The next morning Mildred awoke to find the sun pouring into her room through the uncurtained windows. A moment of sleepy confusion, and then remembrance awoke. It was the day of the picnic—the all-important day which had been dreamt of so long, and with such ardent anticipation. She jumped out of bed and ran to the window, to see if the sky fulfilled the promise of the sunshine. Well, not quite! the blue was broken by ominous clouds, which the wind drove along at a speed too rapid to be reassuring. Mildred knew that radiant mornings had an unpleasant knack of settling down into gloomy days, but she was so anxious to think the best that she would not allow herself to dwell upon unpleasant truths. It was enough to put anyone in good spirits to dress in that delicious blaze of sunshine, and the meeting at the breakfast-table took place under the brightest auspices.
“Isn’t it a perfectly scrumptious day? Doesn’t it make you want to skip and dance?” cried Mildred enthusiastically. “I feel as if I could do anything when the sun shines like this—it’s so inspiring—it makes you feel so strong, and light, and well. I could jump over a mountain, I believe, if there was one in my way.” She gave a spring over a stool as she spoke, by way of illustrating her words, and might possibly have proceeded to further exploits had not Lady Sarah entered the room at that moment and taken her seat at the head of the table.
She walked with an unusually brisk tread, and her face looked less lined and tired than usual. The brilliant morning had evidently its effect upon her as well as on the younger members of the household, and so amiable did she appear that the girls went on with their rhapsodies undeterred by her presence. They laughed, and chattered, and joked in overflowing spirits, and when Lady Sarah found a chance to put in a question about the scene of the day’s excursion there was a race to see who could answer first, and use the greatest number of superlatives in doing so.
“A pretty place?—Oh, exquisite! The most beautiful little village that was ever seen! A river?—Yes, indeed, the prettiest river in the world, splashing over rocks, and with the sweetest little shady paths on either side! An inn?—Rather! Like an inn in a picture—oak walls, and blue china in corner cupboards. Walks?—Everywhere! In every direction?—Impossible to take a wrong turning where every step of the country was beautiful!”
After these rhapsodies had continued for several moments Lady Sarah’s face began to assume an expression of curiosity, and she glanced out of the window from time to time, as if mentally considering some question.
“I am not quite sure about the day, the clouds look low. If it were more settled I really think I should like to come with you myself instead of Miss Turner.”
Had a bomb-shell suddenly exploded in the room its occupants could hardly have been more bewildered than they were by the utterance of these few, quietly-spoken words, “I should like to go with you myself.” The girls held their breath, and felt stupefied with horror. They had never dreamt that this would be the result of their ecstatic description; they had imagined that the subject of a chaperone was settled once for all, and it was a terrible awakening. Bertha was the first to recover her composure. She had a strong consciousness of the importance of her position as the Dean’s eldest daughter, and in her mother’s absence was determined not to shirk her responsibility.
“But—but, Lady Sarah, Miss Turner has been asked. Mother has written to Mrs Newland. Do you think it would do to alter the arrangement?” she asked earnestly, and Lady Sarah tossed her head in derision.
“My dear child, what nonsense you talk! I think Mrs Newland would have little hesitation in accepting me in Miss Turner’s place; I would explain it to her myself.”
“But we go for a walk in the afternoon, a long walk. You would be terribly tired.”