Advice From Miss Valentine

Chapter 8

"Miss Valentine?" said Betty, the upper housemaid, seemingly apropos of nothing, "Lady Burnham wished to inform you that Sir James Meade is in the morning room."

Miss Valentine gave a long sigh. She had determined to spend the morning with her paintbox, sketching a bunch of roses from the garden. Her drawings had been neglected of late and she meant to work very hard. It took quite some time to enter into the feeling of her task and she had just begun to see the delicate forms of the petals take shape under her pencil -- when she was interrupted by Sir James Meade, manifesting bodily at that moment in the Burnham morning room. But why Sir James's geographical location at any given moment should be of concern to her, she had no idea. At the moment she wished he were back in Bombay.

Poor Sir James. It was not his fault, after all. She sighed again, rinsed her brushes and wiped them carefully, and untied her stained painting apron. Since his return, Sir James Meade had been a very sociable neighbor indeed, and hardly a day passed that they did not see him, calling in the morning, or just happening to be out riding at teatime.

"My dear Sir James," Anne was saying as Miss Valentine entered the room, "How very nice it is to see you again today."

"I hope I am not intruding, Lady Burnham, but it is so friendly to be among my old neighbors once again. I beg your pardon if I am too pressing."

"Oh, not at all," disclaimed she, too warmly. "I know your visits give us all the greatest pleasure. Do you not agree, Maude?"

"Certainly," murmured Miss Valentine, as she could not do otherwise. The meaning look her sister gave her was making her uncomfortable. What could Anne mean by being so very particular?

"And I have a special reason for visiting this morning," continued Sir James, nodding to Miss Valentine. "I have at last brought all my engravings of Indian scenes. I know Miss Valentine will like to see them, and -- and Miss Kate -- that is, Miss Burnham (must excuse me, old habits)..."

"Of course!" exclaimed Lady Burnham. "So thoughtful of you, Sir James. I believe Kate is out in the garden, but I could find her myself. It will take me a few minutes; in the meantime you could show Maude the engravings. You will have much to discuss, I'm sure."

She closed the door behind her, with another meaningful gaze at Miss Valentine, who was beginning to entertain dreadful suspicions. Surely it was plain to everyone, as it was to her, that Sir James's intentions lay in another direction? She felt extremely awkward as she approached the table on which he had laid out the book of engravings. Fortunately turning the pages gave her a reason to keep her hands busy and her eyes dropped. She was quite distressed. Anne was so very obvious! As if she would ever walk over the entire grounds in search of Kate, under ordinary circumstances. Miss Valentine hardly knew how to face Sir James.

But when he spoke, it was not exactly what she had been fearing.

"Do you think Miss Kate will like to see these? Or was it just politeness?"

Miss Valentine perceived that she had been right, after all. But considering Kate's feelings, she could not decide whether to be relieved or sad. Poor Sir James. "I thought Kate was truly interested in India," she said cautiously.

He gave a deep sigh. "Thank you, Miss Valentine."

She had not intended to be encouraging, but it was impossible to set him right.

"I am a foolish old fellow," said Sir James mournfully, "attempting to please a beautiful young girl with my pathetic little collection of engravings. But Miss Valentine, I cannot help myself. Surely no one," he continued with a touch of drama (if only Kate could hear him now, she thought): "Surely no one could blame me for an innocent enjoyment of such charming company. Yes, innocent, I say, Miss Valentine, for --"

But just here Mr. Carris entered the room abruptly.

"Ah, Meade, what a pleasant surprise to see you here again," he said in a bitter tone. Miss Valentine stared. Was this sweet-tempered Mr. Carris?

"It is difficult for a lonely old bachelor like me to resist such temptations," said Sir James dreamily. "Perhaps when you are my age you will understand, Carris."

Mr. Carris scowled so violently at Miss Valentine's workbox, which happened to be sitting on the table, that she almost feared for its safety.

With impeccable timing, Kate came in through the garden door, all smiles. "Mama says you have brought your engravings at last, Sir James! I was beginning to think you had forgotten. If it is not too much trouble, will you sit with me and explain about them?"

"Of course, Miss Kate!" said Sir James. "Nothing would give me greater pleasure."

Mr. Carris announced to the room that he was talking a walk, and left as suddenly as he had entered. Ah, that must be it, thought Miss Valentine. Kate's ridiculous flirting had found its true mark at last. She had wanted to make Mr. Carris jealous, and now he was -- and with clear effect, for his original fortnight had long gone by and he seemed to have prolonged his visit indefinitely. But what a shame that Kate would be so cruel as to use Sir James for such a purpose! -- Miss Valentine felt herself growing very indignant, on his behalf.

To her dismay, Anne insisted on inviting Sir James to stay for a family dinner, and kept on making such pointed remarks while they were dining, that Miss Valentine thought she might have to flee the table.

"Maude, won't you pass the gravy to Sir James? We must make him feel perfectly at home."

"Thank you. You are too kind, Lady Burnham," he replied. "You all make me such a friend."

"Oh not at all, Sir James. Why you are nearly family," she said.

Mr. Carris upset his water glass with a crash.

Chapter 9

"Kate, I must talk with you," said Miss Valentine when Lady Burnham was safely ensconced at the piano after dinner.

"Good, for I have been wanting to talk to you too, Auntie Vals," said Kate. "I simply must know -- do you think it is working?"

"Kate!" Miss Valentine was appalled. "This must stop at once! You cannot use Sir James in such a fashion. It is unkind and dishonorable. Mr. Carris will not respect you for such an underhanded tactic."

Kate was surprised. "Oh but I didn't think any harm to Sir James. Mother says he is sure to marry you, Auntie. And Mr. Carris was so very jealous, I feel sure he will propose soon. Perhaps we can have a double wedding! Wouldn't that be romantic?"

Very romantic, for a middle-aged woman to marry alongside her own niece. As if such a thing were likely. "Sir James will not marry me, Kate," said Miss Valentine sternly. "He is in love with you, and you are playing him for a fool. You must stop at once."

"With me!"

"I know you have eyes only for Mr. Carris, but you really should pay attention when a man is mooning over you as Sir James has been doing for the past fortnight. Honestly, Kate. I am quite ashamed of you."

"Mooning over me? Really?" Kate seemed a great deal more flattered than abashed by this news. Miss Valentine wanted to shake her. "But Auntie, he's old enough to be my father! Surely he would have more sense than to fall in love with me. It's a shame; he would be such an eligible match for you."

"Be serious, Kate," hissed Miss Valentine. "Every time you speak to the poor man, you are giving him false hopes. That is a shame. I have no wish to marry him."

"Don't you?" said Kate thoughtfully.

Miss Valentine could get no more out of her, though she lectured until the gentlemen returned. Of course Sir James at once requested a song on the harp from Kate, and she obliged very graciously, with a sidelong glance at her aunt. Miss Valentine thought she had might as well give up: these ridiculous love affairs were affecting her nerves. When Mr. Carris sat down beside her on the sofa, she immediately felt that she was going to be very blunt.

He conveniently opened by remarking that Kate played very sensitively for one her age. Miss Valentine at once began, without any clear idea of what she intended to say.

"If you truly admire her, Mr. Carris, you must not trifle with her affections. In fact, I would advise you to marry as soon as may be. You will do more harm than good by waiting."

He looked at her very oddly. "Is that what you think, Miss Valentine?"

"Yes, I do. I should not say it, perhaps, but our friendship must excuse my speaking out so boldly. We are friends, are we not, Mr. Carris?"

"Yes, we are friends."

"I know Kate is very young, but she has no good examples here. She will make a very good wife to someone of sense and education, like you."

"Or like Sir James," suggested Mr. Carris, still sounding very strange.

"She will not marry Sir James," said Miss Valentine, reassuring him.

"Ah."

"I am certain of it."

"And you advise me to marry Kate," he repeated stupidly.

"Yes -- if you love her. You do love her, Mr. Carris?"

"I have lost my heart," he agreed with a dry little laugh, "utterly and completely."

"If you had not, I should advise you to go away at once before you turn the girl's head. I know you are too good to take advantage of her."

"Thank you, Miss Valentine," he said, standing up as Kate's song came to an end, "for such enlightening advice. In return I wish you very happy in your choice."

Miss Valentine frowned in confusion, but when she turned her head, he had already gone. Surely he did not think -- he would have no reason for jealousy if he believed, like the rest of the house, that Sir James intended to marry her. She shook her head. It must have been only a courteous platitude.

---

Miss Valentine had been out for a walk in some of Sir Gerald's fields, picking wildflowers for a drawing she planned to make. She met Sir James on her way back.

"Miss Valentine. A pleasure to meet you," he said, polite as always.

"Were you on your way to Burnham House?" she inquired with equal courtesy.

"No -- that is, not exactly. I did not mean to call, but I found myself riding in this direction in spite of myself."

Miss Valentine did not exactly know how to reply to this.

"My dear lady," said Sir James a bit sententiously. "I must be frank with you. You will excuse me, won't you? You have always been so understanding."

"Of course," said Miss Valentine, though she was not sure what it was that she was excusing.

"You must know how I feel," he said, "sympathetic as you are. Please just tell me truthfully: I have no chance with her, do I?"

Well! Of all the odd conversations she had had lately, at least this one was proceeding as one might have predicted it would. That, of course, did not make it any easier to be forced to reject Sir James on Kate's behalf. She did not know how to put it kindly.

"Just tell me," he said. "It will be much better if you say it as bluntly as possible."

Miss Valentine felt very distressed. "Then, no, Sir James," she said gently. "I believe her heart is engaged elsewhere."

"I thought as much. Once I did hope, she was so very kind to me -- but it is no use talking of it. I know she sees me as nothing more than an old family friend. Her kindness was for the friend, nothing else."

"Sir James," she said, touched by this undeserved generosity toward heartless Kate, "if there is anything I can do --"

"Nothing, Miss Valentine," he said, bowing. "it will be better for me to stay away from Burnham House for a while, but know that I will think of you kindly. Goodbye."

"Goodbye," she said.

Chapter 10

Miss Valentine mused sadly as she walked, that Sir James was unlikely to find much comfort in his solitary home -- not that she could do anything to remedy his broken heart. It was very upsetting. She tried to think instead about how she would arrange the flowers in her hands, for the drawing she intended to make. Perhaps in a vase, with some scattered artistically across a nearby book. Yes, that would be lovely.

As she came closer to the house, Mr. Carris fell in beside her. It was certainly a morning for spontaneous meetings!

"Good morning, Miss Valentine," he said in an almost despondent tone. Miss Valentine looked at him, and he smiled a little, but it did not reach his eyes. How very odd. One might expect a successful suitor to show a little more enthusiasm. He could not be still in doubt of his reception, after what she had said.

"Look how very lovely these buttercups are, Mr. Carris," she said, with the idea of being as cheerful as she could; for she did not know what else to do. "I know that some would consider them a weed, but they are lovely to draw, and they look very nice with those bold cornflowers."

"You are going to draw them, then?" he inquired with distant politeness.

"Oh yes. What else should I do with such a handful? I am a little old for daisy crowns."

"Ah, but it is almost midsummer -- no one can be too old or too young for flowers at such a time."

"I suppose you expect me to dance through the fields singing, as well?"

"Certainly," said Mr. Carris seriously.

"Even if I were tempted to dance on midsummer's eve, I certainly should not further augment my folly by wearing garlands of wildflowers!" laughed Miss Valentine.

"Then you'd dance in a hidden glade at moonlight instead?" suggested Mr. Carris, beginning to sound more himself. He pulled a cornflower from her hands and tucked it into the brim of her bonnet. He was reaching for a buttercup next, but Miss Valentine pulled it away.

"You are teasing me, Mr. Carris."

"If you say so," he said, giving her a roguish look. "May I escort you back to the house? I have never seen any of your drawings."

"Oh!" said Miss Valentine, feeling unaccountably nervous. "I don't show them often. I have a horrible habit of starting a new one before the others are finished. I have only a few that are fit to be seen, and most of those have not even had colors added yet."

"If you had rather not, of course," said Mr. Carris, but he looked so disappointed that Miss Valentine gave in.

"I use the little sitting room upstairs," she explained, leading the way. "Anne hates it. The light is very inconvenient in the morning, and all the furniture belonged to the former Lady Burnham. It is much too old-fashioned for Anne."

"But you don't mind," put in Mr. Carris as she opened the door of the little room.

"I am happy enough to have a place to draw quietly, and I need sunlight for drawing. But no, I should not mind the old-fashioned things in any case. They have a comfortable air to them, and no one cares if I smudge charcoal on the chair cushions."

"That is just what I should have thought of you," said Mr. Carris warmly. But he seemed to recollect himself, and turned away to look out of the window. "Very pretty view," he said, his tone suggesting the opposite.

Miss Valentine wondered at his very inconsistent behavior. One moment warm, confiding, teasing; and the next cold and proper. She could only suppose it an example of what people termed the "vagaries of love". She suppressed a sigh and attempted to speak naturally.

"It is a nice view, and I have sometimes tried my hand at sketching it, but I am not very good at landscapes. I prefer still life and detail studies."

He returned to the table to look at the little portfolio she opened for him, picking up the sheets one by one. "Oh, these are very good indeed! What a careful observer you are! And heads? Do you like portraits?"

"I admire good portraits very much, but have always been a little afraid to try," replied Miss Valentine, gratified. "I have copied those I could find in books, but it is not the same as drawing from life, I think."

As she spoke, she arranged the flowers in the glazed mug she had found for the purpose. "I thought this better suited to wildflowers than any elegant glass," she began to explain, but Mr. Carris's interest had been caught by the book she had left on the table.

"Ah, studying history after all, I see!" he exclaimed and she realized the book he had snatched up was the one about the early history of Britain she had been reading. For some reason she felt oddly vexed that he should see it.

"Yes, I was very much interested by the ruins, and it does make a difference when you see the actual places: that is what you said, did you not? Or perhaps I said it first, but I think we were in agreement," said Miss Valentine incoherently. Feeling rather silly, she continued, "it is not that I never read history, you know. I do like it sometimes -- "

She broke off because Mr. Carris was looking at her in the most indescribable way. It was making her lightheaded; and she was glad when he suddenly remarked that it was nearly time for dinner, and bolted from the room. She could not have made much progress in her drawing anyway: her hands were strangely shaky.

Chapter 11

True to his word, Sir James immediately ceased his constant visits. It occurred to Miss Valentine that it would not take more than a few days for such a change to be felt. She did not, however, expect to be charged with the fault of it directly.

"What have you done with Sir James, Maude?" demanded Lady Burnham one morning several days later.

"I have done nothing with him," replied Miss Valentine pointedly. She was not sure if Kate heard her or not, over the sound of the harp she was diligently practicing.

"Oh, do not be so sly, Maude! You cannot think we have not noticed him calling on you, almost every day at that, and now to cease so suddenly: there must be a reason. I do hope you have not quarreled, but if you have, you must not despair; I shall invite him for dinner and you will make it up with him."

Miss Valentine was exasperated. "My dear Anne, I hate to disappoint you, but I never had any intention of marrying Sir James, even if he asked me, which was highly unlikely." She thought uncharitably that Anne and Sir Gerald had probably been pleased at the chance to get rid of her decently.

Certainly, Lady Burnham seemed shocked. "Have you taken leave of your senses? Such an eligible -- a more than eligible, a miraculous match for you!"

"If he wanted to marry me, but he didn't --" put in Miss Valentine, but Anne was not listening.

"Do you mean to tell me that you have sent him away?"

"No, I -- Oh, very well, yes, I have sent him away," said Miss Valentine, capitulating with a sigh. It was no good trying to explain things to Anne.

Kate had apparently been listening after all. She jumped to her feet, nearly upsetting the harp, which rocked heavily on its foot. "Aunt Maude! How could you be so cruel?" she cried, burst into tears, and ran from the room.

"Now look how you've upset her, Maude," said Lady Burnham unjustly. "That child will be the death of me, I think. Bradshaw might have taught her to curb her impulses, but it is too late now."

"Let me speak to her," said Miss Valentine, putting down her work. She did not think it was really her fault, but she was quite curious to know what on earth Kate meant.

"You have ruined my life!" exclaimed Kate tearfully the minute the door opened. She was pacing up and down her room. "As you didn't want him for yourself, you might have let him alone for my sake!"

This announcement was so bewildering that Miss Valentine was struck quite speechless for some minutes.

"Er, Kate?" she ventured, "If you are speaking of Sir James Meade, I was under the impression that you were in love with Mr. Carris and only flirting with Sir James to make him jealous."

"I hadn't made up my mind to anything," protested Kate. "Perhaps these things seem simple to a -- an older person like you, but I am still young and finding my way on the road of life."

Miss Valentine sat down in the window seat. "You meant to marry Sir James Meade? No, I don't believe you, Kate."

"I am sure you don't," wailed Kate. "You told me yourself that he was in love with me. I never said I intended to reject him -- but I am sure you convinced yourself that it was nothing to stand in the way of my happiness. Cruel Aunt Maude! Were you envious of me? Did you hate me for being happy?"

"What about Mr. Carris?" Miss Valentine could not help asking. She was still rather confused by it all.

Kate dismissed Mr. Carris, charming manners and all. "He says he intends to leave at the end of the week. And now that Sir James is gone, I shall be all alone and miserable."

"My dear Kate," interrupted Miss Valentine. "That is utter nonsense, and not only that, but you have behaved abominably. It is not right to play on two decent men as rivals for your heart. Nor is it right to encourage one merely because the other says he is going away. Nor is it right -- in fact, it is unutterably stupid -- at the age of seventeen to marry the first man who looks at you. I have given you advice, Kate, because I am your aunt and I have an affection for you; but I see it is folly to attempt such a thing when you cannot make up your own mind. It was my mistake to interfere, not yours, and I hope that when you have come to your senses you will forgive me, for I meant you only the best. In the meantime, I suggest you at least try to refrain from breaking men's hearts. You may someday learn to regret such behavior."

Kate was silenced, for once. She gazed at Miss Valentine with blank, tear-wet eyes.

"There is one thing I do not regret," continued Miss Valentine, her hand on the door. "And that is trying to protect poor Sir James's feelings by telling him the truth. I wish I might have done the same service for Mr. Carris." As she said this, Miss Valentine felt a queer choking sensation in her throat, and she thought it best to make a dignified exit. She did not slam the door behind her.

Chapter 12

Bradshaw had a bad headache, and Miss Valentine (of course) had agreed to take the children for a walk, to give her a rest. In fact, she found the children's transparent chatter and even their silly quarrels a refreshing change from the tangled affairs of the grown-ups. It was pleasant, after all, to be embraced affectionately by Tilda, to be given half a biscuit as a present by Edmund, and to have her hand held by Ellie as they walked down the park -- especially since no one else in the house had yet forgiven her, either for refusing to marry Sir James, or for some other reason.

Miss Valentine had gone over and over that silly conversation with Kate, without attaining any understanding at all. Had Kate actually changed her mind about Mr. Carris? Or was she just immensely flattered by Sir James having the sense to fall in love with her? Or had she been playing the dramatic heroine for amusement? Miss Valentine could not tell. She only knew that some injustice had been done poor Mr. Carris, one way or another, and somehow she could not stop thinking about him.

Thus, she was struck momentarily dumb when they turned into the path that ran by the trout stream, to find him sitting on a log at the top of the bank. He jumped to his feet and greeted her with more cheerfulness than he had lately been showing.

"How are you, Miss Valentine?" he inquired. "I have scarcely seen you for days!"

"I am well, sir."

"Are you?" He tilted his head to look under the brim of her hat. "You look unhappy."

"Oh, no, thank you. I am very well," she said stiffly.

"That does not satisfy me at all," he said. "Are we not friends? Why -- No, this will not do. Ellie," he said a little more loudly, "you are fond of strawberries, are you not?"

"Oh yes," said Ellie.

"Well, I have recently seen some growing wild down by the stream. Run and see if you can find them."

Ellie frowned. "Are you going to talk about something you don't want me to hear?"

"Yes I am," he said unabashedly. "Now go, and take Edmund and Tilda with you. And please do not fall in the stream, for your aunt and I will be most put out if we are compelled to come rescue you."

Ellie went, reluctantly, tugged along by Edmund, who did not yet care what grown-ups talked about.

"They will be very dirty," murmured Miss Valentine.

"Let them!" cried Mr. Carris. "Now, will you not confide in me, Miss Valentine, as you have before? What troubles you?"

"It is nothing, really nothing," she disclaimed, extremely embarrassed.

"Is it -- are you regretting --" He paused, and started over. "Excuse my mentioning it, but I cannot help hearing that you have declined an offer of marriage from Sir James Meade."

Miss Valentine made a sound between a sigh and a snort, before she could stop herself. "That is what you have heard, I am sure, but it is not true. I am indirectly the cause of his absence, but Sir James did not make me a proposal."

Mr. Carris said nothing. Peeping at him, Miss Valentine could not help noticing that he seemed struggling with an intense emotion of some kind. More and more bewildered, she could only continue.

"I thought you knew, Mr. Carris, that Sir James had fallen in love with Kate. He confided in me, I am not sure why, perhaps because I happened to be handy; and I could not refuse when he asked me to tell him what his chances were. I had to tell him truthfully -- or at least, at the time, I thought truthfully -- that he had none at all. And that is why he never comes to visit anymore. But I hope you will believe that neither he intended to marry me, nor I wished to marry him."

"You didn't! The dev -- I apologize, Miss Valentine. I hardly know what I am saying. What do you mean 'you thought truthfully'?"

Now for it! Miss Valentine felt very anxious, and had to take several deep breaths before forcing herself to speak. "I am very sorry to have to tell you, Mr. Carris, that I was quite wrong about Kate, after all. She is too young, and I am afraid she is very fickle. I can only hope, as her aunt, that she will learn better in time; but just now she thinks she must have anything denied her. To speak plainly, she now says that I have ruined her life by sending Sir James away." She paused to look up at Mr. Carris, to measure his reaction to this news. He looked serious, but not entirely heartbroken. Miss Valentine gathered her courage.

"Mr. Carris, can you ever forgive me for my ill-considered advice to you? I was very hasty; if I had properly judged I should never, never have urged you to marry Kate right away. I can only pray Providence that I have not hurt you very much. You deserve much better than Kate's scandalous behavior to you. She may be my niece, but I cannot apologize for her."

Mr. Carris remained silent.

"You must believe," said Miss Valentine, "that as your friend I only wanted your happiness --" but here she was obliged to break off due to a sudden feeling that she might sob aloud.

Mr. Carris stopped walking. "My -- Miss Valentine, there is nothing to forgive. You are not to blame for others' deceptions. I must confess, I have not been entirely honest with you either; but that is only my own fault. I know your advice has been always motivated by the purest intentions, and I value your kind wishes more than I can say. In fact, I have a matter in contemplation now upon which I should very much like your opinion. I should like to explain it all to you, if you will allow me."

Now Miss Valentine in turn said nothing. This was not at all what she had expected.

"I know of a young man," began Mr. Carris, "-- let us say for argument's sake he is of independent means -- who traveled to visit friends; and at the house of his friends he met a lady who is witty, charming, accomplished, and brave, and who likes all the same things he likes. She is his ideal woman in every respect; so naturally he fell passionately in love with her."

He spoke so particularly that he must mean himself. Was this some sort of elaborate joke? Miss Valentine managed to reply with tolerable steadiness, "So far, I see no problem -- as long as the lady returns his love."

"Ah, but that is just it, Miss Valentine. He cannot tell the lady's feelings at all. He thought at first she disliked him; then they became friends by accident; but just as he was beginning to hope, the lady advised him quite seriously to marry another. And now he is in such a state of confusion he can hardly eat or sleep."

Miss Valentine took a sharp breath. She could hardly pretend to misunderstand his meaning, but it was painful to believe he would make fun of her, and with such impropriety. "I had thought better of you, Mr. Carris. That is very unkind." She endeavored to keep a tone of reproof, but her voice would shake on the last word.

"Unkind?" he repeated. "Unkind?"

"You are mocking me, sir. I may have behaved foolishly, but I had the best of intentions. I think it is unjust to tease me so cruelly."

"But I am in earnest! Everything I have said is true."

"You cannot be serious," she protested, turning away. Despite all her blinking, two tears spilled from her eyes and trickled down her face. She wiped at them, but two more followed quickly. "You say that you -- that you --"

"That I love you," he supplied helpfully, catching her hand in his. "How could I help loving you? You bewitched me from the moment you climbed into that tree. I never dreamed I would have the good fortune to meet a woman who not only faces every circumstance with lively good humor and irresistible charm, but who actually discusses Roman roads with me. And you suspected me of affection for Kate! I do like her, and she is very lovely, but she is only a child."

Miss Valentine began to suspect that he really meant it. And worse, she had a wild desire actually to accept him. "This is really most improper," she said weakly.

"What is improper about a perfectly decent proposal of marriage?" demanded Mr. Carris.

"But I am nearly ten years older than you! I am not beautiful and I have no fortune. How could I be a fit wife for you? I would be a laughingstock and a shame to you."

Mr. Carris ticked off her points one by one on the fingers of the hand he held. "I am sure it is much nearer five years than ten; but I should still love you if it were twenty. You are beautiful, in fact, and I have enough fortune for both of us. And why should anyone know or care our relative ages and fortunes? On the contrary, I expect to be envied everywhere for managing to win such a charming and intelligent wife -- if you will have me, that is, of course. And if anyone did laugh, why should we pay any attention to such a petty and vulgar person?"

Though she could not think of any more arguments, Miss Valentine still resisted. "I cannot believe you," she said. "If you are not joking with me, then you must be temporarily insane."

He took her face, damp with tears as it was, between his hands. "I should be insulted, but I can see that like a good historian, you require evidence. Will this convince you?" And pulling her into his arms, he pressed his lips to hers.

"Well, Maude my love?" he breathed against her cheek after some minutes.

"You are very -- persuasive," gasped the said Maude, who had noticed with shock that she seemed to be clinging to him with both arms round his neck.

"Then you say yes?" he asked joyfully.

"I suppose I do. Yes."

"That is very wise, as your reputation would be in shreds if you did not, after kissing me right in the middle of an open park like this."

It was rather pleasant to be believed in danger of losing one's reputation, she thought.

Chapter 13

They walked on.

"You always manage to distract me from my duties," remarked Miss Valentine.

"Your duty at the moment is to cheer me up after having nearly driven me to despair with your coquettish wiles," said Mr. Carris.

She decided to ignore this. "I meant the children -- it is not their fault that I cannot keep my head in your presence." (He looked ridiculously smug.) "They may by now have been swept away by the stream. I am an extremely neglectful aunt."

"I can see them moving among the trees from here," said he, " but if it will assuage your conscience, let us walk in that direction. I feel I should like to pick strawberries myself."

She smiled back, but her insides were not yet in any fit state for strawberry-eating. They still felt rather turned upside down.

"What is it, Maude darling?" said Mr. Carris, reading her expression.

"What will I say to Anne and Sir Gerald? They will not approve."

"Surely it does not signify whether they approve or not."

"They cannot prevent me from marrying you," said Miss Valentine, "but they could make it more difficult."

"We could always elope," said Mr. Carris blithely.

---

"Have you gone out of your mind?" shouted Sir Gerald.

"Really, Maude," added Lady Burnham faintly. "You cannot be serious. Imagine the scandal."

"I don't see why my accepting Mr. Carris should be any more scandalous than accepting Sir James Meade, which you were so keen on my doing," argued Miss Valentine. "And you would not really like to have a sister called Maude Meade, would you?"

"Maude, do not be flippant. If you do not see the difference for yourself, I do not know what to say to you," said Lady Burnham.

Maude flinched.

"If Paul Carris is determined to have you, the more fool he. I wash my hands of the affair," said Sir Gerald.

"I do think it is very ungrateful of you both," said Lady Burnham, now nearly sobbing. "And I suppose on top of this, you will expect us to purchase your wedding clothes."

"Absolutely not," put in Sir Gerald from behind his paper.

There did not seem to be much more to be said. Maude left the breakfast room feeling shaken -- although really it had not been much worse than she expected. Mr. Carris -- Paul -- had looked almost violent after his conference with Sir Gerald the evening before, but he had refused to tell her what had been said. She could guess, anyway.

Instead of going straight to the library to find him, she turned toward the garden. A moment alone would help her compose herself -- perhaps she too would find peace communing with the gentle daisies.

Miss Valentine smiled wryly at herself, remembering another moment in the garden. Was that the moment, she wondered, when it had begun? Or was it before then? She could admit now that she had found him more than commonly attractive, from the first; but all the same it was odd to find herself engaged to be married when she had barely acknowledged her own feelings for him. And she could scarcely believe yet that she had been his object all along.

Perhaps she was overwhelmed, as Anne had accused: overwhelmed by gratitude and snatching at the first proposal of marriage she had ever received. But she knew, even as she thought this, that it was not true; if Sir James Meade had really offered for her, he would not have received the same answer as Mr. Carris, no matter how much he would have to give her and how flattering such a proposal might have been. Quite simply, she admitted that she would never have married as an escape. It was perhaps a little surprising to discover such ideals within herself, for one might have thought she would have outgrown romance long ago.

"Was it so very bad?" said Mr. Carris just behind her. She might have known he would come to find her.

"It was no more than I expected, really," she replied, taking his offered arm. He pressed her hand tightly as she did so, and she was pretty sure it was not gratitude that made her heart beat fast and her face heat at his touch.

"Why should you expect it?" he asked, indignantly. "I fail to understand why unkindness should be the norm."

Miss Valentine had no clear explanation. Somehow she had known that Anne would not like her to marry a young, handsome man, a guest of the house. But she was not sure if she could explain this to Mr. Carris so that he would understand how certainly she had known it.

"My place in the house has been decided long ago," she said, making the attempt anyway. "As I told you when we first met, I have nothing to complain of in my position; but the possibility of marriage had been eliminated. I am the old maid aunt, nothing more. Old maid aunts do not marry the very eligible house guests; it upsets the entire order of things."

"You are nothing of the sort," he said. "No one could consider you old. And Lady Burnham seemed quite complacent when she hinted to me that you were about to marry Sir James. I cannot believe that the idea of your marriage had never occurred to her before. No, there must be something else in it."

He led her to a bench and sat down. Miss Valentine was thinking furiously. She again felt as if she had been turned upside down and shaken, and all her thoughts were tumbled out of their usual course. She did not understand what he was implying, and said so.

"I think it is something quite simple," said Mr. Carris, putting his arm around her. "Did you not tell me yourself that this is an unhappy house? And have you not found happiness without them, in your own? They are envious, my sweet, and they do not like to admit that there is another way."

Miss Valentine tried to speak, but for some reason she found herself weeping instead.

"Maude, darling," said her betrothed in some anxiety. "Have I upset you? You -- you are happy, are you not? You are not regretting our engagement? Forgive me -- I have misjudged you quite often, I must be certain of you this time."

On instinct, Maude turned to him and buried her head in his shoulder. Although she was not actually sure if her feelings might be defined as 'happy', they were anything but unpleasant, with Mr. Carris pressing soft kisses against the side of her face, and his arms clasped around her close and sheltering.

"I hardly know how to be happy," she said, when she could speak again. "But I do love you."

The expression of his face was one of such joy, it would have made her cry again, if she had been left at leisure to observe it. Fortunately, he immediately kissed her for so long and with such enthusiasm that any tears were averted.

"I have a new idea. If it becomes necessary, I could compromise you scandalously and then Sir Gerald and Lady Burnham would be forced to agree to our marriage," suggested he. "I think I would even prefer that to eloping."

Chapter 14

It was not necessary for any compromising to take place, after all. The Burnhams had not the energy to offer any real opposition, if it had been possible for them to do so. Anne could not be in the same room with Maude, without glaring at her reproachfully, but no other word was spoken on the subject, and their plans for a wedding continued unhindered.

Not to have any wedding clothes was a bit mortifying, but Miss Valentine thought she might have enough money saved to make up something pretty to be married in. And Mr. Carris assured her that he would much rather buy her as many dresses as she wanted after they were married, than let the lack of them interfere with the wedding. Miss Valentine had to acknowledge that this was extremely sensible, if unconventional, and as she herself had become quite anxious for the wedding to take place, she made no further protests on the grounds of her wardrobe's inadequacy.

What Kate would think had been nearly Miss Valentine's first thought. As if it there were not awkwardness enough between them after the lecture Miss Valentine had given her! But Kate surprised her again. She offered her congratulations with perfect propriety. Although she avoided speaking to Miss Valentine any more than was strictly necessary, that was really no more than her aunt had expected.

Mr. Carris had to leave Burnham House for town; he went to see his solicitor, but promised to return in a week with a license. Meanwhile, letters had been written to Mr. Carris's family, and although it was too far for them to travel to the wedding on such short notice, they expressed so much joy and demanded to see the couple as soon as they were married, with such generosity that Miss Valentine had to cry again. She had never given way to tears so often in the space of a few weeks! But her new family were so kind, it almost made up for the coldness of the Burnhams.

The night before the wedding Miss Valentine went to bed early. She had just climbed between the sheets when she heard a knock on the door and without waiting for a reply, Kate burst in with all her old exuberance.

"Aunt Vals! I beg your pardon if you were just going to sleep -- but I must talk to you! Do say you will talk with me. I do not think I could bear it if you say no, and it is my last chance!"

"Why Kate, of course -- I should be very hard-hearted, not to mention insufferably rude, to refuse to talk to you. Do come and sit down here beside me."

"Oh, don't say insufferably rude, Aunt -- you make me feel utterly ashamed of myself. For that is just what I have been! I hardly dare to ask for your forgiveness -- but I do hope you will grant it, all the same, for I should be in despair if you leave tomorrow without one kind word. Do say you forgive me, sweet Aunt Valsie!"

"I forgive you, Kate. I had already long forgiven you, in fact -- but I am glad you came, for I should be very sorry indeed to go away with any lingering coldness between us. I am --" she could not quite prevent a tell-tale sniff, despite her better sense "-- I am very fond of you, Kate, although I have made some dreadful mistakes in my advice to you."

"Oh, no, Auntie! You were quite right all along. I could not stop thinking about what you said to me that last time! I have been so selfish! You will not believe it, but it had not even occurred to me to consider how my actions affected others. I am very grateful to you indeed for making me see it."

Miss Valentine reached out and put both her arms around Kate, and for a moment neither spoke, but clung tight to each other.

"Your hands are like ice, Kate dear," said Miss Valentine practically, wiping her eyes. "Come under the covers and let us have a comfortable coze together."

"I shall miss you so much, Auntie Vals," sniffed Kate, nestling close to her.

"Now, don't say things like that or you will set me off crying again!" said Miss Valentine.

"But what shall I do without you to advise me?"

"You must admit after all, Kate, that my advice about how to make Mr. Carris notice you could not have been more wrong," she said, half-laughing.

"Perhaps it might have worked if he had not already noticed someone else!" giggled Kate. "Auntie, you are so sweet when you blush. You must tell me how it all came about!"

"Why, I hardly know myself! I thought him very handsome, of course, but --"

"Who could not?" agreed Kate.

"-- but I had no idea of ever getting married, let alone to an eligible young gentleman like Mr. Carris. Of course I did not, or it would have been very wrong of me to advise you as I did. I am not sure it was not very wrong anyway."

"Never mind that now. When did you first fall in love with him?"

"I cannot even say that, Kate. I found him such an interesting person to talk to, so honest and straightforward, that I began to wish to become better informed myself -- about the Romans and history, you know."

"And you told me to try novels!"

"Kate --" Miss Valentine hesitated; not wishing to disturb their new understanding, but anxious all the same. "You really do not mind? I would hate to be giving you pain --"

"No, no, Auntie. I was very silly, but I do not think I cared at all for either Mr. Carris or Sir James. All I could think of was romance. It is so lonely at home sometimes. Mother never likes to give parties, or perhaps it is that Father won't let her."

"Oh Kate. Someone will come for you someday, and then you can go away and have your own home -- a happy one."

Kate sighed. "I hope so, but it seems so long to wait. Well," in a brighter voice, "I am determined to be as patient as you are, Auntie Vals. Perhaps I should read more, as you did for Mr. Carris."

"I hope you will, Kate, and then you shall write to me so that we can discuss the books."

"Oh that would be lovely! If you will have time to write to me, that is, Mrs. Carris. Do not make faces at me! It will be your name tomorrow, you know! The more I come to think of it," Kate added, "you and Mr. Carris are quite romantic yourselves! What did he say when he asked you to marry him? Oh, please tell me more, Auntie! You must, for it will be a good example for me to strive for."

Chapter 15

"You have a letter from your sister, sweetheart," said Mr. Carris to his wife, as he entered the little sitting room where she sat near the window at her easel.

"Anne hardly ever writes!" said the former Miss Valentine, putting down her paintbrush and taking the letter hastily. "I do hope nothing is wrong."

Mr. Carris watched her as she read, but it did not seem to be bad news, because she laughed a little and shook her head.

"She wants to know if Edmund and Tilda may come to visit us again, for she is completely overwhelmed by the preparations for Kate's wedding next month, and thinks she may sink if she cannot get the children out of the way."

"I do think we were better off after all to have a quiet wedding," remarked Mr. Carris. "It was very wise of us, don't you think?"

"Oh, very wise indeed," agreed Mrs. Carris,. "But although we may know better, surely you will not refuse to have the children visit."

"They might as well live here -- save all this traveling back and forth," complained Mr. Carris. "They are here so often it would be much simpler to adopt them ourselves!"

"You might as well not pretend to be displeased, my love, when I know very well that you are longing to have an excuse to play in the creek with Edmund and climb trees with Tilda."

"Excuse me," said Mr. Carris with dignity. "You are the tree-climber in this family, Maude."

"And it is well that I am, for someone must show the children how to do it properly," returned she calmly.

"Oh you --" Mr. Carris snatched at her. "No, not a word from you," he said, with his lips on hers.

"Mmm, but --"

"What did I say? I shall have to kiss you again."

After a pause, he inquired in a more serious tone, "You do still think this marriage is a good thing for Kate?"

"I would show you her letter on the subject, had I not promised her that no other eyes should see it but my own. But I assure you, Paul, as unlikely as it might seem, she loves him very much."

"Sir James deserves his reward after all this time, I suppose, and she will have a very comfortable home."

"Now, Paul! How can you speak so doubtingly! Perhaps Sir James does deserve a reward for his patience -- although at the time I think he was nearly as silly for romance as she was. In fact their love of dramatics was perhaps the only thing they had in common. This is something quite different. I think both grew to love each other as they became acquainted with each other's true selves."

"If you are convinced, my sweet, then I will be too. Perhaps it was unkind of me to doubt them."

"You might be excused, for you always knew your own heart, I think. It is difficult for you to sympathize with those who do not know themselves as well."

He grinned. "That is why I cannot understand why everyone does not marry in haste. I think it is a most efficient way to go about it. But at any rate, I hope with all my heart that Kate and Sir James will be nearly as happy as I am."

She made no reply to this in words, but after a moment said practically, "I shall tell Mrs. Long the children are coming, so she may prepare their rooms."

The End

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