CHAPTER IV.
oon after Easter Mrs. Rakely paid a visit to London. She was a person with a chronic grievance; and though she had done her utmost to bring about Joan’s marriage, she considered it necessary to feel ill-used, because her favourite companion was not at hand to amuse her.
She called on Embrance, and carried her off—almost without asking her consent—to spend a long afternoon.
“I wish I had had you yesterday, my dear. Horace Meade came to dinner. Joan begged me to ask him; and as I met him in Bond Street, I did; otherwise, I think it would have escaped my memory. I took a fancy to him at one time; but he was always eccentric, and he looks more so than ever since he has been in Italy.”
“I did not know that he had been in Italy.”
“Yes. He has only just returned. It was a foolish thing to do, flinging away his chance of getting his picture into the Royal Academy. Joan told me about it. But that’s my objection to young men taking to art—they are so eccentric. Now he is going abroad again—I have forgotten where, my memory is not what it used to be; but he did tell me.”
As long as Mrs. Rakely had someone to listen to her she was quite satisfied. She took Embrance to a picture gallery; trotted her through four or five milliners’ shops in search of an ideal bonnet; asked her advice about umbrellas, and then bought the one she liked best herself; and finally left her, thoroughly exhausted, at the corner of her own street.
A foreign letter was awaiting Embrance’s arrival. Mrs. Clemon was not a regular correspondent, but when she did write she sent a good budget of news, pouring out a complete history of her experiences for the benefit of the niece who had been to her as a daughter. She was happy; her son was doing well. Now and then there came a hint that Embrance would be heartily welcome, if she could make up her mind to come out. In the next page, much blotted and smudged, came the tidings that William was engaged to be married to a neighbour’s daughter, a pretty girl and well brought up; but, ah! it might have been so different! Still, she would not complain, only now would Embrance come? There was room, and to spare. William and his wife would rejoice to see her. Let her think over the proposal, and not decide in haste. Then the letter went on to tell of preparations for the wedding. There were little bits of information concerning the bride’s family, and there was a great deal about an Irish help who had run away and left them at a moment’s notice without rhyme or reason. At the very end of the page came another suggestion, in William’s hand, “Come for a year, and try how you like us”; after which his mother had taken up her pen again to say, “Bless you in all your doings, my child, whatever course you decide upon.”
Embrance kissed the letter and put it away carefully. There was no time to read it again to-night, or to think if she should follow her aunt’s wishes. She was wofully behindhand with her work, and to-morrow morning she had an extra lesson to give to a backward pupil who lived at South Kensington. The long day with Mrs. Rakely had tried her newly-gained strength to its utmost limits, and her ankle was very painful. She limped towards the chiffonier in search of a book; in the glass over the mantelpiece she saw the door open with the familiar jerk that always preluded Annie’s knock.