Part 12

"Call me what you please, my dear, when we are alone," said the old lady, "but keep what you know, or suspect--rather more than the actual fact, by the bye," she added--"keep it to yourself. I know you are discreet, otherwise I could not be of service to you as I intend to be. Now tell me, child, what are your troubles or anxieties, for some I know you have----"

"I don't feel as if I had any at all this morning," Clodagh interrupted laughingly.

"Ah, well--so much the better, it shows a healthy nature," was the reply. "But, tell me, is that very autocratic young woman, your cousin, good to you? Are you happy to be with her?"

"Yes, yes, truly I am," Clodagh replied eagerly. "That is to say, I feel sure I am going to be so. You see we only met again yesterday, after not having seen each other for several years, not since I have been grown-up. But I must explain. Paulina is very kind. I am sorry she was rude to you yesterday. She was sorry herself afterwards, but she is only quick-tempered and spoilt. She has a kind heart. When my dear grandmother died I should have been homeless, forced to earn my living with strangers, but for her," and by this time Clodagh's eyes were filled with tears.

Cousin Felicity nodded her head slowly, and in a moment or two she spoke again.

"Did you love your Irish home very dearly?" she asked.

"Did I? _Do_ I, rather," the girl replied. "Oh, dear lady, I adore it! But it is mine no longer. It belongs to strangers, it is best for me not to think of it; though I have known all my life that I should have to leave it when Granny left me, I don't think I realised it. That is why I am glad to travel. It is interesting, and takes my thoughts off, to see new places and people. I am glad that Paulina travels so much, if only----" and here she gave a deep sigh.

"Ah, ha," cried the little old lady, but though slightly mocking, her tone was not the least unkindly, "now we are getting to your troubles. What is that deep sigh about?"

"It's my fear that I can't manage things properly for Paulina," said Clodagh, "and if so, I must leave her. She is not _very_ rich. She can't afford to buy me pretty gowns and things, as she means to do, if I cannot save her having a maid. She cannot take two about with her. Oh, it's the luggage! Do you know, yesterday I thought I had lost her jewellery--I'll never forget my horror!"

"Would you like to know how _I_ travel? Shall I show you?" said her new friend.

Clodagh looked at her wonderingly.

"Indeed I would," she said. "But then," she went on, "though I am afraid you do not like me to say it, I _know_ you are a----"

"S-sh. Never mind about that. Come with me," was the reply.

It was still very early. No one was about. Cousin Felicity took the girl's hand and turned to re-enter the house by a different way from that by which Clodagh had come. But before doing so, she stopped a moment and waved her tiny hand as if in adieu to the beehive.

"Thanks many," her companion heard her murmur. "You did your work well last night," and to Clodagh she went on, with a twinkle in her bright eyes, "Were you pleased with what you found this morning--the new trunk and all?"

"Pleased!" exclaimed the girl rapturously, "I couldn't believe my eyes. Not that I mind work," she went on, "I think I can soon learn to pack and unpack cleverly. It is the responsibility of all the things, the terror of losing them, that distresses me."

"Yes, yes," said her friend, "I understand. I do not mean to do all your work for you. It is the industrious and active, not the idle and lazy, that"--and here she gave her funny twinkling smile again--"that _they_ help, as all the stories you have heard over the sea always tell. You shall see what I can do, and what you must do yourself."

By this time they had reached a side entrance to the house. The door stood open; a small staircase faced them, up which with wonderful quickness, considering her great age, Cousin Felicity sprang, followed by Clodagh, and crossing a landing, opened the door of a room, inviting the girl to enter with her.

It was a pleasant room; the first impression it made on Clodagh was of whiteness--and exquisite neatness. It matched the little old lady to perfection.

"This is where I always am, when I visit these kind people," she said. "No one ever has this room but myself. And," she went on in a low voice as if speaking to herself, "who, if I tried to tell it, would believe for how many generations it has been appropriated to me?"

Clodagh felt a thrill of awe as she caught the mysterious words. But in another moment Cousin Felicity had turned to her briskly, pointing to a neat, good-sized trunk standing in front of the fireplace.

"That is all _my_ luggage," she announced. "It holds more than Paulina's fine lady's maid would have got into half-a-dozen like it, because _I_ know how to pack. But--look at it well."

Clodagh stared at it obediently.

"Shut your eyes." She did so. Then it seemed to her that she heard a murmur of words.

"Open." Clodagh again obeyed. And this time, stare she did, for--the box was no longer there, it had vanished from view!

She was too astonished to speak.

"Hold out your hand," was the next command.

Cousin Felicity laid something on the outstretched palm. Clodagh gazed at it in amazement and admiration. It was a miniature trunk, evidently of the finest make. Never had she seen such a perfect toy of its kind, and it was an exact facsimile of her strange old friend's substantial box, which a minute before had been standing in front of her in the most matter-of-fact way. It was small--not above a couple of inches in length, and half as much in width and depth, but curiously heavy. It might almost have been a small block of lead, fashioned to represent a Liliputian portmanteau, and still Clodagh stood there staring at it, without speaking.

"That is how _I_ travel," said the mysterious little lady at last. "It contains all my belongings, just as I told you the other--or rather itself in its other proportions--does. See, I slip it in here," and she held out the black hand-bag, or reticule, which the girl had noticed in the coach, and taking the little box from Clodagh she did as she said, "I draw the strings, I hang it over my arm," accompanying her explanations by the appropriate actions, "and there I am, ready to journey from one end of Europe to the other, or farther still, with no anxiety."

Her young protégée lifted her eyes.

"It is too marvellous, too delightful for words!" she exclaimed.

The little old lady smiled graciously.

"I knew you would say so," she replied. "Well, now, I can extend this magical power to you, on two conditions. You must keep the secret, absolutely and entirely, and you must do your own work perfectly. There must be no untidiness or hurry-scurry; you must never leave things behind, or tear or crumple them--if so, your carelessness will bring its own punishment, for it would prevent the spell's working, and even I--fairy or witch as you think me----"

"No, no," Clodagh interrupted eagerly, "not witch. You are too kind and charming to be that."

"Ah, well, we can leave aside the question of what or who I am. The point is what I can _do_, and what I cannot. And counteract the working or not working of the spell if the rules are broken, is beyond my power."

"But I _will_ keep them," exclaimed Clodagh. "That is to say, I will do my very best to be most neat and methodical. Granny trained me to be neat. And I will keep the secret; that I promise, _only_----" and her face fell as a sudden idea disconcerted her.

"What?"

"If Paulina suspects anything? If she notices, and thinks there is something strange about it all?"

Cousin Felicity smiled.

"I will see to that. You need not be afraid. If you fulfil your part, you will have _no_ trouble, as regards Paulina or any one else. Come now--I will go with you to your rooms to explain all, before any one is about. But first--close your eyes for a moment. Yes----" and when Clodagh opened them, there stood the trunk again, as she had first seen it!

She followed the old lady down a passage or two, and up some steps, till at the end of the corridor she saw that they were in the part of the house familiar to her. Cousin Felicity stopped in front of the two trunks, Paulina's and Clodagh's new one, standing just outside the doors of their rooms, and glanced at them approvingly. She was just going to speak when the girl touched her on the arm.

"I am afraid," she began timidly, "I am afraid that Paulina may be awake by now, and if she heard us and looked out----?"

Her friend nodded reassuringly. Then she noiselessly opened the door of the sleeper's room and stepped in, Clodagh close behind her. It was almost dark inside, for Paulina was not one of the people who like to see the dawn gradually creeping up--she always had her blinds drawn down. Still it was light enough for Clodagh to see the mysterious visitor make her way, swiftly and soundlessly, to the side of the bed. Then she stooped over the pretty face lying on the pillow, touched the closed eyelids softly, murmuring something inaudible, then came back to Clodagh waiting near the entrance and led the way outside again, closing the door behind them.

"_That_ is quite safe," she said, smiling. "Have no fears for the present or the future. You will have no difficulties, I assure you. Now--" and she stood before the two closed boxes. "See," she said, "and listen. Whenever you have packed them neatly and perfectly, sure that nothing is forgotten, you lock as usual, deposit the keys safely, then stand in front of each in turn, touch the initials with your fore-finger--you have each three, 'P. O'B.' and 'C. O'B.'--saying slowly and clearly as you do so

"One, two, three, Dwindle, says Felicity.

"Then close your eyes for a moment, and you will see--hold, I will show you now. Shut your eyes." Clodagh did so. "Open." She obeyed, and there in front of her lay, so small that at the first moment she scarcely perceived them, two miniature editions of her own and Paulina's trunks, brass nails, letters and all.

"Feel them," said her companion.

Clodagh stooped and picked them up, her eyes sparkling with eagerness. They were heavy, certainly, but less so than the old lady's own one.

"You have a hand-bag?" this personage enquired.

"Oh yes," replied Clodagh, and in a moment she had fetched it. It held the toy trunks perfectly.

"Take them out again," came the order.

"Now," her friend continued, "listen. When you reach your destination, withdraw them from your reticule, place them wherever is most convenient, touch the letters again, beginning with the last, and say this time

"Three, two, one, Journey's done,

and--all will be as you desire."

She smiled as she spoke.

"You may test it at once," she said. "Place them on the floor. Now----"

"Three, two, one, Journey's done,"

repeated Clodagh, touching the letters, as she did so, "B," the last, first. Then she shut her eyes, and when she looked again--yes--there they were, the two neat capacious trunks, as before.

"Oh," she said, with a sigh of delight. "It is too good to be true! How can I thank you?"

But as she looked up, holding out her hands in gratitude, lo and behold--Cousin Felicity had vanished. Glancing round quickly, however, Clodagh fancied she saw a shadow of something disappearing at the turn in the passage. Whether this was so or not, who can say?

"I will thank her again when we meet downstairs," thought the girl, little imagining that this was not to be.

Just then the door behind her opened, and Paulina, her eyes still but half-awake, peeped out.

"Oh, child," she said, "is it late? You up and dressed already! I must hurry."

"There is plenty of time," Clodagh replied. "It is still early."

"How well and bright you look!" Paulina exclaimed. "You must have slept well. So unlike my last travelling companion--that silly Pélagie--not of course, dear, that I mean to compare you with a maid-servant--but the airs she gave herself! She could never sleep the first night in a strange place, nor the last, because she was nervous about the pack----Oh," she broke off, "I see you've got rid of all the old bags and bandboxes. What a good thing! I didn't know you had such a nice sensible trunk, so neat, and just like mine."

"Yes," said the young girl. "It really holds more than I require. I have planned it all, Paulina. You shall never have any trouble about the luggage if you will leave the whole to me."

"I shall only be too thankful to do so," said her cousin lazily. "I think you are a genius, my dear. The way you have arranged my dresses and everything is simply perfection."

Half an hour or so later, the two, summoned by the breakfast gong, made their way downstairs, where most of the family were already assembled, and as the others dropped in, Clodagh looked round eagerly for her new-old friend. But come she did not, and after a short delay Mrs. Marriston turned to her elder daughter.

"Thomasine, my dear," she said. "I think you had better go upstairs to enquire for Cousin Felicity and offer to escort her. I scarcely like to begin breakfast without her, for fear of seeming to lack respect."

For those old-fashioned days were very ceremonious and any want of deference to the eccentric old lady was not to be thought of. Thomasine went at once, but in a very few minutes returned alone, holding a scrap of paper in her hand, looking somewhat disconcerted, though she was half laughing also.

"She has gone!" she exclaimed, "bag, baggage and all, leaving this."

Mrs. Marriston took the paper eagerly. "Oh, _can_ we have offended her?" she said anxiously, but a moment after, she too laughed. "No, I see it is all right," she went on, reading aloud the note in her hand.

"'Farewell for the present, kind friends,' it said. 'A sudden summons to----'--no, I can't decipher the word--'cuts short my visit. Fare you well, one and all.'"

They looked at each other. Annot took the paper from her mother. "No," she agreed, "I cannot read it. But we never do know where she goes or how she goes! It may be Kamschatka or the moon."

"Or fairyland," murmured Clodagh.

"All the same," said Paulina, who, for her part, was by no means sorry for the mysterious lady's flight, "it cannot but be rather trying to have such a guest. She expects to be received with regal honours, and then off she goes like 'old Mother Goose when she wanted to wander.'"

The others laughed.

"My dear Paulina," said Annot, "you are a _young_ 'Mother Goose' yourself, with your love of travelling."

"Quite so," Paulina agreed. "But you will allow that I give my hospitable friends _some_ notice of my intentions. And, after all," she added, "some day, when Clodagh and I have had enough of wandering, we shall settle down, no doubt."

"And, to do our late guest justice," said Mrs. Marriston, "erratic as she is, her visits have never brought us anything but good luck. Her crossing the threshold is always beneficent. This very morning we have excellent news from India of our dear Humphrey, who, we heard by the last mail, was seriously ill. He has quite recovered."

She spoke of a younger son in the--in those days--_very_ far-off East.

Clodagh had glanced up with quick interest when Paulina alluded to "some day settling down." Her feelings at present were very mingled. She scarcely understood them herself. She was ready keenly to enjoy the novelty and exhilaration of travel, seeing new places and people, and now that her one misgiving had been so marvellously removed, her spirits rose high. But still--she had not yet been away a week from her own old home, hers no longer, and already there were moments when, if she closed her eyes, she saw in fancy the dear rugged walls of Grey Rocks--the scene of her own and Paulina's childhood--and heard the splash of the waves at the foot of the cliffs, and then she would feel the tears creeping into her eyes, and she thought to herself, "I suppose it is what is called 'home-sickness,' but I must not give way to it. If only I could hope some day to go there again!"

It was not a very ambitious hope, for Grey Rocks was but a small domain, and had Clodagh's father lived it might have still been their own.

In the meantime, however, she greatly enjoyed the stay at the Priory, and every day she grew cleverer with regard to her duties. She practised folding and arranging Paulina's many garments till she really reached perfection, and she was so methodical and careful, yet never fussy or overwhelmed, that Paulina declared she had never been so splendidly looked after in her life. So far this was most satisfactory. Still, when the week to which their visit had been extended drew to its close, it must be confessed that Cousin Felicity's young protégée was not without nervousness as to the working of the spell.

"Suppose," she thought, "suppose I had dreamt it all!" But then her glance fell on her own beautiful new trunk--"No, no," she added, "of course it was real and true."

And when the morning of their departure came, nothing could have exceeded her care to remember everything.

She waited till Paulina, fully attired for the journey, had gone downstairs for a few last minutes with her hosts, then she rapidly deposited the precious despatch-box in a corner of her own trunk, in which there was still room; closed and locked both; recited as directed the words of the spell, shut her eyes, and waited, as before.

Yes--all was right. There lay the miniature luggage, and in another moment both toy boxes were safe in her reticule, and with light feet and a light heart she ran down to join the others, just as the chariot which was to take them to the nearest posting-house drew up at the door.

"Everything is ready," she said to Paulina. "I have seen to the luggage," and Paulina nodded carelessly.

"The ladies' things have gone on in a cart, I suppose?" asked one of the Marristons. The dignified butler replied that he understood it had been seen to, the truth being that he had not thought about it; and on his side the old hall-porter took for granted that the housemaids had had it conveyed down the back-stairs, that is to say if _he_ thought about it at all!

Anyway, as the mysterious lady had promised, so it fell out. Clodagh was troubled with no enquiries, no interference.

And arrived at St. Aidan's Wells, where they were to spend some weeks, all continued satisfactory. Once, it must be confessed, on their way, Clodagh had a fright. For they had to make two breaks in the long journey, spending one night at each, and on the second occasion, after Clodagh had closed and locked and repeated the spell, lo and behold, it refused to act! She started in terror, then her eyes fell on her own little slippers, which she had forgotten to pack. In a moment she had repaired the mistake, and then--yes, all went as before.

"But," said the girl to herself, "I must be _more_ than careful. For possibly a second lapse on my part might not be forgiven."

They remained at the watering-place for a month or two, then started off again; this time for a lively seaside town where Paulina had arranged to meet friends; then, as the autumn drew on, to country-houses in the hunting districts, for the elder girl was a good horsewoman, as indeed was Clodagh also. What true Irish girl is not?

It was all very pleasant and exciting and the cousins enjoyed it, yet sometimes Paulina declared herself tired and wishful for a rest, even though her journeys were accomplished with the smallest possible trouble. The variety of their visits called of course for constant renewal of dresses and additions to them, but never did the two spell-bound trunks seem too full, and every time she packed and unpacked, Clodagh thought with inexpressible gratitude of the "fairy lady," as to herself she called her, and her bestowal of the strange secret.

"But for her, I could not have managed," she often reflected. "I should have had to give it up--it would not have been fair to Paulina, and then where could I have gone, for home in my own country I have none? And oh, how, through all the novelty and amusement and excitement of travelling, in spite of the kindness I meet with, oh how I sometimes long to be in dear grandmother's old turret room, listening to the faint whirr of her spinning-wheel, and the louder sound of the waves breaking on the cliffs below! I can feel the breeze that always blew in if the casement in the deep window-seat was open; I can taste the salt flavour of the spray that sometimes on stormy days flew up to where I sat! Oh dear old home! I wonder if Paulina ever feels about it in the least as I do?" and then she would fall to wishing that she could somehow earn money enough to buy back the old "eyrie," and be its little châtelaine. "How I would enjoy receiving Paulina, and making _her_ enjoy it!"

But for these day-dreams she had not much leisure, and she knew that she should not indulge in them. Still the longing was always there, and as time went on it grew more persistent and intense.

"It is just home-sickness," thought Clodagh, and she felt that she must not give way to it.

"I wish I could meet 'Cousin Felicity' again," she often said to herself. "She was so wise. I am sure she would advise me how to keep cheerful and content. And yet she must have understood, for I remember her asking me if I loved my home very dearly."

The weeks and months and almost the years--for one had fully gone, and the second since Clodagh's arrival on this side of the water was well on its way--passed, and then one day came little looked-for tidings.

The cousins were just then again at St. Aidan's, which Paulina, who had great faith in its waters, made a point of visiting once or twice a year. One morning, when Clodagh came in from doing some little commissions on the Parade, she found her friend, pale as death, half fainting in her chair, an open letter in stiff, formal writing on her knee.

"Clodagh, oh Clodagh," she exclaimed, "read, read. Who could have dreamt of it?"

And truly her distress was not to be wondered at, for the news was appalling, being nothing less but that of the poor young woman's almost total ruin by the failure of a bank. Clodagh for a moment felt stunned, but she soon collected herself and did her best to comfort her cousin.

"Take courage, dear Paulina," she said. "There is no need for despair. You have still enough for comfort of a simple kind, and I will work for you. It will be my turn to repay your generosity."

"Dear child," murmured her poor cousin, all her high spirit broken, "you have already far more than repaid anything I have done for you. But don't leave me, promise me. If we must starve, let it be together."

"We shall not starve," said Clodagh cheerfully. "If--oh, Paulina, I wonder if you could make up your mind to live at Grey Rocks. My old nurse would take us in. She has a little farm and a nice clean house. Granny gave it to her and furnished it. We could live there on almost nothing, and every one would know who we were and be good to us." Her eyes actually sparkled at the prospect.

And after a little Paulina caught some of the younger girl's spirit.

"Yes," she said, "it is the best thing we can do. I have none but happy remembrances of the old place."

So Clodagh wrote to the friend of her grandmother who had been her guardian, asking him to see her nurse and arrange it. Writing direct would have been useless, as the simple woman had never learnt to read. And as quickly as the slow mails of those days could bring it, came Mr. Fitzgerald's reply. More than a reply indeed, for he began the letter by saying that he had pen in hand to write to her when her request reached him, for he had an extraordinary communication to make.