18
THE THREE SISTERS OF THE BRIARS.
" 1 was not appointed to take care ot you," she said. " 1 under-
took that duty, a distasteful task, but the Spirit moved me to it be-
cause it was right. 1 have striven to shield you from sin, and I
have tailed. The fault is not mine, and now I wash my hands of
you "
The intensity of the action with which she accompanied the final
words of her long, passionate outpouring, left us no doubt as to her
intention. She was going to leave the Briars and its inmates to their
fate.
lt was said, and it was done. She left us that very morning, and
Chipstone also. Heaven only knows the full force of the tempest
that rent her soul, but it must have been very terrible. I do not
wish to judge her, but 1 think that self was at the bottom of it. all.
ln and around Chipstone she had been renowned for her austere
piety. All her religious duties were performed with a regularity
which, in that n-.spect, left nothing to be desired; and she had lab-
ored to make us run in the same groove. She believed that success
had crowned her efforts until Grace left us. She had, in her quiet
way, made an exhibition ofthe "Three Sisters of the Briars," as
we were called, and, in a dumb way, expressed herselt thus:
" See what I have done for them? They are the children of a
man and woman of the world—people who liked mirthful society
and a gay life. They inherit the weakness of those who brought
them into the world; but 1 have strengthened them, aimed them; I
have put on them the armor which will defy the arrows of the
wicked."
And yet she had tailed—failed most dismally. Chipstone, HER
Chipstone, had seen and recognized tbe fact, and laid the sin of
Grace's backsliding, by casting her off, at Aunt Janet's door. Itwas
thai which had secretly maddened her, and Gwendoline's rebellion
brought about the final explosion.
While Aunt Janet was hurriedly packing her boxes, which she
did without assistance, having declined the offer ot Brindel's help,
Gwendoline and 1 kept in the room ic a semi-dazed state, talking, at
times, in a feeble, uncertain way. We were fairly taken aback by
the sudden turn of events.
It is the positive truth that, until Aunt Janet was gone, neither of
us thought of reading Grace's letter; but the sound of the cab roll-
ing away awoke us from what 1 may be allowed to call a trance of
surprise.
" She IS gone!" said Gwendoline.
" Yes," I said. Then we breathed hard, and looked at each other.
" Freedom is ours," said Gwendoline; and then, like two birds
released from a dismal cage, we began to sing. A minute later and
we were on the verge of crying. Then Gwendoline brought out
Grace's letter.
" Let us see what our darling says," she said.
Thc contents were another great surprise.
lt began with a gentle reproach for our silence. She asked if we
were never going to answer her letters. " Aunt Janet writes lo me,
but in a strain that is very oppressive. She says 1 am not to come to
the Briars again, and 1 think it a very harsh sentence. Percy pre-
tends to laugh al tbe letters, but 1 am sure they make him angry.
We are very poor, of course, but he is kind to me, and lam happy."
" She thinks we have read her previous letters," said Gwendoline.
"1 think it abominable of Aunt Janet to keep them back, and I
don't want to be hypocritical and say that 1 am sorry she is gone—for
1 am not."
Nor could I say that 1 regretted her burred departure. Reflection
was pointing out that we were as slaves set free, and a world of de-
lightful surprises lay before us.
" Where is Grace living?" 1 asked.
"At Laurel Road, Camberwell," replied Gwendoline " and Cam-
berwell is near London.    Oh! Mary, shall we, shall we?"
"Do what?" I asked.
" Go up to London and surprise her."
" What should we two babes do there?"
" Oh! we could take care of ourselves," said Gwendoline lightly;
" but of course we must gel some money first."
" Mr. Wolfe will give us that," 1 said.
He was our family lawyer, but hitherto we had rarely spoken to
him. Aunt Janet had transacted all the business which bad to be
done. Now Gwendoline was going to be manager, and guardian,
and all the rest of it, until I had reached another birthday.
Perhaps no living man has ever been more surprised than Mr.
Wolfe was when Gwendoline and 1, with trembling courage,
marched into his office, and our explanation of the state ot affairs
put him, ill may use such an expression, "on Ids back." It is
rather slangy, I know, but 1 cannot think of anything else which
will at all adequately describe his mentsil condition.
But he could not deny tacts.    He was trustee, and Grace and
Gwendoline cou: d draw four hundred pounds a year from certain
funds vested in his name, which, of course, he would now transfer
to them, as 1 believe he ought to have done before. But let that rest.
He advanced us som mouey, and without enlightening him as to
our intentions, we went home, packed our boxes, and set out for
London.
THE LOVER   WHO   CAME BOLDLY  TO   THE
DOOR.
All Chipstone was aghast.
Y'es; 1 think that is a fitting expression to use when describing
the agitated state of that very little but decidedly officious market
town.
Gwendoline and 1 had been to London and had returned. We
found Brindel the worse for drink, and it appeared that he had
drunk up all the port wine in the cellar. We discharged him, or
rather Gwendoline did.
1 never saw moral strength so suddenly developed in a living
being. To see her in London, one would have thought her an old
traveler, although everything must have been new and bewildering
to her as it was to me. Even the cabman who took us to Camber-
well could see that she was not to be shamefully put upon, and did
not charge more than double his fare.
On Gwendoline 1 now relied, and she relied fully upon herself.
Though inexperienced, she had plenty of common sense, and was
not easily imposed upon. She bore herself at all limes with the
calmness indicative of tbe utter absence of self-consciousness which
characterizes a thorough-bred woman.
We have seen Grace, and found things a little different to what
we expected. Laurel Road, Camberwell, was without laurels, and
a most depressing place. Grace and her husband were living on the
first floor, in rooms so tastelessly furnished that it gives me the heart-
ache now to thiuk of them. Everything was so cheap and miserably
gaudy. As tor the flimsy chairs, 1 was atraid to sit down upon them.
We found her alone, and she was nearly mad with delight when we
were shown in. Our coming was so unexpected. I am sure she
kissed me fifty times before she had spoken as many words.
" Percy is out," she said; " he is looking tor something suitable
for a gentleman to do."
"And who is Percy?" 1 inquired. "Don't forget, dear, that—
thanks to Aunt Janet—we know absolutely notning about him."
" Percy is tbe third son ot Sir Edgar Towers," Grace exclaimed.
" His father is poor tor a baronet, and all the money goes to tbe
eldest son, wliich is very hard upon poor Percy."
" Very hard," we echoed.
" And again, his choice ot a profession was unfortunate," Grace
continued. " He is called to the bar, but the bar doesn't do anything
for him. He was down our way on circuit, as he calls it, when we
first saw each other. Ah ! darlings, it was to be, you know, and it
is."
we laughed at the fatalistic idea, but Grace was serious. She
continued her explanations, and told us that they were a little behind
with the rent, and the landlady rather rude, but wc were not to mind
her.
" Shewill be perfectly civil again when Tercy pays her bill," Grace
said.
We were glad to have good news for Grace; and when we toll
her lhat she was mistress of four hundred a year, siie fairly cried for
joy.    She was drying her eyes when Percy came in.
1 had seen him but once before, but 1 had not forgotten his face. It
was handsome, but there was a heavy cloud upon it, which was onlv
a little lightened as he favored us with a smile of courtesy on being
introduced.
" You come from Miss Everingham, 1 presume," he .said. " My
last letter to her—"
" We know nothing ot," interposed Gwendoline. "Grace, ex-
plain things; and may I ring, and ask for a cup of tea?"
" You may ring," said Percy, gloomily " but I'll bet ten to one
the old woman takes no notice of it."
1 did ring, but there was no response; but as soon as Percy heard
the good tidings we had brought his whole air changed. His face
brightened, his eyes flashed joy, and his whole demeanor became
hilarious.
" Hang it!" he said; " we need not put up with the old woman's
impudence, and we won't."
He tugged at the bell violently, and kept it going until a flushed
and terrified woman appeared. Her cap was awry, and she held in
her hand half a dozen forks brought upstairs unconsciously.
" Now, Mrs. Gunter," said Percy, " did you not hear the bell?"