The Spanish Chest | Page 2

said at length, "there is no use in trying further to dissuade you from your plan, and of course it may work out for the best. But--you will excuse me, my dear, for I have daughters of my own--you seem too young to undertake a lodging-house. Now a position as governess in a nice family--"
Estelle Pearce interrupted him quickly.
"There is Edith, you know. Should I try teaching, it would mean separation from her. And I must keep Edith with me. We have only each other now. No, Mr. Angus, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your interest in us, but I am sure it is best to try my plan. You see I have the house on my hands. When we came to Jersey, Father leased it for the winter and I can't afford to forfeit thirty pounds. And there is Nurse as well as Annette. Surely Nurse lends dignity to any family. But I am older than you think," she ended with a smile and a pretty blush. "I am twenty- four, Mr. Angus."
A kindly look came into the eyes bent on her slender, black-robed figure. "You do not look it, my dear," her visitor said after a pause. "Well, with two good servants, the plan may be successful. Much depends on what class of lodgers comes your way. I am told that Americans are rather desirable inmates, that they pay well and are not exacting. If you could let your rooms to some refined American ladies, things might adjust themselves very satisfactorily. To be sure, few Americans visit the Channel Islands; they are given to wandering farther afield. But I will speak of your plans to the postmaster and one or two others. It might be advisable to put a card in the circulating library at St. Helier's. Rest assured that both Mrs. Angus and I will do all we can for your father's girls. Lionel and I were good friends at Oxford though we saw so little of each other afterwards. I did not think when he wrote me scarcely six weeks ago that it was to be Hail and Farewell.
"I must go," he added quickly, seeing that Estelle's eyes were brimming. "Where is Edith? I hoped to see her also."
"She has gone to the sands," replied Estelle. "It is dull for her, moping here, so I sent her for an errand and told her to run down and see whether the tide had turned. She begins school on Monday."
Mr. Angus took his leave, and still looking doubtful, went down the steps of Rose Villa, a quaint little house, covered with tinted plaster, as is the pretty custom of the Channel Islands, and appearing even to a masculine ignorance of details much more neat and attractive than its neighbors.
So Mr. Angus thought, as he turned from his puzzled survey of its exterior, to walk slowly down the short street at the end of which glittered the waters of the English Channel.
The tide was on the turn but the expanse of sandy beach lay yet broad. Far toward St. Helier's the curve of the port showed the high sea-wall, for this same innocent-looking tide that ebbs and leaves behind miles of sandy stretches and rocks, can return with force sufficient to dash over even the lofty breakwater and surprise the placid Jerseymen at times, by scattering large stones in the esplanade.
But here at St. Aubin's the curve of Noirmont Point sheltered the little town from the full force of the waves. Dr. Angus looked from the end of Noirmont Terrace straight down to the sands and saw in the distance the sunset air filled with wheeling gulls, a group of boys playing football on the wide level, and somewhat nearer, a slender girl of fourteen, dressed in black, with long fair hair floating over her shoulders.
She was walking slowly and the kind clergyman attributed her leisurely pace to dejection, but as a matter of fact, Edith was feeling quite happy and much interested in the tiny bright yellow snail shells the beach was providing for entertainment. She had been spared all that was possible of the depression and sorrow of the past weeks. Daddy had been poorly for years and Edith could not remember him as ever well and strong. His loss affected her more because it grieved Estelle, the only mother she had known.
There had been a few sad confused days when nothing seemed real, and strangers had been kind in a way that Estelle accepted with a sort of resentful patience, plain even to Edith. But since then, life had been rather cheerful, with a great deal of attention from Nurse, and Estelle's time almost wholly given to her. It was gratifying to share Sister's confidence and to help arrange the rooms