Here was Captain Charteris, just what he had been when he went away. How different from his stately, dull, wife-ridden elder brother. So brisk, and blunt, and eager, quite lifting his niece off her feet, and almost crushing her in his embrace, telling her she was still but a hop-o’-my-thumb, and shaking hands with his nephew with a look of scrutiny that brought the blood to the boy’s cheek.
His eyes were never off the children while he was listening to Honora, and she perceived that what she said went for nothing; he would form his judgment solely by what he observed for himself.
At dinner, he was seated between Miss Charlecote and his niece, and Honora was pleased with him for his neglect of her and attention to his smaller neighbour, whose face soon sparkled with merriment, while his increasing animation proved that the saucy little woman was as usual enchanting him. Much that was very entertaining was passing about tiger-hunting, when at dessert, as he stretched out his arm to reach some water for her, she exclaimed, ‘Why, Uncle Kit, you have brought away the marks! no use to deny it, the tigers did bite you.’
The palm of his hand certainly bore in purple, marks resembling those of a set of teeth; and he looked meaningly at Honora, as he quietly replied, ‘Something rather like a tigress.’
‘Then it was a bite, Uncle Kit?’
Yes,’ in a put-an-end-to-it tone, which silenced Lucilla, her tact being much more ready when concerned with the nobler sex.
In the drawing-room, Mrs. Charteris’s civilities kept Honora occupied, while she saw Owen bursting with some request, and when at length he succeeded in claiming her attention, it was to tell her of his cousin’s offer to take him out shooting, and his elder uncle’s proviso that it must be with her permission. He had gone out with the careful gamekeeper at Hiltonbury, but this was a different matter, more trying to the nerves of those who stayed at home. However, Honora suspected that the uncle’s opinion of her competence to be trusted with Owen would be much diminished by any betrayal of womanly terrors, and she made her only conditions that he should mind Uncle Kit, and not go in front of the guns, otherwise he would never be taken out again, a menace which she judiciously thought more telling than that he would be shot.
By and by Mr. Charteris came to discuss subjects so interesting to her as a farmer, that it was past nine o’clock before she looked round for her children. Healthy as Lucilla was, her frame was so slight and unsubstantial, and her spirits so excitable, that over-fatigue or irregularity always told upon her strength and temper; for which reason Honor had issued a decree that she should go to bed at nine, and spend two hours of every morning in quiet employment, as a counterbalance to the excitement of the visit.
Looking about to give the summons, Honor found that Owen had disappeared. Unnoticed, and wearied by the agricultural dialogue, he had hailed nine o’clock as the moment of release, and crept off with unobtrusive obedience, which Honor doubly prized when she beheld his sister full of eagerness, among cousins and gentlemen, at the racing game. Strongly impelled to end it at once, Honor waited, however, till the little white horseman had reached the goal, and just as challenges to a fresh race were beginning, she came forward with her needful summons.
‘Oh, Miss Charlecote, how cruel!’ was the universal cry.
‘We can’t spare all the life of our game!’ said Charles Charteris.
‘I solemnly declare we weren’t betting,’ cried Horatia. ‘Come, the first evening—’
‘No,’ said Honor, smiling. ‘I can’t have her lying awake to be good for nothing to-morrow, as she will do if you entertain her too much.’
‘Another night, then, you promise,’ said Charles.
‘I promise nothing but to do my best to keep her fit to enjoy herself. Come, Lucy.’
The habit of obedience was fixed, but not the habit of conquering annoyance, and Lucilla went off doggedly. Honora would have accompanied her to soothe away her troubles, but her cousin Ratia ran after her, and Captain Charteris stood in the way, disposed to talk. ‘Discipline,’ he said, approvingly.
‘Harsh discipline, I fear, it seemed to her, poor child,’ said Honor; ‘but she is so excitable that I must try to keep her as quiet as possible.’
‘Right,’ said the captain; ‘I like to see a child a child still. You must have had some tussles with that little spirit.’
‘A few,’ she said, smiling. ‘She is a very good girl now, but it has been rather a contrast with her brother.’
‘Ha!’ quoth the captain; and mindful of the milk-sop charge, Honora eagerly continued, ‘You will soon see what a spirit he has! He rides very well, and is quite fearless. I have always wished him to be with other boys, and there are some very nice ones near us—they think him a capital cricketer, and you should see him run and vault.’
‘He is an active-looking chap,’ his uncle granted.
‘Every one tells me he is quite able to make his way at school; I am only anxious to know which public school you and your brother would prefer.’
‘How old is he?’
‘Only twelve last month, though you would take him for fifteen.’
‘Twelve; then there would be just time to send him to Portsmouth, get him prepared for a naval cadetship, then, when I go out with Sir David Horfield, I could take him under my own eye, and make a man of him at once.’
‘Oh! Captain Charteris,’ cried Honora, aghast, ‘his whole bent is towards his father’s profession.’
The captain had very nearly whistled, unable to conceive any lad of spirit preferring study.
‘Whatever Miss Charlecote’s wishes may be, Kit,’ interposed the diplomatic elder brother, ‘we only desire to be guided by them.’
‘Oh no, indeed,’ cried Honor; ‘I would not think of such a responsibility, it can belong only to his nearer connections;’ then, feeling as if this were casting him off to be pressed by the sailor the next instant, she added, in haste—‘Only I hoped it was understood—if you will let me—the expenses of his education need not be considered. And if he might be with me in the holidays,’ she proceeded imploringly. ‘When Captain Charteris has seen more of him, I am sure he will think it a pity that his talents . . .’ and there she stopped, shocked at finding herself insulting the navy.
‘If a boy have no turn that way, it cannot be forced on him,’ said the captain, moodily.
Honora pitied his disappointment, wondering whether he ascribed it to her influence, and Mr. Charteris blandly expressed great obligation and more complete resignation of the boy than she desired; disclaimers ran into mere civilities, and she was thankful to the captain for saying, shortly, ‘We’ll leave it till we have seen more of the boy.’
Breakfast was very late at Castle Blanch; and Honora expected a tranquil hour in her dressing-room with her children, but Owen alone appeared, anxious for the shooting, but already wearying to be at home with his own pleasures, and indignant with everything, especially the absence of family prayers.
The breakfast was long and desultory, and in the midst Lucilla made her appearance with Horatia, who was laughing and saying, ‘I found this child wandering about the park, and the little pussycat won’t tell where she has been.’
‘Poaching, of course,’ responded Charles; ‘it is what pussycats always do till they get shot by the keepers.’
Et cætera, et cætera, et cætera. Lucilla was among all the young people, in the full tide of fun, nonsense, banter, and repartee of a style new to her, but in which she was formed to excel, and there was such a black look when Honor summoned her after the meal, as impressed the awkwardness of enforcing authority among nearer relations; but it was in vain, she was carried off to the dressing-room, and reminded of the bargain for two hours’ occupation. She murmured something about Owen going out as he liked.
‘He