’A closed bud containeth
  Possibilities infinite and unknown.’

Life went on very quietly with the three who were left.  Elfie was the sunshine of the house; her ringing laugh and little snatches of song, as she came in and out, cheered all who heard her.  And Clare, fitful and uncertain in her bright moods, could not understand Elfie’s unfailing good-humour.

‘You never will take life seriously,’ she said to her one morning after breakfast, as they were waiting for the postman in the garden, and Elfie had seated herself on the top bar of the gate, swinging herself to and fro, and trilling out an old English ditty as she did so.

‘I can’t make cares when we have none,’ she responded laughingly; ’I have never been so happy in my life as I am now.’

‘I wish I could be contented with so little.’

’Oh, you!  You’re always straining after shadows, and won’t live in the present at all.  Now tell me, what have you to make you unhappy to-day?  You’re expecting a letter from Hugh, and Miss Villars is coming to tea with us this afternoon.  Those are two pleasures for you.  And then look at our weather!  This is an ideal summer.

  “Strange that summer skies and sunshine
    Never seem one half so fair,
  As when winter’s snowy pinions
    Shake the white down in the air.”

Why don’t you live in the present?’

‘Don’t preach,’ said Clare carelessly; ’it’s too warm this morning to argue.  Here comes that lazy man at last!’

Elfie sprang down and seized the letters with a bright nod of welcome to the stolid-looking postman.

’Here is one from Gwen!  Agatha will be pleased; and here is Hugh’s!  Now, Clare, be happy!  And there is not one for me, so I shall go to Agatha to hear how Gwen is getting on.’

She darted into the house, and Clare, sinking into a chair on the shady verandah, prepared herself to enjoy one of Captain Knox’s periodical epistles.  They were always full of life and interest; and Clare was beginning to feel a sick longing to have him back with her again.  Even as she read she let the letter fall in her lap whilst she mused upon the past.  ’I used to be so cross to him.  I took all his love and attention so coolly.  If I only had him back again, how different I would be!  He was always so unselfish, and I was so selfish and discontented.  I can’t think now how I could have been unhappy when I was constantly seeing him.  Oh, Hugh! if you could come to me now, I would never grumble again!  One touch, one word, one look, if only I could have it!’

And Clare’s blue eyes filled with tears, and her sight was dim as she finished reading her letter.  She remained motionless for some minutes then, and was rising slowly from her seat to go and hear the news of Gwen, when a slip of paper fluttered out of the envelope.  It was a postscript as follows: —

’Here is Mr. Lester’s motto on the carved scroll.  It was in Arabic, as I thought, and the translation is something like this: —

  ’A closed bud containeth
  Possibilities infinite and unknown.’

Clare folded it up with a sigh.

’There is no clue there, that I can see.  I will have another look at the cupboard this afternoon.’

She joined her sisters, and heard a racy account of Gwen’s experiences on board ship.  She had fallen in with nice people — a Mr. and Mrs. Montmorency, going out to California for the third time to look after some property of theirs.

‘We are great friends,’ Gwen wrote.  ’Mr. Montmorency is a clever, well-read man — can talk on any subject, and has been in California for nearly thirty years.  His advice would be invaluable to Walter.  I am asking them to come and pay us a visit when they are in our neighbourhood, which they hope to be before long, and they have promised to do so.  Mr. Montmorency does not think farming pays in Walter’s locality.  He says there are many things more profitable; but I will not tell you all our talk.  I spend most of my time with them.  You may be interested in hearing that Clement Arkwright is on board.  But I give him a wide berth.  He asked some rather impertinent questions the first time we spoke to each other.  I showed him it would not answer, and now we pass each other with a bow!’

‘Who is Clement Arkwright?’ asked Elfie.

Clare laughed.

’One of Gwen’s old admirers.  He has too much of her self-will and dogged pride to pull with her.  Do you remember, Agatha, how we used to enjoy their wordy combats?  I always thought that at the bottom of all her antagonism to him she really liked him; but she never would allow it.’

‘I dare say he wonders at her going out alone,’ said Agatha musingly; ’she does not say where he is going.  I remember he had a great idea of shielding women from the brunt of life, as he used to call it, and that was one thing that Gwen could not stand.’

‘What more does she say?’ asked Clare.

’Not much.  She says she means to study farming while she is away, and hopes to get valuable hints from Mr. Montmorency, who seems to be a perfect mine of information.’

‘One of Gwen’s sudden friendships!’ observed Clare.  ’I only hope it will last out the voyage!’

She left the room and went to the study, where she spent the rest of the morning in trying to copy Mr. Lester’s carving on the cupboard.  She was very fond of this occupation, and had decorated several little tables and stools.  She found Mr. Lester’s handiwork a great help to her, and was ambitious of designing a cupboard herself, very much after the pattern of the study one.

As she was tracing a part of the delicate border edging the panels, she suddenly started, and the thought flashed across her: —

’It must be one of these buds that contains the secret of the lock or spring, and that is the meaning of the words: —

  ’"A closed bud containeth
  Possibilities infinite and unknown."’

She passed her fingers over some thick buds that hung in festoons along the border, and then with finger and thumb she tried to move each one in succession.  At last one began to revolve; she turned it breathlessly, and after three or four revolutions, a sharp click, and then the panel opened.

For one minute Clare stayed her hand — irresolute.  She had discovered the secret, and the contents of the cupboard would be before her eyes.

Surprise, delight, and a little dismay were mingled in the discovery.  Stories that Jane had told her of the mysterious cupboard that some thought contained proofs of a crime, came to her mind.  The remembrance of the owner’s express wish that it should remain locked, made her hesitate.

It was a battle between intense curiosity and the sense of honour; but the latter prevailed.  Clare closed the panel hastily, turned round the carved bud till it was closed, and then walked to the window, turning her back on her temptation.

She heaved a sigh of relief.

’I am sure I deserve praise for such virtue.  No one can taunt me with a woman’s curiosity after this!  Now the question is, shall I tell the others?  I don’t think I will.  It wouldn’t do to let the maids get wind of it.  I shall write and tell Hugh, of course.  How interested he will be!  It was really rather clever of me to find it out, for it is a wonderfully ingenious device.  And I suppose the old man never dreamt of women deciphering his Arabic characters, much less following the ambiguous hint given in his motto.’

And then sitting down at the writing-table, Clare commenced a letter at once to Captain Knox.  Her discovery delighted her, and for the rest of the day she was sunshine itself.

Miss Villars arrived in the afternoon, bringing with her two shy, lanky girls of fourteen and fifteen.

‘I knew you would let me bring two of my visitors,’ she said aside to Agatha; ’they are recovering from influenza.  Their father is a curate in Liverpool, and I am trying to feed them up, and get a little colour in their cheeks before they go home again.  They are rather shy, but it is such a pleasure for them to be in the country.’

Elfie soon took possession of the girls, and wandered round the garden with them, where their tongues unloosed, and they poured forth such a flood of chatter that she had no difficulty in entertaining them.

‘We are having such a lovely time.  Miss Villars’ house is like one you read of in books.  We never thought we should ever stay in one like it.  We feel as if we are in fairyland.  You see, we are very poor, and only keep one servant, and there are seven of us at home, and our house is in a terrace, and smuts, and soot, and dust fly in at the windows all day long.  Miss Villars is awfully nice, and she makes us enjoy ourselves.  At home one feels quite wicked if one reads a storybook, because there are so many of the boys’ stockings to be mended, and cooking, and our own lessons in between, for we go to a day school for three hours every morning.  Now here, Miss Villars takes us out in the garden after breakfast under her shady trees, and puts one of us in a hammock, and the other in an easy chair, and leaves us there with some delicious books for a couple of hours.  And then we see a dainty lunch coming out to us about eleven o’clock, and we drive and play tennis, and she treats us just like she might her own sisters!’

Elfie, looking at the radiant faces and sparkling eyes of the two delicate girls, envied Miss Villars the privilege of being able to bring such brightness and happiness into others’ lives.

Meanwhile Clare was having a private talk with her friend, for after tea Agatha had sped down to the village on one of her benevolent errands.

‘Have you found the true secret of happiness yet?’ asked Miss Villars presently.  ‘You look brighter than when I last saw you.’

’I may be brighter now, but I shall have one of my black moods again soon.  No, Miss Villars, I don’t think I shall ever be satisfied in this life.  The more I have, the more I want, and you couldn’t expect me to be happy with Hugh in Africa!’

She laughed as she spoke, but her smile soon died away.

’I want him back dreadfully, Miss Villars.  I never dreamt I would miss him so much; and I have a horrible feeling that he will not come back at all.  I think I should die if he did not!  I long sometimes to go out to him.  But I can’t.  I must just wait, and I hate waiting!  I never could wait for anything when I was a child, and it drives me nearly wild!’

Clare spoke with such vehemence and passion that for a moment Miss Villars thought it best not to speak.  Then she said slowly, —

’Poor child! you take life’s lessons hardly.  And I can’t help you except by sympathy.  There is only One who can, and you will not go to Him for the patience and rest of soul you need.’

Tears filled Clare’s blue eyes.  She gazed away out of the window up to the sweet summer sky, and her face grew wistful and sad.

‘I am seeking Him,’ she said in a low voice, ’but it all seems dark, and the Bible seems no help, and prayer a weariness; and then I give up trying, and try to amuse myself, and make the time pass as best I can.’

Then Miss Villars did a thing which Clare owned to herself that no one else but Miss Villars could have done naturally.  She took hold of Clare’s hand, and with closed eyes and bent head began to pray.

A very short and simple prayer, but a strange thrill ran through Clare as she realized this was indeed speaking to One who was close to them.  And nothing jarred her feelings.  She only seemed to be drawn into the very presence of her Saviour, who with open arms was waiting to receive and bless her.

When Miss Villars ceased speaking, Clare’s head still remained lowered, and there was perfect silence.  It was broken by Elfie’s return from the garden with the girls; and without a word Clare crept softly away up to her own room, and Miss Villars left without seeing her again.

But up in her room Clare was kneeling by her bedside in a passion of tears.

’O God, help me, help me!  I want to be right with Thee, I want this rest of soul; give it to me.  Oh, if Thou art waiting to bless, I am ready, I am willing.  Forgive me and save me for Christ’s sake.  Amen.’

She had never prayed so earnestly before.