Four Gates by Amy Le Feuvre

"I see but cannot reach, the height That lies for ever in the light; And yet for ever, and for ever When seeming just within my grasp, I feel my feeble hands unclasp And sink discouraged into night! " LONGFELLOW.

HONOR'S return was the next event. She came, feeling a rush of affection for everyone and everything that made her home, and was disappointed to receive several small checks. In the first place, she found that Miss Paton, who had gone to visit her mother, had taken her old bedroom, preferring it to the one allotted to her. If there was anything that Honor loved and prized in the way of possessions, it was her books and the various knick-knacks that were scattered about in her room, most of which were mementoes of friends and places. These were no longer there, but distributed promiscuously through the house, and some of her childish books had been given to the village library.

"I feel as if I had died and come to life again," she said passionately to her stepmother. "Do you never expect me to step into my place again at home?"

"You are making a fuss about nothing," said Mrs. Broughton indifferently. "Anna took your room as she found it nearest to the children, and more convenient in many ways. You are not leaving Mrs. Montmorency, are you? And for the time you are here, you can collect all your own things round you and be happy. I thought we had managed it all beautifully, but nothing that I ever do pleases you. I miss Anna dreadfully, and only let her go because we thought that you and she might clash together. You are so very difficult to deal with."

So Honor said no more, and the warm, clinging grasp of her little sisters, and their enthusiastic reception of her, more than compensated for the momentary bitterness. Her father, too, brightened up, and showed his quiet appreciation of her in many ways.

"But, oh, Pauline," Honor confided, as she was sitting with her one afternoon, "if you only saw the state of the linen cupboard and the children's clothes! Miss Paton hates mending, and it is all given to our poor little housemaid, who has no time for sewing, and so it goes undone. The drawers and cupboards in the house are in chaos. But no one seems to mind, and life goes on just the same. They get on just as well without me."

"Would you like to come home again? " Pauline asked.

Honor's eyes filled with tears.

"It is the children. I miss then every day of my life. And I have a horrid jealous feeling about this Anna Paton who is usurping my place. My stepmother quotes her on every occasion against me. And she said this morning that you were very fond of her, and that she adores you."

Pauline laughed.

"Oh, Honor, dear, don't make yourself out a smaller nature than you are. You are not vexed because I am friendly with her?"

"No, I don't think I am."

Honor spoke reluctantly.

"She is a girl I pity very much," Pauline said seriously. "She has had hard bits in her life, and she has got soured in consequence. But she told me the other day she was going to tackle disagreeables instead of edging round them, so let us hope that she may tackle the mending before your next visit home."

"You make everyone want to be better," said Honor with a wistful smile. "I wish, I wish I had a sunshiny temperament like yours; or even like Audrey, who has no home now, and is working for her living. She is bubbling over with life and spirits. I haven't laughed so much for a long time as I did yesterday when she was telling me about her small boys."

"Audrey has her grey days as well as you," said Pauline. "Tell me about your life in Scotland."

"I like it better than London. Mrs. Montmorency is not coming to England till the spring. It is a very quiet, monotonous life, but I like some of the people about. There is an old lady who is blind living close to us, and she has three brothers all living with her; one is lame, the other is deaf, and there is only one with his faculties sound. But they are all quite happy and cheerful; the deaf one is a great fisherman, and the lame one drives a motor; and the strong one is a great gardener and sportsman. I go and read to the old lady sometimes when I can be spared. Then I like the young clergyman and his wife, though they are quite of the farming class. But they are simple and good. Isn't it strange? There isn't a child in the neighbourhood. Everyone is very old, or else they have no family."

"I suppose if you found a child to befriend, you would be quite happy."

"No child could be like my own small sisters. " And then eagerly she began to repeat some of their quaint sayings.

And Pauline wondered when she left her, if she would ever taste the joys of motherhood, or if her natural shyness and unattractiveness would be bars in the way.