robert, and galloping to her accustomed trysting-place, waited eagerly for what might befall.

On this particular day she was not doomed to disappointment. The old servant was soon seen approaching. Rachel ran to her, clasped her hands round her arm, and raising her lips to her face, kissed her affectionately.

"Ah, you are a good Nancy to-day!" she exclaimed. "I was here on Sat.u.r.day and here on Wednesday, and you never came. It was very unkind of you. I got so tired of standing by the oak tree and waiting. Well, Nancy, is the lady quite well to-day?"

"Middling, dearie; middling she ever is and will be until she claims her own again."

"Oh, you mysterious old woman! You are trying to make me desperately curious, but I don't believe there is anything in your talk. You worry me to keep a tremendous secret, and there's nothing in it, after all.

Oh, of course I'm keeping your secret; you needn't pretend to be so frightened. And when am I to see the lady of the forest, Nancy?"

"Now, my dear, haven't I told you until I'm tired? You're to see her come your thirteenth birthday, love. The day you are thirteen you'll see her, and not an hour sooner."

Rachel stamped her foot angrily.

"I shan't have a birthday till the beginning of May!" she said. "It's a shame; it's a perfect, perfect shame!"

Old Nancy pushed back a rebellious curl from the child's bright head.

"Don't you fret, my pretty," she said tenderly. "The lady wants to see you a deal--a sight more than you want to see her. The lady has pa.s.sed through many troubles, and not the least is the waiting to see your pretty face."

Rachel began eagerly to unb.u.t.ton her habit, and taking from a little pocket just inside its lining a tiny bag, she pulled out a small ring and thrust it into Nancy's hand.

"There," she said, "that's the most precious thing I have, and I give it to her. It's all gold, and isn't that a beautiful pearl? I used to wear it on my finger when I wanted to be very grand, but I'd rather she had it. Perhaps she won't feel so lonely when she wears it, for she will remember that it was given to her by a little girl who is so sorry for her, and who loves her--yes, isn't it queer?--although we have never met.

You know, Nancy," continued Rachel, "I can quite sympathize with lonely people, for to a certain extent I know what it means. I miss my mother so very much. When I'm grown up, Nancy, I'm going all round the wide world looking for her."

"Bless you, darling!" said old Nancy. "Yes, I'll give the ring and your pretty message. And now, love, tell me, how is the little gentleman getting on? Have the old ladies made him their heir yet?"

"Not quite yet, Nancy; but they like him--we all like him. He is a dear little boy, and Aunt Griselda and Aunt Katharine make such a fuss about him. Do you know that a week ago I saw Aunt Griselda actually put her arms about his neck and kiss him! She kissed him three or four times.

Wasn't it wonderful? for she's such a cold person. I think people can't help being fond of little Phil, though he's not exactly pretty. I heard Aunt Griselda and Aunt Katharine say that when they do really feel certain that he is the right heir they are going to have a great, tremendous party, and they will present him to every one as the heir of Avonsyde, and then immediately afterward he is to be sent to a preparatory school for Eton. Oh, won't Kitty cry when he goes away!"

"Do you make out that the ladies will soon come to a decision, Miss Rachel?" inquired the old servant in a dubious tone. "It's a wonderful important matter--choosing an heir. Are they likely to settle it all in a hurry?"

Rachel laughed.

"I don't know," she said. "Phil has been with us for four months now; they haven't been in such a hurry. I do hope it will be soon, for I want the party. Now, good-by, Nancy; I'll come to see you before long again.

Be sure you give my ring to the lady of the forest."

"One moment, missy," said old Nancy, stretching out her hand and drawing the young girl back to her side. "One moment, Miss Rachel Lovel; I'm fain to see that little boy. Could you manage to bring him this way, missy? Could you manage it without n.o.body finding out? Is he the kind of little fellow who wouldn't tell if you asked him earnest, most earnest, not? I'd like to see him and the lady; but no matter, Miss Rachel, I mis...o...b.. me that you could manage a clever thing like that."

"Oh, couldn't I?" said Rachel, her eyes sparkling. "Why, I'd like it of all things! I can easily coax Phil to come here, for he's perfectly wild about squirrels and animals of all kinds, and I never saw such a lot of squirrels as there are in the oaks round here. Phil has got a pony too, and he shall come for a ride with me, and Robert of course can come to take care of us. Oh, I'll manage it; but I didn't know you were such a curious woman, Nancy."

The sun was already showing signs of taking its departure, and Rachel did not dare to prolong her interview another moment.

CHAPTER X.--PROOFS.

Mrs. Lovel was becoming reconciled to her tower chamber. Ghostly as it appeared, no ghosts had visited her there; on the contrary, she had slept soundly; and as the days wore on and she found the quiet, simple life at Avonsyde soothing to her perturbed nerves and restoring vigor to her somewhat feeble frame, she came to the conclusion that the tower was a particularly healthy place to sleep in, and that some of the superabundant vigor which characterized Miss Griselda must be owing to the splendid air which night after night she inhaled in her lofty chamber.

As soon as ever this idea took possession of Mrs. Lovel's mind, she would not have changed her ancient tower bedroom for the most modern and luxurious which Avonsyde could offer.

A thought--a pleasing thought--came ever and anon to the poor lady as she watched her boy's peaceful face when he lay asleep on his little white bed.

"Suppose the healthy air of the tower makes Philip strong?"

Philip had been for some months at Avonsyde, and no one yet had found out that he possessed any special delicacy. At first the pallor of his little face had been commented on; but people soon got accustomed to this, and the boy was so merry, so good-humored, so brave, that those who watched him would have found it difficult to a.s.sociate any special weakness with such lithe and agile movements, with so gay a spirit, with so merry and ringing a laugh. Miss Griselda had begun by declaring, both in her sister's presence and also in that of Philip's mother, that no decisive step could be taken until a doctor had thoroughly examined the boy; but of late she had ceased to speak of any doctor, and had nodded her head in an approving manner when Phil had sung out to her from the tops of the tallest trees, or had galloped panting and laughing to her side on his rough forest pony. Miss Katharine said many times to her sister:

"Surely we need make no delay. There seems no doubt that the boy can absolutely trace his succession from Rupert Lovel. Why should we waste money, Griselda, in inserting that advertis.e.m.e.nt any more in the newspapers when we have found our heir?"

Miss Lovel, however, was not to be unduly hurried in so momentous a matter.

"We cannot be too careful, Katharine. Yes, we will insert the advertis.e.m.e.nt once or twice again. It was only yesterday I heard from Mr. Baring that some fresh claimants are writing to him through their lawyers. There is no hurry whatever, and we cannot be too careful."

Perhaps Miss Katharine took it rather too much as a matter of course that Phil could trace his descent, without flaw, from the Rupert Lovel who had quarreled with his father long ago. She was so accustomed to hearing Mrs. Lovel say, "I have got all the proofs; I can trace the descent without a single break for you at any time," that she began to believe she had gone through the genealogical tree, and had seen with her own eyes that the child was the lineal descendant of the elder branch of her house.

Miss Griselda was far sharper than her sister. Miss Griselda knew perfectly that Phil's descent was not yet proved, but, unlike most old ladies in her position, she disliked genealogy. She said openly that it puzzled her, and on one occasion when Mrs. Lovel, in her half-timid, half-fretful voice, said, "Shall I bring you the proofs of Phil's descent now? Are you at leisure to look into the matter to-day?" Miss Griselda replied somewhat sharply:

"I hate genealogical trees. Katharine can understand them, but I can't.

I don't suppose, Mrs. Lovel, you would be so utterly devoid of all sense as to bring the boy here and to establish yourself in our house without having incontestable proofs that he is what you represent him to be. I take it for granted that Phil is a direct descendant of Rupert Lovel, but I shall certainly not make him our heir until more competent eyes than mine examine your proofs. At present I am more interested in watching Phil's health, for if he was fifty times descended from our ancestor and was weakly he should not inherit Avonsyde. When I have quite made up my mind that your boy is strong I will ask Mr. Baring, our business man, to come to Avonsyde and go into the proofs; then, all being satisfactory, the boy shall be announced as our heir, and we will of course undertake his maintenance and education from that moment."

Mrs. Lovel breathed a slight sigh of relief.

"Having proclaimed Phil as your heir, nothing would induce you to revoke your decision afterward?" she asked nervously.

"Certainly not. What a strange speech to make! The boy being strong, being the right age, and being an undoubted descendant of our house, what more could we want? Rest a.s.sured, Mrs. Lovel, that when your boy is proclaimed heir of Avonsyde, were fifty other claimants to come forward we should not even listen to their plea."

A faint pink, born of intense gratification, colored Mrs. Level's pale cheeks.

"I should like to be bold enough to ask you another question," she said.

Miss Griselda smiled in a freezing manner.

"Ask me what you please," she answered. "You must forgive my saying that I have already observed how singularly restless and uncomfortable you are. I think I can guess what is the matter. You are intensely curious about us and our money. Oh, no, I am not at all offended. Pray ask what you want to know."

Mrs. Lovel, though a timid, was a rather obtuse person, and she was not crushed by Miss Griselda's withering sarcasm. Clearing her throat and pausing slightly before bringing out her words, she continued:

"I have wondered--I could not help wondering--what you would do with your property if no heir turned up."