In all undertakings of this character, whether by flood or field, Muffin was pre-eminent. But it must be said that her sister Goose was a very willing, assiduous, and by no means inefficient lieutenant. Of course one so accomplished as Muffin despised her attainments really. For instance, she was never absolutely clear as to which was a weasel and which was a stoat, and whether a plover made a whirr with its wing like a partridge, and which kind of fish it was that herons cared for most particularly; but Goose, although rather a “silly,” was full to the brim with zeal and docility. Docility was, indeed, her great characteristic. She was incapable of questioning the most arbitrary command of her natural superior.
Elizabeth was Muffin’s name in baptism, and that, of course, was the name Aunt Caroline called her by. From the moment of her arrival, as you have seen, her august relation relented towards her. Why she should have done so baffled all who had an expert knowledge of the character of that old woman. Perhaps she felt instinctively that there was something in Elizabeth. If that was the case, her instinct did not lead her astray.
There was certainly no guile in Muffin. But she had a way with her. She was a very handsome girl too, although whether she was of the style to take the town, as her sister had done, is perhaps a matter for conjecture. But for some reason Aunt Caroline took to her from the beginning. She even deigned on fine mornings to accompany Elizabeth into the woods which enfolded Pen-y-Gros Castle on every side, walking quite nimbly with the aid of her stick, and with Ponto waddling beside her. She would endure Elizabeth’s discourse upon the fowls of the air and the beasts of the field; and she would even go to the length of carrying personally the specimens Elizabeth selected of the flora of the district. And the manner in which Elizabeth navigated the lake at the foot of the mountains, or the stream at the back of the castle, filled her with amusement.
Two days before the fortnight was at an end Aunt Caroline did a thing without precedent. She actually invited Muffin to stay a fortnight longer. Muffin crowed with delight when she received the invitation. She adored her sister Goose for one thing. Each had brought up the other, and neither had a thought which the other did not share. And in her fearless and impulsive way Muffin had formed in her own mind an ardently idealist picture of her formidable relation. And neither good report nor ill could possibly disturb it.
“The girl has sense, Burden,” said Aunt Caroline, on the day the edict was issued that Elizabeth was to remain a fortnight longer at Pen-y-Gros Castle. “She appears to favor me much more than she does Polly. I think George Betterton ought to see her. Bring me some ink and a pen with a broad point.”
There and then this old lady of ripe years composed a letter for the benefit of the Duke of Brancaster in a hand that was remarkably firm and full of character.
Pen-y-Gros Castle, North Wales, 25 August, 190—
Dear George,—If you are returned from Homburg, come and spend a week-end here. Wales is looking very well just now, and the lake is full of trout. I should like you to have your revenge at piquet.
Believe me,
Very sincerely yours,
Caroline Crewkerne.
No sooner had this letter been composed than the Fates themselves began to take an active interest in affairs. The air in that particular corner of the Welsh Principality became charged with magnetism.