FOUR such happy, beautiful weeks followed. Mrs. Carlyon and Geoffrey came down to Porthcallis within a few days, and they all settled into the comfortable rooms Dr. Carlyon had taken for them. Loveday was very sorry to leave Bessie and Aaron and the dear little bedroom; but they went every day to “Bessie’s beach,” as they called it, for it was their favourite play-place. Each day they thought they knew all the rocks and pools by heart, yet every time they came again they found fresh ones.
Very often, too, Mrs. Carlyon engaged John Lobb to row them along the coast in his best boat, and they would land at some of the nice little bays and and have their dinner or tea, and light a fire and boil the kettle.
The red bucket “Thomas” grew to look quite shabby with the hard usage it had, and so many of its letters got knocked off that it was difficult at last to know what the name was meant to be. Priscilla had chosen a green bucket with “Mary” on it, as she could not get one with her first name. The colour did not go very well with her blue cloak, but she did not want to use them together very often, and when she did she solved the difficulty by carrying the bucket the cloak. Sometimes they went for picnics on the Downs on the top of the cliff, and one day when they were up there Priscilla saw Mr. Winter, and, running up to him, brought him over and introduced him to her mother. He seemed rather shy at first and not very happy, but the next time they met him he came up to them of his own accord and talked to them for a while, and as the days went on they even induced him to join them at their picnic teas, and when he had done so once or twice he seemed really to enjoy himself, and would about with them for quite a long time, saying little, but evidently interested in all they said and did.
Priscilla was his most constant companion. Geoffrey, at first particularly, reminded him too painfully of his own dead boy, and he himself reminded Loveday of the occasion when he had locked her up, a prisoner. As time went on they often talked of the escapade, and laughed about it, but Loveday could not at first see any joke in it, or quite throw off her of her captor, and preferred to race and tear about with Geoffrey, sharing his dangers and adventures.
Often when Priscilla was tired she would find her new old friend by her side, and with his arm to lean on they would saunter on slowly together and talk and talk. Such long conversations they had, though it was generally Priscilla who was the talker, but that was because he asked her so many questions about their home, and their games, and their lessons, and their doings, and he seemed so interested in every little thing that Priscilla told him that she thought perhaps it helped him to feel more cheerful and forget his own troubles. So she on to him very willingly.
She did not have all the talk to herself, though, for sometimes he would tell her stories of the time when he was a boy, and all sorts of other interesting tales; but her mother had told her so seriously never to ask him questions, or speak of anything that would be likely to arouse sad memories, that poor Priscilla was not quite certain what she might say, and what she must not, and really felt easier when she was telling him of their own little doings.
One day she told him all about Lady Carey and the cloaks, and he seemed very interested. “Is that the pretty cloak I first saw you in?” he asked; and when Priscilla said, “Yes, it was,” he said, “A very sensible clever woman she must be to make such a charming garment. I have never seen any I like so much.”
Another day she told him about Miss Potts, and what an interesting person she was, and how she was an “only”; so she, Priscilla, tried to be a sort of sister to her, and went quite often to see her.
“I should like to know Miss Potts,” he said, and Priscilla knew that he was thinking of the story she had out to him so thoughtlessly that first day.
“I wish you could,” she said eagerly. “Oh, I wish you would come to Trelint and see her, and see our house, and Betsy and—everything. I am sure you would like it. Miss Potts loves Trelint. She told me she felt at home there at once, and ever so happy, and she has never wanted to go anywhere else since. I am sure you would love Trelint if you came.”
“I feel sure I should,” said Mr. Winter. “Perhaps I will come some day. I dare say I shall; in fact, I have been thinking about it a good deal.”
“Oh, have you? How lovely!” cried Priscilla, really pleased. “It won’t seem so hard to leave Porthcallis now.”
For the last days had come, and the end of the visit was very near. Already there had been talk of trains, and some farewell visits had been paid, and they all felt very sad, for they loved the little place.
“Of course it isn’t as fine in some ways as Porthcallis,” she remarked, after a short pause, beginning to wonder if she had painted home too glowingly, and so prepared a disappointment for a new-comer to the place. “There is no”—she had nearly added “sea there,” but checked herself just in time—“nothing, I mean, very famous, like ruins, and tombs, and castles, and things, but it is very—very homey.”
“I am not particularly fond of sight-seeing,” said Mr. Winter, “and I would prefer a home to a ruin. It seems to me I have been living in the latter too long already,” he added, half to himself. “Now let us go and find your mother. I want to ask her to bring you all to tea with me at my house to-morrow. I hope you will not mind giving up a part of your last whole day. Would you like to come, little one?”
For a moment Priscilla was speechless. Even she, child as she was, understood a little what this invitation must have cost him. But she quickly recovered herself and remembered her manners.
“Oh, I would love to!” she cried warmly; “we all would, I know.” But she added in her own little way: “Won’t we be a great trouble to you?”
[158]Mr. Winter smiled.
“Not a trouble, child.”
They soon overtook Mrs. Carlyon, who gladly agreed to the plan, and thanked Mr. Winter warmly, and soon after that they parted.
It was with very feelings that they all climbed the cliff the next day to Mr. Winter’s home, and walked slowly up the path. Geoffrey was full of curiosity and interest; Loveday was a little shy of again entering her prison, but interested too; Mrs. Carlyon was very thankful, and in her heart very glad, for it seemed to her that it might be the beginning of brighter, happier days for the poor, lonely, sad old man; Priscilla, too, dimly felt the same thing, and she wanted, oh, so much! that he should be less sad.
Mrs. Tucker let them in, as usual, but more civil in manner.
“Will you please to walk inside and sit down,” she said, showing them into a little bare room where there was no sign of any preparations for tea, no flowers, nor even chairs enough for them all. “The master will be here in a moment.”
And in less than a moment he came in.
As soon as their eyes fell on him in the , two at least of them—Priscilla and her mother—noticed a change in him; they could not have said whether they saw or felt it, or in what the change lay, and when he came forward to shake hands he seemed only a little quieter, a little more sad than usual, and somewhat more absent-minded. He welcomed them very cordially, but after the first greetings a silence fell, then:
“Will you come this way?” he said, rising and moving towards the door. He in a nervous, strained manner. “I have had tea laid in the—the drawing-room. It is a room I do not often use.” As they rose to follow him he laid his hand on Priscilla’s shoulder. “May Miss Priscilla and I lead the way?” he asked.
It was a silent little procession that straggled from the one room to the other—Mrs. Carlyon full of as to what was to follow, Geoffrey and Loveday too absorbed in interest at being in the house of mystery, as they had always considered it, to notice anything unusual.
But as soon as the drawing-room door was opened, Mrs. Carlyon began to understand. “This is one of the closed rooms, and for us he has at last opened it,” she thought; and once more a deep of tender pity filled her heart.
Mr. Winter walked in without looking or speaking; Priscilla walked beside him, her hand held fast in his, and even through all her wond............