Chapter 20. The Little Nephew

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_ CHAPTER XX. THE LITTLE NEPHEW

'You must be father, mother, both,
And uncle, all in one.'

Mr. Mohun had much business to transact in London which he could not leave undone, and as soon as his nephew began to recover he thought of setting off to meet Mr. and Mrs. Hawkesworth, who had already been a week at Lady Rotherwood's house in Grosvenor Square, which she had lent to them for the occasion. Claude had intended to stay at home, as his cousin was not yet well enough to leave the room; but just at this time a college friend of the Rector's, hearing of his illness, wrote to propose to come and stay with him for a month or six weeks, and help him in serving his church. Mr. Devereux was particularly glad to accept this kind offer, as it left him no longer dependent on Mr. Stephens and the Raynham curates, and set Claude at liberty for the London expedition. All was settled in the short space of one day. The very next they were to set off, and in great haste; Lily did all she could for the regulation of the house, packed up her goods, and received the commissions of her sisters.

Ada gave her six shillings, with orders to buy either a doll or a book--the former if Eleanor did not say it was silly; and Phyllis put into her hands a weighty crown piece, begging for as many things as it could buy. Jane's wants and wishes were moderate and sensible, and she gave Lily the money for them. With Emily there was more difficulty. All Lily's efforts had not availed to prevent her from contracting two debts at Raynham. More than four pounds she owed to Lily, and this she offered to pay her, giving her at the same time a list of commissions sufficient to swallow up double her quarter's allowance. Lily, though really in want of the money for her own use, thought the debts at Raynham so serious, that she begged Emily to let her wait for payment till it was convenient, and to pay the shoemaker and dressmaker immediately.

Emily thanked her, and promised to do so as soon as she could go to Raynham, and Lily next attempted to reduce her list of London commissions to something more reasonable. In part she succeeded, but it remained a matter of speculation how all the necessary articles which she had to buy for herself, and all Emily's various orders, were to come out of her own means, reduced as they were by former loans.

The next day Lilias was on her way to London; feeling, as she left Beechcroft, that it was a great relief that the schoolroom and storeroom could not follow her. She was sorry that she should miss seeing Alethea Weston, who was to come home the next day, but she left various messages for her, and an affectionate note, and had received a promise from her sisters that the copy of the music should be given to her the first day that they saw her. Her journey afforded her much amusement, and it was not till towards the end of the day that she had much time for thinking, when, her companions being sleepily inclined, she was left to her own meditations and to a dull country. She began to revolve her own feelings towards Eleanor, and as she remembered the contempt and ingratitude she had once expressed, she shrank from the meeting with shame and dread, and knew that she should feel reproached by Eleanor's wonted calmness of manner. And as she mused upon all that Eleanor had endured, and all that she had done, such a reverence for suffering and sacrifice took possession of her mind that she was ready to look up to her sister with awe. She began to recollect old reproofs, and found herself sitting more upright, and examining the sit of the folds of her dress with some uneasiness at the thought of Eleanor's preciseness. In the midst of her meditations her two companions were roused by the slackening speed of the train, and starting up, informed her that they were arriving at their journey's end. The next minute she heard her father consigning her and the umbrellas to Mr. Hawkesworth's care, and all was bewilderment till she found herself in the hall of her aunt's house, receiving as warm and affectionate a greeting from Eleanor as Emily herself could have bestowed.

'And the baby, Eleanor?'

'Asleep, but you shall see him; and how is Ada? and all of them? why, Claude, how well you look! Papa, let me help you to take off your greatcoat--you are cold--will you have a fire?'

Never had Lily heard Eleanor say so much in a breath, or seen her eye so bright, or her smile so ready, yet, when she entered the drawing- room, she saw that Mrs. Hawkesworth was still the Eleanor of old. In contrast with the splendid furniture of the apartments, a pile of shirts was on the table, Eleanor's well-known work-basket on the floor, and the ceaseless knitting close at hand.

Much news was exchanged in the few minutes that elapsed before Eleanor carried off her sister to her room, indulging her by the way with a peep at little Harry, and one kiss to his round red cheek as he lay asleep in his little bed. It was not Eleanor's fault that she did not entirely dress Lily, and unpack her wardrobe; but Lilias liked to show that she could manage for herself; and Eleanor's praise of her neat arrangements gave her as much pleasure as in days of yore.

The evening passed very happily. Eleanor's heart was open, she was full of enjoyment at meeting those she loved, and the two sisters sat long together in the twilight, talking over numerous subjects, all ending in Beechcroft or the baby.

Yet when Lily awoke the next morning her awe of Eleanor began to return, and she felt like a child just returned to school. She was, however, mistaken; Eleanor assumed no authority, she treated Lily as her equal, and thus made her feel more like a woman than she had ever done before. Lily thought either that Eleanor was much altered, or that in her folly she must have fancied her far more cold and grave than she really was. She had, however, no time for studying her character; shopping and sight-seeing filled up most of her time, and the remainder was spent in resting, and in playing with little Henry.

One evening, when Mr. Mohun and Claude were dining out, Lilias was left alone with Mr. and Mrs. Hawkesworth. Lily was very tired, but she worked steadily at marking Eleanor's pocket-handkerchiefs, until her sister, seeing how weary she was, made her lie down on the sofa.

'Here is a gentleman who is tired too,' said Eleanor, dancing the baby; 'we will carry you off, sir, and leave Aunt Lily to go to sleep.'

'Aunt Lily is not so tired as that,' said Lily; 'pray keep him.'

'It is quite bedtime,' said Eleanor, in her decided tone, and she carried him off.

Lilias took up the knitting which she had laid down, and began to study the stitches. 'I should like this feathery pattern,' said she, '(if it did not remind me so much of the fever); but, by the bye, Frank, have you completed Master Henry's outfit? I looked forward to helping to choose his pretty little things, but I see no preparation but of stockings.'

'Why, Lily, did not you know that he was to stay in England?'

'To stay in England? No, I never thought of that--how sorry you must be.'

At this moment Eleanor returned, and Mr. Hawkesworth told her he had been surprised to find Lily did not know their intentions with regard to the baby.

'If we had any certain intentions we should have told her,' said Eleanor; 'I did not wish to speak to her about it till we had made up our minds.'

'Well, I know no use in mysteries,' said Mr. Hawkesworth, 'especially when Lily may help us to decide.'

'On his going or staying?' exclaimed Lily, eagerly looking to Mr. Hawkesworth, who was evidently more disposed to speak than his wife.

'Not on his going or staying--I am sorry to say that point was settled long ago--but where we shall leave him.'

Lily's heart beat high, but she did not speak.

'The truth is,' proceeded Mr. Hawkesworth, 'that this young gentleman has, as perhaps you know, a grandpapa, a grandmamma, and also six or seven aunts. With his grandmamma he cannot be left, for sundry reasons, unnecessary to mention. Now, one of his aunts is a staid matronly lady, and his godmother besides, and in all respects the person to take charge of him,--only she lives in a small house in a town, and has plenty of babies of her own, without being troubled with other people's. Master Henry's other five aunts live in one great house, in a delightful country, with nothing to do but make much of him all day long, yet it is averred that these said aunts are a parcel of giddy young colts, amongst whom, if Henry escapes being demolished as a baby he will infallibly be spoilt as he grows up. Now, how are we to decide?'

'You have heard the true state of the case, Lily,' said Mrs. Hawkesworth. 'I did not wish to harass papa by speaking to him till something was settled; you are certainly old enough to have an opinion.'

'Yes, Lily,' said Frank; 'do you think that the hospitable New Court will open to receive our poor deserted child, and that these said aunts are not wild colts but discreet damsels?'

Playful as Mr. Hawkesworth's manner was, Lily saw the earnestness that was veiled under it: she felt the solemnity of Eleanor's appeal, and knew that this was no time to let herself be swayed by her wishes. There was a silence. At last, after a great struggle, Lily's better judgment gained the mastery, and raising her head, she said, 'Oh! Frank, do not ask me--I wish--but, Eleanor, when you see how much harm we have done, how utterly we have failed--'

Lily's newly-acquired habits of self-command enabled her to subdue a violent fit of sobbing, which she felt impending, but her tears flowed quietly down her cheeks.

'Remember,' said Frank, 'those who mistrust themselves are the most trustworthy.'

'No, Frank, it is not only the feeling of the greatness of the charge, it is the knowledge that we are not fit for it--that our own faults have forfeited such happiness.'

Again Lily was choked with tears.

'Well,' said Frank, 'we shall judge at Beechcroft. At all events, one of those aunts is to be respected.'

Eleanor added her 'Very right.'

This kindness on the part of her brother-in-law, which Lily felt to be undeserved, caused her tears to flow faster, and Eleanor, seeing her quite overcome, led her out of the room, helped her to undress, and put her to bed, with tenderness such as Lily had never experienced from her, excepting in illness.

In spite of bitter regrets, when she thought of the happiness it would have been to keep her little nephew, and of importunate and disappointing hopes that Mrs. Ridley would find it impossible to receive him, Lily felt that she had done right, and had made a real sacrifice for duty's sake. No more was said on the subject, and Lily was very grateful to Eleanor for making no inquiries, which she could not have answered without blaming Emily.

Sight-seeing prospered very well under Claude's guidance, and Lily's wonder and delight was a constant source of amusement to her friends. Her shopping was more of a care than a pleasure, for, in spite of the handsome equipments which Mr. Mohun presented to all his daughters, it was impossible to contract Emily's requirements within the limits of what ought to be her expenditure, and the different views of her brother and sister were rather troublesome in this matter. Claude hated the search for ladies' finery, and if drawn into it, insisted on always taking her to the grandest and most expensive shops; while, on the other hand, though Eleanor liked to hunt up cheap things and good bargains, she had such rigid ideas about plainness of dress, that there was little chance that what she approved would satisfy Emily. _

Read next: Chapter 21. Charity Begins At Home

Read previous: Chapter 19. The Rector's Illness

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