“I think of thee by morn, my love!” chanted Kitty, rolling her eyes to the ceiling with a ridiculous affectation of sentiment; while Agatha and Christabel went through a pantomime of rapturous greeting, at which Nan laughed in unperturbed enjoyment. She had served a long apprenticeship to her sisters’ teasing ways, and was too happy in her engagement to keep up any pretence of indifference. Nan, indeed, won universal admiration in the character of an engaged girl, for there was something inexpressibly winsome in her transparent enjoyment of her own happiness. She loved her future husband with all her heart, and saw no reason why she should feign an indifference which she was so far from feeling.
When Gervase arrived in person shortly after lunch, she went flying to meet him, and came back hanging on his arm, her face sparkling with happiness and contentment.
“He has come! He has come! Here he is!” she cried, in tones of triumph; and Gervase was promptly surrounded by his sisters-in-law-to-be, and escorted round the house to see the preparations for to-morrow’s ceremony.
He said little, for the solemnity of the occasion had already laid its sobering touch upon him, but his eyes glowed, and every time he looked at Nan there came an expression into his face so sweet, so true, so tender, that Maud could not see it and keep back the tears. She was in a supersensitive mood this afternoon, for not only did the parting with her beloved sister lie ahead, but also a meeting of even more importance. Ned Talbot was to be Gervase’s best man, and was even now at the Grange, waiting only to greet his host, before coming to pay his first visit for nearly two years. The winter before he had received an invitation to Thurston House, but it had been refused; and even after that formal intimation that the way was open, he had delayed his coming, modesty and self-distrust alike combining to make him dread that final putting to the test which should “win or lose it all.” How much Miss Nan had to do with the choosing of the “best man” is one of those secrets which are best left alone. But presently there he came, walking across the lawn towards the spot where the tea-table was laid, just as he had done on another afternoon years ago; and there sat Maud, once more busying herself with the tea-cups to hide her confusion, though of a different and far happier description.
Not in vain had Jim dropped his words of reminder; not for naught had he handed over letters received from his old friend for his sister’s perusal! Maud knew, and had known for many a long day, to whom Ned’s heart was given; and Ned knew that she knew, and gathered fresh hope from her sweet, shy smile. For himself, he was looking a new man, and Lilias felt a stab of pain as she looked at him and met his calm, scrutinising glance. She had loved him once, or had come as near loving him as it was in her nature to do, and she was surprised to find how much it hurt to realise his disenchantment. She was as pretty as ever,—prettier, so her mirror told her,—but though admiration was hers in plenty, no one seemed to love her, or to turn to her for sympathy and counsel. Nan, her younger sister, was about to be spirited away to a life of luxury and affluence; Maud would certainly follow suit before long; and she would be left at home with the younger girls, regarded by them as a tiresome elderly person, who refused to move on and make room for her juniors. A pleasant prospect, indeed! yet she could not complain, for if there was little sympathy between her sisters and herself, the fault was her own, and in her heart she confessed that it was so. It is impossible to live a selfish, self-engrossed life without suffering for it in hours of loneliness, and Lilias was beginning to learn this lesson to her cost.
When tea was over, Gervase went back to the Grange to sit with his uncle, while Nan adjourned upstairs to superintend that last trying-on of bridesmaids’ dresses which the younger girls declared to be imperative.
“My dear, you don’t know what may be wrong! I slipped on my bodice last night, and it was two inches too tight. That doesn’t matter—I’ll have a slim figure for your wedding, if I die for it; but consider—just consider—how fe-arful it would have been if it had been too loose!” cried Agatha tragically; and after that there was plainly no refusal possible.
Mrs Rendell wished to interview the cook, Jim had a letter to write—every one, it appeared, had some important and pressing matter demanding attention, save only Maud and Ned, who were left to their own devices, and presently wandered off towards that portion of the garden most sheltered from observation. Both knew what was coming, and both were trembling with hardly suppressed agitation; then presently their eyes met, Ned held out his hand, and Maud’s went out to meet it without a moment’s hesitation.
“Do you forgive me, Maud? Can you believe in me again? Can you give yourself to a man who loves you with all his heart, and can never do enough to show his remorse for his own miserable mistake? I did you a cruel wrong, but I have suffered for it all these years... Could you find enough charity in your heart to forgive me, and give me another chance?”
“I have nothing to forgive!” said Maud simply. Dear thing! and she meant it too; for when she loved, she found it impossible to blame, and Ned had been her hero for so many a long year. “It was quite natural that you should be fascinated by Lilias, for she is so beautiful and charming. I did not blame you, even at the time; but oh, Ned, I was very miserable! I loved you so dearly, I longed so much to help you! There is nothing in the world which could make me so happy as to be your wife!”