Read Ebook: Myth and Romance: Being a Book of Verses by Cawein Madison Julius

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Ebook has 439 lines and 19887 words, and 9 pages

"Oh, what is the good of talking of that!" Gerald interrupted impatiently. "The picture may not sell for much, after all! I wish father was not an artist."

"Gerald!" the little girl exclaimed reproachfully, "how can you speak so? Mother used to say God had given father his wonderful talent for painting, and he must use it. Father is a genius. He will paint a beautiful picture which will be hung in the Royal Academy for every one to look at, and then some rich man will want to buy it, and offer father hundreds of pounds if he will sell it to him." Angel was allowing her imagination to run away with her, and in her excitement momentarily forgot the work in hand, so that she burnt a corner of the slice of bread she was toasting. This sobered her somewhat, and she continued more quietly--

"Then we shall pay all our bills, and live in a nicer place than this, and father will send me to school; and--oh, Gerald, it seems too wonderful to ever happen, doesn't it? Think what it would feel like to have money to pay for everything, and never to be in debt! How happy we should be!"

Her brother made no reply. His blue eyes were fixed thoughtfully on the glowing embers in the grate.

"Here comes father," he whispered presently; "will you ask him some time this evening if he can spare me a shilling? You will, won't you?"

And Angel promised she would, though she shrank sensitively from doing so, knowing how short Mr. Willis was of ready money; but it would have seemed unkind to refuse her brother's coaxing request.

An Unexpected Visitor

ANGEL'S life was a very monotonous one. She spent most of her days alone whilst her brother was at school, and her father was occupied in his studio. Sometimes one of her father's artist friends would pause at the door of the sitting-room to inquire if Mr. Willis was at home; but no one ever stayed to exchange more than a few sentences with her, and she spent her time in reading, or dreaming, or looking out of the window on the miles of roofs stretching before her eyes when there was no mending for her father or brother to be done.

Occasionally Mrs. Steer took pity on the lonely child, and asked her to accompany her when she went out to do her shopping; and, on Saturday afternoons she now and then had a stroll with her brother; but Gerald usually spent his half-holidays with his school-friends, so that he had not much time to devote to his sister.

Angel liked Sunday the best day of the week, because she and Gerald always went to church with their father in the morning, and the studio was shut up altogether. Mr. Willis was very fond of his children, and thoroughly enjoyed the Sundays spent in their company, when he listened to Gerald's school experiences with great interest and amusement; but it never occurred to him to question his little daughter as to the way in which she spent her time, or to regret her neglected education and lack of congenial companions.

One cold afternoon towards the end of November, Angel, who had been on a shopping expedition with Mrs. Steer, returned to find her father had gone out, leaving a message to the effect that she must not wait tea for him. The little girl removed her out-door garments, and sat down with a book for company in the sitting-room to wait till her brother should come home from school. The book did not prove a very interesting one, so that when presently she heard a disturbance downstairs, she rose quickly, and, opening the door, stood on the threshold listening.

Mrs. Steer was apparently protesting against some one's entering the house, and was evidently both alarmed and angry. Actuated by curiosity, Angel slipped noiselessly downstairs till she reached the last flight, when she stopped short, keenly interested in the scene which met her gaze.

Mrs. Steer, with the maid-of-all-work of the establishment at her elbow, stood confronting a big, stout, red-faced man, who was standing by several enormous trunks, which he had evidently assisted the cabman to bring into the house, for he was mopping his brow with a red silk handkerchief, and appeared in a state of breathlessness.

"I never knew anything to equal this!" Mrs. Steer cried angrily, her eyes flashing with indignation. "To come into a respectable house without so much as asking leave, and take possession of the place! The impudence of it!"

"My good woman," said the stranger in a deep, pleasant voice, "I don't think I've made a mistake, have I? Mr. Willis lives here, doesn't he?"

"He does," Mrs. Steer allowed, "but--"

"I'm all right then! I know I shall be welcome! Pray tell your master--"

"My master!" Mrs. Steer interposed sharply. "What do you mean? This is not Mr. Willis' house. It's mine! I'm mistress here, and Mr. Willis and his children are my lodgers."

"Oh!" exclaimed the stranger. "Now I begin to understand the meaning of your indignation. I imagined this was my nephew's house--Mr. Willis is my nephew, by the way. My name is Bailey; I am--"

He paused abruptly, catching sight of the little girl standing on the stairs. Mrs. Steer followed his glance, and beckoned to Angel, who immediately came down and advanced towards the new-comer, her usually pale cheeks flushed with excitement.

"Did you want my father?" she asked. "He is out now, but he will be home before long. Is father really your nephew?"

"Yes, if you are John Willis' daughter," the big man replied. He caught her in his arms as he spoke, and kissed her heartily. "Why, my dear little girl," he cried, "you must be my great niece Angelica! I'm your Uncle Edward, just come home from Australia."

"Oh!" exclaimed Angel, rather breathlessly. "Are you really Uncle Edward? Oh, I know all about you! I've read your letters to father often! How very, very glad he will be to see you! But--what can I do? This is not our house--we only lodge here. Perhaps you had better come upstairs to our sitting-room and wait till father comes."

"Perhaps that would be the best plan," he replied. Then he glanced at his luggage, and from it to the landlady. "What can I do about it?" he inquired.

"It can remain where it is till Mr. Willis returns," Mrs. Steer responded, speaking a trifle more graciously than she had hitherto done. "I suppose it is all right if you are indeed Mr. Willis' uncle. And if you care to stay here, there's a big bedroom unoccupied at present which you might like to take."

The stranger nodded; then turned and followed Angel, who was leading the way upstairs. On entering the sitting-room, he glanced around him quickly ere he turned his attention to his companion.

"Do you know you are taking me on faith, my dear?" he asked, as he seated himself in the easy chair, by the fireplace, which she offered him, and scanned her face with smiling, kindly eyes.

"On faith?" Angel echoed. "But I know all about you, I do indeed! I have often heard father talk of Uncle Edward! You wanted him to go to Australia with you when he was a boy, didn't you?"

"Yes; but he preferred painting to sheep-farming!"

"Father loves painting. He is very clever! His pictures are beautiful."

The stranger allowed his glance to travel quickly around the room once more, after which he said musingly in a low tone, as though thinking aloud--

"He has not made his fortune?"

"No!" the little girl cried, "but he will some day; Mother used to say--Oh, did you know mother?"

"No, my dear, I never saw her. Are you like her in appearance? I think you must be, for you do not resemble your father in the least."

"I am like mother, I believe," Angel replied, a smile brightening her face. "I want to be like her. She was so sweet and good."

"Ah! Now, suppose you tell me about her."

Angel glanced doubtfully at the big man in the easy chair, but meeting an encouraging look in return, she complied.

"Things were so different before she died," she said confidentially; "we had a little house to ourselves, and she used to work so hard to keep everything nice and comfortable, and we were all so happy, though we were not any richer then than we are now. Then she fell ill--and died!" Angel drew a deep breath that sounded very like a sob. "Afterwards we came here and took these lodgings," she continued; "father has a studio at the top of the house, and he is painting a beautiful picture. He will show it to you to-morrow."

"What will he do with it? Sell it, I suppose?"

"Yes; he will send it to the Royal Academy for people to look at; I expect it will make a lot of money. I hope so, because there are so many things we want money for."

He smiled at her serious face; then looked thoughtfully into the fire. She watched him with great interest, and told herself she thought she would like him.

"Well, am I to be trusted?" he asked at length, turning to her quickly.

"Yes, I think so," she responded, blushing, and smiling.

"I hope so," he said gravely. "Who comes now?" he inquired as footsteps were heard outside the door. "Your father?"

"No--Gerald. Oh, Gerald, come here!" she cried, as her brother entered the room, and stopped short in great astonishment at sight of the stranger. "This is Uncle Edward, just come home from Australia!"

At first the boy was too surprised to say much, but as a rule he was not diffident, and soon he and Mr. Bailey were in the midst of an animated conversation.

Presently Mrs. Steer herself appeared with the tea-tray. She looked a little suspiciously at the visitor in the easy chair; but her face cleared as she listened to his pleasant voice; and when he laughed, she could not help smiling, for there was something so genial and hearty in the cheery sound.

Angel presided at the tea-table, and proved a good hostess, though she felt shy at first; but it was not very long before she was at her ease, and joining in the conversation without the slightest restraint. And all the while she was thinking how pleased her father would be when he returned home and found who had arrived in his absence. She had heard many stories of Uncle Edward--how kind he had been to her father when the latter had been a boy, and how he had wanted to give him a start in life in that far-off land across the seas.

The meal was nearly finished when Angel's sharp ears caught the sound of her father's familiar footsteps on the stairs; and a few seconds later he came into the room, and advanced towards the visitor with outstretched hands.

"Uncle Edward!" he cried joyfully. "How good it is to see you once more! Why did you not write to let me know you were coming?"

"I wanted to take you by surprise," Mr. Bailey replied, as he and his nephew shook hands heartily. "Why, John, you don't look much older than when I saw you last!"

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