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Flaming June

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<h3>Chapter Eleven.</h3> At the first shock of hearing of the accident, Mrs Ramsden’s motherly anxiety swamped all other feeling. She forgot to disapprove of a woman who at sixty still wore a pad on her uncapped head, and lacy frills on her petticoat, in gratitude to the hostess who had extended hospitality to her ewe lamb. For the moment also, Geoffrey himself ceased to be a dangerous roué, and became a gallant rescuer, miraculously appearing on the scene of danger. She cried, and wanted to know how Elma looked; what Elma said; how Elma felt; what Elma had had to eat; if Elma’s sheets had been aired; if Elma cried—poor darling! at being left behind? And Cornelia answered fully on all these points, not always, it is to be feared, with a strict regard to veracity, but with a praiseworthy desire to soothe, which was blessed with wonderful success. Mrs Ramsden dried her eyes, and opined that life was full of blessings, and that she ought to be thankful that things were no worse! There was a sweet young girl whom she had once known, who had both legs amputated, and died of gangrene, a month before she was to have been married. It was caused by a carriage accident, too, and now she came to think of it, the poor dear had just the same pink-and-white complexion as Elma herself. “Well, I guess there’s not much stump about Elma, this journey!” returned Cornelia, cheerily. “There’s nothing to it but a little shock to the constitootion. Elma’s constitootion is nervy. What she needs is re-pose. Perfect re-pose! If I were you, I’d send up a note to-morrow, and stay quietly at home. It would naturally upset her some to see you, and she’d recuperate quicker by herself.” But at this Mrs Ramsden drew herself up with a chilly dignity. She must certainly see her child. It was her duty to see for herself how matters progressed. In the matter of removal, she must be guided by what she saw... “Yes, ’um!” assented Cornelia, meekly. She had said her say, and felt confident that Geoffrey Greville might now be trusted to play his part. As she walked along the few yards which separated The Holt from The Nook, she congratulated herself that the worst half of her explanations were over; but in this reckoning she was mistaken. Miss Briskett’s displeasure was unsoftened by anxiety, and was, moreover, accentuated by the remembrance that all this trouble would have been averted if Cornelia had consented to accept Mrs Nevins’ invitation to tea in a reasonable and respectful manner. The girl had refused to make herself amiable, had insisted upon driving a strange horse over strange roads, in the face of expressed disapproval, and had contrived to come to grief outside the very house of all others which she was most desired to avoid! Cornelia was flighty enough already; the only chance of keeping her in order was by introducing her to friends who, by their quiet decorum, would exercise a restraining effect on her demeanour. Symptoms of dissatisfaction had already set in—witness that same rejected tea—and this afternoon’s experience had established a certain amount of intimacy, which would entail endless difficulties in the future. Poor Miss Briskett, she was indeed sorely tried! With her own eyes she had beheld Cornelia driven up to the gate by a man who was even more dangerous than the young Squire himself, inasmuch as he was often a visitor in the Park for weeks at a time; his aunt being the proud possessor of The Towers, the largest and most imposing of the crescent houses. On the afternoon on which Cornelia’s coming had first been discussed, she herself had remarked to Mrs Ramsden that the girl must be protected from an acquaintance with Captain Guest! It seemed almost too exasperating to be borne that she should have effected an introduction for herself within three short weeks of her arrival! The spinster’s sharp nose looked sharper than ever, her thin lips thinner, her grey eyes more cold and colourless. Cornelia looked from them to the steel trimmings on her dress—really and truly, one looked about as human as the other! The “lonesome” feeling gripped once more, and her thoughts flew longingly to “Poppar,” away at the other side of two thousand miles of ocean. “I feel kinder left!” was the expressive mental comment as the maid swept away the crumbs, placed the two fruit dishes and the decanter of port before her mistress, and noiselessly retired from the room. Miss Briskett had been clearing her throat in ominous fashion for the last ten minutes, and now that Mary’s restraining presence was removed, she wasted no further time in preliminaries. “I think it is time that we came to an understanding, Cornelia,” she began, in ice-cold accents. “If you remain under my roof you must give me your word to indulge in no more escapades like that of this afternoon! I gave my consent with much reluctance; or, perhaps, it would be more correct to say that I was not asked for my consent at all; and now you see what the consequences have been!” “I promise faithfully, Aunt Soph, that I’ll never have a smash again, if I can help it! I’m not a bit more set on them than you are yourself, and I guess the mare was as innocent as a babe, so far’s you’re concerned. She wasn’t deliberately setting out to annoy you, as you seem to imagine. I guess she needs more sympathy than blame!” “Don’t fence with words, Cornelia, please. I was not referring to the horse, and I have no intention of allowing you to run any more risks. I distinctly forbid you to take more carriage expeditions without a competent driver. I am responsible for your safety, and your father would blame me, if any harm happened to you while you are my guest. I acted against my judgment in allowing you to go alone to-day, but I shall not do so again. Do you clearly understand?” Cornelia’s golden eyes stared at her thoughtfully. An inherent sense of justice made her conscious that her aunt had right on her side, though she might have worded her decree in more conciliatory fashion. The reference to her father also had a softening effect. Poppar’d go crazy if he heard that his daughter had been in any sort of danger!... “Well—” she said slowly. “It’s a ‘got-to,’ I suppose! It would be playing it pretty low down, to land you with the worry of nursing me, and keeping Poppar quiet at the other end of the world. But you wouldn’t expect me to drive about with one of those fool-creatures from the livery stable taking care of me, as if I were a kiddy? No, sir! I don’t see myself coming down to that level yet awhile! We’d best get up some driving parties, with those men at the Manor. They seem to have lots of horses and carts and things hanging round, and I don’t see as they could employ themselves better than in giving Elma and me a good time. I’ll air the subject when I go up to inquire!” Miss Briskett fairly leapt on her seat with horror and indignation. She began to speak, and spoke rapidly for the next three minutes, laying down a series of commandments to which Cornelia listened with bated breath. Thou shalt not hold any communication with the Manor, nor with the people inhabiting the Manor; nor with the guest sojourning beneath the roof of the Manor. Thou shalt not associate with any men outside the circle of thy aunt’s acquaintances. Thou shalt walk abroad by thine aunt’s side, on thine own legs, and comport thyself discreetly, as behoves a young gentlewoman of good family. Thou shalt remember that thou art a self-invited guest, and conform to the rules of the establishment, or else shalt promptly return to the place from whence thou camest... In a word, Miss Briskett lost her temper, and when a woman of mature years and grey hairs loses control of herself, and lets her tongue run amuck, it is a sorry spectacle. The flush on Cornelia’s cheeks was not for her own humiliation, but for her aunt’s. She lowered her lids, ashamed to look into the angry, twisted face. “Yes, I understand,” she replied quietly, in answer to the final question. “I guess I understand quite a lot.” “And you mean to obey?” There was a moment’s hesitation, and then— “No,” drawled Cornelia, calmly. “I can’t say as I do! Those people have been polite to me, and I’m bound to be civil in return. I never ran after any man that I know of, and I don’t intend to begin, but when I do meet ’em, I’m going to be as pleasant as I know how. It’s a pity, Aunt Soph, but you don’t understand girls! I’ve not been reared on tea-parties and cribbage, and I tell you straight that I’ve just got to have a vent! You be wise not to try to shut me up, for I get pretty reckless if I’m thwarted.” “Cornelia, do you dare to threaten me?” “No, Aunt Soph. I’m kind enough to warn you before it is too late!” Cornelia rose as she spoke, and walked upstairs to the square, prosaic room, which seemed the only bit of “home” she possessed in the whole big map of Europe; sat herself down, and reviewed the situation. Aunt Soph had not wanted her! The longing for a real heart-to-heart friendship had been on one side only; that was the first, and most petrifying revelation. She had travelled two thousand sea-sick miles to find herself an unwelcome guest, imprisoned within the four square walls of a nook-less Nook; bound fast in the trammels of old-world conventions. “My country, ’tis of thee, sw-e-et land of libertee!” murmured Cornelia, mournfully, beneath her breath. Two big tears rose in her golden eyes, and her lips quivered. Should she pack up, and sail for home forthwith? For a moment the temptation seemed irresistible, but only for a moment. Poppar would feel badly if his two nearest relations came to an open rupture; and besides, “When I make up my mind to do a thing, I get there—ev-er-y time!” said the girl, staunchly. “I guess it’ll take more than four weeks of this country to daunt Cornelia E Briskett, if she’s got her head set to stay. For one thing, I’ve taken in hand to start Elma Ramsden on the road to liberty, and there’s going to be a fight before she’s through. I’ll have to stand by, and be ready with the drill. As for Aunt Soph, she’s acted pretty meanly, letting me come along when she hated to have me, but for Poppar’s sake I’ll be as meek as I know how. I thought we were going to be friends, but she’s such a back number she don’t even remember how it felt to be a girl, and it’s not a mite of use arguing. She thinks she knows better than I do!” Cornelia gurgled amused incredulity. “Well, it’s as easy as pie to hev a little prank on my own account, and prank I must, if I’m to last out another three months in this secluded seminary. My constitootion’s fed on excitement! I should wilt away without it. Poppar wouldn’t like to have me wilt!” ... She sat gazing out of the window; gazing—gazing, while a slow smile curled the corners of her lips. <hr></div> <div class="bodytext"> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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