 CHAPTER XIX When the day for parting came, Barbara found that it cost her many pangs to leave them all, Mademoiselle Vire first and foremost, and the others in less degree, for she had grown fond even of Mademoiselle Therese. The latter lady declared she and her household were inconsolable and unhappy enough to wear everything, which remarked Barbara took with a grain of salt, as she did most things that lady said. But the two sisters and Marie all went to the station to say good-bye, and each of them kissed her on both cheeks, weeping the while. Barbara was not very fond of kisses from outsiders in any case, but weeping kisses, as she called them, were certainly a trial. What finally dried Mademoiselle Therese's tears was to see the widower and his two sons entering the station, each carrying a bouquet of flowers. So pushing of them, she murmured in Barbara's ear, and turned coldly upon them. But the girl and her aunt were touched by the kindness, and the former felt horribly ashamed when she remembered that more than once in private she had laughed at the quaint little man in his ways. Barbara heard her aunt muttering something about a dreadful humbug once or twice, but she was very gracious to everyone, and smiled upon them all until the train left the station, when she sank back with an air of relief and exclaimed, Thank goodness that's over, though of course they meant it kindly. They are very kind, Barbara said, looking down at the three bouquets on the seat. I really don't deserve that they should be so kind. Probably not, Miss Britton returned calmly. We sometimes get more than our desserts, sometimes less, so perhaps things adjust themselves in the end. I was really rather astonished not to see the bath-boy at the station, too. Your acquaintance seems so varied. Yes, I have learned a great deal since I went there, Barbara said thoughtfully, and just at the end I felt I didn't want to come away at all. I have no such feelings, her aunt remarked, though perhaps a little thoughtfully also. But when they arrived at Rouen, the remembrance of their pleasant time in Paris returned to them, and they both felt ready for the delights of seeing a new town. Apart from the information given by the Mortons, Barbara felt already familiar with the great churches in quaint streets, and for her Rouen never quite lost the halo of romance that Mademoiselle Vire had endowed it with. It was to be connected with yet another story of the past, however, before they left it, one which, for romance, was fully equal to Mademoiselle Vire's, though its conclusion was so much happier. It was the second day of their stay, and after a morning of wandering about the town, both Barbara and her aunt were resting, the former on the balcony in the front of her room, the latter on the terrace in the garden. Although a book was in her lap, Barbara was not reading, but with hands clasped behind her head was idly watching the passers-by. Even suddenly laziness vanished from her attitude, and her gaze became intent on the figure of someone who had just turned into the portico of the hotel. She rose from the low chair, her eyes shining with excitement. It certainly was he, she said, now, Barbara, it is time for you to eliminate yourself. You must lie on the couch and try to look pale. She pulled down the window-blind, ran into her room, and had hardly settled herself upon the couch when, as she had expected, a maid came up with a message asking her to go down to the terrace. Please tell Miss Britain I have a headache, and I am lying down for a little, Barbara said, congratulating herself upon the possession of what had annoyed her considerably a short time before, though in an ordinary way she would have scoffed at the idea of lying down for a headache. A few minutes afterwards up came her aunt, looking very concerned, and fearing, lest they had been doing too much. Barbara's heart smote her, but she told herself that she must be firm. I sent for you to come to see Mr. Morton Sr., and Anne explained. Strangely enough, he arrived this morning in Rouen, and has put up at another hotel. How nice! How very nice! I shall come down later, aunt. I expect I shall be quite all right shortly. She had a little difficulty in persuading her aunt that it was not necessary to stay beside her, but at last succeeded in doing so, and gave a chuckle of joy when the door closed. She had intended to go down to the garden later on, but strange to say, fell fast asleep, and did not awaken until the man tapped at the door, saying the tea had been ordered for four o'clock, but now, although it was half-past, Madame had not returned, having gone along the river-bank, he believed, with Montsueur. So Barbara hastily descended and had tea, very much brewed, all by herself, and then returned to her room to read. She had finished her book, and was thinking of getting ready for dinner, when Aunt Anne came in, quite a different Aunt Anne from the one she knew, with all her decision fled. She fidgeted about for some time, saying nothing of importance. Then at last turned round and began hastily. I did a very silly thing once long ago, Barbara, and today I have done what I am afraid people may think still sillier. I have promised to marry Mr. Morton. Whereupon Barbara seized her rapturously. Oh, aunt! she cried. I am so glad. Just gladder than of anything else I could have heard. It is a great relief, Barbara, she said unsteadily, to have you take it so. I was afraid you might laugh. You know, it needs some courage for a person of my age to do a thing like that. It is different for a girl like you, but I could not have done it, had I not felt that since he desired it so urgently, I ought to right the wrong I had done him long ago. You can't help being very happy, Aunt, said Barbara. I am sure, with such a nice man as Mr. Morton. The only regret I have is that you've lost so much of the time. Then, seeing her aunt's face, she felt inclined to strike herself for having spoken foolishly. Mr. Morton is in the garden, her aunt said after a moment. It would be nice if you went down and saw him. And Barbara sped away. That interview was apparently entirely satisfactory. For Miss Britton, and joining them later, founding Barbara had just issued an invitation in her mother's name and that it had been accepted. And, of course, you will come to, Aunt, the girl added. There was one part in the arrangements that Barbara begged to be left to her, and that was the letter home telling the news. You see, Aunt, Anne, she said, I naturally feel as if I had a rather big share in the matter. I think surely it was Dennis Morton's letter that brought me, Miss Britton corrected, but right if you like, Barbara. And indeed she was rather glad to be relieved from the responsibility. End of CHAPTER XIX. of Barbara in Brittany by E. A. Gilly. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. CHAPTER XX. THE COTA. If Barbara had been at home when her letter arrived, she would have been quite content with the excitement it caused. At first Francis and Donald were inclined to think it a huge joke, but having read to the end of Barbara's letter they felt rather differently. And Anne had acted more wisely than she knew in allowing her niece to be the one to write and tell of her engagement. Of course, Donald said in his decided way, we must do the proper thing by her and treat her nicely, for after all, Francis, she's been rather a brick about Barbara, and the last time she stayed she was much improved. It'll be interesting having a new uncle, too, Francis remarked complacently. We're rather bad off for Uncle's dawn, and from what Barbara says this Mr. Morton must be very nice, though, of course, Barbara isn't quite to be trusted seeing she's such a friend of Dennis's. Let me see now what relation will he be to us. Oh, don't bother about relationships at present. You may just have to rearrange them again, Donald said impatiently. Let's go and be thinking of something to welcome Barbara back. On that matter they held a long consultation, Donald being in favour of taking the horse out of the fly and drawing it home themselves, and Francis inclining more to wreaths and decoration. She got her way in the end, as she pointed out to her brother that the cab man would probably not allow them to take the horse out, and that they would have to pay for it all the same, and worst of all, that they would be so much out of breath with pulling that they would not be able to ask any questions when they got home. It was probably the last reason that weighed the most with Donald, who agreed to devote his energies to making an archway over the garden path and setting off some fireworks in the evening. On the whole the arch was quite a success, and looked very pretty, though it was not so secure as it might have been, and its makers felt it safer to fasten to it a large label with the inscription Not to be Handled. The travellers were not to arrive till late in the afternoon, and poor Mrs. Britain was driven nearly distracted by the intense excitement pervading among the children during the morning. One of the twins had actually suggested putting on her best frock the night before so as to be quite ready on the following day. It is seldom that an eagerly expected event is not disappointing in some detail of its fulfilment, but there was not a shade upon the happiness on this occasion. Barbara and Miss Britain arrived at the right time, with their luggage. The archway remained firm until both the travellers had passed underneath, though it collapsed shortly afterwards, and the fireworks were as successful as such things usually are. It is true that Donald was a trifle hurried over displaying them, for Barbara was anxious to unpack the treasures she had brought home as the children were to see them. You are still a little thin, dear, Mrs. Britain said, as she watched her daughter, but Barbara declared it was imagination, and Donald and Frances gave it as their opinion that it was only the Frenchie kind of look she had. You have dressed her in such jolly things, and, Frances said admiringly, I like a person to come home looking like the country she's come from, and it'll be a great advantage to her teaching. She'll get heaps of pupils, I'm sure. Oh, we'll not talk about the teaching just yet, Mrs. Britain said quickly. She must have a week or two, free first, and then it will be time enough for us to think about it. And to that there was no dissentient voice except Barbara's. Aunt Anne had brought home some treasures, too, but was quite willing to keep hers till later, and the children declared, with round eyes of delight, that Barbara had brought enough to last for a very long time. You really were a Brit to bring so many lovely things, Barbara, said Frances, trying to fix in a brooch with one hand while she stroked a silk blouse with the other. This brooch is so pretty, I'm really not going to lose it, though I can't think how you got enough money to buy so much. Miss Britain looked across at her niece, who hastily dived into her trunk again, but the former confided to her sister-in-law afterwards, that Barbara had distributed the remainder of the money she had given her for riding lessons between the bath-boy and presents for the home people. Which news made Mrs. Britain prize her share of the treasures more than ever. The only thing that a little disappointed the children was that Uncle Morton had not arrived, too. It's a pity he didn't come with you. We're also anxious to see him," Frances remarked, looking at her aunt, whom Barbara relieved by answering in her stead. Both Mr. Morton and his nephew are coming soon to the end, she said, so you haven't long to wait. But their curiosity rose to almost unbearable heights before the fortnight was over, and Barbara had a little difficulty in making them solemnly promise they would not bother their aunt with questions meanwhile. Frances and Donald both wished to go to the station to meet the train, but this their mother forbade. You will see them here to-night, she said, they are coming up to dinner. Meanwhile, content yourselves with Barbara. Yes, remarked Donald, we really didn't realize how much we missed Barbara until she was back. It's just jolly having her. Nevertheless they disappeared suddenly during the afternoon and did not return until about an hour before dinner, when they both wore the half sheepish, half triumphant expression that Barbara knew of old meant some escapades successfully carried through. Knowing they would probably tell her what it was, she went on arranging flowers on the dinner table while they fidgeted around the room. I say, Donald said at last, I really think Uncle Morton is one of the nicest elderly men I've met for some time, perhaps ever. Yes, Frances agreed. I think so too. He'll be quite an exquisition as an uncle. But we didn't go to the station, she hastened to add, as Barbara turned round to listen. Donald wanted to go up to the inn this afternoon. At least we both did, to see Mr. Bates about the rabbit he promised us, and we were talking to him quite comfortably when a gentleman came and stood at the door looking into the passage. That's an American gentleman as has come to-day with his nephew, Mr. Bates remarked, and of course we knew it must be Uncle Morton, and we thought that since we were there it would be rather unkind to go away without ever giving him a welcoming word. Mr. Bates thought so too when we asked him his opinion, so we just went and introduced ourselves, and told him we were glad to see him and so on. We saw the nephew too. Yes, Donald went on, without giving Barbara a chance to speak, and he seemed very glad to see us and said it was kind of us to look in on him, of course we stayed a little longer. He's an interesting man. I'm glad you like him, Barbara said, bubbling over with laughter. I'm sure it must be a relief to him. Yes, Donald nodded, and to the nephew too. I think we'll be quite good friends with him. You see, Barbara, he went on, fearing less she should feel disapproval about their visit. It was really better for them not to have to face us all in a mass. Now they've got us over. They've only to get mother's approval. But this remark was altogether too much for Barbara's gravity, and she drove her brother and sister off to make themselves presentable. But when their visitors had gone that evening and she was talking in her mother's room, she told the story of the afternoon again, and they laughed it over together. Conceited little creatures, Mrs. Britton said, but my judgment coincides with theirs, Barbara, and yours. I think he is one of the nicest men I have met, and it is splendid to see them so happy. Yes, Barbara replied contentedly, it was really rather a happy thing that I was chased by that cyclist and met the American pretender, wasn't it, mother? I daresay it was, said Mrs. Britton, but she eyed her daughter rather wistfully, then kissed her and bade her go to bed, though long after the girl had left she sat thinking. It was clear to her, as it had been to Aunt Anne for some time, that Dennis Morton was anxious to make his uncle Barbara's by a less roundabout method than through his connection with Aunt Anne, and before a week had passed he had spoken of his desire, astonishing to know one so much as Barbara herself. Of course, said Donald, who had gone to his mother for information on the matter, and was now discussing it in the privacy of the apple-tree with Frances. I felt, as eldest son, I ought to be told about it, though I knew as soon as I saw Dennis Morton that he wanted to marry Barbara. He would have been very foolish if he hadn't, Frances remarked, but of course Barbara is such an unselfconscious kind of person that it was quite natural she should be surprised. Aunt Anne said she would choose Dennis above everyone for Barbara, and naturally she's got a leaning to the family. Donald nodded. So have I, though that's no good if Barbara doesn't want to make up her mind, and she seems not to. In any case, mother thinks she's too young, though I should have thought that Aunt Anne kind of balanced it, being fairly old, you know, and besides Dennis is a lot older than she is. Well, said Frances, I shall give him all the encouragement I can, for I think he's very nice. I believe, Donald, that he didn't go to Ron just because it's an infectious kind of thing, and he didn't want to ask Barbara before he told mother and us. There he is, interrupted Donald. He looks rather down. Let's go and cheer him up. And the two dropped over the wall into the field that bordered the garden. They sauntered towards the path leading to the river, and surprised Dennis not a little by suddenly joining him. I say, Donald began, without giving him time to speak. I don't think you need be worried. I've known Barbara a good long time, and I've never known her to be so absentminded before. To say that Dennis was startled is keeping strictly within the limits of truth, and at first he was not sure whether he felt angry or amused. But he had grown pretty well accustomed to Donald and Frances by this time, and after a moment of embarrassment accepted the situation. Thank you, he said. It is kind of you to take an interest in me. Not at all, Frances said graciously. We think it's rarely rather hard lines on you, as of course we knew all along you wanted to marry Barbara. Why, Jove!" muttered Dennis a little helplessly. Yes, of course, Donald put in. Anybody sensible would want to do that, if I hadn't been her brother I should have. But though it's rather rough on you, I think two months' absence in America will be just the thing for Barbara. The young man gazed at his youthful adviser, and was so overpowered that he could think of nothing to say. When do you go?" Donald continued. Next week. I'm coming back in six weeks, not two months, for my uncle's wedding, said Dennis, finding his voice. There was a pause, and Frances, seeing from her brother's expression that he was deep in thought, forebored to make any remark until she saw him smile. Then she said, Well, Donald, but her brother addressed himself to Dennis. Considering you've been here a good time now, he said, You haven't seen much of the country really. Suppose you came for a long walk on the moor tomorrow with Frances and me, and Barbara? Dennis's eyes lighted up. If Barbara will, I shall be charmed, he said. I think she'll come, Donald said cheerfully, and moved by some persuasion or force Barbara consented, and the four started off across the moors. They started together, that was certain, but did not return in the same manner, for Donald and Frances had got most thoroughly lost, although, as Donald said with a grin, he had walked that moor man and boy for the past six years. But when the two truants returned they did not seem at all cast down by their misfortune, while Dennis certainly came back in a more cheerful mood than that in which he had set out. I think you'll find things all right when you come back again, Donald whispered on the morning the visitors were to go, and Dennis, nodding, gripped his hand so tightly that the boy winced. I think, said Frances, as she watched the carriage disappearing, I think Donald and Anne ought to be very thankful that she was so generous. She has been rewarded, hasn't she, in finding Uncle Morton? Yes, virtue has had its reward. But you know, Frances, I think we're being rather generous too. Yes, Frances said, interrogatively. Well, the end will be that we lose Barbara and we haven't raised a finger to prevent it. On the contrary, we've helped, and you know we're never likely to find another sister like her. No, of course not, but all the same, a wedding, and I suppose there'll be two, we'll make a grand finale like the quotas you have in Marches. Yes, you're rather poetical, Frances, and perhaps by the time you're ready for France another aunt will turn up to take you there. I hope so, though they can't always expect to find Uncle Morton's as a reward. But there's time enough to think of that, and at any rate, Don, I'm going to be a bridesmaid at the wedding. Yes, said Donald, and there'll be two wedding-cakes running, Fran, think of that. End of Chapter 20. End of Barbara in Brittany by E. A. Gilly. Read by Cibella Denton in Carrollton, Georgia in January 2009. For more free audiobooks or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org.