Esmeralda presented Bridgie with a card of hat-pins; Bridgie had knitted woollen gloves for the boys, and the most exciting presentations were those which Mademoiselle had thoughtfully brought with her—dainty lace ties for the sisters, which were received with a rapture almost too great for words, and the grey Suède gloves which were Jack’s happy inspiration. Dark and threatening as the day appeared, on went gloves and tie, when it was time to start for church, and Esmeralda at least was proudly conscious of her stylish appearance, when half-way along the muddy lane the Trelawneys’ carriage bowled past, and the laughing eyes of the stranger met hers once more. The mud flew from the carriage-wheels, and she held up her skirts with a great display of grey-gloved hands, and backed up against the hedge, frowning and petulant—my Lady Disdain in every gesture and expression.
Mademoiselle had never before attended a Christmas service in an English church, and though it was impossible to resist some pangs of homesickness, she was still interested and impressed. The little building was tastefully decorated, and the beautiful hymns were sung with delightful heartiness and feeling. The O’Shaughnessys themselves would have constituted a creditable choir, for Pat’s still unbroken voice was a joy to hear as he joined in the air with Bridgie and Pixie, the Major rolled out a sonorous bass, Jack sang tenor, while Esmeralda’s alto was rich and full as an organ stop. They sang with heart as well as voice, as indeed who can help singing those wonderful words? First, the heralds’ call to Christendom to greet the great festival of the year, the birthday of its Lord: “Christians, awake! Salute the happy morn.”—It must be a cold heart indeed which does not thrill a response to that summons; then the description of the angelic joy at His coming, “Hark, the herald angels sing”; and last, and perhaps most beautiful of all, the summons to the saints on earth to join in that praise, “Oh, come, let us adore Him, Christ the Lord!”
The service passed in a glow of exaltation, and the softening influence continued throughout the long walk home, when the younger members of the family walked on ahead, and the two older girls followed sedately in the rear. Bridgie’s eyes glowed as she looked after her “children”, Pat and Miles, tall and graceful even in this their hobbledehoy stage, Esmeralda queening it in their midst, and Pixie dancing blissfully through every puddle that came in her way.
“Doesn’t it make you rejoice to see them all so well and happy?” she cried fervently. “Last Christmas we were so sad that it seemed as if the sun would never shine again; but mother said she wanted us to be happy, and it would do her heart good to see them to-day. I was thinking about her in church, and asked myself if I had done all I could to keep my charge. She left them in my care, you know, for I had to take her place, and on days like this I feel as if I had to answer to her for all that is wrong. Pixie is happy at school, and it’s lovely to know you, and feel that you will be good to the darling; Jack is getting on with his work, and the boys and Esmeralda quarrel less than they used to do. She’s the one I am most anxious about, for she is not satisfied with this quiet life, and her head will be turned with flattery before many years are over. Did you notice that young Englishman last night, and the way he fixed his eyes upon her? If he comes over here flirting with her, what will I do, Thérèse? He is here for a week or two only, and after he has gone she will feel duller than ever, poor creature. I wonder what I had better do?”
“Mees Esmeralda seems to me exceedingly able to take care of herself,” remarked Mademoiselle quietly. “I don’t think you need distress yourself about her in this instance. Monsieur ’Illiard has had the misfortune to make a bad impression, by placing her in an uncomfortable position, and have you not observed the air with which she has bowed to him to-day as he passed? It was not, to say the least of it, encouraging.”
Bridgie laughed,—a little, tender, indulgent laugh.
“But it was very pretty all the same, and sort of encouraging discouraging, don’t you think? If I were in his place I don’t think I should be exactly depressed. It was like a challenge thrown down before him, and from his look I believe he means to accept it too! Ah dear, it’s a great responsibility to have a beauty for a sister! I am in terror every time a young man comes to the house, in case he should fall in love with her.”
“There is more than one girl in the house, however, and I know vich of the two would be my choice, if I were, as you say, a young man myself,” returned Mademoiselle sturdily. Bridgie’s utter unconsciousness of her own claims to attention filled her at once with admiration and impatience, and she could not resist putting her feelings into words. “Does it never give you any fear in case one should fall in love with you instead?”
“No, never; how could they when she was near?” cried Bridgie fervently, and then suddenly flushed all over her delicate face and began a stammering explanation. “At least, that’s not quite true. There was one man—I never told anyone about it before, and indeed there’s not much to tell. Joan and I went to stay ten days with some friends at the other side of the county, nearly a year ago last autumn, and he was staying there too. He was not like other men I had met, or I thought he was different. He was graver than most young men, though he liked fun all the same, and when we talked it seemed as if we shared the same thoughts. It was not long after mother’s death, and I was feeling very lonely, but I didn’t feel lonely when I was with him. On the third day we went a picnic, and I drove in a wagonette with the ladies, and he walked with the men. Just as we overtook them the horses took fright, and began to gallop down a hill. We thought for a few minutes that we should certainly be thrown out at the bottom, but the driver managed to pull up in time, and we were none the worse except for the fright. The men came racing along to see what had happened, and his face was as white as death. When he came up he looked straight at me, and at no one else, though his sister was there and several old friends, and he said, ‘Thank God!’ Only that, but his voice shook as he said it, and he turned away, as if he could not bear any more. And I felt so strange and glad, so happy and proud; all that day I felt as if I were walking on air, but when I went to bed at night I could not sleep, for I realised suddenly what it meant. He was growing fond of me, and I of him; if we were together another week, perhaps he would ask me to marry him and go away to the other end of the world, for he was a soldier—did I tell you that? And I had promised mother to look after the children until they were old enough to manage for themselves. I couldn’t break my word, and yet if I stayed on and was nice to him, he might think it was wrong of me to say No. And I was afraid I couldn’t help being nice.”
The sweet voice broke off suddenly, and Mademoiselle looked into the grey eyes, and thought that the young soldier was to be congratulated both on his own good taste, and on the feelings which he had been fortunate enough to awaken in this best and sweetest of girls.