The Heavenly Twins by Madame Sarah Grand

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Mrs. Orton Beg's heart contracted with a momentary fear for her niece, but
she dismissed it promptly.

"The room to yourself has been a doubtful advantage, I fancy," she said.
"It has made you theoretical. But you will lose all that by and by. And in
the meantime, you must remember that in such matters we have small choice.
We are born with superior or inferior faculties, and must make use of
them, such as they are, to become inferior cooks or countesses or superior
ditto, as the case may be. But there are always plenty of one's own kind,
whichever it is, to consort with. Birds of a feather, you know. You need
not be afraid of being isolated."

"You are thinking of ordinary faculties, auntie. I was thinking of
extraordinary. But even with ordinary ones we are hampered. Birds of a
feather would flock together if they could, of course, but then they can't
always; and suppose, being superior, you find yourself forced to associate
with inferior cooks of your kind, what then?"

"Be their queen."

"Which, unless you were a queen of hearts, would really amount to being an
object of envy and dislike, and that brings us back to the point from
which we started."

"Evadne, you talk like a book; go to bed!" Mrs. Orton Beg exclaimed,
laughing.

"It is you who have made me talk, then," Evadne rejoined promptly, "and I
feel inclined to ask now, with all proper respect, what has come to you?
It must be the prince!"

"Yes, it must be the prince!" Mrs. Orton Beg responded, raising her
slender white hand to smother a yawn. "And it must be good-night, too--or
rather, good-morning! Just look at the clock. It is nearly three."

CHAPTER VIII.

The next morning all the guests left Fraylingay, and the family there
settled into their accustomed grooves. Evadne and her father walked and
rode, conversing together as usual, he enjoying the roll and rumble and
fine flavour of his own phrase-making amazingly, and she also impressed by
the roll and rumble. But when it was all over, and he had marched off in
triumph, she would collect the mutilated remains of the argument and
examine them at her leisure, and in nine cases out of ten it proved to be
quartz that he had crushed and contemned, overlooking the gold it
contained, but releasing it for her to find and add exultingly to her own
collection. In this way, therefore, she continued to obtain her wealth of
ore from him, and both were satisfied--he because he was sure that, thanks
to him, she was "a thoroughly sensible girl with no nonsense of
new-fangled notions about her"; and she because, being his daughter, she
had not altogether escaped the form of mental myopia from which he
suffered, and was in the habit of seeing only what she hoped and wished to
see in those she loved. Man, the unjust and iniquitous, was to her always
the outside, vague, theoretical man of the world, never the dear undoubted
papa at home.

Evadne was the eldest of six girls, and their mother had a comfortable
as-it-was-in-the-beginning-is-now-and-ever-shall-be feeling about them all;
but she prided herself most upon Evadne as answering in every particular
to the conventional idea of what a young lady should be.

"The dear child," she wrote to Lady Adeline, "is _all_ and
_more_ than we dared to hope to have her become. I can assure you she
has never caused me a moment's anxiety in her life, except, of course,
such anxiety for her health and happiness as every mother must feel. I
have had her educated with the utmost care, and her father has, I may say,
_devoted_ himself to the task of influencing her in the right
direction in matters of opinion, and has ably seconded all my endeavours
in other respects. She speaks French and German _well_, and knows a
little Italian; in fact, I may say that she has a special aptitude for
languages. She does not draw, but is a fair musician, and is still having
lessons, being most anxious to improve herself; and she sings very
sweetly. But, best of all, as I am sure you will agree with me, I notice
in her a deeply religious disposition. She is _really_ devout, and
beautifully reverential in her manner both in church and to us, her
parents, and, indeed, to all who are older and wiser than herself. She is
very clever too, they tell me; but of course I am no judge of that. I do
know, however, that she is perfectly innocent, and I am indeed thankful to
think that at eighteen she knows nothing of the world and its wickedness,
and is therefore eminently qualified to make somebody an excellent wife;
and all I am afraid of is that the destined somebody will come for her all
too soon, for I cannot bear to think of parting with her. She is not
_quite_ like other girls in _some_ things, I am afraid--mere
trifles, however--as, for instance, about her presentation. I know
_I_ was in quite a flutter of excitement for days before _I_ was
presented, and was quite bewildered with agitation at the time; but Evadne
displayed no emotion whatever. I never knew _anyone_ so equable as
she is; in fact, _nothing_ seems to ruffle her wonderful calm; it is
almost provoking sometimes! On the way home she would not have made a
remark, I think, if I had not spoken to her. 'Don't you think it was a
very pretty sight?' I said at last. 'Yes,' she answered doubtfully; and
then she added with genuine feeling: '_Mais il y a des longuers!_ Oh,
mother, the hours we have spent hanging about draughty corridors, half
dressed and shivering with cold; and the crowding and crushing, and
unlovely faces, all looking so miserable and showing the discomfort and
fatigue they were enduring so plainly! I call it positive suffering, and I
never want to see another Drawing Room. My soul desires nothing now but
decent clothing and hot tea.' And that is all she has ever said about the
Drawing Room in my hearing. But wasn't it a very curious view for a girl
to take? Of course the arrangements are detestable, and one does suffer a
great deal from cold and fatigue, and for want of refreshments; but still
_I_ never thought of those things when _I_ was a girl; did you?
I never thought of anything, in fact, but whether I was looking my best or
not. Don't let me make you imagine, however, that Evadne was whining and
querulous. She never is, you know; and I should call her tone sorrowful if
it were not so absurd for a girl to be saddened by the sight of other
people in distress--well, not quite in distress--that is an
exaggeration--but at all events not quite comfortably situated--on what
was really one of the greatest occasions of her own life. I am half
inclined to fear that she may not be quite so strong as we have always
thought her, and that she was depressed by the long fasting and fatigue,
which would account for a momentary morbidness.

"But excuse my garrulity. I always have so much to say to _you!_ I
will spare you any more for the present, however; only do tell me all
about yourself and your own lovely children. And how is Mr.
Hamilton-Wells? Remember that you are to come to us, twins and all, on
your way home as usual this year. We are anxiously expecting you, and I
hope your next letter will fix the day.

"Ever, dear Adeline, your loving friend,

"ELIZABETH FRAYLING.

"P. S.--We return to Fraylingay to-morrow, so please write to me there."

The following is Lady Adeline's reply to Mrs. Frayling's letter:

"HAMILTON HOUSE, MORNINGQUEST, 30th July,

"MY DEAR ELIZABETH:

"I am afraid you will have been wondering what has become of us, but I
know you will acquit me of all blame for the long delay in answering your
letter when I tell you that I have only just received it! We had left
Paris before it arrived for (what is always to me) a tiresome tour about
the continent, and it has been following us from pillar to post, finally
reaching me here at home, where we have been settled a fortnight. I had
not forgotten your kind invitation, but I am afraid I must give up all
idea of going to you this year. We hurried back because Mr. Hamilton-Wells
became homesick suddenly while we were abroad, and I don't think it will
be possible to get him to move again for some time. But won't you come to
us? Do, dear, and bring your just-come-out, and, I am sure, most charming,
Evadne for our autumn gayeties. If Mr. Frayling would come too we should
be delighted, but I know he has a poor opinion of _our_ coverts, and
I despair of being able to tempt him from his own shooting; and therefore
I ask _you_ first and foremost, in the hope that you will be able to
come whether he does or not.

"I have been thinking much of all you have told me about Evadne. She had
already struck me as being a most interesting child and full of promise,
and I do hope that now she is out of the schoolroom I shall see more of
her. I know you will trust her to me--although I do think that in parts of
her education you have been acting by the half light of a past time, and
following a method now out of date. I cannot agree, for instance, that it
is either right or wise to keep a girl in ignorance of the laws of her own
being, and of the state of the community in which she will have to pass
her existence. While she is at an age to be influenced in the right way
she should be fully instructed, by those she loves, and not left to obtain
her knowledge of the world haphazard from anyone with whom accident may
bring her acquainted--people, perhaps, whose point of view may not only
differ materially from her parents', but be extremely offensive to them.
The first impression in these matters, you know, is all important, and my
experience is that what you call 'beautiful innocence,' and what I
consider _dangerous ignorance_, is not a safe state in which to begin
the battle of life. In the matter of marriage especially an ignorant girl
may be fatally deceived, and indeed I know cases in which the man who was
liked well enough as a companion was found to be objectionable in an
unendurable degree as soon as he became a husband.

"You will think I am tainted with new notions, and I do hope I am in so
far as these notions are juster and better than the old ones. For, surely,
the elder ages did not discover all that is wisdom; and certainly there is
still room for 'nobler modes of life' and 'sweeter manners, purer laws.'
If this were not allowed moral progress must come to a standstill. So I
say, 'instruct! instruct!' The knowledge must come sooner or later; let it
come wholesomely. A girl must find out for herself if she is not taught,
and she may, in these plain-spoken times, obtain a wholly erroneous theory
of life and morality from a newspaper report which she reads without
intention in an idle moment while enjoying her afternoon tea. We are in a
state of transition, we women, and the air is so full of ideas that it
would be strange if an active mind did not catch some of them; and I find
myself that stray theories swallowed whole without due consideration are
of uncertain application, difficult in the working, if not impracticable,
and apt to disagree. Theories should be absorbed in detail as dinner is if
they are to become an addition to our strength, and not an indigestible
item of inconvenience, seriously affecting our mental temper.

"But you ask me about my twins. In health they continue splendid, in
spirits they are tremendous, but their tricks are simply terrible. We
never know what mischief they will devise next, and Angelica is much the
worst of the two. If we had taken them to Fraylingay it would have been in
fear and trembling; but we should have been obliged to take them had we
gone ourselves, for they somehow found out that you had asked them, and
they insisted upon going, and threatened to burn down Hamilton House in
our absence if we did not take them, a feat which we doubt not they would
have accomplished had they had a mind to. Indeed, I cannot tell you what
these children are! Imagine their last device to extort concessions from
their father. You know how nervous he is; well, if he will not do all that
they require of him they blow him up literally and actually! They put
little trains of gunpowder about in unexpected places, with lucifer
matches that go off when they are trodden upon, and you can imagine the
consequence! I told him what it would be when he would spoil them so, but
it was no use, and now they rule him instead of him them, so that he has
to enter into solemn compacts with them about not infringing what they
call their rights; and, only fancy, he is so fond to foolishness as to be
less annoyed by their naughtiness than pleased because, when they promise
not to do anything again 'honest Injun,' as they phrase it, they keep
their word. Dr. Galbraith calls them in derision 'The Heavenly Twins.'

"But have I told you about Dr. Galbraith? He is the new master of Fountain
Towers, and a charming as well as remarkable man, quite young, being in
fact only nine-and-twenty, but already distinguished as a medical man. He
became a professional man of necessity, having no expectation at that time
of ever inheriting property, but now that he is comparatively speaking a
rich man he continues to practice for the love of science, and also from
philanthropic motives. He is a fine looking young man physically, with a
strong face of most attractive plainness, only redeemed from positive
ugliness, in fact, by good gray eyes, white teeth, and an expression which
makes you trust him at once. After the first five minutes' conversation
with him I have heard people say that they not only could but would
positively have enjoyed telling him all the things that ever they did, so
great is the confidence he inspires. He, and Sir Daniel Galbraith's
adopted son--Sir Daniel is Dr. Galbraith's uncle--were my brother Dawne's
great friends at Oxford, where the three of them were known as Shadrach,
Meshach, and Abednego, because they passed unscathed through the burning
fiery furnace of temptation to which young men of position at the
universities are exposed. Dr. Galbraith is somewhat abrupt in manner, and
quick of temper, but most good-naturedly long-suffering with my terrible
children nevertheless. Of course they impose upon his good nature. And
they are always being punished; but that they do not mind. In fact, I
heard Angelica say once: 'It is all in the day's work,' when she had a
long imposition to do for something outrageous; and Diavolo called to her
over the stairs only yesterday, 'Wait for me a minute in the hall till
I've been thrashed for letting the horses and dogs loose, and then we'll
go and snare pheasants in the far plantation!' They explained to me once
that being found out and punished added the same zest to their pleasures
that cayenne pepper does to their diet; a little too much of it stings,
but just the right quantity relieves the insipidity and adds to the
interest; and then there is the element of uncertainty, which has a charm
of its own: they never know whether they will 'catch it hot' or not! When
they _are_ found out they always confess everything with a frankness
which is quite provoking, because they so evidently enjoy the recital of
their own misdeeds; and they defend themselves by quoting various
anecdotes of the naughty doings of children which have been written for
our amusement. And it is in vain that I explain to them that parents who
are hurt and made anxious by their children's disobedience cannot see
anything to laugh at in their pranks--at least not for a very long time
afterward. They pondered this for some time, and then arrived at the
conclusion that when they were grown up and no longer a nuisance to me, I
should be a 'very jolly old lady,' because I should have such a lot of
funny stories all my own to tell people.

"But I shall weary you with this inexhaustible subject. You must forgive
me if I do, for I am terribly anxious about my young Turks. If they are
equal to such enormities in the green leaf, I am always asking myself,
what will they do in the dry? I own that my sense of humour is tickled
sometimes, but never enough to make me forget the sense of danger, present
and to come, which all this keeps forever alive. Come and comfort me, and
tell me how you have made your own children so charming.

"Ever lovingly yours,

"ADELINE HAMILTON-WELLS."

Mrs, Frayling wrote a full account of Evadne's presentation at court to
her sister, Mrs. Orton Beg--who was wandering about Norway by herself at
the time--and concluded her description of the dear child's gown, very
charming appearance, and dignified self-possession with some remarks about
her character to the same effect as those which she had addressed to Lady
Adeline. It was natural, perhaps, that the last conversation Mrs. Orton
Beg had had with Evadne at Fraylingay, which was in fact the first
articulate outcome of Evadne's self-training, coming as it did at the end
of a day of pleasurable interest and excitement, should have made no
immediate impression upon her tired faculties; but she recollected it now
and smiled as she read her sister's letter. "If that is all you know of
your daughter, my dear Elizabeth," was her mental comment, "I fancy there
will be surprises at Fraylingay!" But in reply she merely observed that
she was glad Evadne was so satisfactory. She was too wise a woman to waste
words on her sister Elizabeth, who, in consequence of having had them in
abundance to squander all her life long, had lost all sense of their
value, and would have failed to appreciate the force which they collect in
the careful keeping of such silent folk as Mrs. Orton Beg.

Mrs. Frayling was not able to accept Lady Adeline's invitation that year.

CHAPTER IX.

This was the period when Evadne looked out of narrow eyes at an untried
world inquiringly, and was warmed to the heart by what she saw of it.
Theoretically, people are cruel and unjust, but practically, to an
attractive young lady of good social position and just out, their manners
are most agreeable; and when Evadne returned to Fraylingay after her first
season in town, she thought less and sang more.

"A little bird in the air,
Is singing of Thyri the fair,
The sister of Svend the Dane;
And the song of the garrulous bird
In the streets of the town is heard,
And repeated again and again."

she carolled about the house, while the dust collected upon her books. She
took up one old favourite after another when she first returned, but her
attention wandered from her best beloved, and all that were solid came
somehow to be set aside and replaced, the nourishing fact by inflated
fiction, reason and logic by rhyme and rhythm, and sense by
sentimentality, so far had her strong, simple, earnest mind deteriorated
in the unwholesome atmosphere of London drawing rooms. It was only a
phase, of course, and she could have been set right at once had there been
anybody there to prescribe a strengthening tonic; but failing that, she
tried sweet stimulants that soothed and excited, but did not nourish:
tales that caused chords of pleasurable emotion to vibrate while they
fanned the higher faculties into inaction--vampire things inducing that
fatal repose which enables them to drain the soul of its life blood and
compass its destruction. But Evadne escaped without permanent injury, for,
fortunately for herself, among much that was far too sweet to be wholesome
she discovered Oliver Wendell Holmes' "The Breakfast Table Series," "Elsie
Venner," and "The Guardian Angel" and was insensibly fixed in her rightful
place and sustained by them.

The sun streaming into her room one morning at this time awoke her early
and tempted her up and out. There was a sandy space beyond the grounds, a
long level of her father's land extending to the eastern cliffs, and
considered barren by him, but rich with a certain beauty of its own, the
beauty of open spaces which rest and relieve the mind; and of immensity in
the shining sea-line beyond the cliffs, and the arching vault of the sky
overhead dipping down to encircle the earth; and of colour for all moods,
from the vividest green of grass and yellow of gorse to the amethyst ling,
and the browns with which the waning year tipped every bush and
bramble--things which, when properly appreciated, make life worth living.
It was in this direction that Evadne walked, taking it without design, but
drawn insensibly as by a magnet to the sea.

She had thought herself early up, but the whole wild world of the heath
was before her, and she began to feel belated as she went. There was a
suspicion of frost in the air which made it deliciously fresh and
exhilarating. The early morning mists still hung about, but the sun was
brightly busy dispelling them. The rabbits were tripping hither and
thither, too intent on their own business to pay much heed to Evadne. A
bird sprang up from her feet, and soared out of sight, and she paused a
moment with upturned face, dilated eyes, and lips apart, to watch him. But
a glimpse of the gorse recalled her, and she picked some yellow blooms
with delicate finger tips, and carried them in her bare hand savouring the
scent, and at the same time looking and listening with an involuntary
straining to enjoy the perception of each separate delicate delight at
once, till presently the enthusiasm of nature called forth some further
faculty, and she found herself sensible of every tint and tone, sight and
sound, distinguishing, deciphering, but yet perceiving all together as the
trained ear of a musician does the parts played by every instrument in an
orchestra, and takes cognizance of the whole effect as well.

At the end of the waste there was a little church overlooking the sea. She
saw that the door was open as she approached it, and she paused to look
in. The early weekday service was in progress. A few quiet figures sat
apart in the pews. The light was subdued. Something was being read aloud
by a voice of caressing quality and musical. She did not attend to the
words, but the tone satisfied. It seemed to her that the peace of God
invited, and she slipped into the nearest pew. She found a Bible on the
seat beside her, and opening it haphazard her eyes fell upon the words:

"They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters;
these see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep."

The lap of the little waves on the beach below was distinctly audible, the
bird calls, and their twitterings, intermittent, incessant, persistent,
came close and departed; and the fragrance of the blossoms, crushed in her
hand, rose to remind her they were there.

"They that go down to the sea in ships."

It was a passage to be felt at the moment with the sea itself so near, and
as she paused to ponder it her mind attuned itself involuntarily to the
habit of holy thought associated with the place, while the scents and
sounds of nature streamed in upon her, forming now a soft undercurrent,
now a delicious accompaniment which filled the interval between what she
knew of this world and all that she dreamt of the next. The cycle of
sensation was complete, and in a moment her whole being blossomed into
gladness. Her intellectual activity was suspended--her senses awoke. It
was the morning of life with her, and she sank upon her knees, and lifted
up her heart to express the joy of it in one ecstatic note: "O blessed
Lord!"

Lord of the happy earth! Lord of the sun and our senses. He who comes to
us first in Love's name, and bids us rejoice and be glad; not he who would
have us mourn.

CHAPTER X.

After the experiences of that early morning's walk Evadne did not go to
bed so late; she got up early and went to church. The agreeable working of
her intellectual faculties during the early part of her absorbing
self-education had kept her senses in abeyance; but when the discipline of
all regular routine was relaxed, they were set free to get the upper hand
if they would, and now they had begun to have their way--a delicate,
dreamy way, of a surety, but it was a sensuous way nevertheless, and not
at all a spiritual way, as her mother maintained it to be, because of the
church-going. Sometimes sense, sometimes intellect, is the first to awake
in us--supposing we are dowered with an intellect; but pain, which is the
perfecting of our nature, must precede the soul's awakening and for Evadne
at that age, with her limited personal knowledge of life and scant
experience of every form of human emotion which involves suffering, such
an awakening was impossible. The first feeling of a girl as happily
situated, healthy-minded, and physically strong as she was is bound to be
pleasurable; and had she been a young man at this time she would not
improbably have sought to heighten and vary her sensations by adding
greater quantities of alcohol to her daily diet; she would have grown
coarse of skin by eating more than she could assimilate; she would have
smelt strongly enough of tobacco, as a rule, to try the endurance of a
barmaid; she would have been anxious about the fit of coats, fastidious as
to the choice of ties, quite impossible in the matter of trousers, and
prone to regard her own image in the glass caressingly. She would have
considered that every petticoat held a divinity, or every woman had her
price according to the direction in which nature had limited her powers of
perception with a view to the final making of her into a sentimental or a
vicious fool. When she should have been hard at work she would have stayed
in bed in the morning flattering her imagination with visions of the
peerless beauties who would all adore her, and the proud place she would
conquer in the world; and she would have gone girl-stalking in
earnest--_probably_--had she been a young man. But being as she was,
she got up early and went to church. It was the one way she had of
expressing the silent joy of her being, and of intensifying it. She
practised an extreme ritual at this time, and found in it the most
complete form of expression for her mood possible. And in those early
morning walks when she brushed the dew-bespangled cobwebs from the gorse,
and startled the twittering birds from their morning meal--in the
caressing of healthy odours, the uplifting of all sweet natural sounds,
the soothing of the great sea-voice, the sense of infinity in the level
landscape, of beauty in form and colour, of rest and peace in the grateful
shadow of the little church on the cliff, but, above all, in the release
from mental tension, and the ease of feeling after the strain of thought,
she found the highest form of pleasure she had tasted, the most rarefied,
the most intense. The St. Valentine's Day of her development was
approaching, and her heart had begun already to practise the notes of the
song-significant into which she would burst when it came.