The Heart of Una Sackville | Page 5

here
and let me see you. How well you look, dear--not any thinner yet, I see!
It will be delightful to have you at home for good, for Vere is away so
much that I have felt quite bereft. Sit up, darling--don't stoop! It will be
so interesting to have another girl to bring out! There are plenty of
young people about here now, so you need not be dull, and I hope we
shall be great companions. You were a sad little hoyden in the old days,
but now that you have passed eighteen you will be glad to settle down,

won't you, dear, and behave like the woman you are. Have you no little
brooch, darling, to keep that collar straight at the neck? It is all adrift,
and looks so untidy. Those little things are of such importance. I had
such a charming letter from Miss Martin, full of nice speeches about
you. She says you sing so sweetly. You must have some good lessons,
for nothing is more taking than a young voice properly trained, and I
hope you have no foolish nervousness about singing in public. You
must get over it, if you have, for I rely on you to help me when we have
visitors."
"I want to help you, mother. I will truly try," I said wistfully. I don't
know why exactly, but I felt depressed all of a sudden. I wanted her to
be so pleased at my return that she didn't notice anything but just me,
and it hurt to be called to order so soon. I looked across the room, and
caught a glimpse of our two figures reflected in a glass--such a big, fair,
tousled creature as I looked beside her, and my heart went down lower
then ever. I shall disappoint her, I know I shall! She expects me to be
an elegant, accomplished young lady like Vere, and I feel a hoyden still,
and not a bit a grown-up woman; besides, father said I was to keep
young. How am I to please them both, and have time left over to
remember Miss Martin's lessons? It strikes me, Una Sackville, you
have got your work cut out.
Mother brought me up to see my room. She has looked after it all
herself, and taken no end of trouble making the shades. It looked sweet
in the sunshine, and I shall love sitting in the little round window
writing my adventures in this book; but now that it's dark I miss the
girls: I wonder what Lorna and Florence are doing now? Talking of me,
I expect, and crying into their pillows. It seems years since we parted,
and already I feel such miles apart. It seems almost impossible to
believe that last night I was eating thick bread-and-butter for supper
and lying down in the middle bed in the bare old dormitory. Now
already I feel quite grown up and responsible. Oh, if I live to be a
hundred years old, I shall never, never be at school again! I've been so
happy. I wonder, I wonder shall I ever be as happy again?
CHAPTER THREE.

June 20th. I've been home a month. I've got tails to my dresses and silk
linings, and my hair done up like the people in advertisements, and
parasols with frills, and a pearl necklace to wear at nights with real
evening dresses. I wear white veils, too, and such sweet hats--I don't
mind saying it here where no one will see, but I really do look most
awfully nice. I should just simply love to be lolling back in the victoria,
all frills and feathers, and the crocodiles to march by. Wouldn't they
stare! It was always so interesting to see how the girls looked grown
up.
The weather has been lovely, and I do think ours is the very dearest old
house in the world. It is described in the guide-books as "a fine old
Jacobean mansion," and all sorts of foreign royal creatures have stayed
here as a place of refuge in olden days before father's people bought it.
It is red brick covered with ivy, and at the right side the walls go out in
a great semicircle, with windows all round giving the most lovely view.
Opposite the door is a beautiful old cedar, which I used to love to climb
as a child, and should now if I had my own way. Its lower branches dip
down to the grass and make the most lovely bridge to the old trunk. On
the opposite side of the lawn there's another huge tree; hardly anyone
knows what it is, but it's a Spanish maple really-- such a lovely thing,
all shining silver leaves on dark stems. I used to look