Julius knew that she was recollecting how Archie Douglas had entreated to go to sea, and the desire had been quashed because he was an only son. His inclination to speak was as perilous as if he had been Rosamond herself, and he did not feel it unfortunate that Jenny found she must no longer stay away from home.
CHAPTER XXII
Times Out of Joint
Alte der Meere,
Komm und höre;
Meine Frau, die Ilsebill,
Will nicht als ich will!
Life at Compton Poynsett was different from what it had been when the two youngest sons had been at home, and Julius and Rosamond in the house. The family circle had grown much more stiff and quiet, and the chief difference caused by Mrs. Poynsett’s presence was that Raymond was deprived of his refuge in her room. Cecil had taken a line of polite contempt. There was always a certain languid amount of indifferent conversation, ‘from the teeth outward,’ as Rosamond said. Every home engagement was submitted to the elder lady with elaborate scrupulousness, almost like irony. Visitors in the house or invitations out of it, were welcome breaks, and the whirl of society which vaguely alarmed Joanna Bowater was a relief to the inhabitants of the Hall.
Anne’s companionship was not lively for her mother-in-law, but she was brightening in the near prospect of Miles’s return, and they had established habits that carried them well through the evening. Anne covered screens and made scrap-books, and did other work for the bazaar; and Mrs. Poynsett cut out pictures, made suggestions, and had associations of her own with the combinations of which Anne had little notion. Or she dictated letters which Anne wrote, and through all these was a kindly, peaceful spirit, most unlike the dreary alienation in which Cecil persevered.
To Cecil this seemed the anxious desire for her lawful rights. She had been used to spend the greater part of the evening at the piano, but her awakened eyes perceived that this was a cover to Raymond’s conversations at his mother’s sofa; so she sat tying knots in stiff thread at her macrame lace pillow, making the bazaar a plea for nothing but work. Raymond used to arm himself with the newspapers as the safest point d’appui, and the talk was happiest when it only languished, for it could do much worse.
“Shall you be at Sirenwood to-morrow, Cecil?” asked Mrs. Poynsett, as she was wheeled to her station by the fire after dinner. “Will you kindly take charge of a little parcel for me? One of the Miss Strangeways asked me to look for some old franks, so Anne and I have been turning out my drawers.”
“Are they for sale?” asked Raymond.
“Yes,” said Cecil. “Bee Strangeways is collecting; she will pay for all that are new to her, and sell any duplicates.”
“Has she many?” asked Mrs. Poynsett, glad of this safe subject.