“I cannot help it; I love him already, and I’ll love him more and more the longer I see him and the more I know him. My father must have been like that – a gentleman – a perfect gentleman. Oh! I was happy at the ranch, and mothery was like no one else on the wide earth, but it gave me a sort of quiver down my spine when Uncle Edward took my hand, and when he kissed me. He is like what father was. Had father lived I’d have spent all my days here, and I’d have been perhaps quite as graceful as Audrey, and nearly as beautiful.”
“You will never be like her, so you need not think it. You are squat like your mother, and you ain’t got a decent feature in your face except your eyes, and even they are only big, not dark; and your hair is skimpy and your face white. You are a sort of mix’um-gather’um – a sort of betwixt-and-between – neither very fair nor very dark, neither very short nor very tall. You are thick-set, just the very image of your mother, and you will always be thick-set and always mix’um-gather’um as long as you live. There! I have spoken. I ain’t going to be afraid of you. You had better get into bed now, for it is late. You want your beauty-sleep, and you won’t get it unless you are quick. Now march! Put on your night-dress and step into bed.”
“I have got to say my prayers first,” said Evelyn, “and – ” She paused and looked full at her maid. “I have got to say something else. If you talk like that I won’t love you any more. You are not to do it. I won’t have it.”
“Won’t she, then?” said Jasper. Her whole manner changed. “And have I hurt her – have I – the little dear? Come to me, my darling. Why, you are all trembling! Did you think I meant a word I said? Don’t you know that you are the jewel of my eyes and the core of my heart and all the rest? Did your mother leave you to me for nothing, and would I ever leave you, sweetest and best? And if it is squat you are, there is no one like you for determination and fire of spirit. Eh, now, come to my arms and I’ll rock the bitterness out of you, for it is puzzled you are, and fretted you are, and you shall not be – no, you shall not be either one or the other ever again while old Jasper lives.”
Evelyn’s eyes, which had flashed an almost ugly fire, now softened. She looked at Jasper as if she meant to resist her. Then she wavered, and came almost totteringly across the room, and the next moment the strange woman had clasped the girl to her embrace and was rocking her backwards and forwards, Evelyn’s head lying on her breast just as if she were a baby.
“Now then, that’s better,” said Jasper. “I’ll undress you as though we were back again on the ranch, and when you are snug and safe in your little white bed we’ll have a bit of fun.”
“Fun!” said Evelyn. “What?”
“Don’t you know how you like a stolen supper? I have got chocolate here, and a little pot, and a jug of cream, and a saucepan, and I’ll make a rich cup for you and another for myself; and here’s a box of cakes, all sorts and very good. While you are sipping your chocolate I’ll take off Miss Audrey and Lady Frances for you. The door is locked; no one can see us. We’ll be as snug as snug can be, and we’ll have our fun just as if we were back at the ranch.”
Evelyn was now all laughter and high spirits. She had no idea of restraining herself. She called Jasper her honey and her honey-pot, and kissed the good woman several times. She superintended the making of the chocolate with eager words and many directions. Finally, a cup of the rich beverage was handed to her, and she sipped it, luxuriously curled up against her snowy pillows, and ate the sweet cakes, and watched Jasper with happy eyes.
“So it is Miss Audrey you’d like to take after?” said Jasper. “You think you are not a patch on her. To be sure not – wait and we’ll see.”
In an instant Jasper had transformed her features to a comical resemblance of Audrey’s. She spoke in mincing tones, with just sufficient likeness to Audrey to cause Evelyn to scream with mirth. She took light, quick steps across the room, and imitated Audrey’s very words. All of a sudden she changed her manner. She now resembled Miss Sinclair, putting on the slightly precise language of the governess, adjusting her shoulders and arranging her hands as she had seen Miss Sinclair do for a brief moment that evening. Her personation of Miss Sinclair was as good as her personation of Audrey, and Evelyn became so excited that she very nearly spilt her chocolate. But her crowning delight came when all of a sudden, without the slightest warning, Jasper became Lady Frances herself. She now sailed rather than walked across the apartment; her tones were stately and slow; her manner was the sort which might inspire awe; her very words were those of Lady Frances. But the delighted maid believed that she had a further triumph in store, for, with a quick change of mien, she now had the audacity to personate the Squire himself; but in one instant, like a flash, Evelyn was out of bed. She put down her chocolate-cup and rushed towards Jasper.
“The others as much as you like,” she said, “but not Uncle Ned. You dare not. You sha’n’t. I’ll turn you away if you do. I’ll hate you if you do. The others over and over again – they are lovely, splendid, grand – it puts heart in me to see you – but not Uncle Ned.”
Jasper looked in astonishment at the little girl.
“So you love him as much as that already?” she said. “Well, as you please, of course.”
“Don’t be cross, Jasper,” said Evelyn. “I can stand all the others; I can even like them. I told Audrey to-night how splendidly you can mimic, and you shall mimic her to her face when I know her better. Oh, it is killing – it is killing! But I draw the line at Uncle Ned.”
CHAPTER V. – FRANK’S EYES
Evelyn did not get up to breakfast the following morning. Breakfast at the Castle was a rather stately affair. A loud, musical gong sounded to assemble the family at a quarter to nine; then all those who were not really ill were expected to appear in the small chapel, where the Squire read prayers morning after morning before the assembled household. After prayers, visitors and family alike trooped into the comfortable breakfast-room, where a merry and hearty meal ensued. To be absent from breakfast was to insure Lady Frances’s displeasure; she had no patience with lazy people. And as to lazy girls, her horror of them was so great that Audrey would rather bear the worst cold possible than announce to her mother that she was too ill to appear. Evelyn’s absence, therefore, was commented on with a very grave expression of face by both the Squire and his wife.
“I must speak to her,” said Lady Frances. “It is the first morning, and she does not understand our ways, but it must not occur again.”
“You will not be too hard on the child, dear,” said her husband. “Remember she has never had the advantage of your training.”
“Poor little creature!” said Lady Frances. “That, indeed, my dear Edward, is plain to be seen.”
She bridled very slightly. Lady Frances knew that there was not a more correct trainer of youth in the length and breadth of the county than herself. Audrey, who looked very bright and handsome that morning, ventured to glance at her mother.
“Perhaps Evelyn is dressed and does not know that we are at breakfast,” she said. “May I go to her room and find out?”
“No, Audrey, not this morning. I shall go to see Evelyn presently. By the way, I hope you are ready for your visitors?”
“I suppose so, mother. I don’t really quite know who are coming.”
“The Jervices, of course – Henrietta, Juliet, and their brothers; there are also the Claverings, Mary and Sophie. I think those are the only young people, but with six in addition to you and Evelyn, you will have your hands full, Audrey.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” replied Audrey. “It will be fun. – You will help me all you can, won’t you, Jenny?”
“Certainly, dear,” replied Miss Sinclair.
“It is the greatest possible comfort to me to have you in the house, Miss Sinclair,” said Lady Frances, now turning to the pretty young governess. “You have not yet had an interview with Evelyn, have you?”
“I talked to her