CHAPTER XXXVI.

IN MISS MARGERY'S PARLOUR.

"OH, Robert, what a lovely day!"

Standing at the open window of her own pretty sitting-room, a room that had been built and decorated for her during the late alterations to Moat Grange, was Mary Dalrymple. Robert, heated and flushed, had come in at the gate, and caught the words across the lawn. He had been out since early morning, superintending various. matters for to-day was a grand fête day at Moat Grange, and no end of preparations were being made for it.

Robert called it a house-warming. He had talked of it, as a thing to come, ever since his marvellous return; but he had waited for the alterations to be completed that were to make the gloomy old house into a new one, and for the warm summer weather to set in. For this was to be an open-air entertainment, for the gratification of the poor as well as the rich.

Improvements had gone on without doors as well as within. Those cottage-huts by the old mill had been rebuilt, and their humble tenants were reinstated. Gratitude and content had taken the place of murmuring, and the once angry men thought they could never do enough for their young Squire, Robert Dalrymple.

"What a lovely day!" repeated Mary.

It was the first day of June, and one of the sweetest days that charming month ever put forth. Promising to be a little too warm, perhaps, but inexpressibly bright and beautiful. Save for a light

fleecy cloud here and there, the sky was of a deep blue; the sun flickered through the leaves of the trees, wearing yet somewhat of their tender green, and caught Robert's head as he stood, looking up to his wife.

"Ay, it is," said Robert in reply to her remark, "very lovely. It will be very hot, though; it is so already."

She leaned from the window in her cool white morning gown, smiling at her husband. How good-looking they both were-and how happy! Every now and then, even yet, Mary could scarcely realize the change-the intense happiness which had succeeded to the years of what had appeared irredeemable sorrow.

"And now, Robert, I should think you must want breakfast—if you have not had it."

"But I have had it. I ran in to my mother's and took some with her and Alice. The tents are all up, Mary, and the people are getting into their Sunday's best."

"So soon! Don't forget, if you please, sir, that we sit down to lunch to-day at one o'clock precisely. We can't do without you then, you know, though we did at breakfast."

Robert drew a little nearer to the window.

all?" he asked.

"Where are they

"Gone out for a stroll. I told them I had a famished husband

coming in and must wait at home for him.

I think Gerard and

I don't know about

his wife have only gone to your mother's. Oscar and Selina. Perhaps she has gone to see the new baby at the Rectory."

"Selina does not care for babies."

"But she does for gossip.

And Lady Mary is well enough for that."

"What is that letter you are keeping in your hand ?”

Her face changed to sadness. "It contains bad news, Robert : and though I have been chattering to you so gaily and lightly, it is lying on my heart. Francis cannot come."

"No!"

"This letter came from him just after you went out. ful measure-important, he calls it—has to be debated mittee this afternoon, and Francis has to stay for it." "Well, I am disappointed," cried Robert.

Some dread

upon in com

"As we all are. Robert, I do think it is too bad. I do think Francis might have spared this one day to us," added Mary with a sigh. "He seems to regard politics as quite a recreation." "Don't be hard on him, Mary. He has not much else now in the way of recreation."

Gerard Hope and Lady Frances had come to the Grange for the fête Gerard had coaxed a three days' holiday out of Mr. Howard, with whom he was a favourite, though the old gentleman had grumblingly reminded him that his honeymoon was not long over. Oscar Dalrymple and Selina had also arrived the previous night from their own place, Knutford. Perhaps in his heart Oscar had not been sorry to give up the Grange and its troubles. At any rate, he made no sign of regret. Peace and plenty had supervened on discomfort, and he and Selina were friends with all.

Mary had guessed rightly—that Selina had gone to the Rectory. If not to see the new baby, to see the baby's mother. The baby was more than two weeks old, and Lady Mary was seated on a sofa, doing some useful work.

"It is early days for that, is it not?" cried Selina, as she went in. "Not at all," laughed Lady Mary. "With my many little ones, I have to be always at work. And I am thankful to be well enough for it. You reached the Grange yesterday?"

"Yes-and found all well. Mamma came up to dinner last night. She is quite young and active. Gerard and Frances are gone to see Alice—who is much better-and then Frances is coming here to see you."

"Where is your husband?" "Oscar!

old Bridport.

He went across the fields to the Mead House to see

What a pity you cannot come out to-day, Mary!

And who else do you think can't come out! At least, not out here."

"Who is that?"

"Francis Netherleigh. Mary Dalrymple heard from him this morning. He is kept in London by some business connected with the House. He would have been the star of the fête. Yes, don't laugh at me he would-and we are all vexed. I'd not be in that House of Commons for the world," resentfully concluded Selina. "I do think he might have stretched a point, and got off to-day!"

"Y-es--if he wished to come," was the doubting assent. question is-did he wish it? "

"What do you mean?" asked Selina.

"The

Lady Mary Cleveland let fall her needle and looked full at Mrs. Oscar Dalrymple. "It has struck me that he has not cared to come here, you know. Instead of taking up his abode at Court Netherleigh, he pays but a flying visit to it now and then. My husband and I both think that he does not choose to subject himself to the chance of meeting Adela."

"I should not wonder. They were talking about Adela at the Grange last night," resumed Selina, in an accent of hesitation"saying something about her joining a sisterhood of nurses. But I'm sure that can't be true."

"It is quite true, Selina."

Selina opened her amazed eyes.

"True! Why, she would have to put her hair under a huge cap, and wear cotton gowns and white aprons!"

Lady Mary smiled. have kept Selina from true," repeated Mary.

That part of the programme would assuredly entering on anything of the sort. "Yes, it is "The negotiations have been pending for some time; but it is decided at last, and Adela departs for York-shire on Saturday, to shut herself into the institution." "And will she never come out again. ?"

Lady Mary shook her head. "We cannot foresee the future. Selina. All we know is, that Adela is most unfitted for the kind of work, and we shall be surprised if she does not break down under it.. Her frame is slight and delicate, her instincts are sensitive and refined. Fancy Adela dressing broken heads, or sitting up for a week with a family of children ill with fever!"

Selina put her hands before her eyes. "Oh!" she cried out in, horror. "But she surely won't have to do all that?"

"She will.

She must take any case she is appointed to." "Why, I would rather go out ironing! Surely she will not dothis!"

"Indeed she will: and she intends that it shall be for life. Her father came down here to remonstrate with her: he has always had more influence over her than anyone else: but it availed nothing.

VOL. XXXII.

E E

They were together for an hour in the red parlour-Adela's sittingroom here and I could see how distressing to her the interview had been. Her eyes were swollen with crying.”

"Well, I can't understand it," concluded Selina, rising.

"Had it been a question of necessity, there might be reason in her wanting to do something and to make a guy of herself, but it is not so. Those big linen caps are dreadful."

The door of the red parlour was open as Selina gained the hall. Adela sat there sewing: and Selina went in. How fragile and dainty and delicate she looked, this still young and lovely woman, in her simple muslin dress, with the ribbon at her throat and the lace at her wrists. Selina sat down. At work to-day, Adela!”

"I am making some frocks for that poor Widow Jeffrey's children. But for Mr. Cleveland I don't know what they would do, now their father is gone."

"But all Netherleigh is en fête to-day! So ought you to be."

Adela raised her sad and beautiful eyes to Selina's in some surprise. "The fête can have nothing to do with me, Selina. I am very glad it is so fine for it and I hope everybody will enjoy it, yourself included."

:

"Thank you: I'm sure I shall. Adela, what is this we hear about you?" broke forth Selina, unable to keep silence longer. "You are going to shut yourself up in a grim building, and wear a most disfiguring costume, and nurse cases of fever! !"

"Have

"Yes," sighed Adela. "I leave for it the day after to-morrow." Selina paused. you sat down and counted the cost?" "Over and over again. It will be less painful than what I have long been enduring: bodily discomfort is more tolerable to bear than mental remorse. I shall live a useful life, at any rate, Selina. For a long while now it has been worse than a wasted one."

They think-Mary does, at least that you will not be strong enough to stand the fatigue."

"I must do my best," sighed Adela. all ways-will come with its need."

"I hope the strength-in

"I daresay they give nothing but suet dumplings for dinner four day out of the seven!"

Adela faintly smiled. "I don't expect to find luxuries, Selina." "Do you take Davvy?" "Take Davvy!" echoed Lady Adela. "No, indeed. I shall be, so to say, a servant myself."

Selina, in very dismay, gave her hands a slight wring. Adela might as well put herself at once out of the world. "I must be going," she said. "You are sure you will not come to the fête, Adela?"

"I have done with fêtes for ever," replied Adela, as she drew down Selina's face for a farewell kiss. "Perhaps you will write to me sometimes?" And Selina Dalrymple, sick and sorry for the blighted life, went out with her eyes full of tears.

The day wore on to the afternoon and the business of the fête began. Old and young; gentle and simple, the aristocracy of the surrounding neighbourhood and the tenant-farmers and the labourers congregated on the lawns, in the gardens, and in the home field, where the tents were placed. Of the attendants, Reuben was chief, his fresh face happy again as of yore.

Amidst other entertainments, there was a fancy-fair, the proceeds of it to be distributed to the poor; though indeed it was more for fun than gain, fortune-telling, post-offices, and mock auctions prevailing. Alice Dalrymple had a corner in this tent for her reclining chair, and watched with pleasure the busy scene. Lady Frances Hope stood by her; her husband was flitting from stall to stall. Robert's coming back had worked wonders for Alice.

"There!" said Gerard, coming up to her, his face gay as usual, as he handed a charming bouquet to Alice, "a fine squabble I have had to get you this. Half a crown those keepers of the flower-stall wanted, if you'll believe me! I gave them eighteenpence and told them they were harpies.".

"You should not have bought it for me," smiled Alice, gratefully inhaling the scent of the flowers. "You are just what you always were, Gerard-thinking of everybody else, never of self."

"Why should I think of self?" returned Gerard, his wife having left them for a distant stall. "But you know you always liked to lecture me, Alice."

"For your good," she answered, raising her eyes to his.

"Was it for my good? Ah, Alice," he added, his tone changing to one of regret, "if you had but taken me into your own hands, as you might have done as I prayed you to do you would have made a Solomon of me for wisdom

"Hush, Gerard! Best as it is," she whispered, gently laying hei hand upon his. "I was! not fit in any way. As it is, I have you both to love, and I am supremely happy. And I think you are."

"Ah well," quaintly conceded Gerard, "one is warned not to expect perfect bliss in this sublunary world, so one can only make the best of what fate and fortune bestow upon us? Would you not like to walk round and look at the stalls, Alice? You can go comfortably, I think, on my arm."

"Thank you, yes, I should like it-if you will take me."

Amidst the very few people of degree not at the fête was Lady' Adela. Mr. Cleveland had asked her, when setting out himself, whether she would not go with him just to have a peep at it, but she said she preferred to sit with Mary. She had heard the news spoken openly by the Rector at the luncheon-table, that Sir Francis Netherleigh was not coming to it. And in Lady Mary's room she sat, pursuing her work.

But, as the afternoon needing a little fresh air.

advanced, Adela grew weary and restless, She put her garden hat on and went out :